divine-death2

[divine-death2]

Him with this haircut...damn!!! Besides the latest bad boy hair cut he has going on, I absolutely love this hairdcut above.

He looks soft but like he kan be mean too much like an anime character. And we all know he LOVES anime.

bad omens - the worst in me

[divine-death2]

Writer's Block

Having one huge block rn for Falling into You. SOOOOOO I thought I would write a little something else, until I can finish Chapter 5 and 6 for Falling Into You.

Falling Into You

[divine-death2]

WARNINGS!!!!! [This chapter contains smut. Keep in mind that this is not as descriptive as most other fics. I decided to keep this one more filled with fluff, since it is about soulmates. There will be future smut scenes much like this one.] xx

Chapter 6

Your POV

The pool was almost empty when we arrived, just a few scattered guests and the quiet echo of water lapping against the tile. The overhead lights glowed warm and golden, reflecting in ripples on the ceiling, and the room smelled faintly of chlorine and lavender from the nearby spa. My fingers were cold where they clutched the towel around my shoulders, not from nerves—okay, maybe a little—but from the air-conditioning that kissed my damp skin as I stepped from the changing room.

I saw him before he saw me. He was already in the water, submerged to his chest, arms braced along the ledge, head tipped back. His dark hair was wet and slicked back, neck arched and exposed, and a few droplets clung to his collarbone. He looked utterly at peace—no stage lights, no screaming fans, no rush.

Just Chris. Mine.

The thought surprised me, made my stomach flip in the best kind of way. I dropped the towel slowly, letting it fall to the floor in a soft heap. His head turned, eyes locking onto mine—and I saw the change immediately. His mouth parted just slightly, and his gaze swept over me like a slow tide, reverent and stunned all at once.

The bikini I’d chosen was simple: black, with thin straps and just enough curve to highlight the parts of me I sometimes tried to hide. But tonight, I didn’t want to hide. My tattoos peeked from beneath the fabric, wrapping around my ribcage, trailing down my thigh. I watched him notice every inch, and it was like being touched without a hand laid on me.

Chris pushed off from the ledge and stood, the water sloshing around him as he walked slowly to the steps. I hadn’t even moved yet, but I felt pinned in place by the way he looked at me—like I’d already undone him. “You’re gonna kill me,” he said, voice low and breathless.

Chris’s POV

She was breathtaking.

I’d imagined her in a thousand ways since the kiss—how she’d look first thing in the morning, how she’d laugh against my skin, how her hand would feel resting on my chest. But nothing prepared me for the sight of her stepping into that pool area, dropping the towel, and standing there like a secret meant only for me.

The bikini clung to her in all the right places, revealing soft skin and art that told quiet stories I wanted to learn by heart. Curves I already knew in memory now laid bare, unapologetic and confident. Her tattoos… damn. They weren’t just beautiful—they were her. Wild and strong and layered. I wanted to trace every line with my mouth.

I couldn’t help moving toward her. Every step felt like a promise.

“You’re gonna kill me,” I murmured, half-joking, wholly undone. She laughed, soft and warm, and stepped into the water. Her skin prickled with goosebumps, her breath catching at the cold, but her eyes never left mine. I met her halfway, the pool shallow here, the space between us charged with something electric. “Then die happy,” she whispered, almost daring. I reached for her.

Your POV

His hands found my waist first—tentative, warm beneath the surface. I inhaled sharply, not from surprise but from the sheer sensation of it. Of him. Of the way his fingers curled just slightly into my skin like he couldn’t quite believe I was real.

“Hi,” I breathed. He smiled, eyes flicking to my mouth. “Hi". It would’ve been easy for him to kiss me then. I was half-expecting it. But instead, Chris leaned in and rested his forehead against mine, his hands still cradling my hips in the quiet water.

“I needed this,” he said. “Not the pool. Just… you.” I didn’t reply right away. I just wrapped my arms around his neck and let myself feel how close we were. How natural it felt. How much I wanted more. “I needed you too,” I whispered against his cheek, and that was all it took. His mouth found mine, and this time there was no hesitation.

Chris’s POV

She tasted like mint and something warm and familiar I couldn’t name. I kissed her slow at first, letting it build, letting myself feel it all. Her fingers slid into my wet hair, and I pressed her closer until our bodies were flush, no space left between us but the water curling around our waists.

She moved against me like she knew exactly what I needed—like we were made for this moment. I backed her gently into the shallow edge of the pool, one hand gripping the tile behind her, the other slipping up her spine, guiding, anchoring. She arched into me, and a low sound escaped her throat, one that made every nerve in my body snap to attention.

“Chris…” she breathed, her lips brushing mine. I kissed her harder then, and the heat between us had nothing to do with the water. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to.

Her body told me everything I wanted to know.

Your POV

The edge of the pool pressed cool and unyielding against my back, but I barely felt it. Chris's hands were everywhere—one cupped the base of my neck like he was afraid I might vanish if he let go, the other sliding slow and sure along my waist, his fingers skimming the curve of my hip beneath the waterline.

Every place he touched sparked something inside me—heat blooming in places that had felt numb for too long.

The kiss deepened. Gone was the hesitance, the sweetness of our first touch. This was hunger. This was weeks of glances, of brushed hands and unfinished thoughts. Of quiet moments thick with everything we hadn’t dared say. It was all spilling out now, tangled in the press of our bodies and the rhythm of our mouths.

I gasped when his thumb grazed the line of my bikini bottom, just shy of bold, but definitely intentional. My hips tilted toward him, unthinking. Wanting. He felt it. I knew he did, because his breath hitched and his forehead pressed to mine again like he was trying to keep control. “Tell me to stop,” he said, voice rough. “I won’t.” He groaned softly, mouth dragging along my jaw. “God, you’re gonna ruin me.”

Chris’s POV

I wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. Every nerve in my body was focused on her—on the way her skin felt under my hands, on the taste of her breath between kisses, on the way she whispered my name like a prayer she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say out loud.

She arched against me when I kissed the spot just below her ear, her body fitting against mine like it belonged there. My hands mapped her back slowly, reverently, fingertips finding the edge of another tattoo and following it like a secret path. “I’ve wanted this,” I admitted into the crook of her neck. “Since the night you fell asleep on the couch in my hoodie. You looked so peaceful, like you’d always been there.” She shivered, but not from the cold. “I felt safe that night,” she said. “Still do.”

The way she looked at me when she said that—open, trusting, a little scared but still choosing me—I felt something shift in my chest. Like my heart wasn’t just mine anymore. Like I’d handed it over, willingly, quietly, somewhere between rehearsals and after-midnight talks on the bus. We kissed again, slower this time, deeper. Her hand slid down my chest, fingertips tracing the line of my abs beneath the surface. My muscles twitched under her touch, and I let out a quiet curse, burying my face against her shoulder. She laughed, breathless.

“What, that sensitive?” she teased. “Only when you do it,” I growled against her skin, then kissed her collarbone.

Your POV

We stayed tangled like that in the water for what felt like hours. Touches that turned into caresses, kisses that slowed only to deepen again. My hands explored his body almost shyly at first, but he made me feel brave—his reactions honest, unfiltered.

Every time I touched him, he responded like he couldn’t believe it was real. Like I was the dream. Eventually, the sound of a door closing somewhere down the hall reminded us we weren’t entirely alone, even if the pool room had emptied. Chris pulled back reluctantly, resting his forehead to mine. “You wanna… go upstairs?” he asked, careful. Not pushing. Just offering. I nodded, heart pounding. “Yeah. I do.” He exhaled, smiling that half-smile that made my stomach flip. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Chris’s POV

We didn’t speak much on the elevator ride up, but our hands never separated. Her fingers curled into mine like they belonged there. Like they’d always known the shape of me. The hotel room was warm, dimly lit, and quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside. The second the door clicked shut behind us, she turned to me, and for a moment we just stared.

Then everything fell away. I kissed her like I’d been starving. She responded like she’d been waiting.

The second her mouth met mine again, something inside me broke wide open.

There was nothing hesitant about the way I touched her now. My hands were in her hair, sliding down her sides, gripping her thighs as I walked her backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed. I kissed like I meant it. Like every soft moan she made, my reward. She is something sacred to me, someone I didn't know I needed.

Your POV:

When I sat, he followed without a word, kneeling between my legs and cradling my face in his hands. He looked at me for a long moment. Just looked. Like he was memorizing every detail. “I want to know all of you,” he whispered, voice rough. “Not just this. All of it. Everything you’re afraid to show.”

The words hit somewhere deep, unexpected, and I felt the sting of tears rise behind my eyes. Not because I was sad—but because no one had ever said that to me before. Not like that. Not with that kind of truth burning behind it. “You already know more than anyone ever has,” I whispered. Chris leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine again—his favorite place, it seemed. “Then I’ll keep learning. Every day. If you’ll let me.”

I kissed him before the tears could fall. And then we were moving again, skin against skin, hearts racing, breath catching. He peeled my bikini top off like it was the most fragile thing in the world. His eyes didn’t just linger—they worshipped. He didn’t look at me with hunger alone—he looked with awe. “You’re…” he started, then stopped like the words weren’t big enough. “You’re everything.”

Chris’s POV

I was already gone.

She’d undone me completely, not just with her body, but with her trust. With the way she looked at me like I was safe. Like I was hers. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been waiting to feel that—claimed. Chosen.

I traced a slow line along her ribcage, following the curve of one of her tattoos, watching the way her body shivered under my fingertips. I kissed the edge of it, then the center of her sternum, then lower, until she arched beneath me with a sigh that set my pulse on fire. The room was quiet except for our breathing and the sound of fabric slipping to the floor. Her hands were everywhere—skimming my back, gripping my shoulders, burying into my hair when I hit the spot just under her jaw with a kiss that made her gasp.

I whispered her name into her skin like a vow. And when I laid her back on the bed, slow and careful, she didn’t pull away. She pulled me closer. “Are you sure?” I asked, one last time, even as every part of me burned for her.

She nodded, her eyes dark and shining. “Yes. With you? Always.”

Your POV

What happened next was more than I expected. Not just physically—but emotionally.

He wasn’t rushed. He wasn’t careless. He kissed every inch of me like I was something rare. His hands never left me for long, grounding me, making me feel seen in a way I never had before.

I’d been touched before.

But I’d never been held like this.

His lips on my shoulder, his breath at my collarbone, the way he whispered my name like it was music—everything was slow and deliberate. His body pressed into mine with reverence, every movement a conversation.

And when the tension finally crested, it wasn’t with fireworks—it was with a wave of heat and sweetness that washed through me like truth.

I held onto him, not just because of what we were doing, but because of what it meant. Because it wasn’t just a moment. It was a promise, sealed between sighs and soft gasps and the weight of his chest against mine.

Chris’s POV

I’d never known intimacy like this.

It wasn’t about lust. It was about being. About knowing exactly where I belonged—in her arms, in her breath, in the tremble of her fingers clutching at my back.

She came apart beneath me like poetry, and I followed a heartbeat later, burying my face in the curve of her neck with a shudder that seemed to echo between us. For a while, we just laid there. Sweat-slick skin. Tangled limbs. Hearts racing. I didn’t say anything. I just listened to her breathing, felt her fingers stroking my spine, and let it all sink in.

I wasn’t falling anymore. I’d already fallen. It hit me like a ton of bricks, right in the face - I love her.

Your POV

Later, as the city lights flickered against the curtains and the sound of distant traffic filled the silence, he shifted beside me and propped himself up on one elbow. “I meant it,” he said, voice soft. I turned my head to look at him. “Meant what?”

“When I said this isn’t temporary.” I reached for his hand and brought it to my chest, right over my heart. “I believe you now.” He leaned down and kissed me again—slow, like a period at the end of a sentence we’d both been writing for weeks. And in that quiet, breathless moment, I realized something I hadn’t dared admit before.

I didn’t just want him.

I loved him.

[divine-death2]

We lost a good one yesterday. Rest in peace Prince of Darkness.

We love you Ozzy, thank you for everything you have given us. Just want to say we will miss you and we will never forget you, Ozzy.

May your soul rest.

[divine-death2]

Appreciation for this fine man. He just dropped "God is a weapon" with Mr. Manson and it was fucking beautiful - cheff's kiss.

Then suddenly, I discover that he features in Mr. Terrible's - from Slaughter to Prevail - new album.

The song is "IMDEAD" and honestly, it is not what you expect and it definitely does have that distinct Ronnie-twist to it.

Go listen to it...go on...go...go...go listen

[divine-death2]

Appreciation for this fine man. He just dropped "God is a weapon" with Mr. Manson and it was fucking beautiful - cheff's kiss.

Then suddenly, I discover that he features in Mr. Terrible's - from Slaughter to Prevail - new album.

The song is "IMDEAD" and honestly, it is not what you expect and it definitely does have that distinct Ronnie-twist to it.

Go listen to it...go on...go...go...go listen

[divine-death2]

Chapter 5

Your POV

The morning after our quiet conversation on the tour bus, I woke with a peculiar ache in my chest—not from my ribs, though they still throbbed occasionally, but from something softer, something I couldn’t name. The bus rocked gently beneath me as the sun filtered through the half-closed curtain of the bunk, casting golden light across the narrow space. I blinked slowly, trying to hold on to the remnants of a dream I’d been having—a dream where Chris and I were back at the lake from my childhood, skipping stones, laughing like we’d known each other forever.

When I finally pulled back the curtain and climbed out, the bus was mostly quiet. A few of the crew members were still asleep in their bunks, and the faint scent of coffee told me someone had been up before me. I found Chris in the small kitchenette, his hoodie pulled up over his head, headphones in. He was hunched over his laptop, probably editing footage or going through setlists.

I didn’t say anything at first. I just watched him from the threshold, letting myself absorb the peace of the moment. He looked different in the morning—softer, more human. Not the version of himself he showed the world on stage, but the real one. The one who carried my bag when I winced. The one who touched my wrist like it was something fragile and sacred.

Eventually, he looked up and pulled one earbud out, offering me a sleepy smile. “Morning.”

“Morning,” I echoed, moving to pour myself some coffee. He watched me for a second, as if he wasn’t quite sure I was real. Then, with the same quiet certainty he’d shown since the accident, he stood and came to me, placing a hand gently on the small of my back. “Sleep okay?” I nodded, sipping my coffee to hide how flustered his touch made me. “I dreamt about skipping stones.”

His brow lifted, amused. “That’s oddly specific.” I smiled. “You were there.” A beat passed. His hand stayed where it was, warm and grounding. “Was I any good?” he asked, trying for lightness. “You kept missing,” I teased. “But you didn’t seem to mind.” He chuckled, a low, intimate sound that curled in my stomach. “Sounds like me.”

Before either of us could say anything else, the rest of the crew began stirring, the soft hum of bus life returning. The moment faded, but the warmth stayed. I carried it with me the rest of the day.

Chris’s POV

I had always thought being on tour meant you didn’t have space for anything real. It was a whirlwind of cities and shows, soundchecks and sleepless nights. It didn’t leave room for stillness, for emotions that ran deeper than adrenaline and applause. But being with her changed that.

She had become the calm at the center of the storm.

Watching her adapt to this chaotic life had been nothing short of incredible. She never complained, not even when the bruises made her breath catch or when the long hours left her exhausted. She just… existed beside me, quietly making everything feel less exhausting.

I found myself seeking her out between sets, during rehearsals, even in the silence of the bus when everyone else was asleep. I needed her there like I needed to breathe. It was terrifying.

One night, after a particularly high-energy show, I spotted her in the wings, tucked into a chair with a blanket around her shoulders and a grin that warmed something inside me. I walked straight off stage, still sweaty and wired, and went to her. Without thinking, I bent down and pressed a kiss to her hair.

She froze, just for a second. I pulled back, surprised at myself—but she tilted her head up, eyes wide and searching. “You okay?” she asked softly. I nodded. “I just needed to touch you.” She didn’t say anything, but her hand found mine and squeezed. It was the first time I felt like I could fall and someone would catch me.

Your POV

Things between us changed after that night. Not in a big, dramatic way, but in the quiet, constant way that made me feel like I was standing on the edge of something huge.

Chris started lingering longer during our conversations. He’d walk me to my bunk each night, sometimes brushing his fingers over my hand, sometimes not saying anything at all. He had this way of looking at me like he could see right through every wall I’d ever built. I didn’t know what we were yet—maybe we didn’t need to label it—but I knew what it felt like.

Safe. Electric. Like home.

But even in the midst of all that warmth, doubt had a way of creeping in. We were two people from very different worlds. He was a musician, always moving, always in the spotlight. And me? I was just… trying to heal. Trying to find my footing again. What if this was just a moment? A beautiful, fleeting illusion?

The thoughts haunted me during the long drives and quiet hotel nights. I didn’t bring them up. I didn’t want to ruin the fragile thing we were building.

But Chris, of course, noticed.

Chris’s POV

I could tell something had shifted. She smiled just the same, touched me just the same—but something in her eyes was different. Guarded. I gave her space, hoping it was just exhaustion, but one night, as we sat on a rooftop in Denver, the stars low and the city buzzing softly below us, I couldn’t stay quiet. “Talk to me,” I said, voice low. She looked at me, startled. “I am.”

“Not like you were,” I said gently. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” She hesitated, then exhaled slowly. “I just… I don’t want to be something you look back on and regret. Some sweet memory you had while on tour.” I stared at her, stunned. “Is that what you think this is?” She looked away, but I reached for her hand, tugging gently until her eyes met mine. “This isn’t temporary for me,” I said. “I don’t care about the tour, or the music, or anything else the way I care about you.”

She looked like she wanted to believe me, but the fear in her gaze was raw. I leaned closer, pressing my forehead to hers. “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you ask me to.” Her breath caught. “I don’t want you to,” she whispered. And just like that, the wall between us crumbled.

Your POV

The days that followed felt different—not because of anything Chris said or did, but because I finally let myself believe it.

Believe him.

We kissed for the first time on a Tuesday. It was raining, soft and cold, and we were stranded in a small roadside diner waiting for the bus to be fixed. Chris was rambling about some weird dream he’d had, his hands moving animatedly as he told the story. I was laughing, not even thinking, when suddenly he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes locked on mine. “What?” I asked, breathless. “I’m gonna kiss you,” he said simply.

And then he did.

His mouth was warm and soft and sure, and everything else—rain, diner, tour, doubt—faded. When we pulled apart, I couldn’t stop smiling. “Took you long enough.” He grinned. “Yeah. Worth the wait.”

Chris’s POV

I didn’t care about anything else.

Not the setlists. Not the crowds. Not the pressure from my manager to post more, tour more, be more. All I cared about was the way her hand fit in mine, the way she curled into me at night, the way her laughter made everything else quieter. For the first time in years, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

And I wasn’t letting go.

Masterlist

[divine-death2]

Summary: This is a story about, Chris, Ronnie, Andy, Vessel and Noah. The reader gets pulled to do a tour with MIW for the anniversary of Reincarnate. As she goes on, she meets the other artists, and they all end up falling for her, and she for them. They have to navigate a relationship and how they will all get along for her sake. But as always life has other plans.

!! All of this is pure fiction! I do not own any of these artists or lyrics and yes, some things will not be accurate as it is in real life, BECAUSE it is fiction. Some lyrics will be AI generated (original lyrics for the FMC)!!

xo- Note: the FMC's character "Death" has nothing to do with the page or me at all. I just felt it would fit. Please do not copy my work, you are welcome to repost and share a much as you want. Comment if you want. -ox

WARNINGS:

painful past, self-doubt, language, mentions of divorce, rough past, tattoos, Sleep the deity. Will update as I go on with the chapters.

Chapter 4

Your POV

The days go by very quickly and before I know it, I am on the bus, with the guys, on our way to the festival. We’ll be there 2 days early, to figure out everything, and to settle in for the next two weeks. I am still halfway asleep as the bus slowly pulls away.  Sleep pulls me under, wrapping me in a blanket of darkness.

When I wake up, I find that my head is on a lap. I jump up, checking who it was. It was Ricky. “Sorry, I couldn’t let you sprain your neck on the couch, so I became your pillow”. I sit up a little more, rubbing my eyes, “Thanks”. I get up stretching my legs, before heading to the small bathroom to empty my very full bladder. The bus is anything but smooth on the road. After peeing, I made my way back to where Ricky was sitting. “Where is everyone?” He chuckles softly, “They all had the same idea you did, only they actually made it to their bunks”. I giggle at that, as I move to sit down on the couch again. A comfortable silence falls between us. For several minutes we just sit in silence, letting the quiet envelop us. Suddenly, Ricky spoke, “ Y/N”, he turns to face me properly, I follow his movements, facing him, “Are you a good person?". I blink, trying to process his words and at the same time trying to figure out where it’s coming from. “Yes, I believe, I am a good person.” My face must’ve given away my confusion, because he sighs before speaking again. “What I mean is…..I noticed Chris has formed an attachment to you, and he is my best friend. He has gotten hurt before, and while it is great seeing him this happy, I need to know, are you a good person and will you hurt him?”

Now that was a mouthful, but I get it, I would do the same thing for Nica and Amy. “Ricky, I know where you’re coming from ad I respect that. I promise you, I will never intentionally hurt any of the guys, least of all Chris. I may not have known you guys all that long, but I care about everyone very deeply”. I can visibly see him relaxing at my words. I know how Chris got hurt, it wasn’t pretty. I would still keep things slow, and let fate play out. In the last few days, talking with Chris, I have fallen even more for him, than I did, only knowing him from a distance. Another comfortable silence falls between us, I take it he was satisfied by my response, because he didn’t say anything else. One by one, the guys woke up, making their way to the main area of the bus. We are about an hour away from the festival grounds and I can feel the excitement bubbling in my tummy.

“Get ready, guys. We’re 5 minutes out!”, the driver shouts from his seat. What! I thought we were an hour away, I quickly look at my phone to double check the location. Oh, yeah, now it makes sense. It was only a four hours drive, we all must’ve slept the whole drive. Soon, I start seeing all the other busses and trailers from various artists parked in random places, behind the main festival spot. Everyone is getting their stuff ready for once we are parked. “Guys, I want to do something”. They all turn to face me. “Yes, sweetheart?’ Chris’s voice fills the space, as they all look at me expectantly. “Well, I want to keep up the mask thing, I want to keep my face out of the media for as long as I can. Will you guys please, play along with it if anyone asks, you guys don’t know my identity.” I notice Chris and Ricky smiling. “What?”. Chris takes my hand in his, “Sweetheart, we would’ve kept quiet anyway, you don’t need to ask us for that. Do you want to get ready, or do you need help?” Relief washes over me, glad they guys are all on board with it. “I could use some help painting the back of my arms”. Chris nods, motioning to the very cramped bathroom, and I nod.

He lets me get dressed in private, simple black jeans and a black tank-top. Once I am done, I pass him the paint. He hums a tune, I haven’t heard, as he applies the paint in soft dabs with the sponge. Ever so often, his fingers would brush my arm, sending shivers down my spine. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything about it. After he’s done, I turn to thank him, but the words never leave my mouth, as we make eye contact. It feels like an eternity where we are just staring into each other’s eyes. I can’t get myself to pull away. “Ready?”, comes Justin’s voice, breaking the trance. “Yeah, we’re done”, Chris says over his shoulder. I smile politely at Justin, before moving to grab the mask and the cloak.

Chris’s POV:

It was just me helping her, but damn it felt intimate. I didn’t want to look away or to have the moment end, when Justin spoke. I watch as she moves, putting the mask and cloak on. I am in awe of this woman. I felt her tugging at my heart in the few days that I have known her. I am still scared to try dating again, but something about her, makes my worries go away, whenever she’s near me. I think I might be slowly falling for her, but I do not want to rush any of this.

I walk behind her, following her out the bus. Outside people are busy unloading and setting up and as if she’s a magnet, everyone’s eyes fall on her. I don’t like it one bit, it feels like they are ogling what’s mine. Wait….what…she’s not mine, not yet anyway, so why do I feel this. I wipe my face with my hand, moving to stand next to her. “Welcome to the madness”, I say to her and she lets out a laugh, a joyful and genuine laugh. I can’t help smiling at the sound. Man! That is a sound I want to hear again and again and again. She looks absolutely badass. She must’ve noticed people staring at her, because she turn to them, “What are you looking at?”. They all turn away, as if they’ve been electrocuted. I let out an involuntary snort at that. I put my arm around her, over her shoulder. “You’re gonna be perfectly fine”. We walk like that to the stage, checking out the size and position of everything. I glance to my left, seeing Ronnie Radke also looking at the stage. Feeling the familiar hatred bubbling in my chest, I look away. The things he said and still says about us, about me…that is something I struggle to forgive to this day. We didn’t do anything wrong. We made sure of our facts before taking action. Turning my back to him, I walk closer to the stage. Making mental notes of where Y/N and I would be positioned on stage. Tomorrow we’ll have the whole day for our sound check and figuring out who is where, during what song.

I turn to find her, only to see her looking at the area and the stage. It seems she is making the same mental notes as I am, with the way she is turning and moving her hands. A smile tugs at my lips, feeling the previous hatred fading away. It’s like she calms the demons inside my soul, just by existing. “This is going to be FUCKING amazing!”, Vinny exclaims as he runs to her, picking her up, and spinning. Oddly enough, I don’t feel the urge to chase him and bash his face in, I guess I really trust him then. Again, the sound of her laughter graces my ears and the remaining hatred, disappears. I smile fully now, joining them. “Fuck, yeah!” This year, it seems we have a bigger stage, which means there is so much more we can actually do.

We spend the rest of the day, checking out the grounds and the setlists for the events. Vinny and Justin, went to schedule our sound check for each day. I had to leave her alone, to discuss things with our back-up dancers. They arrived around 2pm. She went back to the bus, hanging out there, probably reading or planning her days ahead. After talking with the dancers, I make my way back to the bus, to see if she wants something to eat. I enter the bus, but she is not sitting by her book. I can’t help a glance at the open page, I notice that she’s writing lyrics, a song. She is creating her own stuff. The words, tug at my heart, bringing tears to my eyes. It is incredible and carries a lot of emotion. “Hey”, she says and I instantly drop the book whirling around to face her. “Sorry…I-I shouldn’t have read it.”. She has a small smile on her lips as she walks over to me. “Don’t worry about it, I was going to show you once I was finished with it. It’s not like it is my diary, it is just some lyrics that pop up in my head”. Relief washes over me and I feel my heart swell, she was going to share it with me, anyway. She thought about sharing something so personal with me, her lyrics, the words that generally speak an artist’s deepest thoughts, words they can’t say out loud, but through a song. I pick up the book again, opening on the first song, and I read the lyrics out loud.

[Verse 1] I begged you to come, I needed your hand But you cursed the road, chose the same old land I packed my dreams in a silent scream While you stayed stuck inside your faded routine

[Pre-Chorus] I stood at the gate with tears and a map You let go, too afraid to collapse You said love was roots, I said love should fly So I turned away, but I never said goodbye

[Chorus] Now I burn like fire through the sky alone You left me shattered, but I built a throne From the ashes of what we used to know I learned how to bleed and still let go You stayed. I rose. I fly with wings of my own.

Your POV:

As he reads, I struggle to keep all those painful feelings from the past, locked away. I never wrote past the chorus, because I am stuck. I don’t know what else to write, or what will work. At the same time, it feels like I can’t write other songs, until this one is finished. I’ll keep working on it, I suppose. “I haven’t gotten further than the first chorus, I am stuck”. He looks up at me with a giant smile on his face. “This is really good, very emotional. I this from your personal experiences?” I physically feel how my heart sinks en though I knew this question was coming. “Yeah, it is from my past, but I would really prefer not to end tonight on a sad note”.

He nods, showing me he understands. “Well then, let’s go get dinner and we’ll have fun, before the real work starts tomorrow?” Knowing he didn’t push for met to explain, makes me feel 10 times lighter. I smile at him, grabbing his hand, leading him outside. He has to throw the book onto the couch as I keep pulling him. He laughs at my attempt to drag him, it’s not my fault this man is so tall and heavy for a skinny guy. “Would you, please…I am hungry”. This makes him laugh harder, while he finally moves his lanky legs.

The rest of the night, goes smoothly, we had fun, we got some pizza and drinks. After collecting everything, we headed back to the bus, where the others were already waiting, sprawled out all over the bus. We all ate and chatted, until we could not keep our eyes open. After taking a shower, I made my way to the couch. “You’re seriously going to sleep on the couch?” I look up to see Chris and Ricky looking at me with raised eyebrows. “Well…I…I”, the words won’t leave my mouth. Ricky motions for me to follow him. He walks me over to a bunk, “If you don’t mind, you and Chris can share a bunk, he actually suggested it.” I turn to look a Chris, who is now bright red. I giggle at the sight of him, and it makes him even redder, so much so, his ears are now bright red. “I’m fine with it and thank you, really.” His eyes sparkle at that and we squeeze in on the bunk, with him wrapping his arm around my wait. “Is this fine?” I just hum in response, not trusting my words. Silently, I feel sleep washing over me. Chris’ warmth making feel extra comfy and safe.

[divine-death2]

[divine-death2]

Beneath the weight

In shadows deep, I lose my way,

Each step I take begins to sway.

The world spins on, but I stand still,

A ghost adrift against my will.

My thoughts, a storm I cannot tame,

Each one a whisper laced with shame.

I wear regret like heavy chains,

And bleed in silence through the pain.

The crowd surrounds, yet I’m alone,

A stranger carved from skin and bone.

Their voices blur into a hum,

While I just pray for sleep to come.

Anxieties, like smoke, arise,

They blur my breath, they cloud my skies.

I fake a smile, play my part,

While panic claws beneath my heart.

What’s wrong with me? I want to scream—

But silence drowns my every dream.

I long for peace, for some escape,

To feel I’m more than my mistakes.

Yet here I stay, beneath the weight,

Still hoping it’s not all too late.

That maybe one day, light will find

This broken soul, this aching mind.

[divine-death2]

A love, you can't have

How strange, this love that haunts without a face,

A fire that burns where no warm hands have been.

I trace your name in thoughts I can't erase,

Yet know our worlds will never knit or spin.

No voice of yours has danced upon my ear,

No glance exchanged, no stolen breath, no sigh—

Still, in the quiet, you are always near,

A dream that lingers though it must deny.

What cruel design, to love a ghost so true,

To crave a soul untouched by time or place.

No path can lead me through to reach to you,

No hope to bloom within this silent space.

Yet if I must, I’ll love you from afar—

Unseen, unmet, my never-falling star.

[divine-death2]

Summary: This is a story about, Chris, Ronnie, Andy, Vessel and Noah. The reader gets pulled to do a tour with MIW for the anniversary of Reincarnate. As she goes on, she meets the other artists, and they all end up falling for her, and she for them. They have to navigate a relationship and how they will all get along for her sake. But as always life has other plans.

!! All of this is pure fiction! I do not own any of these artists or lyrics and yes, some things will not be accurate as it is in real life, BECAUSE it is fiction. Some lyrics will be AI generated (original lyrics for the FMC)!!

xo- Note: the FMC's character "Death" has nothing to do with the page or me at all. I just felt it would fit. Please do not copy my work, you are welcome to repost and share a much as you want. Comment if you want. -ox

WARNINGS:

painful past, self-doubt, language, mentions of divorce, rough past, tattoos, Sleep the deity. Will update as I go on with the chapters.

Chapter 3

Your POV

I am staring at my closet right now, trying to figure out what to wear. Amy and Nica are chilling on the bed, trying to help calm my raging nerves. “Why don’t you play the game, go in the mask and the robe thingy,” Amy suggests. I wip around, looking at her as if she just grew another head. “Yeah, think about it. “Death” is your stage name, the mask and outfit is just better. Besides that way you can hide the insane blush you’re gonna have when you meet him.” As I listen to what he is saying, I realise that they are right. The whole outfit is like my brand, my persona coming to life. “Then it is settled, I will wear the whole thing. I am still doing my make-up though, who knows who’ll see me without the mask afterwards”.  I carefully lay everything out on the chair near my desk, before turning and heading for the shower. My hair will be down and I am not going to wear the hood inside, so, fresh hair is a must. I get in the shower, letting the water fall over my face, relaxing every muscle in my body. I wash and shave. After getting out and drying off, I dry my hair. Pitch black hair, curling in various directions. Messy, yet hot. I start applying my make-up, making surprisingly no mistakes with the eyeliner. Once I am done, it is already 09:30. I get dressed and kiss each of the girls on the cheek, before heading out the front door.

The drive there is short, So now I am here at least 20 mintues early. Sighing, I put on the mask, and head into the coffee shop. Immediately I see people staring, I can feel their eyes on me. I feel a type rush, a sense of satisfaction rising in my chest. Like, yes, look at me, I am not what you call normal. Feel uncomfortable. I don’t know, this is a new experience for me. A blonde waitress approaches me, asking where I would want to sit. She seems nice enough. I tell her, that I am waiting for someone, so a table for two people. She smiles and leads the way to a small table, in the corner. Perfect, a little privacy is good, no prying eyes or the chance of people taking pictures. I sit down, and quickly decide on black coffee. I give her my order and she scurries off.

After a few short minutes she returns with my coffee and some sugar. I can’t help but think of Sleep Token every time I see sugar now. I laugh internally at my brain for conjuring the lyrics to Sugar at the sight of sugar. Thanking the waitress, I put two teaspoons of sugar in, stirring the black liquid. I lift my mask a little, taking a sip, careful not to show my face. Just as I put down, the cup, a hand catches my attention. It is unmistakable whose hand it was, because I only know one person who has a Halloween pumpkin tatted on their hands. “Death, I should’ve figured you were going to wear the mask.” I raise my head, smiling under the mask. Then I remember, oh yeah, he can’t see it. “Please, you get to call me, Y/N.” I nearly faint at the smile he gives me, but before that can happen he moves to sit down across from me. The waitress rushes over and quickly takes his order, a normal coffee with oat milk. “Why oat milk and not almond milk?”, I ask. The question seem to have caught him off guard, because his mouth opens and closes again, then opens and closes again. I laugh at this. “I, uh, I guess I just prefer oat milk over almond or any of the others”. He finally answers just as my laughter dies down. I know he can’t see my eyes, but he is staring right at them. There is something flashing in them, admiration, or something similar.

“You wanted to talk about the next tour, or a possible collab?” I say, breaking the silence, my voice sounding less confident than it is supposed to. He clears his throat before taking the coffee from the waitress. She bats her eyelashes at him, and immediately I feel a surge of jealousy rumble within. I don’t know why, because this is not a date, and he is not even mine. I shove those thoughts away, as quickly as they came, but it seems Chris noticed a shift in me. He remains polite to the waitress, but not taking his eyes off me. It feels like he is seeing me unmasked, it makes me shiver slightly. I can’t help the nervous feeling of the unasked question he is burning to ask. After the waitress left, I notice a devilish smirk on his lips, but as quickly as it appeared, it vanishes. “The guys and I, are in awe of your sound. The way you sang, it…it is…I actually don’t have the words for it. Point is, we are joining Hellfest soon, while working on an album”. He stops, maintaining eye contact. I take in his words, and I have to stop myself from just making assumptions, but I get the feeling that he wants me to tag along. “Where do I fit in exactly?” He smiles, a genuine smile, not one reserved for cameras and I swear my heart melts. “We, want you  to join us for Hellfest, but also feature on a song or two for the album.”

Thank God for the mask, or he would have seen my eyes almost jumping out of their sockets and my jaw on the floor. “Wow, uh…I, uh”. I struggle to form words, as his request has left me in shock.

Chris’ POV:

She is staring at me, for a moment there is no sound coming from her and I feel my stomach flip uncomfortably. I mean, her saying no to being on tour for Hellfest, is gnawing at my insides. I guess she sensed my worry, because she reached out, and placed her gloved hand over mine. I look up at her, I can’t see her eyes but I know she is looking into mine. “Shall we discuss specifics about the tour?” Hearing those words sounded like something from heaven. If I believed in heaven. I feel a giant weight lift off my shoulders and huff out a breath. She tilts her head slightly, reminding me that she is expecting an answer. “Y-yes, we can discuss everything, as time goes on, as the tour will only start in a few weeks”. (Why the fuck would I stutter? It is not like me to get nervous about an up an coming artist. I have asked Marina and I have never felt this anxiety of rejection, ever.)

“I will share the details with you. I have everything in email. Also, if it is alright, would you mind coming home with me…to meet everyone?” I had to pause mid sentence, as the stubborn lump in my throat got bigger for a second. (Goddammit, Chris, get it together, she is just a woman, with the voice of an angel, no, a siren.). “Sure, I don’t see why not, but I am taking my car. I will follow you”. Again, the relief of her saying yes, washes over me. I smile and nod, “That’s fine. Should we get the check?” She looks down at her cup, then back up at me and nods.

After we paid, as we were walking out of the coffee shop, I couldn’t help but stare at her in awe. Cloak wrapped around her, mask perfectly in place, no skin except small parts of her neck – fuck, I want to wrap my hand around her throat, and leave so many marks on that delicate skin – (what is wrong with me…I just met her.) We walk side by side to her car, a classic – a ’67 Impala – she continues to surprise me. “This is me”, she says reaching for a pocket, I didn’t even notice, and pulls out her keys. ”Beautiful ride”. She opens the car, putting the key in the ignition before turning back to me. “Thank you… for noticing me”, she says as she takes my hand in hers. Even though her hands a gloved, I still feel the coldness of her hands. I frown slightly, quickly restoring my expression. She brings her and my hand to her mouth, kissing the knuckles softly. The mask is cold against my skin, but still the act made my breath hitch, sending my heart into overdrive. I feel a loss as she pulls back and lets go of my hand. I smile at her, “You were worth noticing”. It is all I say as I turn on my heel and head for my car.

She follows me to my house, I already know the guys are there, because before I called a meeting, we had agreed to hang today. Once we parked and got out, I had to warn her about the million questions the guys might ask. I move for the door handle, but it seems Justin had already sensed our presence or something. The door swings open and then before us is Justin, mouth gaping, frozen. "Move you idiot!”, comes Ricky’s voice, appearing next to Justin. “Uh…come in”. I hold back my laughter as Justin comes around, closing the door. “How the fuck, did you manage that?” Justin motions to her, his eyes still wide. I go to reply, but before the words can form, she answers. “He just asked”. Now this made Justin’s mouth drop even more. Now I laugh out loud. I move past her, putting the keys in the key-bowl. I grab her hand, not realizing it. I pull her, not saying anything to Ricky or Justin, they will follow. We end up in the kitchen, exactly where Vinny and Matt are. As soon as they spot her, their mouths drop as well. “ Alright, everyone… this is Death.” She gives a small wave and the next thing I know she speaks, “Hi, guys. I feel like this would be better, if you could actually see me.” There is a moment of silence, as I try to process what she said. She takes of the cloak first, then moves to her mask. As if in slow motion, her face reveals itself. Holy fuck, she is beautiful, like a goddess. Now it is my jaw’s turn to lay on the floor.  I hear audible gasps coming from everyone else. “Fuck”, Justin silently mutters. I can’t stop staring. I notice how she is turning bright red, so I pick up my jaw from the floor and extend my hand to her. “Hi”. Such a simple word, yet I struggle to get the word out without sounding like an idiot. “Hi, I am Y/N”. She shakes my hand and my jaw almost drops again, at the sound of her name. It is such a beautiful name. “Y/N”, her name flows over my tongue.

She moves to greet everyone else, a huge smile plastered on her face. “I just want to say, how honoured I am that you asked me to join you guys. I have been a fan for such a long time. I mean, more like I am in awe of how you portray yourselves.” My cheeks heat up and I swear I can see the others’ turn pink. We get compliments all the time, but something about this one, makes me feel warm inside. Ricky interrupts the sweet moment of silence, “Thank you. Well if you’re going to join us, we should discuss the details, yeah?” Nodding she reaches into her cloak, pocket again, on the other side, pulling out a small notebook and then she takes out her earring.. It is one of those literal pocket size notebooks and her earring was a pen, a fucking pen!. She continues to surprise me, and I have the feeling she will be doing that for a very long time.

We all sit down at the table, as Ricky pulls up the email and the details on his phone. I notice how she fidgets with her fingers, as some of the black polish is starting to chip off.

Your POV:

I noticed how Chris’ jaw was on the floor, when I removed my mask. I don’t know how to feel about that. Was I not what he was expecting? Probably not, but it still kind of stings. Maybe he thought I am pretty, or maybe he thought I am average looking and he blushed out of shock? Pushing those thoughts down, I look at Ricky, he was about to give me the detail of the tour. I have my notebook and my earring - pen ready. “We are planning on leaving early, like around 04:00 the 7th. So you might have to come sleep over the night before”, he pauses, giving me a moment to write it down.,” You should also pack light, but enough clothes for a week, unless you plan on staying for the new album tour., he pauses again, looking at me, I nod at him once I finished writing. “The bus does not have a spare bunk, so I will switch out with you, you take my bunk and I take the couch. Also, you might want to restock you make-up or paint, it will not last through the whole week. During the shows, you will be backstage, we’ll get you fitted at the location, for in-ears and lastly, if you have a specific microphone you want to use, then you should bring it. If not, then we’ll provide you with one.” I scribble short versions of the details on my notepad, I glance up at him, “Anything else?”, I ask, ready to write. “Yes, uh, you will need to be added to our group chat. So we’ll need your number and if you have any medical stuff that the crew needs to know about, please send it on the chat, so everyone has it.

“Alright, then. Uh Chris, will you add me, here”, I turn a page in the notebook, and write down my number for him. “That’s everything you need to know for now, as time goes on we’ll discuss the recording of the tracks you feature in, as well as the videos and the tour thereof”. I smile at how quickly Chris types my number in his phone, I almost miss when Ricky says the last bit about the video and tour. “Perfect, I am so excited!”.

We spend the most of the day, chatting, getting to know each other. I mean that is kind of necessary, considering we’ll be stuck with each other for the next few months. Once it was time for me to leave, I place my mask back on and greet everyone, following Chris out the front door. He holds the door for me, shutting it softly once I made it inside. He gets in and immediately I can’t help but stare a little, it should be illegal for a man to be this hot. I am glad for my mask, because I am pretty sure he would see my eyes making hearts at him, like in a cartoon. I feel my cheeks warm up, when I feel his hand resting on my thigh. He is warm, almost too warm, and my body wants more of that warmth. His hand feels huge on my thigh, how would it feel to have that hand around my throat. My breath hitches, but my brain resets quickly and I hear him saying that we are at my place, thanking him again for everything, We get out and say our goodbyes, he's going to catch an uber back. I make my way inside the flat, making my way straight to the bedroom, then the bathroom. I am so sweaty after today, the cloak and everything, I just needed a hot shower. I start washing myself, but as I feel my loofa graze my nipples, the thought of Chris’ hand around my throat pop back into my mind. I trail my hands all over my body, imagining it is his hands. My cunt throbs as the thought of him thrusting his fingers inside me. A whimper passes my lips as I imagine how good his tongue would be. Trailing my hands over my breasts, pinching my nipples, before sliding lower, and lower. I let my hand wander down, until I reach my slit. I stretch my lips apart, before bringing my middle finger to rub soft circles on my clit. I gasp as soon as my finger makes contact. Feeling the fire stirring in my lower belly, I add more pressure on my clit, bringing myself closer to that edge, that explosion of pleasure.

I let out the most pornographic moan, feeling myself building and building, just as I reach the peak, I slip two of my fingers into me, pumping them in and out, feeling the fire burning more and more. Fuck just a little more, at one precise curl of my fingers, I moan louder, doing the movement again and again, to the mental image of Chris’ fingers doing it, until the fire inside me explodes, pleasure washes over me, as I come undone. I lean against the shower wall for support, as my legs shake from the aftershocks. God, I don’t think I ever came that hard in my life. I slowly remove my fingers from my now very sensitive cunt. I clean up and on unsteady legs make my way to the bed. I fall asleep quickly, dreaming about being on the stage.

[divine-death2]

Hear me out... Put Caramel and Emergence out if your thoughts AND go listen to Provider.

It is a song worth tearing up over, especially if you have a special person or if you found your soulmate in your life. It puts things in perspective of how you feel about them and how they feel about you.

I cried like a baby because the lyrics are just so pure and so honest. You can even hear the emotion in his voice. It is like he isxsinging this to someone specific. If that is the case..then I hope to god that he/she/they whoever it is, hears this song and realises it is for them.

[divine-death2]

I thought I'd share this... I was in high school when I did these. For some years now I haven't felt very creative, so I haven't drawn ot sketched in a while.

And that's okay. We all go through dips where our creativity is just not creativity-ing. So I guess, what I'm trying to say is: Don't feel bad if your creative side is taking a break from the crazy life we all are living.

[divine-death2]

Summary: This is a story about, Chris, Ronnie, Andy, Vessel and Noah. The reader gets pulled to do a feature with MIW for the anniversary of Reincarnate. As she goes on she meets the other artists, and they all end up falling for her, and she for them. They have to navigate a relationship and how they will all get along for her sake. But as always life has other plans.

!! All of this is pure fiction! I do not own any of these artists or lyrics and yes, some things will not be accurate as it is in real life, BECAUSE it is fiction. Some lyrics will be AI generated (original lyrics for the FMM) !!

xo-Please do not copy my work, you are welcome to repost and share a much as you want. Comment if you want. -ox

Warnings: language.

This chapter is solely Chris' POV, the other member feature and chime in regarding the woman known as "Death".

Chapter 2: Need to meet her

Chris' POV:

We're currently on a break, trying to come up with a new album. The previous one was fucking amazing. But we need something better than the last.

I am losing my mind here, trying to find the right sound for this album. These past few months have been rough with touring and performing and the 10th anniversary of Reincarnate coming up, it was chaos. In a good way. Before we kick of the anniversary tour, we decided to take a break, so everyone is with the partners or wives or girlfriends and I am alone.

It has been 2 weeks since the last tour. I have been feeling the loneliness more prominent, as all the guys have their forever person. I yearn for that connection with someone, but I am terrified to put myself out there again. I mean, anyone would be if they found the person they thought were their soulmate, cheating on them with a random guy from a bar.

Regarding this album, I feel I want to put a lot more emotion into it, along with maybe a little horniness imbedded there somewhere. I know there are many upcoming artists all over social media, maybe I should try to gain some inspiration from them. Reaching over to grab my phone, I start scrolling through YouTube shorts.

Nothing interesting or worth my time comes up, but it helps to pass the time. As I am scrolling a text from Ricky pops up. I open the text and all it says is "DUDE! Listen to this woman". And a YouTube link to follow it. Curious now, I open up the link. A woman, dressed in a black cloak with a skull mask and black painted hands appear. I turn up the volume and recognize the song from Bad Omens. Her voice fills the space, and I am instantly drawn. It is eerie but beautiful. I can feel what she is singing, the emotions flowing straight through the phone. I listen closely, as she sings. Fuck... that operatic note near the end, has me in a frenzy as I exit and find Matt's contact.

The phone rings a few times but he does not answer. Shit, I guess I will call again later. In the group chat, I tell the guys that we should meet and discuss a few things regarding the upcoming tour and the mystery woman behind the skull mask. Within minutes everyone except Matt, replies. We set up to meet tomorrow around noon.

Feeling satisfied with the outcome of the chat, I get up, heading to the kitchen and grab a glass of water. I can't get her voice out of my head. I pull up the video once again and listen to her voice. I notice her name, "Death". Now that is just something else that piques my interest. I go to check her channel, she has about 5 videos uploaded. One that grabs my attention is titled Porcelain. That's one of our songs, but it could be a totally different artist's as well. It is late, I should sleep, I can watch this one tomorrow or maybe play it to the whole group. Reluctantly, I get up, taking my water with me, reaching my room I feel the loneliness even more. Knowing there is no one to have great sex with or to just hold in my arms. I shake my head, head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower.

After a good shower, I get into bed, putting my phone on charge. I struggle to fall asleep, so I decide to play Death's version of "Limits" once more. I download and like the video, to make sure it's never lost. Her voice is calming, softly lulling me to sleep. At the end of the song, I can barely keep my eyes open. Locking my phone and turning over, to be consumed by the peacefulness that is sleep.

The next day.

I wake up with Ricky and Justin bursting through the door, Ricky tugging at my feet. "Wake up, you idiot!" With a very audible groan I flip him off and reluctantly sit up in bed. "You must be seriously fascinated by this woman to have all of us meet way before the actual meeting date". I get up, moving towards the kitchen, motioning for them to follow me. "Where's Vinny and Ryan?", I ask, just to be met with both of them raiding my fridge, bickering about whether they should do juice or soda. "Nevermind..."

"Rick, Justin, you guys want anything?" Both agreeing to juice before we start. "I will say this, I am still very much asleep, so excuse any rambling that may happen, or if I do not make sense".

I notice them all nodding. While Ricky is motioning, waving his hand for me to continue. "Alright, you guys know about the woman known as 'Death', right. I am pretty sure you all saw her video yesterday, if not, I am going to show you now." I open my phone, clicking on her video, everyone huddled together to watch the screen. Once more, her hauntingly beautiful voice fills the space, and I find myself even more in a trance than before.

Noticing how Vinny's mouth slightly hangs open, Ricky's brows knit together, Justin swaying slightly to the sound and Ryan, looks like he might cry. I know that I am not the only one captured by this mystery woman's voice, and the emotion that she lets flow through her.

As the video comes to an end, Vinny speaks first," Fuck". We all nod in agreement. "This woman, I don't know who she is, but she has talent that I haven't seen, only heard of. She makes you feel everything, she has a message, and I want to help get that message out to the world. I think WE can help her do that." I huff out a breath, raising my brows at them, looking for anything really. "You want to reach out to her?", Ricky asks, eyes wide. "I mean this could be really good, or it could go really bad, man. She might not even be legit. It may be all autotune and no talent."

Rubbing my face with my hand, "I know, but if this is raw talent, she needs to share this, she is just too good, not to. I know the risks, if it makes you guys more comfortable, I won't reach out through the band, but personally, meet with her before bringing her in?"

"That could work, when do want to do this?", comes Justin's voice. "I...Uh...today." They all nod, and well now I guess I have to figure out how I am going to message her and exactly what I am going to say.

"We're gonna hang here for a bit, I have an idea stuck in my head. You go do what you gotta do, and find us in the studio after," Ryan chimes. "Alright, I will then see you guys in a bit".

I walk to my room and immediately, start checking Instagram for her page. Finally, I find it, and open up the messages to send her a DM. "How the fuck do I do this?", I mutter to myself. It's not like I have never reached out to artists over DM, but why does this one feel harder. I start typing, "Hey, Death, I saw your video, and I have to say, you have amazing talent. I would love to meet you, and maybe talk about a collab or the next tour."

I hit send before I can overthink it and chicken out. Now all I have to do is wait, and hopefully she responds soon. I start my morning routine, washing my face, brushing my teeth, getting dressed. Making the bed, I hear my phone chime and when I look, I feel my heart leap to my throat. I walk out to the guys, picking my jaw up from the floor, "She's agreed to meet". All of their faces snap to me, their eyes widening as the words sink in. "That was quick. Man, you gotta be careful, alright. She might even be a psycho," Ricky says.

I know, I am going to pick a public place to meet, and I will send you my location, as well as keeping ya'll updated on the group". My brain has yet to catch up to the fact that I am meeting Death....well I guess this is one way of meeting Death, haha. I internally laugh at my silly little joke, shaking my head I plop down on the couch, before typing, "Fantastic! I can't wait to meet you. How about we meet at Urth Caffe for coffee, let's say tomorrow?" I send the message, and I see three dots appearing and then, "Sure, sounds perfect. I will be there around 11 am." I feel myself smiling as I read the chat, she is different. Death you have me intrigued, I think to myself. "11 am is perfect, see you then. :-)"

"We're meeting tomorrow, at Urth Caffe, at 11 am. I will let you guys know how it goes." I get a series of acknowledging sounds from everyone. After some time, the buys are leaving, saying our goodbyes and as I close the door, I can't help the giddy feeling in my chest. I am meeting this mystery woman, my heart feels like it is floating. I get dinner ready, just some simple frozen veggie dumplings. After I ate, I decide to listen to her just one more time, as I am in the shower, finding myself singing along, occasionally humming.

"This will be good", I say out loud. Getting out, drying off and making my way to the closet to fish out boxers. I fall down on the bed drifting off, with excitement bubbling in m veins.

[divine-death2]

Noah and "This doesn’t mean anything." – "Then why are you holding me like that?"

Please?

CW: protected sex, p in v, friends to lovers, a little angst, a little fluff, and lots of feelings i guess?

🔞 nsfw below the cut, minors please dni.

You and Noah had always been close, right from the very start—laughing too much, leaning a little too close at parties, teasing touches that lingered longer than they should.

Everyone could tell there was something more than friendship between you, but you always denied it, brushing it off with timid smiles and awkward laughter.

That didn't mean it wasn't true, though—both of you knew it was, but neither dared to name or act on it. Maybe you were scared. Maybe it felt easier to pretend.

So when things finally exploded—after one too many late nights, after too many loaded stares—you made a deal.

“Just sex,” you said, already breathless against his lips, aching to be touched. “Doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Yeah.” Noah agreed, smiling that crooked smile that always made your stomach flip, hands tightening around your waist. “Just friends having fun.”

It should’ve been that easy, that simple.

It wasn’t.

It never was with Noah.

And it kept happening, too—every time you went out with friends, every time you promised yourself you’d behave, you’d keep some distance—he was the one taking you home. Not because you asked him to, but because he wouldn’t let anyone else.

He’d watch you all night, drink in hand, that unreadable look on his face. Every guy that so much as looked your way for too long earned a dark, possessive scowl. Every time you laughed too loudly, leaned too close to someone else, he was right there, at your side—arm around your waist, pulling you into him like he just couldn’t help it.

You didn’t fight it, never stopped him.

And no matter how hard you tried to pretend you could keep it casual, pretend that it didn’t mean anything—your body always betrayed you the second he touched you. It was a dangerous game. Addictive.

So when the night ended, it was always Noah’s hand wrapped around yours, leading you out the door. Always his voice low in your ear, telling you to come with him. Always him pressing you into his bed, driving you crazy without a word, with just a simple look, a possessive touch.

Always him.

Only him.

Now you’re in his bed again—tangled up in messy sheets, gasping into each other’s mouths, your bodies slick and desperate. His hands bruise your hips, holding you down against the mattress like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn't, and he fucks you slow—too slow—dragging it out, savoring every second, drinking in every broken whimper he pulls from your lips.

Your forehead stays pressed to his, his nose brushing yours, breath hot and ragged, like he needs the connection. Like he needs you.

And you know you’re lying to yourself when you try to say this doesn’t have to be anything—know he is, too. Because there’s no way this is just sex.

Not with the way he moves inside you—deep, reverent, almost painful in his intensity, making sure you feel every inch of him with every delicious thrust. Not with the way his hands tremble when they caress your skin. Not with the way he shudders when you kiss his swollen lips, when you cling to him like you need him just as much.

You rake your nails down his back without thinking, wanting to claim, leaving angry red trails he hisses at—and he only fucks you deeper, like he’s chasing something neither of you can name. Your legs wrap tight around his waist, locking him in, greedy for more—for everything he’ll give you, for everything you’re terrified he won’t.

Noah groans low in his chest, burying his face against your neck, grinding into you so deep you see stars.

“Baby,” he pants, moans, voice wrecked and aching, “fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

And you just hold him tighter, arms locked around his torso, fingers digging into the skin of his upper back like you can keep both of you from breaking apart if you never let go.

“Noah—” you gasp, overwhelmed, drowning in the way he feels—so hard, so thick, so fucking perfect it almost hurts.

You can barely breathe with how full you are, with how he keeps hitting that devastating spot inside you, rolling and grinding his hips like he’s trying to carve himself into your body permanently.

He curses low under his breath, the sound dark and desperate, and fucks into you harder—angling his thrusts until you’re crying out shamelessly, back arching off the bed, chasing every single wave of pleasure he gives you.

You don’t even realize how hard you’re clinging to him until he suddenly slows down to a stop—freezes there inside you, panting hard against your neck because right now, you’re holding him like he’s everything.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you whisper before you can think better of it, voice shaking with the lie you don’t even believe yourself.

Noah pulls back just enough to see your face properly, the tip of his nose faintly brushing yours, his breath fanning hot over your lips. You see the flash of hurt in his eyes—feel the way his whole body goes rigid against yours, like you stabbed him right through the heart.

The way he looks at you—eyes wild, glassy, blown black with everything he’s feeling, searching yours like he’s begging you to take it back—almost breaks something inside you.

“Then why are you holding me like that?” He murmurs, voice rough and cracking like he’s barely holding himself together, and not from the pleasure alone anymore.

You open your mouth to answer, your chest aching, your heart pounding out of control, but nothing comes out. You want to deny it—to laugh it off, pretend his question is just a joke, a playful teasing because you're not holding him like anything.

All you manage to let out is a broken, needy whimper as you pull him back in with no hesitation before crushing your mouth to his, tasting your own desperation on his lips. Because that's what you are, both of you: desperate, aching for this, whatever this is, whatever it means.

Noah doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask again. He doesn’t need to.

He just kisses you—hungry, demanding—before fisting a hand in your hair, anchoring you there while he thrusts into you harder, messier, losing the rhythm completely in favor of raw, frantic need.

He fucks you like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together, like he needs to erase the distance you just tried to create between you.

“Say it again,” he growls, voice wrecked and shaking, mouth dragging hot over your cheek, your jaw. “Tell me this is just sex. Fucking say it.”

But you can’t. You can barely breathe.

You’re so full of him—of this aching, overwhelming thing between you—that all you can do is cling tighter, shaking your head in broken, desperate denial. Because it’s not just sex.

It’s never been just sex, not with him.

Not when he touches you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters, not when he fucks you like it's the one thing he wants to do for the rest of his life.

Your nails scrape down his sides, leaving more red lines he won’t feel until later. Your legs shake around his waist as you moan, helpless against the way your climax is building—so fast, so inevitable—your body betraying you, loving him, needing him.

Noah curses against your skin, a broken, desperate sound, and drives into you even harder—grinding deep, pushing you over that sweet edge whether you want it or not.

You come apart around him with a choked cry, tears rolling down your temple, body shuddering violently with the intensity of it all, nails sinking into his shoulders like you can’t bear to let him go.

And Noah breaks right after you—buries himself as deep as he can, groaning loud and broken against your throat, his body locking tight to yours as he spills inside the condom, shuddering through every heartbeat of it.

Neither of you moves for a long, long moment.

You just stay there, clinging to each other, breathing each other in like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. Noah’s arms wrap around you instinctively, pulling you closer even though you’re already as close as you can get.

He leans in and presses his mouth against your temple, still breathing heavily but kissing you there with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

A few more tears slip from the corners of your eyes—silent, overwhelmed—and Noah feels them. Without a word, he licks them away, slow and careful, like he’s trying to erase your sadness with his mouth, his touch.

His love.

His breath shudders against your skin as he kisses you again and again, temple to cheek to jaw, as if he still can’t get enough of you. All you can do is hold him back, hold him tighter, heart splitting wide open in your chest, because you know now, you both know—there's no room for denial anymore.

This thing between you, it’s not just sex.

It never was.

[divine-death2]

Happy Monday. Who am I kidding, it's a Monday 🤣

Here is something-something to appreciate and to make your Monday a little better. xoxo