Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼

• You will be a female in this, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read

• mentions of therapy

• Andy Biersackis your toxic ex 

• You will have a friend with benefits - Chris Motionless

• Smut

• This is a slight social media fanfic

• This is an A.U fanfic, so things will be very different from real life

• Mature themes

• Mature language

• Drama

• Toxic relationship

• Possible gore

• Crazy/Stalker/Psycho Spencer

• Weed usage

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Chapter Text

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Morning 

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Y/n Pov

As I sat in the waiting room, my foot tapped impatiently against the floor, a nervous rhythm betraying the anxiety bubbling within me. Each passing second felt like an eternity, my mind consumed by the looming dread of what awaited me in the therapist's office. Without my antidepressants and sleeping pills, I felt like I was teetering on the edge of a precipice, my nightmares threatening to engulf me once more.

The sterile surroundings offered little comfort as I wrestled with my fears. The flickering fluorescent lights overhead seemed to mock my unease, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls. I clenched my fists, trying to anchor myself in the present moment, but the specter of my nightmares loomed large in my mind, refusing to be ignored.

My heart raced as I strained to listen for the sound of my name being called. Each passing moment only served to heighten my apprehension, amplifying the cacophony of doubts and fears that swirled within me. What if the therapist couldn't help me? What if my nightmares were a harbinger of something far more sinister?

The hollow echo of footsteps finally reached my ears, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. With a mixture of trepidation and relief, I watched as the door to the therapist's office swung open. 

"Come back next week," my therapist's words cut through the heavy silence, pulling me back to reality with a jolt. I looked up, my gaze lingering on the closed door as a guy emerged, his leather jacket hanging effortlessly from his shoulders. With a casual flick of his wrist, he slammed the door shut, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot.

I blinked, momentarily disoriented, before realizing that my therapist was addressing me. "Y/N, you ready?" he asked, his voice gentle yet probing. I tore my gaze away from the door and met his eyes, a flicker of apprehension dancing in their depths.

Nodding slowly, I pushed myself up from the chair, a sense of reluctance weighing heavy in my chest. The encounter with the mysterious stranger had left me unsettled, a nagging sense of unease gnawing at the edges of my consciousness. But I couldn't dwell on it now; I had come here for a reason, and it was time to confront the demons that haunted me.

With a deep breath, I followed my therapist out of the room, steeling myself for whatever lay ahead. As the door closed behind us with a soft click. 

As I settled into the chair, a wave of unease washed over me, the familiar weight of anxiety pressing down on my chest like a leaden blanket. My therapist's words cut through the silence, pulling me back to the present moment with a jolt.

"So, Y/N, last week we talked about anxiety. This week, let's talk about those nightmares. You mentioned..." his voice trailed off, leaving a pregnant pause hanging in the air.

I felt my palms grow clammy as I struggled to find the right words, my mind racing a mile a minute. Where do I even begin? The memories of those haunting nightmares felt like jagged shards of glass, cutting into the recesses of my mind with merciless precision.

"Um... well..." I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper as I fidgeted with my hands, the nervous energy crackling between my fingers like electricity. Each movement felt clumsy and awkward, betraying the turmoil roiling within me.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to meet my therapist's gaze, the intensity of his stare both comforting and unnerving in equal measure. "I guess... I guess it all started when..." I faltered, the words catching in my throat like shards of broken glass.

But as I struggled to articulate the nightmares that had plagued me for so long, I knew that I couldn't let fear hold me back any longer. With a steely resolve, I squared my shoulders and began to unravel the tangled web of darkness that had consumed my nights for far too long.

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d r e a m l a n n d

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I was just a teenager then, frozen in place at the end of the driveway, my heart hammering in my chest as I watched in horror.

There she lay, my best friend, her lifeless body cradled in the sterile embrace of a body bag, the harsh glare of the ambulance lights casting an eerie glow upon the scene. Her parents, consumed by grief, were a blur of frantic motion, their anguished cries echoing in the stillness of the night.

I wanted to run to them, to offer some semblance of comfort in the face of such unimaginable loss, but my feet remained rooted to the spot, as if weighed down by the crushing weight of sorrow. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision as I struggled to make sense of the senseless tragedy unfolding before me.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still, the world narrowing down to the raw ache in my chest and the haunting image burned into my memory. It was a scene I would never forget, a wound that would never fully heal, a nightmare that would haunt me for the rest of my days. 

With each step, the world around me seemed to blur into a hazy, surreal backdrop, the gentle rustle of leaves and the caress of the wind against my skin offering little solace to the numbness that had settled deep within my bones. My gaze drifted aimlessly across the landscape, the swaying trees and the dancing shadows painting a picture of fleeting beauty against the canvas of my grief.

My hair whipped across my face, a tangled veil obscuring the raw emotion etched upon my features. It felt as though I were moving through molasses, each movement slow and deliberate, as if navigating through a thick fog that enveloped me in its suffocating embrace.

The weight of my loss bore down upon me like a leaden cloak, dragging at my limbs and pulling me ever deeper into the abyss of despair. I longed to feel something, anything, besides the numbing emptiness that threatened to consume me whole.

As I stepped through the doors of the school, the atmosphere seemed to shift, the usual hustle and bustle giving way to a solemn stillness that hung heavy in the air. My heart sank as I realized what awaited me: a suicide prevention assembly. Of course, on a day already burdened with the weight of loss and grief, the universe saw fit to thrust this additional reminder of pain upon me.

A bitter wave of frustration washed over me, mingling with the lingering numbness that had settled in my bones. It felt like a cruel joke, a twisted irony that mocked the very essence of my existence. How could they expect me to sit through this, to listen to empty platitudes and hollow promises of hope, when the wounds of loss were still fresh and raw?

With a heavy sigh, I trudged toward the assembly hall, the echoes of my footsteps a somber cadence that mirrored the heaviness in my heart. I braced myself for the onslaught of well-meaning but ultimately futile words, knowing that no amount of speeches or slogans could ever erase the pain that had carved its mark upon my soul.

Deep down, a nagging voice whispered in the recesses of my mind, a voice that refused to be silenced by the deafening roar of grief and despair. I knew, with a conviction born of years of friendship and shared memories, that she didn't kill herself. It simply didn't make sense.

I knew her, perhaps better than anyone else, and the thought of her taking her own life was inconceivable. She was a fighter, a beacon of strength and resilience in a world that often seemed determined to tear us apart. She wouldn't have given up without a fight, without at least reaching out for help.

But as the whispers of doubt gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, I found myself grappling with a torrent of conflicting emotions. On one hand, there was the overwhelming grief of losing someone so dear to me, the gaping void left in her absence. On the other hand, there was the stubborn refusal to accept the official narrative, the unshakeable belief that there was more to her death than met the eye.

As I trudged along the familiar path home, the world seemed to blur into an indistinct haze. My surroundings faded into the background, overshadowed by the storm raging within me. I wanted to scream, to vent the pent-up frustration clawing at my insides, but no sound escaped my lips. Instead, I walked in silence, my steps heavy with the weight of unresolved emotions.

Home lay just ahead, a beacon of solace in the midst of the tempest. But even as I drew closer, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at my gut. What awaited me beyond those familiar walls? Would I find comfort or only more anguish? With a trembling hand, I pushed open the door. 

With each step, my pace quickened, fueled by a desperate need to escape the memories that haunted me. Bursting into my room, I didn't hesitate. I tore down the photos, one by one, their smiling faces mocking me with their oblivious happiness. My hands shook as I ripped apart the memories, shredding them into jagged pieces that littered the floor like shards of my shattered heart.

My posters, once cherished decorations, now became targets of my fury. I tore them down with a reckless abandon, the paper tearing with a satisfying rip that echoed the turmoil within me. Soon, my room was a mess of torn paper and broken frames, a reflection of the chaos consuming my soul.

Collapsing onto the floor, I clutched the remnants of my former life to my chest, the torn photos and crumpled posters a physical manifestation of the pain tearing me apart from within. My sobs echoed off the walls, mingling with the wreckage of my room in a symphony of despair.

My eyes burned with unshed tears, their redness a testament to the agony I could no longer contain. Exhausted, I let them fall shut, the weight of my emotions pulling me down into the depths of despair. It felt as though I were sinking, drowning in a sea of grief from which there was no escape.

In that moment, all I could do was surrender to the darkness, to let it consume me whole.

As the scream tore from my throat, reverberating through the room, I felt a chill run down my spine. Before me stood a figure, ominous and menacing, his eyes gleaming with malice. In his hands, glinting in the dim light, were knives—gleaming blades that spoke of danger and imminent harm.

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a drumming rhythm of terror. Who was this man? What did he want from me? I scrambled back, my hands searching for anything to defend myself with, but there was nothing—only the scattered debris of my shattered sanctuary.

His smirk sent shivers down my spine, a cruel mockery of my fear. His words cut through the silence like a knife, chilling me to the core. "Rest your head here's a lullaby..." His voice dripped with menace, the promise of violence hanging heavy in the air.

A lullaby? No, this was a nightmare—a twisted, terrifying dream from which I couldn't wake. His words echoed in my mind, a macabre melody that taunted me with its cruel lyrics. "Early to bed, early to die..." The words sent a cold shiver down my spine, my breath catching in my throat.

I was trapped, cornered by this sinister presence, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. As he loomed over me, his presence suffocating, I realized that this was no ordinary nightmare. This was my worst fear come to life—a nightmare from which there would be no waking.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, mingling with the fear that gripped my heart as his haunting melody filled the room. "Why are you doing this to me?" I cried out, my voice trembling with a mixture of anguish and desperation. "Who even are you?"

But my questions were met with only silence, save for the haunting refrain of his song. And then, without warning, he lunged at me, his blades flashing in the dim light. Pain exploded through my chest as his knives sliced through flesh, tearing me apart with ruthless precision.

I gasped, a strangled cry escaping my lips as the world spun around me. Blood welled from the gaping wound, staining my shirt crimson as it flowed, a stark reminder of the brutality of his attack. The pain was unbearable, a searing agony that threatened to consume me whole.

Through the haze of pain and fear, I saw him smirk, his eyes alight with sadistic pleasure. He continued to sing, his voice a twisted serenade that mocked my suffering. Each note felt like a dagger to my soul, driving home the reality of my nightmare.

I struggled to breathe, to fight against the darkness that threatened to engulf me. But it was futile. As I lay there, broken and bleeding, I realized that there was no escape from this nightmare. And as his chilling melody echoed in my ears, I knew that I was doomed to suffer in its haunting embrace.

His chilling lyrics cut through the air like a blade, sending a shiver down my spine. "I'm the American nightmare..." His words echoed in my ears, each syllable dripping with menace and malice. Who was this person, and what twisted purpose drove them to torment me in such a cruel manner?

As his knives trailed through my hair, the sensation sent a wave of terror coursing through me. I flinched, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggled to comprehend the horror unfolding before me. His presence loomed over me like a dark shadow, his intentions as murky and sinister as the depths of the abyss.

With each word he uttered, the fear within me grew, gnawing at my sanity like a ravenous beast. "I'm slashing my way through the golden age of the silver scream..." The words sent a chill down my spine, a grim reminder of the nightmare from which I couldn't wake.

I searched his face for any semblance of humanity, any hint of remorse or mercy, but found none. He was a monster, a creature of darkness and despair, and I was helpless in his grasp.

Whoever he was, whatever twisted purpose drove him to torment me, one thing was certain—he was the embodiment of fear itself, a nightmare from which there could be no escape. And as his knives danced through the air, I realized that I was trapped in his macabre symphony, destined to suffer in its haunting melody for eternity.

Agony ripped through me as his blade tore into my stomach, slicing through flesh with merciless precision. Each cut felt like fire, searing through my senses and leaving me gasping for air. I clenched my teeth, fighting to suppress the screams that threatened to escape my lips, but the pain was too overwhelming, too all-consuming.

Blood gushed from the deep wounds, staining my torn clothes and pooling beneath me in a macabre tableau of suffering. Every movement sent waves of agony rippling through my battered body, a relentless assault that left me trembling in his grasp.

His smirk mocked my pain, his eyes alight with sadistic pleasure as he brought his knife down again and again, carving me apart with a chilling precision. I felt as though I were being torn apart from the inside out, my mind reeling from the sheer brutality of his attack.

Desperation clawed at my chest as I tried to flee, my legs trembling beneath me with every step. But no matter how hard I pushed myself, he was always there, a dark specter haunting my every move. The world swirled around me, blurring into a dizzying haze as my strength waned and my vision dimmed.

His voice cut through the fog, a chilling reminder of the nightmare from which I couldn't wake. "Fell in love with hate..." His words echoed in my ears, a cruel taunt that twisted the knife of fear lodged in my heart. Was this my fate? To be trapped in this nightmare, at the mercy of this monster?

Before I could utter another word, his grip tightened around my throat, cutting off my plea for mercy. I gasped for air, the pressure crushing down on me like a vice. "Please... let me go!" I choked out, my voice raw with desperation and fear.

But his smile remained, a grotesque mockery of my suffering. "Now the cloth is cut..." His words sent a chill down my spine, a grim omen of the horrors yet to come. And as he sank his claws into my flesh, I screamed in agony, the pain ripping through me like a tidal wave.

Blood soaked the ground beneath me, a stark reminder of the brutality of his attack. And as he looked down at me with eyes devoid of mercy, I knew that I was staring into the face of true evil—a darkness from which there would be no escape.

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Therapy

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As I poured out my fears to my therapist, a sense of unease settled over me. Why was I always a teenager in my nightmares? It was a question that had plagued me for years, haunting my every moment of rest.

My therapist listened attentively, nodding in understanding as I shared my thoughts. "Y/n, you mentioned to me when you were a teenager how bad your depression was. I think that might be affecting your nightmares," he offered, his voice gentle and reassuring.

His words struck a chord within me, stirring memories of a time when darkness had threatened to consume me whole. The pain of those days still lingered, a constant reminder of the battles I had fought and the scars I still carried.

Could it be that my nightmares were a manifestation of those inner demons, a reflection of the turmoil that had once consumed me? It was a sobering thought, one that filled me with a mixture of dread and relief. 

My therapist's words hung heavy in the air, sinking into my consciousness like lead weights. As he muttered more insights and scribbled notes in his notebook, I couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension creeping over me. His sigh spoke volumes, a somber reminder of the gravity of my situation.

"How about we give you a new perception as well?" he suggested, his voice tinged with concern. "I fear that this dream is causing you to relapse. You were doing a remarkable job being clean."

His words cut through me like a knife, a painful reminder of the progress I had made and the fragility of my newfound stability. I glanced down at the hoodie I was wearing, a relic of happier times with Chris, and felt a pang of guilt twist in my chest.

"I didn't mean it," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart. "This nightmare just isn't stopping. I want it to stop! I want to sleep without fearing for my life from that horrifying man!"

Tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill over as I struggled to articulate the terror that gripped me every night. The thought of relapsing, of losing myself to the darkness once more, filled me with a bone-deep dread.

Taking the prescription papers from my therapist, I nodded numbly, grateful for the reprieve from the weight of our session. The promise of rest and medication felt like a lifeline in the midst of the storm raging inside me.

Exiting the office, I made my way over to Amy, the familiar face of the receptionist offering a small measure of comfort in the midst of my turmoil. "Hey, y/n, same time next week?" she asked, her voice warm with genuine concern.

I managed a weak smile and nodded in response as she typed in the appointment details. Taking the card she handed me, I tucked it carefully into my pocket. 

As I stepped outside into the cool embrace of the evening air, I pulled out my phone, fingers trembling as I composed a text to Chris. The simple act of reaching out to him brought a fleeting sense of solace.  

Chapter Text

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Afternoon

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Y/n Pov

Bleary-eyed and disoriented, I struggled to shake off the remnants of sleep as someone's voice pierced through the haze of my dreams. "Wake up, y/n!" the familiar shout echoed through my bedroom door, jolting me from my slumber.

My heart pounded erratically in my chest as I shot up, my back pressing against the bed frame as if seeking solace in its solid support. The sudden rush of adrenaline left me breathless, my senses on high alert as I tried to make sense of my surroundings.

"Is that seriously how you have to wake me up?" I snapped, my annoyance bubbling to the surface as I glared at the figure on the other side of the door. He knew how much I despised being startled awake—it sent waves of anxiety crashing over me, leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed.

As he settled onto the edge of my bed, kicking off his boots with a groan, I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his complaint. "Your bed is small, and your plushies are taking up so much space," he muttered, his voice tinged with playful exasperation.

I scowled at him, crossing my arms in defiance. "Says the guy who bought me them," I retorted, my annoyance palpable as I shot him a pointed glare.

He chuckled at my response, lifting his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. "Yeah, I did because we both love the Nightmare before Christmas, and if I'm mistaken, someone threw a massive fit when she didn't get a certain plush, so me being the best friend I am, I bought it for her," he teased, a subtle grin playing at the corners of his lips.

Despite my frustration, I couldn't help but smile at his words, the memory of our shared love for the iconic movie warming my heart. And as I looked at the plushies that adorned my bed, each one a testament to our friendship, I felt a sense of gratitude wash over me. In the end, no matter how much we bickered, he was always there for me, and for that, I was truly grateful.

He laid down and then took hold of a jack plush I had on my bed, then patted his chest. I nuzzled into him as I felt him position Jack on his chest so he could place his arm around me.

He sighed heavily, making me uneasy "what's wrong, Chris?" I asked him since he never was like this unless it concerned me or our relationship.

Excitement bubbled within me as Chris shared the news of the upcoming tour. "Chris, that's so cool!" I exclaimed, a wide smile spreading across my face as I looked up at him. "Who is it? Do I know them?" I asked eagerly, knowing that most of the time, I was familiar with the bands he toured with.

He shrugged casually before answering, "Well, one of them is Ice Nine Kills."

"Intriguing name," I mused, already intrigued by the prospect of discovering a new band. "Is there another one?" I pressed, curious to know the full lineup.

Chris's sigh gave me pause, and I sensed a shift in the atmosphere. "Black Veil Brides," he replied reluctantly.

Frustration boiled within me, threatening to spill over as Chris confirmed my suspicions about the tour lineup. Of all the bands, it had to be Black Veil Brides. Anger surged through me, and without thinking, I rose to my feet, ready to storm out in protest.

But Chris wouldn't let me go so easily. He reached out and grasped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Listen to me, y/n," he implored, his voice laced with urgency. "Andy is a prick, and he didn't deserve you. Hell, when you told me he cheated on you, I wanted to kill him for hurting you as he did."

His words pierced through my anger, cutting through the haze of bitterness to reveal the raw pain that still lingered beneath the surface.  

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks—this cycle of Chris drifting in and out of my life had become all too familiar. It was a painful reminder of the fractures that had formed within our once-tight-knit friend group, leaving me feeling adrift and alone.

"Well, I'm not going on tour with you," I asserted, my voice firm as I made my decision clear to Chris. "I'll only come out for the show here."

Chris's expression shifted, his features contorting into a pout as he pleaded with me. "No, please come. I'd need my daily dose of y/n every day," he protested, his tone laced with a hint of desperation.

"Ew, Chris," I retorted, grimacing at his words. "Go get other pussy from a groupie. I'm not going," I mumbled, rolling away from him so my back was facing him.

But his touch on my side made me tense, his presence a constant reminder of the bond we shared. "I'm not kidding, y/n," he insisted, his voice softening as he spoke. "Please come with us on tour. I know your depression is getting worse, and I think you just need a new routine."

His words struck a chord within me, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume me. Perhaps he was right—perhaps a change of scenery was exactly what I needed to break free from the suffocating grip of depression. 

I couldn't help but smirk as I faced Chris, a playful glint in my eyes. "Hm, what do I get if I go on tour with you?" I teased, eager to see how he would respond.

His smirk mirrored mine as he leaned in closer, his forehead brushing against mine. "I'll give you a setlist," he offered, his voice low and enticing.

Pretending to be shocked, I gasped dramatically. "Oh my gosh? A setlist?! Can I please get it signed by all of the motionless white members?" I teased, purposely mispronouncing the band's name for added effect.

Chris laughed, shaking his head at my antics. "Did you just purposely say the wrong band? Such a fake fan; I don't think you even know the lead singer," he teased back, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

I chuckled in response, playing along with the banter. "Oh, you're right. You must not know this. I kinda fuck him when I'm bored," I quipped, unable to resist pushing his buttons a little further.

He raised a brow at me and said with a teasing smile, "Oh, only when you are bored? If I can recall someone calling me, texting me, and my favorite sending explicit Snapchats of themselves-" I cut him off by placing my hand over his mouth.

I felt my face heating up as Chris smirked. "Oh, is someone getting all worked up?" he asked with a teasing tone.

He pulled me closer to him so we were chest to chest, and I could feel something poking me. "Chris, you pervert!" I screamed at him. He shrugged. "Thinking about you doing that stuff always gets me like this; I can't help it."

He leaned down, our lips tantalizingly close, but just before they could meet, his phone went off. He looked frustrated as he glanced at the screen. "This better be important," he mumbled, making me chuckle.

"Chris speaking," he answered, shooting me a quick peek before leaving my room. Left alone, I reached over for my phone, only to be greeted by a flurry of notifications.

The initial rush of attention on social media because of my best friend was exhilarating, but now it's become overwhelming. My notifications are constantly blowing up, and while it was exciting at first, it's starting to feel like too much.

What's worse is dealing with the unwanted attention from people who are either gross or rude. It's exhausting having to filter through all the messages just to find the ones worth responding to.

But amidst the chaos, there's one person who stands out. This guy who messages me every day with a new horror movie and asks me to rate it from 0-10. It's strange, but strangely comforting. On the days he doesn't message me, it feels like something is missing, like now.

Feeling overwhelmed by the constant stream of notifications, I made the decision to put my phone down for a moment of respite. However, as I immersed myself in other activities, I failed to notice the incessant buzzing of my phone, indicating incoming messages.

Lost in my thoughts and distractions, I remained oblivious to the digital clamor vying for my attention, unaware of the messages piling up, waiting to be acknowledged.

Chapter Text

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Two Weeks

Later

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Y/n Pov

As I sat in my living room, idly waiting for Chris to arrive and kickstart our tour, my excitement levels were practically non-existent. The thought of embarking on this adventure didn't exactly thrill me, especially with Andy's looming presence casting a shadow over everything. However, there was one silver lining amidst my reluctance: Ice Nine Kills. Their music had captivated me like no other, prompting me to immerse myself in a binge-listening session of all their albums.

Fiddling with my phone in an attempt to kill time, I absentmindedly tapped my way into the depths of Twitter. Scrolling through the feed with a lack of genuine interest, my attention was suddenly piqued by a notification indicating a direct message from none other than Horror_Master! My heart skipped a beat as I swiftly navigated to our private conversation, eager to uncover what awaited me within its digital confines.

It follows 

0-10 

Admittedly, "It Follows" isn't a terrible movie. Its plot, while not entirely groundbreaking, effectively taps into the horror genre with its portrayal of a sinister sex-related disease. The jump scares managed to elicit genuine reactions, and the level of gore certainly added to the overall atmosphere. Personally, I'd rate it a solid 6.8 out of 10.

I give it a 6.9

Wow classy guy 

What can I say? I'm a charmer y/n, but in all seriousness, I do have to agree with what you said about it.

Wow, that's a first. You don't argue with me ): 

I am busy right now. I'll talk to you later.

As he departed, a pang of sadness lingered within me, tempered only by the absence of our usual arguments. Suddenly, the piercing sound of an obnoxious horn shattered the moment, prompting an eye roll as I gathered my suitcases and backpack, preparing for my upcoming adventure living with MIW – yay for me.

Chris dashed towards me, clutching a Zero plushie in hand. "And just because I'm the world's best friend, I got you a Zero plushie," he announced proudly. Grinning with gratitude, I eagerly accepted the plushie from him. "I love him so much. Thanks, Chris. Now, take my suitcases," I quipped, to which he rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "Of course, princess," he retorted playfully.

Boarding the bus, I was greeted by the sight of everyone absorbed in their own digital worlds, waving in acknowledgment as I passed. Vinny beckoned me towards the back, offering me a choice of beds. "Here, if it's not weird, you can take the right since I prefer the left," he suggested. I settled my backpack onto the designated bed, noting Vinny's smirk which prompted another eye roll from me. "Before you ask, yes, of course, I brought weed," he declared with a grin, sealing our camaraderie with a high-five just as Chris made his entrance onto the bus.

Returning to the front of the bus, Chris flashed a welcoming smile and gestured to the seat beside him. With an exaggerated eye roll, I begrudgingly took my place next to him. Retrieving my phone from my pocket, I couldn't help but notice the flurry of notifications tagging me in various posts related to the upcoming tour.

Meanwhile, Chris engaged in idle chatter with Justin, oblivious to my distractions. I reached for my headphones, eager to drown out the noise with some music, only to realize that I had left it on an Ice Nine Kills song. Before I could react, Ricky's smirk caught my attention, and I hastily lowered the volume.

"It seems like y/n is a fan of Ice Nine Kills, Chris," Ricky remarked, his tone laced with amusement. Heat rushed to my cheeks, igniting a wave of embarrassment. Clutching the Zero plushie tightly, I buried my face in its comforting embrace, dreading the inevitable teasing that would follow. Yet, despite my mortification, I couldn't deny the allure of Ice Nine Kills' unique fusion of horror-inspired lyrics and melodies. As a devout horror enthusiast, their music offered a perfect marriage of my passions, making the embarrassment somewhat bearable.

"Don't worry, tonight we're all meeting up to hit a bar and prep for tomorrow's show in Pikeville, Kentucky," Chris informed me, a hint of anticipation in his voice. My stomach somersaulted with a mix of nerves and excitement. Please don't let this be because Chris mentioned meeting them officially tonight, I pleaded silently, feeling a surge of nervous energy coursing through me.

With heavy eyelids weighing me down, I made my way to my designated bunk, eager to surrender to sleep. After all, what else could I do in this moment aboard a tour bus?

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Sleep Over

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Feeling a persistent poke at my side, I groggily rolled over, only to be met with the sensation of icy hands on my hip, jolting me awake. Blinking sleep from my eyes, I found Chris standing beside me, offering me my favorite drink. "Thank you, Chris. What time is it?" I inquired, my sense of time blurred after my nap.

Consulting his phone, Chris replied, "It's only about six forty-five. We'll likely hit the bar around twelve or one anyway." Glancing out the window, I noticed we had come to a stop. "Wait, could you please grab my black suitcase? That's the one with my clothes in it," I requested, realizing I needed to prepare for the night ahead.

Chris looked at me with a reassuring smile before saying, "What you're wearing is perfectly fine, but if you'd like to dress up, you can." His words made me beam with gratitude. "Chris, thanks, but I don't know. I need to prove to Andy how much better off I've been without him, you know?" I confided in him. Understanding my resolve, Chris nodded in agreement. "He's a loser anyway, but I'll get your suitcase," he reassured me before exiting the bus.

Eager to prepare for the evening ahead, I leaped off my bunk and headed to the front of the bus, taking a seat at the table. With a refreshing sip of my drink, I reached for my phone, only to notice a new DM from Horror_Master awaiting my attention.

Sorry for disappearing like that; work got really busy. I noticed you mentioned something about you and your best friend being on tour. What's that all about?

I take it you haven't read my bio. My best friend is Chris Motionless, and he begged me to go on tour with him, so here I am, lol

So you are part of the Trinity Terror Tour?

Yeah! I'm excited but nervous

Do you know any of the other bands?  

  MIW and I didn't choose to get acquainted with BVB, but that's a story for another day.

So you know BVB and MIW but not Ice Nine Kills; what a shame

I didn't exactly choose to get to know BVB, to be honest. I have a bit of a history with them. Since MIW is my best friend's band, it's inevitable that I know them, haha. But deep down, I do wish I had a connection with INK instead 😭

if you don't mind me asking, what's the story behind your history with BVB?

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, a stranger lurking behind the anonymity of the internet. The thought of him potentially being a creep or exploiting my story sent shivers down my spine, causing my heart to race with apprehension.

With a decisive swipe, I powered off my phone, cutting off any potential interaction. As I glanced up, my eyes caught sight of my suitcase nestled in the back of the bus. Panic surged through me as I realized I had almost left it behind.

Without a second thought, I bolted towards the rear of the bus, my pulse pounding in my ears. With a frantic tug, I yanked open the suitcase, my hands searching desperately for something to wear. Ripped jeans? No, too ordinary.

Doubt lingered in my mind as I held shorts up to the dim light filtering through the bus windows. They were whimsical, adorned with playful patterns and vibrant colors, yet something still felt lacking. I wanted to make a statement, to leave Andy regretting his decision to let me slip away.

With a sigh of frustration, I reluctantly returned the shorts to the depths of my suitcase, their potential unfulfilled. As I continued my search, determination set in—I wouldn't settle for anything less than perfection. After all, Andy needed to see what he had lost, and I was determined to make sure he regretted it.

As I sifted through my belongings, my fingers brushed against the smooth fabric of my Ruched cami dress, and I knew instantly it was the perfect choice. Its elegant yet alluring design exuded confidence, and I couldn't help but feel empowered as I envisioned myself wearing it.

Without hesitation, I slipped into the dress, relishing in its flattering fit and the way it accentuated my curves. To complete the look, I reached for my heels with delicate ties that wrapped around my legs. It was a departure from my usual attire, but I welcomed the change—it was time to embrace my inner bad bitch.

With my outfit in hands, I headed to the bathroom to freshen up, grateful for the extra time we had before reaching our destination. As I lathered soap onto my skin, the sudden intrusion of the bathroom door opening startled me.

"Hey, I'm in here!" I exclaimed, my annoyance evident in my voice, only to be met with the sound of someone relieving themselves. "I'm sorry, I tried to hold it, but I couldn't," came the apologetic response, and I recognized the voice—it was Chris.

Rolling my eyes, I continued with my shower, the cold water momentarily shocking me as Chris flushed the toilet. With an involuntary shriek, I cursed under my breath, "Shit, I'm so sorry!"

Unable to contain my laughter, I pulled back the shower curtain to find Chris already bolting out of the bathroom, his retreat swift and comical. Despite the interruption, his hasty exit brought a smile to my face, and I couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation. Chris may have escaped unscathed this time, but I made a mental note to exact my revenge later.

After finishing my shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and began the process of blow-drying my hair, determined not to skip out on my makeup either. Some might consider it excessive, but the desire to make my ex, who had betrayed me, see what he had lost outweighed any sense of practicality.

As I meticulously applied my makeup, carefully enhancing my features, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Every stroke of mascara, every sweep of eyeshadow, was a declaration of my newfound confidence and self-assurance.

With my hair styled to perfection and my makeup flawlessly applied, I surveyed the final result in the mirror. Satisfied with what I saw, I reached for my shoes, eager to complete the ensemble. However, I realized we were still far from our destination.

Turning to the others in the room, I couldn't help but feel a pang of self-consciousness as I asked, "I hope this isn't too much." Their reassuring nods and smiles alleviated my worries, reaffirming my decision to go all out.

"Good, because he's going to see what he lost," Chris remarked with a smirk, his confidence contagious. His suggestion of matching caught me off guard, and I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You'd want to match with me?" I questioned skeptically.

Without hesitation, Chris rummaged through his suitcase and produced a shirt that perfectly complemented mine. As he slipped it on, a sense of camaraderie washed over me, and I couldn't help but smile at the unexpected gesture. Matching outfits may have seemed trivial to some, but in that moment, it felt like a silent pact—a united front against anyone who dared to underestimate us.

Ricky's laughter echoed through the bus, his teasing remark drawing attention to Chris and me. I rolled my eyes at his comment, but I couldn't ignore the warmth spreading across my cheeks as I caught sight of Chris's flushed face. Despite my efforts to maintain composure, his compliment had an undeniable effect on me, and I couldn't help but smile back at him.

As the bus came to a stop and the driver announced our next steps, I hurriedly changed into my heels, eager to make a good impression upon arrival. Amidst the rush, I heard a wolf whistle, and I knew without a doubt it was Chris. His playful gesture caught me off guard, and I found myself grinning in response as I tied the straps of my heels around my leg.

"You should wear this more often. You look hot," Chris's words lingered in the air, sending a flutter of excitement through me. With a playful wink, I rejoined him at the front of the bus, ready to embark on the next leg of our journey.

But as we settled into the car, a wave of anxiety washed over me. Was I going overboard? Was I just a fool trying to prove myself to someone who didn't deserve it? The doubt gnawed at me, threatening to overshadow the newfound confidence I had mustered. Yet, despite my reservations, I couldn't shake the determination to show my ex what he had let slip through his fingers.

Feeling the weight of my anxiety, I instinctively reached for Chris's hand, seeking comfort in his reassuring presence. His concerned gaze met mine, and though I couldn't find the words to express my unease, the simple act of squeezing his hand conveyed everything.

"You have nothing to worry about. You have all of us if he tries anything," Chris reassured me, his words a lifeline in the sea of doubt. I nodded in acknowledgment, grateful for his support, yet unable to shake the lingering apprehension.

As we arrived at the bar, I braced myself for what lay ahead. Stepping out of the car, we made our way towards the entrance, where the bouncer stood guard, meticulously checking IDs. Despite Chris's earlier promise to stay by my side, I soon found myself alone under the scrutinizing gaze of the bouncer.

Unease settled in the pit of my stomach as he looked me up and down, his lingering stare making me feel increasingly uncomfortable. Just as I began to feel suffocated by his gaze, a voice cut through the tension, commanding attention and sending a shiver down my spine.

"She looks a little uncomfortable with you staring at her, so maybe just do your job and check IDs, not women," the newcomer's words were like a breath of fresh air, dispelling the suffocating atmosphere with a single sentence. And when I laid eyes on him, it felt as though time stood still—the most attractive man I had ever seen standing before me, a beacon of strength and assurance in the midst of uncertainty.

Grateful for the stranger's intervention, I took his hand without hesitation, allowing him to retrieve my ID from the bouncer's grasp. As he passed it back to me, a whirlwind of confusion and gratitude swirled within me. Who was this mysterious, incredibly attractive man, and why had fate brought him into my life on this particular day?

Making our way into the bar, I couldn't resist expressing my gratitude. "Thank you so much. My... friend left me," I admitted, my voice wavering with uncertainty.

"Well, your friend is an ass for leaving you alone," he replied casually, his demeanor relaxed as he took a sip of his drink.

I nodded in agreement, acknowledging the truth in his words. "W-well, he didn't mean to. As you can see, the bouncer was a creep and didn't let me go with my friends," I explained, my words stumbling over each other in my haste to convey the situation.

He nodded understandingly, his gaze steady as he took another sip of his drink. Seating himself at a nearby table, I followed suit, the tension gradually easing from my shoulders. With a sense of newfound camaraderie, I ordered my favorite alcoholic beverage and turned to face him.

"So, what's your name?" I inquired, taking a sip of my drink and stealing a glance at him.

"Spencer, and you are?" he replied, his voice warm and inviting.

As the realization dawned on me, my heart skipped a beat. Spencer—frontman of Ice Nine Kills, one of my favorite bands. The embarrassment flooded over me like a tidal wave as I stumbled over my words.

"I'-I'm y/n, and I'm so embarrassed that I just realized that you are the frontman of Ice Nine Kills," I admitted sheepishly, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Before Spencer could respond, a sudden tug on my arm startled me, pulling my attention away. My heart sank as I turned to see Andy, the source of so much turmoil and frustration. Despite my efforts to move on, he had once again inserted himself into my life, a constant reminder of past pain and heartache.

Chapter Text

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At the Bar 

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Y/n Pov

"I'll be right back," I informed Spencer, noting the subtle shift in his expression before hastily excusing myself. Taking my drink with me, I made a mental note not to leave it unattended with someone I barely knew.

As I rose from my seat, Andy's forceful grip on my arm pulled me into a secluded corner, his words dripping with venom. "You look different," he observed, his tone laced with disdain.

Rolling my eyes in response, I took a sip of my drink, refusing to let his presence unsettle me. "You still look like an asshole," I retorted, the bitterness of our history evident in my words.

His response was predictably cruel, his words slicing through me like a knife. The sting of his insults brought tears to my eyes, a painful reminder of the emotional scars he had inflicted upon me over the years. Despite my efforts to maintain a facade of indifference, his words cut deep.

But he was wrong about one thing—I wasn't seeking his attention, nor did I crave it. My actions were driven by a desire to prove my worth, to show him what he had lost. Yet, as his anger escalated, I knew this conversation was futile.

"I'm done with this conversation, Andy," I declared, attempting to step away. Before I could escape his grasp, he seized my shoulders, slamming me against the wall with a force that knocked the cup from my hand, shattering it on the floor beside me.

My heart raced as Andy's hurtful words echoed in my ear, each one a dagger to my already fragile emotions. Tears streamed down my face, unchecked and uncontrollable, as I felt the suffocating weight of his presence and the acrid scent of alcohol on his breath.

Attempting to push him away, I found my hands trapped in his tight grip, his drunken haze clouding his judgment and fueling his aggression. "Please stop! You are beyond drunk. Leave me alone," I pleaded, my voice trembling with fear and desperation.

The sound of broken glass crunching beneath his feet only added to my growing sense of panic. Nausea churned in the pit of my stomach as the realization dawned on me—we were alone, and Andy was in no state to be reasoned with.

"she said to let her go, Andy."

Chris's voice cut through the chaos like a lifeline, and I turned to him with a mixture of relief and apprehension. With swift determination, Chris intervened, his actions decisive as he forcefully separated Andy from me, sending him crashing to the ground amidst the shattered remnants of the cup.

The sight of Andy's prone form stirred a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within me—fear, frustration, and a deep-seated anger at the situation I had unwittingly found myself in. Grabbing hold of Chris's arm in a gesture of both gratitude and frustration, I felt a wave of regret wash over me. This was not how I had envisioned the night unfolding, and I couldn't help but feel responsible for the chaos that had ensued.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going back. I can't handle this right now," I muttered to Chris, my words laden with exhaustion and frustration. Without waiting for a response, I hastily made my way out of the bar, the weight of the evening pressing down on me.

Retrieving my phone from my pocket, I quickly ordered a ride to the hotel, my thoughts consumed by the chaos that had unfolded. However, my apprehension turned to surprise as a sleek car pulled up beside me, its window rolling down to reveal Spencer.

"I'm going back to the hotel; seems as if you might need a ride?" he offered, his tone gentle and understanding. I hesitated for a moment, uncertainty flickering in my mind before nodding slightly in acceptance.

As he unlocked the door for me, I glanced around cautiously, a tinge of suspicion lingering in the air. But as I settled into the passenger seat and fastened my seatbelt, any lingering doubts melted away in the warmth of Spencer's offer.

"So, you and Andy?" Spencer's question cut through the silence, his gaze fixed on me with a mix of curiosity and concern.

I turned my gaze towards the window, the memories of Andy's hurtful actions still fresh in my mind. "He's just an ex," I replied softly, the weight of the words heavy on my heart. In that moment, all I wanted was to escape the turmoil of the night and find solace in the quiet sanctuary of the hotel room.

"Seems he doesn't know what he's missing out on," Spencer remarked, his tone tinged with sympathy.

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "He cheated on me, so I think he does know what he's missing," I replied, the pain of betrayal still raw despite my attempts to mask it.

Silence fell between us as Spencer navigated the car towards the hotel, the weight of our conversation hanging heavy in the air. Soon, we arrived at the hotel, and Spencer parked the car in a nearby garage connected to the building.

Stepping out of the car, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. The familiarity of the hotel offered a welcome respite from the chaos of the night. As we made our way towards the elevator, a thought crossed my mind.

"Wait, do you know where our rooms are?" I asked, turning to Spencer with a hint of uncertainty.

He looked at me with a puzzled expression, his confusion evident. "Did Chris not tell you?" he questioned, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. Despite the circumstances, I found myself drawn to his calming presence, grateful for his unexpected companionship.

"Hello? Earth to y/n," Spencer's voice broke through my reverie, bringing me back to the present moment. Heat flooded my cheeks as I hurriedly stepped into the elevator, eager to escape the embarrassment of my distraction. "Sorry! No, he didn't tell me," I mumbled in response to Spencer's earlier question.

As Spencer pushed the button for the elevator, his suggestion caught me off guard. "Stay with me tonight since you don't know where your room is," he proposed casually, his words sending a jolt of excitement through me. Did he realize the implications of his offer? Or was I reading too much into it?

The thought of spending the night in Spencer's hotel room ignited a flurry of conflicting emotions within me. On one hand, I longed for the comfort and familiarity of my own space. On the other hand, the prospect of being near Spencer was undeniably tempting, even if it stirred up a whirlwind of nerves and desire.

"I would love to, but I need to find our room. I need to get something," I replied hesitantly, my mind racing with thoughts of both anticipation and apprehension.

Before I could dwell further on the situation, the elevator unexpectedly came to a halt, leaving us suspended in silence. Spencer's proximity sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy as he leaned closer.

"What is that certain thing you need, y/n?" he inquired softly, his minty breath grazing my face. My throat felt dry as I struggled to form a coherent response. "Weed, I just need it to calm myself down after this night," I confessed, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment at my admission.

"You are in luck; a bandmate of mine has weed," Spencer revealed, a hint of amusement in his voice as he restarted the elevator.

"So I don't have a choice?" I questioned him, feeling torn between my desire for solitude and the allure of his offer.

"You do, but why wander around wearing uncomfortable shoes and a dress you don't want to be wearing to look for a room when I'm offering you one?" he reasoned, his logic difficult to refute. Despite my reluctance to admit it, he had a point.

Rolling my eyes at his persuasive argument, I followed him as the elevator doors finally opened, allowing us to exit. Spencer led the way to his room, and I trailed behind him, feeling a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

Upon entering the room, I couldn't help but marvel at its size—it was far more spacious than I had expected for a single person. Shutting the door behind me, I kicked off my shoes with a sigh of relief, the sensation of freedom flooding over me as I sank onto the couch.

Before I could fully relax, Spencer tossed a shirt in my direction, causing me to startle slightly. I glanced up to see him dressed casually in a Scream shirt and sweatpants, a contrast to the formal attire he had worn earlier. Despite the unexpected turn of events, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards Spencer for his hospitality.

"Only a shirt?" I inquired, surprised by the simplicity of his offer. Spencer met my gaze, his expression thoughtful. "Would you like a pair of sweatpants or shorts?" he offered, raising an eyebrow in question.

Nodding in agreement, I voiced my preference. "Shorts," I replied, feeling a sense of relief at the prospect of changing into something more comfortable. Spencer swiftly left the room, returning moments later with a pair of basketball shorts.

Taking them from him gratefully, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness as I asked, "Where's the bathroom?" Spencer's reply was reassuring, and I quickly made my way to the designated room, eager to escape the growing tension between us.

As I changed into the borrowed shorts, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling of suspicion that lingered in the back of my mind. Despite my best efforts to trust Spencer, doubts continued to plague me, threatening to overshadow the newfound camaraderie between us.

Returning to the main room, I found Spencer seated on the couch with the TV playing in the background. Choosing to sit on the opposite end of the couch, I watched as he retrieved a bag of weed, tossing it in my direction with a casual gesture.

"Here you go, just don't smoke in here," he instructed, his words a gentle reminder of the boundaries we needed to respect. Yet, as I held the bag in my hands, I realized that the desire to get high had faded into the background. In that moment, the intoxicating presence of Spencer was enough to make me feel as though I were already soaring high.

I placed the bag of weed on the table, my earlier desire to smoke fading as exhaustion settled in. Spencer's chuckle caught me off guard, and I shook my head, feeling a yawn escape me involuntarily.

Sensing my weariness, Spencer rose from the couch, extending his hand towards me. I hesitated for a moment before accepting his offer, allowing him to pull me up from the comfort of the cushions.

"Well, let's just go to bed," he suggested, and I nodded in agreement, the thought of sleep sounding more appealing by the second.

"But where am I going to sleep, though?" I asked, uncertainty creeping into my voice.

Spencer offered a solution, his words causing a whirlwind of conflicting emotions to stir within me. Share the bed? The idea made my head spin. I wasn't trying to seduce him... or was I? The internal debate raged on as I grappled with my own desires and insecurities.

"If it's okay, can you sleep on the couch?" I finally managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course, let me grab the other blanket and pillows," Spencer replied with a reassuring smile, his easygoing demeanor putting me at ease despite the tumultuous thoughts swirling in my mind.

Feeling a sense of gratitude wash over me as Spencer handed me my phone, I quickly accepted it, offering him a brief but heartfelt thank you before he disappeared to the couch with pillows and blankets in tow.

Settling onto the bed, I reached for the remote and began flipping through the channels, the soothing background noise providing a welcome distraction from the events of the evening. However, my attempt at relaxation was short-lived as the familiar buzz of my phone disrupted the quiet.

Glancing at the screen, I noticed a direct message from Horror_Master, my curiosity piqued. With a mixture of apprehension and intrigue, I opened the message, unsure of what to expect.

Sinister 

0-10

 I loved this movie. I have watched numerous psychological horror flicks, but none spooked me as much as Sinister did. The videos and the music are bone-chilling, and I like how in the opening, you had no idea what was happening as you're faced with a family slowly being hung from a tree. "Slowly" is the keyword in the entire film. It wasn't too fast-paced, but it revealed itself gradually, giving the audience lots of suspense! So I'd say 6.9/10 

I can only watch it here and there. I do love the opening too

Why are you up so late lol? 

I could ask you the same thing y/n

I just had a shit night.

Was the first night of the tour that bad?

My ex was beyond being a drunk asshole tonight, and I must admit. It's like you always know how to cheer me up, are Are you sure you aren't my stalker? 

I chuckled to myself, and then I started to worry slightly. Oh my god, why did I ask him that? Even if I was joking, I'm beyond overthinking it because what if he is one? 

Yikes, I don't think your life is anything exciting to where I'd want to stalk you y/n

I rolled my eyes. What an asshole, but I hate that he's right...

😐ha ha I forgot to laugh 

Well, it is late, and I'm tired night y/n.

Feeling overwhelmed by my thoughts and the unsettling possibility of having a stalker, I made the decision to shut off my phone, hoping to quiet the incessant chatter of my mind. However, despite my best efforts to push the nagging doubts aside, the fear lingered, casting a dark shadow over my thoughts.

With a heavy heart and weary mind, I drifted off to sleep, the specter of uncertainty haunting my dreams. As I succumbed to the embrace of slumber, the worry and anxiety of the night weighed heavily upon me, leaving me to confront the unsettling reality that I may not be as safe as I had once believed.

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please do give any feedback

Good or bad! 

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Chapter Text

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4:36 AM at the 

Hotel Room

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Y/n Pov

Startled awake by a scream from the TV, I blinked groggily, realizing that A Nightmare On Elm Street was playing. Though it was the original, a classic in its own right, the sudden jolt was enough to send shivers down my spine. Waking up to a scream from a horror movie in a hotel room was certainly not my idea of a pleasant morning.

Deciding to shake off the residual unease, I rose from the bed and made my way into the main room, intending to fetch a drink from the kitchen area. However, what greeted me was unexpected—Spencer was already awake, his expression drawn and fatigued.

"You couldn't sleep?" I questioned, concern lacing my words as I took in his tired demeanor. Spencer glanced at me, his sigh heavy with exhaustion. "You see, I get these nightmares, and let's just say they sometimes don't affect me or sometimes do. If you'd like to know, the one I had did affect me," he explained before turning his attention back to the TV, which was now playing A Nightmare On Elm Street—a strange coincidence given the circumstances.

Sitting down beside Spencer, I accepted the portion of his blanket he offered, grateful for the warmth it provided. As he remained fixated on the TV, I couldn't shake the nagging curiosity about the nightmare he had experienced.

"So, what kind of nightmare did you have?" I inquired, hoping to offer some semblance of comfort or support.

"Let's keep that a secret," he replied cryptically, his tone guarded.

"Would you like to elaborate?" I pressed, determined to understand the source of his distress.

Spencer glanced at me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "I didn't know you were my fucking therapist," he retorted sharply, his words stinging with hostility.

"I never said I was your therapist," I countered, taken aback by his sudden defensiveness.

"Then why do you care?" he challenged, his gaze piercing.

"I'd consider us friends now, so I care about you," I explained, hoping to ease the tension between us.

"We are not friends, I don't know you, and you don't know me, y/n," he asserted bluntly, his words landing like a slap in the face.

"Okay, so wrong choice of words, but I'd like to get to know you," I muttered, feeling a sense of frustration creeping in.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" he asked, his question catching me off guard.

I glared at him, unimpressed by his attempt at diversion. "Definitely not that one!" I replied tersely, my annoyance evident.

He chuckled, unfazed by my response. "Well, that is my favorite one, so strike one, y/n," he remarked casually, his words sending a chill down my spine.

"What the hell do you mean strike one, Spencer?" I demanded, my confusion giving way to growing unease.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Just don't get three strikes," he warned cryptically, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

My mind raced with questions, the implications of his words weighing heavily on me. What would happen if I reached three strikes?

"I-" I began, struggling to find the right words to express my apprehension.

"You look a little disturbed," Spencer observed, his hand suddenly resting on my thigh, sending a jolt of fear through me.

"I thought you wanted to know me, y/n, and yet here you are, trying to run away," he remarked coolly, his gaze unwavering.

"You know you aren't the only one with nightmares," I retorted, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance.

"I didn't ask though, did I? I asked why you were trying to run away," Spencer retorted, his tone sharp with irritation.

I sneered, feeling a surge of defiance rising within me. "You must believe you're this hip, cool guy who's all mysterious, but I can see through you," I shot back, refusing to be intimidated by his facade.

"Really? Tell me, y/n, all about myself," Spencer challenged, his smirk betraying a hint of amusement.

Drawing upon my observations of him, I began to paint a picture of Spencer's personality. "You love horror movies and would desperately want to play the main villain, if you'd call them that, when we all know they're sometimes just misunderstood by others, just like you," I described, my words laced with sarcasm.

He chuckled, his smirk widening into a grin. "You are so fucking... what's the word, wrong? You need to lay off the weed; it's not good for those last brain cells you have left," he retorted, his words stinging with a mixture of mockery and condescension.

I shook my head, refusing to back down. "You are so full of yourself," I countered, my voice tinged with frustration.

Spencer took a deep breath, his demeanor softening slightly. "You are something special," he remarked, his words catching me off guard and stirring a flutter of uncertainty within me. What did he mean by that?

Glancing at his phone, Spencer's attention seemed to be elsewhere, his gaze distant. Gathering my courage, I bit the tip of my thumb nervously. "Would you like to smoke with me?" I ventured, extending an offer of camaraderie despite our earlier tension.

His response was curt, his annoyance palpable. "Maybe change the bag and have it not say S.C.," I suggested tersely, rising from my seat to retrieve a black bowl.

"I'm not Mr. 'It's my bandmate's'," I retorted, pushing back against his dismissiveness.

"Either pack up a bowl or leave," Spencer stated bluntly, his tone brooking no argument.

Raising my hands in a gesture of surrender, I couldn't help but let out a nervous chuckle. "Yikes, you're not going to get laid acting like that," I quipped, my attempt at humor falling flat in the tense atmosphere.

To my surprise, Spencer's response was a deep chuckle, his amusement evident. My eyes widened in realization as I quickly backtracked, stumbling over my words in a desperate attempt to clarify my meaning. "Wait, that came out wrong! I'm not saying I will... er, I just meant in general!" I stuttered, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me.

I wanted to sink into the floor, mortified by my inadvertent implication. Why had I even mentioned sex to him? It was a guy thing, they always thought with their penis. I cursed my lack of filter as I stood frozen, clutching the bowl awkwardly in my hands.

Without a word, Spencer took the bowl from me, deftly packing it and lighting it without hesitation. My confusion only grew as I watched him, perplexed by his sudden change in demeanor. "Um, didn't you say not to smoke in here?" I questioned tentatively, unsure of what to make of his contradictory actions.

He didn't offer an explanation, merely passing me the bowl with a silent gesture. Hesitant but unable to resist the temptation, I took a tentative inhale, the warm embrace of the smoke enveloping me in a hazy cloud of relaxation.

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Done Smoking at 

5:50 AM

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Y/n Pov

"So you wanted to get to know me," Spencer remarked, his tone laced with curiosity.

"Duh, we are friends now, right?" I responded, the word "friends" rolling off my tongue with a hint of uncertainty.

He glanced around the room before turning his attention back to me. "Well, we did share spit," he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye.

I couldn't help but laugh, playfully whacking him with a pillow. "You are such an idiot," I teased, feeling a sense of camaraderie despite our earlier tension.

"But I'm serious. Are we friends?" I pressed, eager for some clarity amidst the lingering uncertainty.

"Ask me when I'm sober," Spencer replied cryptically, his words leaving me with more questions than answers.

Shaking my head, I rose from my seat, my legs feeling wobbly beneath me as I made my way to retrieve my phone from the nightstand. With a sinking feeling, I noticed numerous texts and missed calls from Chris. Oops! 

Concerned by Spencer's sudden outburst, I cautiously approached him, my heart pounding with apprehension. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?" I inquired gently, hoping to offer some measure of support.

In response, Spencer threw his phone with such force that I flinched instinctively. His dark eyes met mine, filled with a storm of emotions, before he abruptly turned and disappeared into the bathroom.

Left alone in the tense silence, I hesitated for a moment before tentatively approaching his discarded phone. The screen was shattered, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface. With a sinking feeling, I realized he had been on Twitter before his outburst.

Frowning, I scrolled through the app, my heart sinking further with each passing tweet.

As Spencer emerged from the bathroom, his frustration palpable, I felt a pang of guilt for dropping his phone. "I don't get why I can't live my life," he muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"When you have fans like this, it's kinda crazy, not gonna lie," I replied sympathetically, understanding the pressures that came with fame.

He nodded in agreement, his weariness evident as he stifled a yawn. Unable to suppress my own tiredness, I found myself yawning in response. "How about we share the bed? So that you can get some sleep before our busy day," I suggested, hoping to offer some comfort amidst the chaos.

Spencer agreed with a nod, and together we made our way into the room. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment as he claimed his side of the bed, leaving me to settle on the other. However, any lingering thoughts were quickly banished as Spencer proceeded to remove his shirt, revealing a physique that made my heart skip a beat.

"Close your mouth. You might catch flies," he teased, his voice laced with amusement as he settled onto the bed.

I rolled over onto my side, my mind swirling with a mixture of confusion and anticipation. As I drifted off to sleep, I felt the comforting warmth of Spencer's arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer into the embrace of the blankets.

"Sleep well, y/n," he whispered softly, his words soothing as I surrendered to the embrace of slumber. In the hazy moments before unconsciousness claimed me, I could have sworn I heard something else being whispered, but dismissed it as nothing more than the murmur of the TV. 

Chapter Text

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

8:30 AM at the 

Hotel Room

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Y/n Pov

As I opened my eyes to the soft light of morning filtering through the curtains, I felt a surge of excitement coursing through me. Today marked the first official day of the tour, and I couldn't wait to see what adventures lay ahead.

Careful not to disturb Spencer, who was still peacefully asleep beside me, I slipped out of bed with quiet haste. His tousled hair and relaxed expression only served to make him look even more endearing, but I quickly pushed aside any distracting thoughts.

Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I couldn't help but smile as I observed Spencer's sleeping form one last time before unlocking my phone to text Chris.

I chuckled to myself as I heard a soft knock at the door. Opening it, I found Chris standing there, looking worn out. "I had a shit night," he sighed, his exhaustion evident.

"I know. I'm sorry about Andy. He's just a drunk loser," I reassured him, squeezing his hand in gratitude. "Thank you for protecting me from him. I truly was horrified at what he could've done to me."

Chris shook his head, his expression serious. "I'm your best friend. Don't thank me. But let's just say he's not to come near you unless you have someone around," he declared firmly.

I smiled, feeling a rush of affection for my loyal friend, and pulled him into a tight hug. As we released each other, we began to walk towards the elevator, our footsteps echoing softly in the hallway.

Chris glanced down at me, a playful twinkle in his eyes. "You're barefoot and in another pair of guys' clothes. I'm kinda jealous," he remarked with a laugh.

I shook my head, chuckling at his comment. "I don't even care if I lose that dress or shoes. I'm never being that dumb again," I declared with determination.

Taking off his shoes, Chris handed them to me since he was wearing socks. "Thanks," I murmured gratefully as I slipped them on before stepping into the elevator.

As the elevator began to ascend, a wave of embarrassment washed over me as I recalled our last encounter in an elevator. I felt my cheeks flush with heat, hoping Chris hadn't noticed my discomfort. Lost in my thoughts, I was brought back to reality when Chris showed me his phone, revealing the Ink News account.

"Damn, you're making your mark. It seems like girls either hate or like you? I can't tell," Chris commented, his tone amused as he observed the mixed reactions to my presence in the public eye.

I shrugged nonchalantly at Chris's comment. "I saw it last night before we went to bed together," I admitted casually.

Chris's eyes widened in shock. "So you did sleep with him!" he exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in the elevator.

Panicking, I hurriedly tried to clarify. "Oh my god, no, that's not what I meant!" I protested, but Chris was already dashing out of the elevator, leaving me to follow in his wake.

I caught up to him as he unlocked the hotel room door, and I could feel the eyes of our companions on me. "She didn't sleep with him," Chris announced, his words dripping with sarcasm, eliciting laughter from the others.

Annoyed by their teasing, I shot them a glare. "You're all on my shit list," I muttered under my breath as I retreated to my suitcase to gather some fresh clothes.

Selecting a pair of black jeans, an old Motionless in White shirt, and comfortable shoes, I quickly made my way to the bathroom. Locking the door behind me, I resolved to have a proper shower without any interruptions from my mischievous friends.

As the water cascaded down around me, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement when I checked my phone and discovered a follow request from Spencerink on my private Instagram account. The unexpected gesture sent butterflies swirling in my stomach, leaving me both thrilled and bewildered by his sudden interest in connecting with me in this way.

Feeling the warmth of the steam enveloping me, I hurriedly hopped into the shower, eager to wash away the remnants of the previous night's chaos. As the water cascaded over my skin, I let out a sigh of relief, allowing the soothing sensation to wash away any lingering tension or anxiety. With each passing moment, I felt myself relax, grateful for this moment of solitude amidst the whirlwind of the tour. Closing my eyes, I let the steady rhythm of the water lull me into a state of calm, embracing the simple pleasure of this quiet respite.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Shower Done

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

As I dried off my hair, I decided to get dressed in the bathroom, knowing I could finish blow-drying my hair elsewhere in the room. Just as I wrapped the towel around myself, I heard Vinny and Justin playfully arguing over who would get to use the bathroom next. Their antics never failed to bring a smile to my face, reminding me of the unique camaraderie we shared on tour.

Taking a seat on one of the beds, I reached for my phone, which had begun to buzz with a new message notification. Curious, I opened the DM to see who had reached out to me.

Freaky 

0-10

I felt the film had potential, and it was enjoyable in some parts, but overall it fell flat. 3/10 

For me, it wasn't exciting. It starts well but gets boring in the middle till the end

Right! Anyway, how are you?

Okay  

Well, that's good, right? 

Mhm  

You seem kind of off today...

Remember how I mentioned I couldn't sleep because of my dreams? I had a horrible one, y/n. I mean, it felt like I was in a horror movie  

I know how you feel. I had one where I was back in my teens at high school, and a Freddy look alike was attacking me! 

I had one about Jason. But I was Jason, killing my friends, family, and even you. It woke me up in fright. I ran into the bathroom to see if I had blood on me. It felt so real. I was terrified, y/n. I wish you were here to help me. You always help me even if we can't see each other

Startled by Chris's voice, I snapped back to reality. "Hey, we are leaving in two hours, so get ready," he informed me, his tone urgent.

Feeling a surge of panic, I hurriedly grabbed my hair dryer, determined to get ready as quickly as possible. Time was of the essence, and I couldn't afford to waste a single minute. With focused determination, I set to work drying my hair, the roar of the dryer filling the room as I moved with swift efficiency.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Time skip

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

As I approached Chris, who was meticulously putting together his outfit, I couldn't help but admire the result. "I like the fit! Perfect for the first day of the tour," I complimented him, impressed by how well the ensemble came together. It didn't escape my notice that I had a hand in selecting and styling it.

Chris nodded in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to me. "We gotta go to the bus so we can get to the venue," he reminded me, a sense of urgency in his voice. Without wasting a moment, we dashed towards the elevator, eager to make our way to the bus and kick off the tour in style.

Upon arrival, we were met with some grumbling for being a tad late, but I refused to let it dampen my spirits. After all, nothing could ruin the excitement of embarking on this adventure alongside MIW, and the prospect of potentially forming a friendship with Spencer only added to my enthusiasm.

As we arrived at the venue, I was struck by the bustling energy and excitement surrounding the event. The anticipation of witnessing MIW perform in such a venue left me in awe, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through me. However, my reverie was quickly shattered as I found myself walking alone, once again abandoned by my supposed friends.

Suddenly, I felt a rough hand grip my shoulder, causing me to flinch in discomfort. My heart sank as I recognized the source of the unwelcome touch—it was Andy, the embodiment of my past pain and heartache. Gritting my teeth, I mustered the courage to speak up. "Don't touch me," I snapped, my voice laced with frustration and defiance.

His chuckle grated on my nerves, a cruel reminder of his penchant for cruelty. "At least you look normal," he remarked, his words dripping with sarcasm. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, refusing to let his barbs get to me. It was clear that Andy thrived on being an asshole, reveling in his ability to inflict emotional harm.

As Andy advanced towards me, I felt a sense of dread wash over me, my back pressing against the unforgiving wall. The sharp pain in my head from the impact only served to amplify my discomfort, but it was the menacing expression on Andy's face that truly unnerved me.

"We're all alone again, y/n. Seems you can't help but get yourself into these situations, huh?" His words dripped with condescension, a twisted reminder of our tumultuous past.

I shook my head vehemently, rejecting his insinuations. "That's not true," I protested, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and frustration. It was Andy who continued to intrude into my life, refusing to let go of the past despite our breakup and his betrayal.

"Please leave me alone, Andy," I pleaded, desperation lacing my words. "We broke up. You cheated on me! Why do you keep meddling in my life? Do you miss me? Well, guess what? I—" Before I could finish my sentence, his grip tightened on my face, his words cutting through me like knives.

"You sure about that?" he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "Look what you wore last night. You didn't want my attention, yet you wore that dress? You're fucking lying to yourself, y/n, because—" He leaned in close, his words venomous as he whispered into my ear, his cruel accusation leaving me reeling.

"You looked like the same slut who spreads her legs for anyone."

As tears blurred my vision, I mustered the courage to confront Andy's cruel accusations head-on. "I only screw one person, for your information!" I retorted, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. "Unlike you, who kept repeatedly cheating on me! I don't know how often I can go through this with you. You are my ex for a reason!"

Despite my attempts to stand my ground, Andy's callous words continued to cut deep. "You're fucking Chris; how much does he pay to use you? Because last I checked, I got to do it for free."

Before I could respond, a familiar voice interjected, breaking the tense silence. It was Spencer. With a steely glare, he shoved Andy away from me, a protective instinct evident in his actions. His words were a welcome shield against Andy's toxicity. "You should know not to corner a woman, Andy, and we all know y/n is out of your league," Spencer asserted, his voice dripping with disdain.

As Spencer ushered Andy away, I felt a rush of gratitude wash over me. "Thanks," I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper. Spencer shook his head, his expression filled with a mixture of frustration and sympathy. "Your friends love leaving you in such situations with that asshole," he remarked, his tone tinged with bitterness, I nodded in acknowledgment, absorbing his words. "That they do," I murmured softly, feeling a tinge of uncertainty creeping in. "I think I'm just going to head back to the bus. I need to fix myself up." My voice wavered slightly, betraying the inner turmoil I was experiencing.

His response was immediate, filled with a warmth that softened the edges of my unease. "Let me walk you," he offered gently, his eyes conveying a silent understanding. In that moment, I realized I couldn't bring myself to argue with him, his presence offering a sense of comfort I desperately craved. With a nod, I acquiesced, silently grateful for his offer.

As we began to make our way back, I couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered within me like a shadow. "I'm not sure I wanna go back," I admitted hesitantly, the words hanging in the air between us like an unspoken plea for understanding.

"This is the first official day of the tour, fuck Andy," he exclaimed with a frustrated edge to his voice. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his outburst as I stepped into the Motionless in White bus, seeking refuge from the tension brewing outside. However, my moment of respite was short-lived as the door creaked open, revealing Spencer's imposing figure.

"I wasn't done with our conversation," he declared firmly, his presence filling the cramped space with an intensity that was hard to ignore.

"Well, I was," I replied nonchalantly, mustering a casual shrug as I positioned myself by the window, pretending to be engrossed in the view outside. But his reflection in the glass betrayed his smirk, sending a shiver down my spine.

"This can potentially be your strike two, remember three strikes, y/n," he warned, his tone laced with a hint of menace. I turned to face him, confusion etched into my features as I searched for clarity.

"What do you even mean by that?" I questioned, my voice tinged with uncertainty. His eyebrow quirked in amusement, his gaze piercing through me like a dagger.

"I think that's the fun part. I know what it means, but you, my little devil, don't," he teased cryptically, leaving me grappling with the unsettling implications of his words.

As Spencer's words registered in my mind, I couldn't shake the realization that he had just given me a nickname. I blinked in surprise, feeling my heart quicken its pace in response. Despite my reluctance to admit it, his choice of moniker stirred something within me, causing an unexpected rush of arousal.

Gulping audibly, I struggled to focus as he continued speaking, my attention slipping away as my thoughts drifted back to the significance of his words. "Now I need to go and do some work, but I'll see if you can help us with our VIP stuff," he stated, his voice pulling me back to the present moment.

Though I nodded in response, my mind was still reeling from the implications of his nickname for me. What did it mean? And why did it affect me so profoundly? With a sense of unease mingling with curiosity, I watched as he departed, his departure leaving me grappling with a newfound sense of intrigue and apprehension.

As Spencer left, his parting gesture—a symbolic display of three fingers followed by the lowering of two—lingered in my mind, leaving me pondering its significance. Was it a signal of some sort? Or perhaps a subtle reminder of his earlier warning? Whatever it meant, one thing was clear: he was serious about whatever he had hinted at.

Watching him retreat back into the venue, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I was slowly but steadily falling for him. Despite my best efforts to resist, there was something about him that drew me in—a combination of his enigmatic charm and the undeniable chemistry between us.

But why was I allowing myself to succumb to these feelings? I chastised myself internally, frustrated by the unexpected turn of emotions. Yet, try as I might to push him away, I found myself unable to resist the pull he exerted on me.

Shifting my focus away from the window, I sought refuge in the familiar distraction of the TV and my phone, hoping to drown out the tumultuous thoughts swirling in my mind. Engaging in mindless scrolling through various apps, I attempted to find solace in the digital realm, albeit temporarily.

Chapter Text

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

One year ago 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Spencer's Pov

I sat in the dimly lit waiting room, the sterile walls closing in around me like a vice. My fingers drummed nervously against the armrest of the chair, a rhythmic beat echoing the cacophony of voices that swirled inside my mind.

I glanced at the clock, willing time to move faster, desperate to escape the suffocating silence that surrounded me. But I knew I couldn't leave, not yet. Not until I had what I came for.

And then, she walked in.

Her presence disrupted the stagnant air, a burst of chaos in an otherwise mundane environment. Hood pulled up, headphones in, she seemed oblivious to the world around her, lost in her own little universe of sound and rhythm.

I smirked, my lips curling into a twisted grin as I watched her. But then, I heard them. The voices. Whispering, taunting, their insidious murmurs clawing at the edges of my consciousness.

I froze, my smirk faltering as I struggled to drown out the noise. I thought they were gone, banished to the darkest corners of my mind. But here they were again, mocking me, tormenting me with their relentless barrage of madness.

I clenched my fists, nails biting into the flesh of my palm as I fought to regain control. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not here. Not now.

But as she glanced in my direction, her eyes briefly meeting mine before flitting away, I knew.

The voices were back.

And this time, they were stronger than ever.

As my internal turmoil raged on, the voices grew louder, more insistent, urging me to take action. Their sinister whispers slithered through the chaos of my mind, enticing me with promises of control and dominance.

"Take her, Spencer," 

they hissed, their words a venomous temptation. 

 "She's not paying any attention. She doesn't know who you are."

I felt a cold sweat break out across my brow as the urge to succumb to their demands threatened to overwhelm me. The darkness within me hungered for release, craving the rush of power that came with asserting my dominance over another.

"You know you want to see a knife plunged into her," 

they taunted, their words like a twisted melody luring me further into the depths of depravity.

But amidst the chaos, amidst the overwhelming urge to give in to the darkness, one voice emerged. A voice I hadn't heard since that fateful night with my ex-girlfriend.

"We need her," 

it whispered, its tone both chilling and alluring in its familiarity.

They were right. I wanted to do all those things to her. To make her mine, and mine alone.

As my therapist called my name, snapping me out of my daze, I forced myself to regain control. With a disdainful glance at the man before me, I nodded curtly.

"Yes," I replied, my voice cold and devoid of emotion. Rising from my seat, I made my way towards the door, my eyes briefly flickering towards the girl whose presence had ignited the flames of my darkest desires.

I noticed her phone screen, the username "Livingdeaddxll" flashing before me like a sign from the universe.

A sinister smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I made a mental note. Perhaps she would be the perfect addition to my collection.

As I settled onto the couch, the weight of my thoughts pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket, my therapist's smile felt like a mocking facade. I sighed heavily, the air heavy with the burden of my inner turmoil.

I feigned interest as he began to speak, his words drifting over me like distant echoes in the void of my mind. But beneath the facade of compliance, my thoughts churned with a singular focus: the mysterious girl whose presence had ignited an obsession within me.

I swore then and there that I would uncover her identity, by any means necessary. My fingers itched with the urge to delve into the depths of cyberspace, to unearth the secrets she hid behind her online persona.

As my therapist prattled on, I made a mental note to prioritize my investigation. This girl held the key to unlocking a new chapter in my twisted narrative, and I would stop at nothing to unravel the enigma she represented.

With a newfound determination burning within me, I resolved to delve deeper into the shadows, to uncover the truth behind the username "Livingdeaddxll." For in her, I saw not just a fleeting obsession, but the potential for something far greater.

And as the session drew to a close, I rose from the couch with a sense of purpose burning bright within me. The hunt had begun, and I would not rest until I had her in my grasp.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

After Therapy 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Sitting in the dimly lit sanctuary of my workroom, surrounded by the relics of my obsession, I felt a surge of anticipation coursing through my veins. With trembling fingers, I pulled out my phone, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

Creating a new account on Twitter was child's play, a mere formality in my quest to unravel the mystery of "Livingdeaddxll." Under the guise of "Horror_Master," I meticulously curated my profile, following a myriad of accounts to lend credence to my digital persona.

With baited breath, I clicked on her profile, my pulse quickening as I saw the familiar username glaring back at me from the screen. She was active, tweeting away into the void of cyberspace, unaware of the storm brewing on the horizon.

Summoning every ounce of restraint, I composed a message, my fingers dancing across the screen with a feverish urgency. The words flowed effortlessly, a carefully crafted invitation veiled in intrigue and curiosity.

With a sense of satisfaction, I hit send, my heart pounding in anticipation of her response. The game had begun, and I was ready to play.

Let me in rate it 1-10  

I'm sorry, what? 

You like horror movies, and so do I, so I thought I should see how well you like them or hate them

Oh, okay, lol? I don't even know you tho. 

It's okay. I'll only do it every day, and that's all you'll hear from me

Hmm 🤔 okay... 

I loved how it was a Horror/romance about a boy who didn't fit in and a girl who was a vampire. The storyline was great. Never a dull moment at all. The graphics were good, with lots of blood. I would kill to see a part 2

As I leaned back in my chair, a sinister grin tugging at the corners of my lips, I reveled in the brilliance of my plan. The knowledge of her passion for horror movies was like a golden opportunity, a doorway into her world that I was determined to exploit to its fullest extent.

With each passing moment, my anticipation grew, fueled by the thrill of the hunt and the promise of what lay ahead. She may have thought herself a connoisseur of horror, but little did she know, she was about to become the unwitting protagonist in the darkest tale of all.

I relished the thought of weaving myself into the fabric of her life, slowly but surely unraveling the threads of her reality until she was ensnared in the web of my design. Every interaction, every exchange, would be carefully calculated, a delicate dance of manipulation and deception.

But beneath the facade of charm and allure, lurked the darkness that consumed me. I craved the chaos that her presence promised, the thrill of the chase and the satisfaction of victory.

And so, with a renewed sense of purpose burning within me, I awaited her response, eager to begin the twisted game that would ultimately lead to her downfall. In her love for horror, she had unwittingly invited the monster into her midst.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

A Couple 

   Of Months Ago

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

As the days passed, my obsession with her consumed me like a ravenous fire, leaving me unable to focus on anything else. Her every tweet, every post, became a tantalizing glimpse into the inner workings of her mind, a puzzle waiting to be solved.

I found myself studying her photos with an intensity bordering on madness, each image a canvas upon which I projected my darkest desires. But amidst the sea of faces and places, one figure stood out like a beacon in the night: Chris from Motionless in White.

His presence in her photos stirred a jealousy within me that burned with a white-hot intensity. I longed to be the one standing by her side, to be the object of her affection and admiration. But as I watched from the shadows, it became painfully clear that I was merely a spectator in her world, a ghost haunting the periphery of her existence.

With each passing day, the ache of longing grew stronger, fueled by the knowledge that I could never truly possess her. She belonged to another, a fact that twisted the knife of jealousy deeper into my already fractured psyche.

But even as the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head, another emotion bubbled to the surface: determination. If I couldn't have her for myself, then I would ensure that no one else could either. And with that thought burning bright within me, I began to lay the groundwork for my ultimate conquest.

For in the twisted labyrinth of my mind, there was only one truth that mattered:

She would be mine, one way or another.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     7:45 PM 

The Meeting     

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Sitting down before Andy, I watched as he scanned the bar, his eyes darting around in search of me. With a smirk, I interrupted his search.

"Don't be alarmed. It's just me," I said, my voice laced with a hint of menace.

Andy's gaze snapped to mine, surprise flickering in his eyes as he realized who had approached him. I could see the wariness in his expression, but I had a proposition to make, and I wasn't about to let his apprehension deter me.

"Listen, Andy," I began, my tone low and commanding. "I need you to do something for me, and if you do, I'll get your band with us on tour."

I could see the gears turning in Andy's mind as he weighed his options. The promise of a tour with his band was undoubtedly tempting, but he knew there would be a catch. I leaned in closer, my gaze locking with his as I laid out my terms.

"All you have to do," I continued, my voice dripping with persuasion, "is help me with a little... situation I have."

Andy's skepticism was palpable as he listened to my proposition, his brow furrowing in suspicion. But beneath his facade of doubt, I could sense a flicker of apprehension, a primal instinct warning him of the danger that lurked beneath my calm exterior.

"What do you want me to do?" he finally asked, his voice tinged with reluctance.

I leaned back in my seat, a predatory smirk playing at the corners of my lips. "You make y/n come crawling to me," I replied, my words dripping with malice.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "You know my ex?"

I clenched my fists, the rage bubbling beneath the surface threatening to consume me. Andy had hurt her, betrayed her trust, and now, he stood before me as a barrier between me and the object of my obsession.

"I know her," I growled, my voice low and menacing. "And I want her to see me as the good guy, unlike you, the villain."

I outlined my rules with chilling precision, making it clear that failure to comply would have dire consequences. Andy's gulp was barely audible over the pounding of my heart, but he nodded his head in reluctant agreement.

"Now for the rules," I continued, my voice dripping with venom. "Follow every instruction I tell you to do. If you don't, there will be consequences. And the second rule? Make sure no one is fucking her."

As the weight of my words settled over us like a suffocating blanket, I could see the fear in Andy's eyes. He knew that crossing me would be a grave mistake, but he had no choice but to play by my rules.

For in the twisted depths of my fractured mind, there was only one truth that mattered:

I would stop at nothing to make her mine, even if it meant tearing down anyone who stood in my way.

As Andy's drink sprayed across the table in a shocked spit, a twisted satisfaction curled the corners of my lips. His reaction only confirmed his newfound allegiance to my cause, a pawn in my sinister game of manipulation.

"How would I even find that out?" he sputtered, his voice tinged with disbelief.

I shrugged indifferently, a cold smirk playing at the edges of my lips. "That's the rules you follow," I replied, my tone dripping with menace. "Now, I'm going to leave. I'll have my managers give yours a call."

With a dismissive wave of my hand, I tossed a handful of bills onto the table, the crisp sound of cash hitting wood punctuating the finality of our agreement. Without another word, I rose from my seat, leaving Andy to grapple with the weight of his newfound obligations.

As I exited the bar, a sense of triumph surged through me like a tidal wave. With Andy on my side, there was nothing that could stand in the way of my ultimate goal. She would be mine, no matter the cost.

And as I disappeared into the night, a malevolent smirk danced upon my lips, a silent promise of the darkness that lay ahead.

For in the twisted depths of my fractured mind, there was only one truth that mattered:

I would stop at nothing to possess her, body and soul. And with Andy as my unwitting accomplice, the game was truly afoot.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     Day Of 

Tour     

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

As the chaos of tour preparations swirled around me, I juggled the demands of managing the logistics while trying to maintain the delicate dance of manipulation with y/n on Twitter. But duty called, and I found myself pulled away to assist Patrick and Ricky with last-minute tasks.

With a reluctant sigh, I stowed my phone safely in my pocket, the temptation to check for y/n's messages gnawing at the back of my mind. The risk of breaking it in the frenzy of activity was too great, and I couldn't afford any distractions.

Finally, as we all boarded the bus and settled into our respective areas, I seized the opportunity to retreat into the sanctuary of my own space. With a sense of anticipation, I retrieved my phone from my pocket, the familiar weight a comforting presence in my hand.

With a few swift taps of my fingers, I navigated to our conversation on Twitter, a surge of excitement coursing through me at the prospect of reconnecting with y/n. In the midst of the chaos and uncertainty, she was a beacon of light, a reminder of the twisted desires that burned within me.

As I typed out my message, a sinister smile tugged at the corners of my lips. The game was far from over, and I was determined to play it to the bitter end.

Sorry for disappearing like that; work got really busy. I noticed you mentioned something about you and your best friend being on tour. What's that all about?

I take it you haven't read my bio. My best friend is Chris Motionless, and he begged me to go on tour with him, so here I am, lol

As the realization dawned upon me that Chris had begged her to go on the tour, a surge of anger and frustration coursed through me. How dare he interfere with my plans, attempting to sway her decision and disrupt the delicate balance I had worked so meticulously to maintain? The thought of losing her now, with victory tantalizingly close, fueled the flames of my rage.

However, I knew I couldn't afford to lose control. Maintaining my composure was paramount, especially in this critical moment. I couldn't allow my emotions to jeopardize everything I had painstakingly orchestrated.

With a determined effort, I pushed back the rising tide of fury, forcing myself to remain calm and focused. Losing my temper now would only sabotage my chances of capturing her heart and completing my twisted game.

So you are part of the Trinity Terror Tour?

Yeah! I'm excited but nervous

Do you know any of the other bands?

I'm just curious if she knows about us

MIW and I didn't choose to get acquainted with BVB, but that's a story for another day.

So you know BVB and MIW but not Ice Nine Kills; what a shame

As I read her message, a dark laugh escaped my lips, echoing through the hollow chambers of my mind. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me—she had no idea who she was truly conversing with, and yet, here I was, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

But despite the twisted amusement I felt at her ignorance, a nagging thought gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. I didn't want a fan girl; I wanted something more, something deeper and more meaningful. And yet, I couldn't shake the inexplicable pull she had on me.

What was it about her that captivated me so? Was it the allure of the unknown, the thrill of the chase, or something else entirely? I couldn't say for sure, but one thing was certain: she had ensnared me in her web, and I found myself powerless to resist.

I didn't exactly choose to get to know BVB, to be honest. I have a bit of a history with them. Since MIW is my best friend's band, it's inevitable that I know them, haha. But deep down, I do wish I had a connection with INK instead 😭

if you don't mind me asking, what's the story behind your history with BVB?

As the minutes ticked by with no response from her, a sense of unease crept over me like a suffocating blanket. Had I pushed too hard, delving too deeply into her past with Andy? The thought gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, fueling a growing sense of anxiety.

But amidst the turmoil of my thoughts, a plan began to form. If she wouldn't reveal the truth willingly, then perhaps I could orchestrate a situation where it would come to light. And what better setting than a bar, where emotions ran high and secrets were often laid bare?

With a sense of grim determination, I made a decision to bide my time, to wait for the opportune moment to strike. Closing my eyes, I focused on the rhythmic hum of the bus as it carried us towards our destination, steeling myself for the confrontation that lay ahead.

As we arrived at the bar, I could feel the tension mounting within me, a coiled spring ready to be unleashed. I knew that Andy would be there, waiting to make his move, and I would be ready to swoop in and save her from his clutches.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Night Of 

     Tour     

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ 

As we approached the bar, I couldn't help but notice the bouncer's leering gaze fixed upon y/n, a surge of protective instinct coursing through me like a bolt of lightning. Violence simmered beneath the surface, begging to be unleashed, but I knew that there were other ways to handle the situation.

With a steely resolve, I stepped forward, confronting the bouncer with a cool demeanor that belied the storm raging within. "She looks a little uncomfortable with you staring at her," I remarked, my voice laced with a thinly veiled warning. "Maybe just do your job and check IDs, not women."

I felt y/n's gaze upon me, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes. It was a small victory, but one that filled me with a sense of satisfaction. Perhaps I had already begun to ensnare her in my web.

As we entered the bar, I extended my hand to her, a silent invitation to join me in this twisted dance of manipulation and desire. Retrieving her ID from the bouncer's grasp, I passed it to her with a subtle gesture, a silent reassurance of my protection.

As we found ourselves at the bar, her gaze lingered on me, her voice trembling with gratitude as she spoke. "Thank you so much, m-my friend left me," she stammered.

I took a sip of my drink, my eyes never leaving hers as I responded, "Well, your friend is an ass leaving you alone." The words slipped effortlessly from my lips, a genuine sentiment born from the depths of my concern for her well-being.

She began to speak, her words faltering as she explained the bouncer's unwarranted interference. Anger flared within me at the injustice of it all, but I forced it down, focusing instead on the woman before me.

As I settled into my seat, the weight of the drink in my hand a comforting anchor amidst the chaos swirling around me, I felt her presence beside me, a subtle warmth that sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. My gaze flickered briefly over her, lingering for a moment on the enticing curve of her chest, before I forced myself to look away.

She ordered her favorite alcoholic beverage, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of my lips. It seemed she was already beginning to understand me, to anticipate my desires before I even voiced them.

"So, what's your name?" she asked, her voice soft and inviting as she took a sip of her drink.

"Spencer," I replied, my own smile mirroring hers. "And you are?"

"I'-I'm y/n," she stammered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "And I'm so embarrassed that I just realized that you are the frontman of Ice Nine Kills."

Before I could respond, my attention was abruptly torn away as I noticed Andy's unwelcome intrusion. The surge of anger that welled up within me threatened to consume me, but I forced myself to remain composed, to bide my time and wait for the opportune moment to strike.

"I'll be right back," y/n told me, her voice tinged with apology as she rose from her seat.

I nodded in acknowledgment, my jaw clenched tight with frustration. Andy's interference was an unwelcome complication, but perhaps it would serve to further my plans in some unexpected way.

As I watched her exit the bar in a hurry, my heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and dread. The game was far from over, and I was determined to see it through to its twisted conclusion.

As I raced towards the back to retrieve the car, a surge of anticipation coursed through me like a live wire. I could hardly contain my excitement as I approached her, the faint glimmer of her phone screen casting an ethereal glow in the dimly lit alley.

Rolling down the tinted window, I offered her a ride back to the hotel, my voice laced with a subtle hint of eagerness. She hesitated for a moment, her gaze fixed on the ground, before finally nodding in acceptance.

A triumphant grin spread across my face as I unlocked the door for her, a silent invitation to step into my world. As she settled into the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt, I couldn't help but steal glances at her, marveling at her proximity.

"So, you and Andy?" I ventured, breaking the silence that hung heavy between us.

She glanced out the window, her expression guarded as she replied, "He's just an ex."

I nodded in understanding, though a pang of jealousy gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. It seemed that Andy's betrayal had left its mark on her, a wound that still bled despite the passage of time.

"Seems he doesn't know what he's missing out on," I remarked, my voice soft with empathy.

She shook her head, a hint of sadness clouding her features. "He cheated on me, so I think he does know what he's missing."

Her words struck a chord within me, a reminder of the pain and betrayal that lurked beneath the surface of our twisted connection. It surprised me that Andy had left out such crucial information, but in that moment, it mattered little.

As we neared the hotel, I fell silent, the weight of our shared secrets hanging heavy in the air. Parking the car in the garage connected to the hotel, I turned to her, a silent question lingering between us.

As we stepped out of the car and made our way towards the elevator, a chilling silence hung in the air. "Wait, do you know where our rooms are?" her voice pierced through the tension, sending a shiver down my spine. I looked at her, my expression blank. "Didn't Chris inform you?" I inquired, my tone laced with a hint of menace.

"Hello? Earth to y/n," I snapped, noticing her flustered state as she hurried into the elevator. I caught her mumble, "Sorry! No, he didn't tell me."

I nodded, pressing the button with a sense of urgency. "Stay with me tonight since you don't know where your room is," I commanded, my excitement barely contained beneath the surface.

She fidgeted nervously with her hands. "I would love to, but I need to find our room. I need to get something," she stammered out. I could feel my patience wearing thin. With a swift movement, I hit the panic button, bringing the elevator to a sudden halt, and closed the distance between us. "What is this 'something' you need, y/n?" I demanded, my voice dripping with dark curiosity. She swallowed hard, her eyes avoiding mine. "Weed, I just need it to calm myself down after this night," she confessed.

"You're in luck; one of my bandmates has some," I lied smoothly, claiming it as my own. With a sinister smirk, I restarted the elevator.

"So I don't have a choice?" she questioned, her voice trembling slightly.

"You always have a choice, but why wander around in uncomfortable shoes and a dress you despise searching for a room when I'm offering you one?" I retorted, the doors finally opening, allowing me to lead the way, with her reluctantly following behind.

We arrived at my door, and without a word, I unlocked it, disappearing into my room to change, shedding the suffocating layers of the evening's facade. When I returned to the living room, I found her seated on the couch.

I tossed a shirt in her direction, indifferent to her discomfort in that dress—though I couldn't deny she looked stunning in it.

"Only a shirt?" she queried, her voice breaking through the silence.

"Would you prefer sweatpants or shorts?" I retorted, my patience waning.

She nodded, but her indecision irritated me, and I raised a skeptical brow at her.

"Shorts," she finally confirmed.

I left momentarily, returning with a pair of worn-out basketball shorts, which she accepted before nervously inquiring about the bathroom's location.

"It's just on your left," I replied tersely.

As she hurried away, I settled on the opposite end of the couch, turning on the TV at a moderate volume. When she returned, I tossed my bag of weed her way, cautioning her not to smoke inside.

"Changed your mind about smoking?" I teased, a smirk playing on my lips.

She shook her head, and fatigue began to weigh on me. With a yawn, I rose, offering her my hand to assist her up. We stood facing each other, and I suggested retiring for the night.

"But where will I sleep?" she inquired, her uncertainty palpable.

I contemplated for a moment, the desire to have her beside me battling against my rationality.

"We can share the bed, or I'll take the couch," I offered reluctantly.

"If it's alright, could you sleep on the couch?" she requested, her words like a stab to my longing.

"Of course," I replied through gritted teeth, gathering extra blankets and pillows before retreating to the couch, my frustration simmering beneath the surface.

As I settled in, I noticed her already seated on the bed, engrossed in her phone. I approached, handing it to her wordlessly before making my exit, the ache of disappointment lingering in my chest.

Sinister

0-10

I loved this movie. I have watched numerous psychological horror flicks, but none spooked me as much as Sinister did. The videos and the music are bone-chilling, and I like how in the opening, you had no idea what was happening as you're faced with a family being hung from a tree. "Slowly" is the keyword in the entire film. It wasn't too fast-paced, but it revealed itself gradually, giving the audience lots of suspense! So I'd say

6.9/10 

I can only watch it here and there. I do love the opening too

Why are you up so late lol?

I could ask you the same thing y/n

I just had a shit night.

Was the first night of the tour that bad?

My ex was beyond being a drunk asshole tonight, and I must admit. It's like you always know how to cheer me up, are Are you sure you aren't my stalker? 

When she sent that, I felt my blood go cold. she couldn't have known? Could she?..

Yikes, I don't think your life is anything exciting to where I'd want to stalk you y/n

Oh, but I have been..

Ha ha, I forgot to laugh

Well, it is late, and I'm tired night y/n.

As I settled into the couch, exhaustion weighing heavy on my eyelids, I couldn't shake the restless thoughts swirling in my mind. How far could I push this without facing consequences? How long before someone caught wind of our clandestine arrangement? The uncertainty gnawed at me, but fatigue eventually claimed victory, pulling me into a fitful slumber haunted by the shadows of my own desires. 

Chapter Text

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Afternoon

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Y/n Pov

I was bored sitting in the bus but I did not want to run into Andy I know it's going to be difficult because we are on tour with each other but I can only hope and try. 

The door flung open revealing a sweaty Spencer his hair was messy as he darted at me with a smirk, I'd never been more terrified in my life when he smirks at me, "I know exactly what you can do" he informed me I looked at him puzzled "what?" I asked annoyed 

"You can be the stage performer for us," he let out to me 

I had wide eyes "No no way! Spencer, I don't even know what to do let alone any of the choreography" 

"It's easy stuff we can practice we are also going on first tonight after black veil brides," he spoke out to me 

He held out his hand for me I sighed clasping it "If I fuck up don't say I told you so" he rolled his eyes at me and opened up the motionless whites bus door I followed him to the stage and it was packed with a lot of stuff I've never seen but it looked so cool! 

"You in awe?" I took notice and turned around to be met with another guy who was wearing a hoodie and shorts "I'm Patrick" I smiled at him "Y/n" He looked at me "I've never seen you before what exactly do you do?" I went to speak when Spencer came back with clothes "She's the new stage performer" he nodded his head and strolled away but not before waving bye to me I felt my cheeks Redding but I noticed Spencer gripping the clothes with white knuckles, that's strange. 

"Come on we have a lot to do," he spoke to me 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

the shower

 scene choreograph

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The song was playing in backtrack I noticed Spencer having a fake prop, one of his knives, his hair was messier than normal and he looked a little crazy with his shirt that had fake blood on it 

I wasn't wearing the wig he said not to worry about it but I was in the bathrobe I did the fake washing and Spencer came close towards me looking down at me with a glint in his eyes I couldn't identify it.

I took off behind the curtain and he followed me behind I did basically what the movie Psycho did when Spencer was raising the knife he kept smirking at me. I was simply confused But then I wasn't thinking too much of it since he does have a "character" 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Done  With

choreograph

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

It wasn't even that bad I got myself all anxious for no reason I caught a glimpse of Spencer coming by me but looked tired "You okay?" I asked him he chuckled "Yeah just doing all of this takes a lot of energy out of somebody" I nodded my head not knowing what else to say 

I seated down on the stage looking out into the crowd and wow this place is going to be packed. it's insane to me but also good for both of these bands I would say three but no thanks. I stood up "I think I'm gonna go," I told him he stepped towards me "Come on hang out with me your friends are doing what they need to" 

I shrugged my shoulders "I just wanted to relax before I come out to all of these people tonight Spencer" I mumbled to him 

"Fine then I'll join, little devil of mine," he said with a grin as I just looked at him with wide eyes what did he say? He was off the stage "Are you coming or not?" He raised a question while pointing the fake knife prop at me.

I smirked "I wish" his eyes widened I hopped off the stage "I'm kidding rockstar" I looked around at him "Or am I?" I winked and sprinted towards the bus because I didn't think I would be openly flirting I only did that with Chris.

I opened up the bus door and went where I knew my bag would be but that's when I noticed that my bag was on the floor since Vinny probably went through it which I don't mind since it's ours but as I was doing that I felt gaze I peaked seeing Spencer leaning against the door his legs crossed, the fake knife tip in his mouth

 Holy shit did I just blink this man is attractive I veered back around to hear the door and lock my heart was beating a tad bit faster from hearing the door close and lock. 

I spun only to be met with Spencer and that glint in his eyes was back he lightly ran the fake knife tip down my neck I gulped all the thoughts from my head were gone in an instant, I felt like I was in a trance and that character he was playing was very much real and not to even think about this but I wouldn't mind if we fucked around right here and now.

He smirked waving the knife in my face "Hello earth to y/n?"

"Sorry! I have it it's here in my hand" I said in a rush Ah I have to get these thoughts out of my head!

I sat down on the couch, Spencer was next to me I filled the bowl as Spencer opened up the windows so the smell wouldn't get trapped in this bus 

I only wanted to smoke one bowl to help with the anxiety of being up on the stage I offered Spencer to hit the bowl but he shook his head declining my offer. I felt odd smoking by myself especially since he was just next to me and looking at me making my cheeks redden especially when I'm high I get all giggly and well I'm just more outgoing. 

"So little devil is this all you do?" Spencer asked me 

I cracked up "no just sometimes"

"Yikes get a better hobby y/n," he let out I rolled my eyes putting down the bowl since I was done, "okay but says the guy whose favorite scary movie is Scream and you collect it! you know you kinda give me the vibe that you'd fuck someone in a Ghostface mask or in any mask really," I declared to him nonchalantly but let out a little laugh 

I heard a chuckle "Oh Is that right?" 

I nodded my head "Yep" 

He shook his head "You really don't know when to shut the pretty little mouth of yours do you?" He asked me I smirked at him "Nope I don't but it's why people love me unlike you Sir" I told him looking into his eyes and booped his nose as I said sir that's when he clutched my hand and it was a tad tight "sir?, Did you just give me a nickname?" 

My eyes widen and I wanted to get out of his grip when the door rattled "Let me in I have to piss" It was Justin Spencer let go of my hand as he stood up to unlock the door 

Justin walked in and looked at Spencer then at me then at Spencer then back to me "You two didn't screw on the couch right?" He asked Spencer laughed as I was just mortified "No! What Justin go pee" I proclaimed to him he shrugged and walked towards the bathroom leaving me an embarrassed mess In front of Spencer. 

He grabbed his phone from his pocket " I have to go Ricky and Joe need me" he said I bit my bottom lip "Erm can I maybe have your number?" I asked him

"Oh you want my number I expect you to text me good morning and good night every day now," he notified me 

I shook my head "Yeah no thanks I don't want your number if I have to do that!" 

He laughed "Don't worry I'm kidding here just add your number" I added my number into his phone as he then left the bus going towards his that's when I heard the bathroom door open and Justin came out with a smirk "Seems like (nickname) has a crush!" He said loudly making me blush because he was not necessarily wrong... I was developing a crush on the one and only Spencer Charnas

Chapter Text

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

d r e a m l a n n d

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Spencer's Pov

As I sat on the bus, the familiar grip of anxiety tightened its hold on my chest, threatening to suffocate me with a relentless barrage of what-ifs. With each passing moment, the weight of uncertainty bore down on me, casting a shadow of doubt over my resolve.

Fingers trembling, I reached for my phone, the cold metal offering a fleeting sense of familiarity amidst the chaos of my thoughts. And as if on cue, his name flashed across the screen, a silent reminder of the connection that bound us together

Spencer: You better not be getting second thoughts 

Y/n: I'm just scared of fucking up and well in turn making you guys look horrible if I screw up..

Spencer: if you are this worried just come out for the shower scene choreography 

Y/n: are you sure? 

Spencer: yes we do have other crew who's also part of the stage team, just only do one tonight. remember we are second tonight so see you soon little devil.

As the door to the bus swung open, revealing Chris's puzzled expression, my cheeks flushed crimson at the memory of the nickname Spencer had bestowed upon me. Before I could gather my thoughts, Chris settled in beside me, his voice tinged with frustration as he questioned my decision to perform with INK that night.

His words pierced through the haze of uncertainty, causing my heart to plummet with a sinking dread. "I didn't ask, I kinda got told by Spencer," I explained, hoping to assuage his growing annoyance.

But Chris's skepticism only deepened, his doubts casting a shadow of suspicion over the budding friendship between Spencer and me. "I don't trust him, something is off," he insisted, his tone laced with a hint of concern.

Annoyance flared within me at his unfounded accusations. "What the hell, Chris? There's nothing off about him," I retorted, my frustration bubbling to the surface.

But Chris remained unmoved, his skepticism unwavering. "Oh really? How would you know?" he challenged, his doubts fueling the growing tension between us.

Frustration gave way to disbelief as I struggled to comprehend his sudden change in demeanor. "Because we are becoming friends? I don't really have to explain myself here, Chris," I shot back, my patience wearing thin.

His silence spoke volumes, leaving me reeling with the realization of his true feelings. "I'm not going to... screw him! Oh my God, are you jealous?" I joked, but when Chris rose abruptly from his seat, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

Determined to confront the truth, I followed him, my words stumbling over each other in a desperate attempt to salvage our fractured relationship. But before I could finish my sentence, Chris's actions silenced me, his lips crashing against mine in a fervent display of longing.

The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, leaving me speechless as I struggled to process the implications of his words. "Chris," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper, uncertain of what the future held for us.

Caught between the tumult of emotions swirling within me, I listened as Chris poured his heart out, his words echoing with a vulnerability that left me speechless. The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, tugging at the strings of my heart with an undeniable force.

"I've always liked you since we became friends," Chris confessed, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "And when you were with Andy, I just wanted you to be happy. That's all I cared about. And when he cheated on you and you came to me crying, it killed me seeing the one person I love in so much pain from a single relationship. I understand if you don't feel the same way—"

His words faltered as I reached out, grasping his hand in a silent gesture of understanding. "Chris, I don't know what to say," I admitted, the weight of his confession hanging heavy between us.

"Please, y/n, give me a chance," he pleaded, his eyes searching mine for a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty.

"Let me think about this," I requested, my mind reeling with the weight of his words. The prospect of dating Chris, of taking that leap of faith into the unknown, filled me with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

Before I could dwell further on the matter, the door swung open, revealing the chaotic presence of Justin, Ryan, and the rest of the band. Their playful banter provided a welcome distraction, a momentary reprieve from the intensity of the conversation I had just shared with Chris.

As I settled back into the comfort of the couch, Vinny's arrival brought a familiar sense of camaraderie, his presence a comforting reminder of the bonds that bound us together.

But amidst the laughter and teasing, my phone buzzed with a message from Spencer,

Spencer: hey soon come over to our bus, see you soon little devil. 

Feeling Chris's head resting on my shoulder, I couldn't help but lean into his comforting presence, his warmth a soothing balm against the turmoil raging within me. "He gave you a nickname?" Chris's voice broke through the silence, his tone tinged with curiosity as he sought to understand the dynamics of my relationship with Spencer.

I nodded slowly, my fingers hovering over my phone as I mulled over my response to Spencer's message. With a deep breath, I began to type, the words flowing from me with a sense of hesitancy and uncertainty, unsure of the path that lay ahead.

y/n: gotcha see ya soon🫡 

As Chris voiced his disapproval of Spencer giving me a nickname, I chuckled, initially thinking he was joking. But the seriousness etched on his face told a different story. "Chris, you can't be serious. Everyone gives me nicknames. I told you, we're just friends, that's it," I explained, trying to brush off his concern as I slipped on my shoes, preparing to head over to the INK bus.

Chris followed me, his words lingering in the air as he assured me, "I'll see you on stage." I couldn't help but smile at his promise. "You gonna watch me?" I teased, to which he nodded earnestly. "Of course," he replied, and with that, I left the bus, making my way towards INK.

As I approached the bus, the sounds of music and chanting greeted me, a palpable energy pulsating through the air. Knocking on the door, I was greeted by Patrick, who recognized me immediately. "Y/n, right?" he confirmed, and I nodded in return, stepping inside as he made way for me.

Inside, I was introduced to the rest of the band members. Ricky, Joe, and Miles each extended a handshake and a warm greeting, welcoming me into their midst. As Miles explained that he was filling in for Dan, I couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie forming between us.

Taking a seat next to Ricky, I found myself drawn into their playful banter, the atmosphere light and relaxed. But when Spencer arrived, his playful demeanor shifted slightly as he teased me about meeting the guys. "I see you met the guys," he remarked, to which I nodded in affirmation.

"They introduced themselves because someone didn't do that," I quipped, earning a playful eye roll from Spencer. But his next words caught me off guard. "Whatever, little devil. Just be thankful we all like you," he teased, to which I laughed, feeling a warmth spreading through me at his words.

"Hey, everyone here likes me," I countered, only for Spencer to scoff in response. "Really, everyone? I think Andy doesn't," he retorted, a hint of seriousness underlying his words. The mention of Andy sent a pang of unease through me, reminding me of the lingering tensions that still existed between us.

"Yeah, he's my ex, so," I shrugged, brushing off the significance of Andy's presence with a casual nonchalance. But the shocked expressions on everyone's faces told me that they hadn't expected such a revelation.

"You dated that?" Patrick exclaimed, his disbelief evident in his tone. I simply nodded in confirmation, dismissing Andy's actions with a dismissive wave of my hand. "He was the one who cheated on me, but I don't really care. He's a dick," I declared, the bitterness of my past relationship still lingering in the back of my mind.

As Spencer began handing out drinks, he extended one to me with a questioning look. "You want one?" he offered, and I accepted it with a grateful smile. "Thanks," I murmured, taking a sip of the drink and relishing the familiar burn of alcohol as it warmed its way down my throat. Perhaps a little liquid courage was just what I needed to loosen up before the show.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

S h o w t i m e 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

As showtime approached, nerves coursed through me like a relentless tide, my heart pounding against my ribcage as I stood behind the stage, steeling myself for the performance ahead. But just as the weight of anticipation threatened to overwhelm me, Andy's presence loomed before me, his taunting words slicing through the air like a sharpened blade.

"So does the slut sleep with all the bands on this tour?" he sneered, his smirk dripping with disdain as he loomed over me. Rolling my eyes in response, I mustered whatever courage I had left and retorted, "No, I'm actually not."

With a surge of liquid courage fueling my actions, I lashed out, my fist connecting with Andy's face in a satisfying impact that left him clutching his nose in pain. The BVB crew rushed to his side, their voices a cacophony of concern as he stormed away, leaving me feeling exhilarated and empowered, despite the throbbing ache in my hand.

As the adrenaline of the moment began to subside, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride welling up within me. Maybe violence wasn't the answer, but for once, I had stood up for myself, refusing to be intimidated by Andy's spiteful words.

With the altercation behind me, I finally had the opportunity to immerse myself in the music, losing myself in the electrifying energy of INK's performance. Spencer's smile from the stage sent a surge of warmth coursing through me, and when Chris approached, concern etched into his features, I couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude for his unwavering support.

"I thought you were supposed to be out there?" Chris questioned, his eyes scanning my bruised hand with concern.

"I am, just doing the shower scene choreography," I assured him, feeling a sense of reassurance wash over me as he squeezed my hand gently.

His expression softened, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "Next time, tell me if he bothers you. I'm sorry you're dealing with him even now," he offered, his words a comforting balm to my troubled soul.

"It's okay, I can handle myself," I replied, though a part of me couldn't help but feel grateful for Chris's protective instinct.

Spencer's arrival signaled the impending start of the next song, and as I hurriedly donned my outfit and wig, I felt a surge of nerves creeping in. But Chris's encouraging words and Spencer's urgent reminder spurred me into action, propelling me towards the stage with a newfound determination.

As I emerged from behind the curtain to the roar of the crowd, a surge of adrenaline washed over me, banishing the last remnants of doubt from my mind. With a smile plastered on my face, I took my place on the stand, ready to give it my all and embrace the spotlight with newfound confidence.

 ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

S o n g o v e r

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Brimming with exhilaration, I rushed towards Chris, the energy of my performance still coursing through my veins. "I did it! Holy shit, I did it, and I loved it. I can see why you get such a high. That was crazy! I can't believe I did that in front of all those people!" I exclaimed, my words tumbling out in a torrent of excitement.

Chris's gaze softened as he looked down at me, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's a feeling you don't ever want to go away, but when it does, you crash. And I mean crash hard," he cautioned, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

Before I could dwell too long on his words, the rest of our friends joined us, reminding Chris of their upcoming duties. "Hey man, we still have a few steps to do," Justin reminded him, casting a glance in my direction.

I waved them off with a smile. "I'll be here waiting for you guys," I assured them, content to bask in the afterglow of the performance and watch INK play their final song before eagerly anticipating the chance to see my best friends take the stage.

Chapter Text

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On Main Stage

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Y/n Pov

As I stood there waiting for Motionless, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see Patrick, holding a drumstick in his hand. His suit was half disheveled, and his hair was messy, yet somehow, he looked surprisingly attractive. I couldn't help but chuckle softly at the sight. Despite my crush on Spencer, there was something undeniably appealing about Patrick at that moment.

"Hey, you wanna hang out by the bus? We're gonna drink, play some games, and then watch your friends," Patrick said to me, his disheveled appearance somehow adding to his charm. A part of me wanted to say yes, to hang out with him, but another part felt guilty about leaving. However, the opportunity to spend time with Ink was too tempting to resist. I bit my bottom lip, contemplating for a moment before replying, "Sure, lead the way, drummer boy."

He laughed at my response. "That's a good one! Maybe I'll just call you 'groupie'."

I scoffed at the suggestion. "Yeah, no. Next!" I shouted playfully as we walked off the stage, making our way towards Ink's bus. As we walked, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. Sure enough, some people at the barricade started shouting for Patrick. He just waved and quickened our pace, eager to escape the chaos.

We walked in silence, the tension palpable but unspoken, hanging heavy in the air. Patrick held the door open for me, and I walked in first, taking in the scene before me. Joe and Miles were huddled together, laughing as they took shots, their laughter filling the room. Spencer sat quietly on the couch, sipping his drink, his expression unreadable. Ricky was off in a corner, his attention focused on his phone, a furrow of frustration creasing his brow.

As Patrick made his way over and sat next to Ricky, I hesitated, unsure of where to go or what to do. I glanced around, feeling like the new kid in school trying to find a place to fit in. Despite the progress I'd made in getting to know them, I still felt like an outsider, uncertain of my place among them.

"You wanna join us, y/n?" Spencer's voice cut through the tension, and I nodded instinctively, unable to resist his invitation.

As I approached the group, Joe and Miles greeted me with a shot in hand. "Here, join the party!" Joe's words were slightly slurred, indicating that he was already well on his way to being drunk.

I accepted the shot, the familiar burn of alcohol warming me from the inside out as it slid down my throat. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, the camaraderie of the group was comforting, and I found myself relaxing in the moment.

"I knew I liked her!" Joe's words were slurred as he draped an arm around me, his drunken enthusiasm evident. I couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. "I like you too, Joe," I replied, returning his smile.

"Wanna take another one?" he asked eagerly, but before I could respond, I felt a tight grip on my arm, pulling me gently into someone's chest. Looking up, I saw Spencer, my favorite drink in his hand.

"Wow, I can't believe you have this, thanks," I said, accepting the drink graciously.

"No problem. I remember you ordered it at the bar once. Figured it was your favorite," Spencer said with a smile before releasing his grip on my arm. My cheeks flushed at his thoughtfulness, and I couldn't help but smile back

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In The Bus 

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Spencer's POV

As I handed her the drink, the voice in my head was deafening.

"Take her into your room and plunge that knife into her," 

it hissed.

"Or get her into your bed."

"Did we add enough to her drink?" 

The voice persisted.

I shook my head, feeling a surge of exhilaration. I knew what I had done, and I wasn't ashamed of it. If anything, it made my twisted game of cat and mouse feel even more exhilarating. I hadn't caught her yet, but she was slowly being ensnared in my web. Andy was making this all too easy for me, but Chris had to be removed from the picture. As much as I'd relish the idea of killing him and dumping his body off some desolate exit, 1 knew I couldn't. So, I just needed to keep finding ways to keep Y/N all to myself, my little devil.

I couldn't help but smirk as she drank the concoction'd given her. I hoped that soon she would lose consciousness, or at the very least, feel too intoxicated to resist. I was prepared to take any opportunity that presented itself.

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In The Bus 

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Y/n's POV

Gosh, I didn't think I had drunk that much, but I was losing my balance to the point where even Ricky pointed it out to me. "You sure are a lightweight," he said. I shook my head. "No, I'm not. I'm just used to smoking weed, not drinking like this." Ricky smirked at me. "Lucky for you, I have some–" Ricky was cut off by Spencer. "She's fine, Ricky. Just let her drink," Spencer said, looking very concerned for me. It made my heart flutter and my stomach fill with butterflies knowing that he cared this much about me.

"I was just offering to be nice. Well, I'm going to go smoke then. Patrick Miles, wanna join?" Miles stood up, grabbing his jacket as Patrick did the same, and they all left the bus, leaving me with Spencer and Joe, who was also very close to passing out as he kept saying random things. I couldn't help but laugh. That's when I felt my body getting weak, and my vision was getting blurry, as I also started feeling hot.

"Shi–shit, I'm not feeling well, Joe," I told him, but he was too out of it to respond. Unfortunately, Spencer was in the bathroom, and I didn't hear anything back from Joe. I started to panic because I didn't like this feeling. I rushed to the bathroom, knocking on the door.

"Sorry, I'm in here," I heard Spencer say. I couldn't say anything. My mind was going blank, and I couldn't think straight. That's when the door opened, and for the first time, I felt scared of him. He looked scary to me, but maybe it was just my eyes playing tricks on me.

"Are you okay, y/n?" He asked. I nodded but then shook my head. "No, I'm not. I'm just not sure what's going on here," I said, my words slurring slightly.

He laughed. "You are drunk. You only smoke, so your body is probably out of whack. Let's get you into my room."

He slowly walked me into his room, which was full to the brim with horror posters. Surprisingly, it looked super clean. Spencer sat me down on the bed. "Well, if you need anything, I'll be out here."

Before he left, I grabbed his hand, but I think I pulled it too hard because he stumbled and ended up on top of me. I felt my heart beating out of my chest, and my eyes were wide open, but I felt Spencer gently put his hand on my cheek. His head moved down, and our lips almost met when we heard the door to the bus open. Spencer jumped off me and left me alone in his room. I was still lying down, not wanting to get up, plus I didn't feel too drunk in this position, thankfully.

Just as my eyes were dozing off, I heard someone hastily put a cup on the table. I grabbed it and downed its contents. I didn't know what it was, but holy fuck, I started feeling worse than before. My body felt heavy, and I couldn't move myself off the bed.

I heard the door open again, and a chuckle followed. "You okay?" It was Spencer. I laughed sadly. "I don't know what's happening, but I feel even worse than before."

The bed dipped as he got next to me, putting his hand on my forehead. "Damn, you are burning up. Let's just get you to sleep." He untucked his blankets, and I got inside, but as I did, I felt him behind me, squeezing my hip with his hand. I let out a little sound. His touch felt amazing on my body, and his hand trailed up to my waist. That's when I turned towards him, and at the same time, our lips met.

The kiss was getting slightly heated.

Spencer's hands went to my ass as his mouth kissed down my neck and he sucked a bit. I could tell I was going to have not just one hickey but a couple on my neck, and I wasn't even mad about it. He kissed down to my neckline and then stopped.

"We shouldn't do anything until you're sober, so you can at least consent to it," he said.

I didn't say anything. Hell, I couldn't hear him again, as I just felt my body was super hot, and I was going in and out of focus. I think at one point Spencer was saying something to me, and my body just finally gave up. But I couldn't move. I felt a knife blade sliding up and down gently on my body. I wanted to see who it was, to say something, but every time l moved, it was like they would stop, and it'd be the crazy feeling of a knife blade on my body but thankfully it stopped. 

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In His Room

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Spencer's POV

The darkness inside me surged, eager to break free. As we kissed, and her skin felt so soft beneath my touch, I couldn't help but feel the urge to damage it, to mark it with either her blood or mine, or perhaps someone else's.

I reached for the knife I kept in my bedside drawer, my fingers trembling with anticipation.

Gently, I began to run the blade up and down her body, tracing lines wherever I could touch it. The desire to see her in pain consumed me, yet at the same time, l yearned to cuddle her, to hold her close, to kiss away her fears, and to shield her from the darkness that resided within me. But the truth was, that darkness was winning, and I feared I might do something irreversible to her.

Yet, even in my fear, I couldn't deny the thrill of the possibility. And if I did hurt her, well, I knew I could fix her. After all, who else was going to take care of her if not me?

As she shifted in her unconscious state, I toyed with her, I knew she was completely out, which meant I could do anything I pleased. But where's the fun in that? I wanted to hear her scream, to shout, to beg and plead for her life and so much more.

Feeling myself getting a bit out of hand, I reluctantly put the knife away. Instead, I gently brushed her hair out of her face and smiled down at her, whispering in her ear, "Soon, little devil, you'll be all mine." Leaving her to sleep on my bed, I made my way back to the bus to find the guys all taking shots. Patrick looked at me, concern etched on his face.

"Where's Y/N?" he asked, his worry palpable.

I had to fight to keep myself from rolling my eyes. He couldn't care about her; she was mine, and if he came between us, he was in for a rude awakening.

"She's asleep. She just had too much to drink while you guys were out for a smoke break," I replied, my tone dismissive.

Patrick nodded, saying, "I was just making sure she was safe—"

I didn't care to listen to the rest of what he had to say. I knew I might say something I'd regret. It was hard enough keeping these voices at bay; we didn't need a falling out before our huge tour.

I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket and pulled it out to read the text message.

Andy: Chris is pissed at Y/N. I think this plan is working out quite nicely for us ;)

Spencer: Good. Now just make sure they don't ever fuck again.

Andy: I can't make promises.

Spencer: Do it, or else you'll find yourself at the bottom of a hill.

Andy: 👍

I rolled my eyes and shoved my phone back into my pocket. Knowing that Chris was mad at Y/N brought a twisted sense of satisfaction. I was slowly but surely prying her away from him, and I was willing to do anything for Y/N, even if it meant manipulating her friendships and love life. After all, she's mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep her by my side, no matter the cost.

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any feedback is appreciated 🖤

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Chapter Text

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In The Bus 

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Spencer's POV

I was conversing with Patrick, but his gaze kept drifting back to y/n in my room. "Okay, maybe it's the alcohol talking, but I think I have a crush on someone," he confessed. We all froze. I had to control myself because there was no way he was talking about my y/n, my little devil.

Joe laughed. "You mean y/n? I think you guys would be cute, but I'm pretty sure I heard she and Chris are friends with benefits," he said. Patrick looked a little taken aback, and I nodded. "Yeah, I heard that from Andy," I said. Ricky glanced at me while Miles looked between us. "You and Andy have been talking a lot, Spencer. What's up with that?" Ricky asked, taking a sip of his drink.

I faked a yawn, desperate to escape the conversation. "We're just talking about the tour and stuff. Don't worry. Also, I'm going to get some sleep; I'm exhausted. Thankfully, we have an off day tomorrow and the next," I said, standing up. They all nodded and said goodnight, continuing their party. I felt Patrick's eyes on the back of my head, burning with jealousy over my closeness with y/n. He had no idea.

Entering my room, I saw y/n lying there, her shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. The sight sent a wave of dark desires through me. I wanted to mark her, to claim her with my teeth or a blade. Fighting the urge, I grabbed my extra black blanket and a pair of Ghostface sweatpants, exiting the room before I did something I couldn't take back. I threw my things on the bunk closest to my room and headed to the bathroom to change.

Settled in my bunk, I tried to fall asleep. The image of y/n's vulnerable form lingered in my mind, a haunting reminder of the dark thoughts that brewed within me. The alcohol-fueled laughter of the others faded into the background as my mind spiraled deeper into my obsession with her. Patrick's interest in y/n was a threat I couldn't ignore. But for now, I needed to bide my time, waiting for the perfect moment to ensure that y/n remained mine and mine alone.

As I drifted into a restless sleep, I couldn't shake the feeling that this tour would change everything. The lines between friendship and obsession blurred, and I knew I was willing to cross them for her. In the darkness of the bus, my sinister thoughts took root, preparing for the day when y/n would be entirely under my control.

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d r e a m l a n n d

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I was with my friends, laughing in the kitchen while we wore our swimsuits, ready for the hot tub. A scream pierced the air. Joe and I jumped. Nancy walked in with her brother.

"Alan, no one is there. I just looked. Now let's get you upstairs," she said to him.

Alan turned around, eyes wide. "Why? So you can party with your friends? I know what I saw! Believe me!"

Nancy was about to say something when Karen walked in with y/n, both laughing. Alan looked at y/n. "y/n! You'll believe me. I saw someone on the lawn! He-he was wearing a mask and-"

y/n knelt to Alan's level, her voice soothing. "Hey Alan, it's okay. Let's get you to sleep, bud. You might have seen something because you're so tired. I'm not saying I don't believe you, just maybe you're exhausted."

Alan sighed but nodded, and y/n walked him up the stairs. Nancy turned to us. "Everyone loves y/n. Anyway, Spencer, you stay with her. Let's go outside."

Nancy took off her shorts, and Patrick and Ricky waited with a cooler, ready for the hot tub. Joe and Miles were already outside. When y/n came downstairs, she sighed. "I thought I was going to be alone. Thanks for sticking around," she said, taking off her oversized shirt and shorts, revealing a black bra and panties. I couldn't take my eyes off her.

"See something you like?" she teased, shaking her ass while grabbing a beer. I smirked, and we made our way outside to the hot tub, where music was playing, and everyone was drinking. Karen brought weed, and y/n grabbed the joint from her. "Hell yeah, let the party begin!" Karen shouted. We all cheer. I didn't want to drink tonight, so I just had a cup of water.

We were talking about the next album when Patrick stumbled out of the hot tub. "Yo, need help?" I asked.

"Nah, just gotta piss. I'll be back!" Patrick said, shaking his head. We all laughed. I noticed Joe and y/n were talking while Karen, Ricky, and Miles chatted. I started to feel a little jealous, but it wasn't like y/n and I would ever date. We were just good friends.

Suddenly, screams echoed through the air. Nancy's voice. y/n looked frightened. Ricky got out in a hurry, followed by Karen. The lights went out, and y/n, Joe, and I rushed into the house to find our friends. We ran into Ricky and Nancy. Karen's scream echoed through the house.

"Oh my God, that was Karen!" Nancy said, her voice trembling. We felt trapped and decided to split up. Nancy went outside before we could stop her.

Ricky, Joe, Miles, y/n, and I stayed inside. y/n looked at me, eyes wide. "Spencer, we can't leave Nancy by herself. Let's go!" We rushed outside to the hot tub, only to see Nancy's throat slit, her blood staining the water. y/n let out a blood-curdling scream.

"We can't just stand here. Let's find the others, and make sure they're okay," y/n said, her voice frantic. We rushed back inside, hearing a police radio crackle.

"All units responded, and multiple fatalities were reported on Orange Grove Ave. Suspect has been identified as Michael Myers. He is armed and extremely dangerous. Shoot to kill, I repeat, shoot to kill. Over."

We heard a loud crash and ran into the living room, finding the police officer dead and Joe's body on the floor, stabbed in the back six times. My stomach churned. Only y/n, Ricky, Miles, and I were left.

As we searched for Ricky and Miles, we found Ricky unconscious or dead in the kitchen. y/n knelt to check on him when a masked killer approached her. Panic surged through me, and I knocked him down. y/n jumped on top of him, but his hands wrapped around her throat, choking her until she passed out. The killer stood, coming after me with a kitchen knife. I grabbed a fireplace poker.

"Come on! You think you're tough?" I taunted. The killer lunged at me, but Miles hit him with a cutting board. The killer stabbed Miles in the side, and he fell to the ground,  The killer kicked the kitchen knife towards me, threw down a mask, and exited. Compelled, I picked up the mask and knife. As I put the mask on, I felt a surge of power.

I walked over to y/n, raising the knife. "Spencer! Stop!" she screamed as I stabbed her repeatedly. Voices echoed in my mind:

"When the hands of fate

Fall on the midnight hour

Behind this mask of hate

I don the devil's power

If there's life in the shadows

Let the knife leave its mark

When the certainty of safety feels like stabbing

Stabbing in the dark"

I continued stabbing y/n's body until police sirens wailed. I took off the mask, smiling down at her bloody form.

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5:55 AM 

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I sat up in a panic, nearly hitting my head on the bunk above. Rushing into the bathroom, my heart still raced from the vivid nightmare. Flicking on the harsh fluorescent light, I gripped the sink, exhausted by these increasingly real and vivid dreams. A knock on the door startled me.

l opened it to see y/n, rubbing her eyes and stretching. "Sorry, I have to pee. If you want, I can leave after."

"No, it's okay. Stay, yeah? We have an off day today and tomorrow. Unless you're uncomfortable," I said. She smiled and laughed. "Can we maybe continue this conversation after I go to the bathroom?" she asked. I stepped aside, inhaling her berry and vanilla scent as she passed. Checking my phone on the table, I regretted it.

Therapist: Spencer, we need to find time for you to either come in or have virtual therapy.You messaged me some concerns, and I think we need to talk ASAP.

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Sorry for the brief update it might need to be edited but please do enjoy this update!

any feedback is always appreciated 🖤

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Chapter Text

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Morning

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Y/n Pov

I stood in the cramped bathroom, staring at the faint hickeys on my neck. My fingers traced over them, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and dread. Who had given me these? My memory of last night was a blur of laughter, a drink, and then... nothing. I should've been worried, but part of me didn't mind the marks. They were a reminder of something wild, something I couldn't quite place. But the mystery of it all left a sick knot in my stomach.

Yawning, I left the bathroom, still rubbing sleep from my eyes, and spotted Spencer sitting at the table. His jaw was tense, his eyes glued to his phone, and the familiar wave of anxiety washed over me. Was it the fans again? Something about us? I couldn't tell, and honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to know. Every time I asked, the conversation always circled back to the same unresolved tension, leaving me feeling more distant from him. I just wished he could see me as a friend, not some complicated figure in his life.

"It's my therapist," Spencer said abruptly, his voice low but steady. "If you must know, Y/N."

I blinked, startled out of my thoughts. "Oh," I muttered, nodding. A wave of relief swept over me, though I didn't know why. It wasn't about me, or the fans. He was just... dealing with something else. "Well, that's good," I added, awkwardly. "I used to see one... still do, technically, but it's hard to keep up with sessions on tour."

Spencer didn't look up, his fingers still tapping away at his phone. His silence hung between us, thick and heavy, so I cleared my throat, glancing around for my phone.

"Uh, not to be rude," I said, my face flushing with embarrassment, "but do you know where my phone is?"

He pointed toward his room without saying a word. I winced. "I should've known. Sorry," I mumbled before shuffling off to get it.

When I found my phone, the time on the screen shocked me 5 a.m. I should've been back on the MIW bus hours ago. Sighing, I trudged back toward the main area, where Spencer was still seated, now looking even more distant.

"I'm gonna head back to my bus," I said, my voice quiet, unsure. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Spencer nodded but didn't say anything, retreating to his room without so much as a glance in my direction. The coldness stung more than I expected, but I tried not to dwell on it. I just wanted to leave, get away from the awkwardness. The further I got from his bus, the more the weight on my chest lightened.

The early morning air was crisp, cutting through my thoughts as I trudged toward my bus. A deep sadness settled in my chest. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was unraveling. I didn't understand how I'd ended up in Spencer's bed, or why leaving his bus felt like dragging a ton of bricks behind me.

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On Bus

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When I stepped inside, Chris was already awake, his face buried in his phone. The moment he saw me, his expression hardened, his eyes narrowing with something dark I couldn't quite place. He rolled his eyes so forcefully it was almost theatrical.

"What's wrong, Chris?" I asked cautiously, unsure of what had set him off this time.

He scoffed loudly, his voice dripping with contempt. "What's wrong? You left the stage with Patrick. Didn't even watch a single song we played. And now you come back at 5 a.m. with a goddamn hickey on your neck, looking like—" He stopped himself, shaking his head in frustration.

"Looking like what, Chris?" I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. "Go ahead, say it. I'm dying to hear your thoughts."

Chris stood, his movements sharp as he got in my face. "Looking like a goddamn groupie. That's what. Ice Nine Kills must love having you around your friends right? That's your thing, pulling people into your little web of lies just to get off on their attention. Maybe you should go with them. Or better yet, just leave this tour altogether. I never should've invited you."

His words hit like a slap. My fists clenched at my sides, my vision blurred with tears. "You know what, Chris? I wish you hadn't invited me either! I told you this was a bad idea, but no, you insisted. And now look where we are." My voice cracked, but I pushed on, the anger burning away my hesitation.

"You were supposed to be my friend," I continued. "But I guess I'm the idiot for thinking a guy like you could handle being just friends. God forbid you think with your brain instead of your—"

"I loved you!" Chris shouted, his voice shaking. "I would've done anything for you, but you never loved me back. And now I can't even look at you without feeling like shit. So yeah, maybe I don't want to be your friend anymore."

I froze. His confession hit harder than I expected, like a fist to my gut. "So, that's it?" I whispered, barely able to get the words out. "You're throwing away our friendship because I didn't feel the same way?"

Before he could respond, Justin appeared, his face a mask of exhaustion. "Both of you calm the hell down," he snapped. "I don't know what this is about, but you're gonna regret it if you keep going."

I let out a bitter laugh, brushing past Chris to sit down. "Tell your bandmate to stop being such a baby. He's mad because I'm living my best life without him."

"Living your best life?" Chris shot back. "You're a fucking groupie, Y/N. And you're dragging everyone else into your mess."

"Oh, grow up, Chris," I spat. "You're just so pissed because it's been a few days since you got laid."

Justin groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's enough from both of you. Seriously. You're gonna ruin everything if you don't stop."

"It's already ruined," Chris muttered, shoving past me as he stormed off the bus the door slamming behind him.

I stared at my phone, reading and rereading Chris's last text:

Chris: I'm done with our friendship, Y/N. Just stay with INK or leave.

The finality of his words crushed me. Without thinking, I booked a flight home for the next night. Maybe this was for the best.

I sat on my bunk, staring blankly at the ceiling. My hands rested on my lap, trembling slightly. The silence was suffocating, the stillness around me pressing down like a weight on my chest. I had to leave. There was no other way. The thought of staying felt like drowning in quicksand, but leaving didn't feel much better.

I forced myself to move, grabbing a pair of black joggers and pulling them on. My favorite tank top a cropped black one that says BLEGH  in metal font but light pink was folded neatly on top of my bag. I layered it with a sheer mesh long-sleeve shirt, the fabric clinging delicately to my skin. Slipping on my scuffed black Converse, I pulled my hair up into a messy bun, securing it with a random scrunchie.

Staring at my reflection in the tiny bus mirror, I sighed. The outfit screamed confidence, but my face betrayed me eyes rimmed with redness, lips pressed into a tight line to hold back tears. I looked more like a shadow of myself than the person everyone thought I was.

Reaching for my phone, I hesitated. Should I even tell Spencer? Part of me wanted to slip away quietly, but I knew that wasn't fair to him. He'd been kind, even when I didn't deserve it.

With a deep breath, I typed out a message, my fingers shaking:

Y/N: Hey, Spencer. I'm sorry to do this so but I've decided to leave tomorrow night. I can't stay here anymore. I just can't. Please don't try to convince me to stay. My mind's made up. Thank you for everything, but I need to go home.

I stared at the message, rereading it over and over. The words felt hollow, empty. They didn't capture the storm raging inside me or the desperation clawing at my chest.

I hit send before I could second-guess myself.

A familiar pang of guilt settled in as I hovered over my settings. I knew Spencer would text back he always did, full of concern, maybe even anger. But I couldn't handle that right now. I couldn't handle him right now.

With a shaky exhale, I turned on

Do Not Disturb

The silence on the bus was unbearable. I wanted to scream, to cry, to rip the neatly packed bag apart and unpack all the hurt, anger, and confusion I'd stuffed inside it. But instead, I sank onto the edge of the bunk, hugging my knees to my chest.

Heard the bus door open, and the sound of footsteps approaching, and I tensed up, my stomach twisting in knots. It was Vinny, walking in without knocking, his eyes scanning me as if he knew exactly what had been going on. He didn't need to ask; it was written all over me.

"Y/N, you okay?" he asked, his voice soft but concerned.

I forced a smile, but it didn't reach my eyes. "I'm fine."

Vinny raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. He didn't push me, though, just sat down across from me. I could see the way he looked at me, the way he wasn't sure if he should say something. But I wasn't ready to talk. Not yet.

"Chris is pissed, isn't he?" he asked, his voice low like he was testing the waters.

I looked up at him, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "He thinks I'm just some groupie, Vinny He... he doesn't trust me. I never wanted to be that person, but now that's all he sees me as."

Vinny's face softened, and I could see the sympathy in his eyes. "I know you didn't want that. I can tell you're not like that. But you gotta understand, sometimes people get in their heads. Chris... he's got his demons, and he doesn't always see the bigger picture. That doesn't mean you're a groupie. It doesn't."

I shook my head, unable to hold it back anymore. "But he thinks I am. And no matter what I say, he won't believe me. He won't see me for who I am."

Vinny sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "People are complicated, Y/N. And sometimes, the people we care about the most hurt us the most. It's not fair, but it's real. And it's okay to be mad. It's okay to feel betrayed. You have every right to."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting me harder than I expected. I had been holding on to this idea that Chris would see things clearly, that he would realize how wrong he was. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe this was bigger than just one fight. Maybe this was something deeper, something that would take more than just a few words to fix.

"I don't know if I can fix this," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I don't know if I even want to."

Vinny's expression softened, his eyes understanding. "It's okay to walk away if it's too much. Sometimes, people need space to figure out who they are and what they want. And maybe that's what you need right now."

I nodded, wiping my face again, the tears still falling, but this time, I didn't feel so alone in them. Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something new. Something better.

But I wasn't sure yet. And for the first time, I was okay with not knowing.

One step at a time.

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Sorry for the very late update! It may need some edits, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Also I apologize if it's a bit dark and sappy

Any feedback is always appreciated. 🖤

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