Capitol Punishment IV
Haymitch x Reader
Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.
A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.
Warnings: Canon level violence, rape (though never explicit), alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts
Word Count: 3.9K
Part III | Masterlist | Part V
Your head rested on Haymitch’s lap as you stoically watched the girl from District 1, Glimmer, kill the girl from District 4.
As the careers began to walk away, Haymitch took the remote, shutting off the feed. “Hey!” you protested.
“You’ve seen enough— we’ve both seen enough,” he insisted. “Y/N we watch these games every year and have to endure seeing our kids get slaughtered. And you get upset every time.”
“But these kids have an actual shot at winning!” you insisted. Both were already adored by the Capitol and Peeta, being the son of a baker and having the strength to show it, resembled the careers more than previous District 12 tributes. As for Katniss, she was a hunter and a survivalist. If she could get her hands on the bow Glimmer was fumbling with, the odds of this game would drastically change. “You don’t need to protect me like I’m a child.”
“I’m just trying to protect you because I love you and it hurts me to see you hurt.”
You stopped, unable to respond to that. He was right, every year you invested in these kids and no matter what, whether they ignore your advice or not, the end up dead and it was taking its toll on you. A toll only Haymitch saw because you refused to show weakness to anyone who may hold power over you.
Before you could respond the elevator dinged open and Effie fluttered into the penthouse. “Haymitch! Y/N! Haymitch! Y/N!” she squawked. “Turn on the games!”
Annoyed yet confused, Haymitch complied. Your eyes widened as you saw what was happening. Katniss was running through a forest fire. You audibly gasped when you saw a fireball be launched at her, sending her to the side. You held on tightly to Haymitch’s sleeve as the fire continued to surround her, a projectile burning her at one point.
The gamemakers’ disaster didn’t end until she jumped into a small pool of water. Unfortunately for Katniss her relief didn’t last long before the careers spotted her. Glimmer was the first to spot her, pointing and shouting. The others began to shout after her, running towards Katniss with smiles as if they were hunting turkeys. Peeta followed after them, carrying a spear, looking reluctant.
Katniss looked exhausted but she made her way out of the pond, running into the forest until she found a big tree. You held your breath as she scaled the tree and the careers approached. Fortunately she was a couple feet up in the air by the time the careers reached her.
Cato, from District 2, began climbing the tree after her but broke a branch only a couple steps up. And by now Katniss had settled on a thick branch about 70 feet in the air. A camera locked in on Peeta’s face, showing his concern for his years long crush.
“I got this,” Glimmer declared, notching an arrow. Judging by the clumsiness of her movements she wasn’t very experienced with it. She aimed up at Katniss, releasing the arrow which missed her by a long shot.
“Why don’t you throw the sword,” she taunted, eliciting a laugh from Haymitch.
“Got any ideas, loverboy?” Cato snarled.
“Why don’t we just wait her out?” he suggested. “It’s either she comes down or starves to death.” The careers all looked surprised, as if a non-violent strategy had never occurred to them. Seeing as that was the only real viable option, they began to set up camp.
The camera turned up to Katniss who by now was settled on her branch, assessing her burn wound. You cringed at her pained expression as she tried to soothe the burn. “Haymitch she’s going to die of infection if she doesn’t get medicine.”
“I know,” he said, already standing up. “I’m going to kiss come Capitol ass.” You stood up with him but he quickly stopped you. “No, Y/N I love you but this will put you right in their palms.”
Grateful for Haymitch’s concern for you, you cupped his jaw gently, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” you whispered.
“I’ll go with him,” Effie said, scrambling to the elevator with him.
~
Once they reached a viewing room for the sponsors Haymitch grabbed two glasses of champagne. Spotting a sponsor who was intently staring at the screen, and more importantly, not speaking to anyone else, he headed over. “She’s a tough one,” Haymitch caught the man’s attention. “Kind of ironic that the girl on fire got burned. Champagne?” he offered the peacock of a man.
With a smug look he took the glass. “Haymitch Abernathy, Katniss is yours right?” he asked, gesturing to the screen.
“Yeah she is. Gotta say it’s really nice to have two kids make it this far.”
“Ah right, loverboy is also yours,” the man chuckled. “Let me guess, you want medicine for Katniss.”
Haymitch smiled dryly. “Yes, she needs it. I’ve seen what your medicine can do and once she’s healed up, she’ll be back in the game stronger than ever.”
“Is she half as ruthless as Y/N L/N was?”
Inside Haymitch froze at the mention of your name but seeing as the man didn’t talk about you further, he pushed through it. “Half is a good estimate,” Haymitch laughed. “What I can tell you is that she’s a provider for her family and she’s got that sweet little sister she volunteered for back home. If anyone has a reason to get out of that arena, it’s her. She’s got no one else to take care of her family.”
The man thought for a second, nodding before reaching out his hand to Haymitch. “You’ve got a deal. 200 for the medicine and I’ll place a thousand on her to win.”
Haymitch grinned eagerly, shaking his hand too. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” Haymitch ensured that the man reached the betting/sponsor booth to get the medicine to Katniss before turning towards the elevator, intent on heading back to you.
“The Victor of District 12.” A hand clamped onto his shoulder along with the words stopped Haymitch in his tracks. He turned, finding a man with orange skin and bright red hair, grinning at him.
“Can I help you?” Haymitch asked as kindly as possible.
“I wanted to ask about Y/N L/N, the other District 12 victor.”
Haymitch tried to swallow his disgust. “What do you want to know?”
“Is she available anytime soon? A friend of mine got a taste of her, said she felt heavenly. I wanted to give it a try, take her for a spin, you know,” he laughed. “See if she’s tighter than Capitol girls.”
At that comment Haymitch couldn’t hold it in any longer. Seven years of watching you be used and abused were released in a single punch, sending the man to the ground. Before Haymitch could kill the redhead, peacekeepers were dragging him out of the room. “Keep her name out of your fucking mouth!” he yelled.
He was dragged off into a van and then had a bag placed over his head.
He wasn’t sure how far he went, only that he was manhandled out of the van until he was stood in a building. When they pulled the bag from his head he realized just how screwed he was.
“Hello, Haymitch,” President Snow smiled evilly.
~
“Y/N! Haymitch has been arrested!” Effie burst into the room.
“What?”
“He punched a man. Come on, we have to find him,” she said, tugging on your arm. You were surprised that she was so eager to help Haymitch but went along with her.
You rode the elevator down but as soon as the doors opened you were met with Peacekeepers. “Y/N L/N, please come with us.” Figuring they’d take you to Haymitch, you followed them, not screaming in protest for once.
You were placed in a luxurious car, Effie having been barred from coming with you. She was currently shrieking, demanding to know what was going on but you just ignored her, eager to get to Haymitch.
The car drove you a couple blocks down the street before you reached a very grand building. The President’s building. You were led inside and up the stairs to Snow’s office which you had only been in once before. The grand doors opened, revealing Haymitch kneeling on the ground, facing Snow with a gun pointed at him. “Y/N how nice of you to join us,” Snow welcomed.
You ignored him, lunging at Haymitch until a peacekeeper caught you around the waist. “Let him go,” you protested. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“He punched a man in the face. That’s punishable by death for the district citizens.”
Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Please don’t, I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?” a man with orange skin and bright red hair, stepped in from the side of the room. He had on a devilish and excited expression. Despite his fire spirit like appearance, you hadn’t noticed him. Too focused on Haymitch and Snow.
“Yes, anything,” you agreed. “If you want me you can have me. Please just let him go.”
“Y/N-”
“That’s not up for you to decide,” Snow cut Haymitch off. “Whatever punishment must be fitting for Mr. Abernathy’s crimes. Whether you take the punishment or he does. Mr. Summer, what do you think?”
“I think a whole night with Mr. Abernathy’s district partner would be fitting,” he said smugly, sporting a black eye.
“I’ll do it,” you eagerly agreed.
By now the gun has been put away and Haymitch was turned to face you. “Y/N you don’t have to.”
“No I’m not going to let you be killed. Especially when I only have to spend the night with someone. I’ve been doing that for the past seven years for nothing. Right now it’s actually worth something. Please let me do this for you,” you were begging.
Haymitch looked down nodding before looking up to meet your eyes again, trying to convey that he loved you. No matter how obvious your relationship may seem to those who watched you, you both had agreed to never utter your affections for each other in front of Capitol people.
The man who Haymitch had punched was now eagerly waiting by the door. “Go on Ms. L/N. You’re the one who made the deal.”
You once again looked at your lover, trying to convey your love for him before standing on shaky legs. Following the fire man out of the room.
~
Haymitch had been released by Snow almost immediately after you left. He was dragged through the building, into a car, and quite literally pushed out of said car when they arrived at the tributes building. He wanted to run back to the President’s building to find you but he knew how furious you’d be if he put his life in jeopardy again. So he swallowed his anger and stomped into the building and back up to the penthouse.
~
You didn’t return until noon the next day. When you entered your room Haymitch was passed out on the bed with two empty wine bottles. Whenever you were taken it was typical for Haymitch to drink himself into a coma but it was less common while you were in the Capitol. You immediately went to the bathroom, turning the water as hot as you could possibly stand, wanting to cleanse yourself of such a vile man. But even when you stepped out of the shower after a solid 10 minutes of scrubbing you still felt unclean. You had never been with someone that long.
You walked past Haymitch who was still passed out, probably for the night. You didn’t want to have to look into his eyes that you knew would be full of pity and anger. So you headed to the only person you knew would be able to help you. Getting onto the elevator you hit the number four, descending down into District 4’s floor.
Once the elevator opened you were greeted with a living room decorated exactly like yours 8 floors up. “Finnick,” you called, stepping in hesitantly. You felt weird just walking into someone else’s “home.”
“Yes?” you could hear Finnick’s confused voice call from another room. He appeared in a hallway a second late. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” he asked. You swallowed, feeling tears prick your eyes. Seeing your reaction, Finnick knew exactly what that meant. “Oh I’m so sorry,” he empathized. He came over, giving you a hug. At the first gentle, comforting touch you’ve felt all day, you broke down into sobs. He quietly tried to soothe you, leading you to the couch while you sobbed into his chest.
When your sobs finally subsided he spoke. “What happened?” he had comforted you many times over the years but you only ever cried like this when something new or exceptionally cruel happened for the first time.
“Hay-Haymitch got arrested,” you slowly choked out, “for punching a guy that said some things about me. Snow was gonna kill him. But instead I agreed to sleep with the guy so Haymitch would be let go. I spent over 12 hours with him, Finnick!” you cried.
“Oh Y/N,” he spoke gently, stroking a piece of hair behind your ear like parental figure. “I’m sorry that happened to the both of you. But hey, at least you have someone fighting in your corner… literally,” he laughed gently. You laughed with him, sniffling. “I’m sure you were scared for him but if I know anything about Haymitch, its that he loves you more than anything in the world and he’d much rather punch anyone in the face and die for you than allow you to be hurt. And if I know anything about you, its that you’d sleep with everyone in the Capitol before you let anyone hurt him. So just remember that you both have each other in your corners… and me of course.” You let out another laugh. “I’m surprised you’re down here. I’m sure Haymitch is terrified.”
You shook your head. “He’s passed out. Drank at least two wine bottles, probably more. That’s usually how he copes. I just wanted to talk to you then keep my mind off what happened,” you changed the subject. “What’s going on in the games?”
“Uh well Katniss killed the girl from District 1 by dropping a tracker jacker nest on the careers and now she has a bow. Cato, the kid from District 2, wounded Peeta. Last anyone saw he was disguising himself into the rocks by the river. And Katniss has formed an alliance with Rue, the girl from District 11.”
Your hope for Peeta was dying now. Like you feared for Katniss before, you knew his wound would get infected, especially since he was probably covered in dirt and mut in order to hide.
Finnick turned on the television so you could watch the games. Immediately it was on Katniss, perched just inside the clearing where the cornucopia was and where the careers had set up camp. Before you could even figure out what was happening she let an arrow fly, sending a bag of apples tumbling, triggering the mines you has watched the kid from District 3, Byte, use to protect the mountain of supplies. It all went up in one glorious blaze, sending Katniss flying back into the tree line. Fortunate seeing as the remaining careers all quickly returned, Cato breaking Byte’s neck. Well there goes Beetee’s bet, you thought to yourself. He had probably thought the same about you when Peeta was wounded.
The camera then shifted to little Rue who was running through the forest until she tripped, falling right into a trap. A net quickly fell down upon her, trapping her on the ground. “Katniss!” she yelled.
You felt your heart break at the sheer terror in her voice. You let out an audible breath when Katniss came running, quickly cutting the girl out of the rope. As she was checking up on the young girl, you could see the boy from District 1, Marvel, appear with a spear.
“Katniss,” Rue caught your tribute’s attention, pointing behind her at Marvel. Katniss quickly whirled around, notching an arrow and firing straight into his chest, killing him. Unfortunately it was too late after he released his spear, sending it into Rue’s abdomen.
You felt more tears well in your eyes as Rue fell, Katniss catching her. You could barely watch as Rue took her final breaths and again when Katniss buried her in flowers.
Finnick got up from beside you, immediately going to the bar cart. He poured two of some sort of cocktail, bringing one over for you. “My own creation,” he explained, handing it to you. You took it, realizing that it smelled and tasted like pure alcohol. Nevertheless you downed it. “Do you ever think of a world where there’s no games?” Finnick suddenly asked.
You shrugged. “I guess.”
“What about no Capitol?”
“Finnick…” you warned. You and he were the most closely watched Victors, neither of you could afford to think about stuff like that. Especially with Annie and Haymitch in your respective lives.
“There are rumors,” he continued. “Even some of the most powerful are done with this,” he gestured to the screen and the lavish wealth in the room.
“We can’t afford to be hopeful. Not with Haymitch and Annie.”
“Haymitch approached me.” You were taken aback. You had never heard of anything like that from him. “People tend to slip around him because of his alcoholism but he’s been approached about revolution.”
There it was… the dreaded yet long awaited r-word. You were about to get up and leave, not wanting to deal with the repercussions of this conversation, even if Haymitch was the one to initiate it with Finnick. As you were headed for the elevator a Seneca Crane’s voice came over a speaker. “Tributes, may I have your attention? A new tule has been instated. Two victors may be crowned so long as they come from the same District. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor.”
You immediately rushed up to your room, eager to find Haymitch but when you arrived there was no sign of him. Unsure of what to do and reluctant to leave the “safety” of the penthouse you decided to wait. You sat down on the couch, continuing to watch as Katniss finally found her district partner.
“Peeta!” she called in fright as she began to dig him up from his own handiwork. “Did you hear the announcement?”
“I did. We could go home,” he said optimistically.
“We could go home,” Katniss agreed, showing hope for the first time ever. The only ones left, except for the tributes from 2, were singles. As much as you wanted your tributes to finally come home you knew there were several issues. 1. Peeta was severely injured and would be holding Katniss back if anything. 2. Clove and Cato were both relatively healthy and you could see them rejoicing on another screen. 3. They’d have to somehow outsmart the girl from District 5 who was always lurking yet never came out to fight. And 4. After Rue you knew Katniss would never willingly kill Thresh.
The camera then changed to the District 2 tributes hiking through the forest, looking for either food or other tributes. You watched as they clumsily tried to kill a squirrel, both throwing blades at it. You knew Clove was an exceptional knife thrower but the squirrel was too small and quick for her to hit. Having never gone hungry a day in their lives they weren’t coping with the loss of their supply stash well.
The cameras moved to Thresh who had a decent assortment of plants stashed in his bag as well as a scythe. As for the girl from District 5 she was currently curled up near some rocks, decently hidden.
You had to admit that if Katniss and Peeta didn’t win you’d want it to be Thresh. From what Chaff had told Haymitch he was a good person who had looked out for the people in his district, including young Rue when they had been reaped. Similar to Katniss.
Katniss and Peeta had staggered into a cave setting up for the night, trying to figure out what to do next. “We’ll get you some medicine,” she said.
“I don’t get many parachutes,” Peeta protested.
“We’ll figure something out,” she promised. You could see the cogs turning in her head before she pressed a chaste kiss to Peeta’s cheek. You could practically hear the cheers erupting from the Capitol people who had become enthralled in the romance.
Seeing the relative state of calm the game makers had decided that not much would happen and they dimmed the lights, creating night.
Soon enough Haymitch was entering the room. “Did you hear?” you asked.
“Yeah,” he smiled, “and I made that happen.”
Your jaw slackened in shock. “What?” How did he get an audience with someone powerful enough to amend the rules? “How?”
“My incredible persuasion skills,” he teased, wrapping his arms around your waist. “We’re gonna bring them home.”
You wanted to cry you were so overwhelmed with emotion. “We’re gonna fight to bring them home,” you agreed. “Peeta needs medicine. The stuff we sent Katniss for her burn isn’t doing anything.”
“I know the sponsor booth is closed for tonight. We’ll go first thing in the morning.” He punctuated the sentence with a kiss to your forehead.
~
The games stayed on all night as Haymitch and you slept. The camera switched between District 2 and 12 since that was the closest thing they had to interesting content. You woke up the first time to the beeping of a parachute. “I thought the sponsors booth was closed,” you groggily asked an even more so groggy Haymitch.
“I managed to convince some people to get them something right before the booth closed. I don’t know why they’re just now sending it,” he explained, face still half pressed into the pillow.
“Do you know what they sent?” you asked, hoping for medicine so 12 would have a fighting chance.
“I don’t. Hopefully medicine,” your lover said as if reading your mind.
“It’s soup,” you answered, slightly disappointed as Katniss opened the container. “At least it’s something.” Haymitch pulled you down closer to him as he fell back asleep with his face pressed into the crook of your neck. You still watched through hazy eyes as Katniss fed Peeta the soup, kissing him occasionally. They’re going to have to make out if they want to get medicine you thought as you drifted off to sleep reluctantly.
The next time you were woken it was due to Haymitch shaking your shoulder vigorously.
“…feast at the cornucopia for something each of you need,” was all you heard before the typical Capitol sign off.
“What’s going on?” you asked, still reluctant to be awake.
“They’re gonna give them medicine.”
Part III | Masterlist | Part V
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My Heart Belongs to Daddy, part iv, modern!Aemond
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // For fear that you'll find out, how I'm imagining you
modern!Aemond x step-daughter
Warnings: 18+, smut, cursed dinner party, toxic family dynamics, Targaryen men being the worst
Words: 5700
A/n: Also available to read on AO3. And I made a Series Playlist :)
Over the last two months, finishing her thesis, taking exams, sending off masters applications and keeping track of a boyfriend has left little room in her mind for Aemond Targaryen.
For the last month or so she’s hardly even seen him. On the weekdays she gets up early and spends all day in the library. On the weekends she goes to Cregan’s place in central. He goes to the gym with Jace on Saturday morning and on Sundays he usually has a rugby match. Between that they watch movies in his room, go for drinks with his friends and sometimes she drags him around her favourite museums.
The sex is good. For a bulky guy with a nose piercing and sleeve tattoos of wolves and weirwood trees, Cregan is surprisingly gentle. He makes her cum on his tongue, then he leans over to fuck her with his hands pressed into the mattress, looking between her eyes and the space where their bodies meet. He doesn’t say much, a few strained “oh Gods” and a grunted “fuck” when he comes. When they’re done he falls into the bed beside her, throwing an arm around her while he rambles about whatever happens to be on his mind, exams, internships, summer plans…
She’s happy to rest her head against him, listening to the humming of his chest as he speaks, letting it lull her as she slips into her own mind. Sometimes she still feels a little empty when it’s over and doesn’t have the energy to go for another round. She puts it down to stress. Or hormones. Or something.
Now, being on the other side of everything she realises time is passing too quickly for her liking.
Joan Jett blasts through the car speakers while Alys and Cregan go on about the season finale of some drama series she’s not kept up with.
Alys loves Cregan. Everyone loves Cregan because he’s a people person. He speaks to everyone he meets like they’re already lifelong friends and he has a remarkable talent for finding common interests. If she were cynical she would say he’s palatable.
The weather has been perfect so far, bright and sunny but with enough of a breeze that the heat isn’t unbearable. Ideal for the graduation ceremony.
She looks through the recent photos in her phone. She took a few nice ones of the Sept, the nave lined with columns and towering statues of the Seven watching over the cohort of students in red and black robes. She keeps swiping through photos of her and some of her classmates on the front steps tossing their hats in the air, a few of her and Joanna, one of her and Cregan, and one of her and Alys.
Sometimes she thinks she looks nothing like her mother, but when they smile they look strikingly similar.
Everything had paid off in the end, the study dates with Joanna, the all-nighters, the last minute breakdowns crying over the kitchen counter with Alys. But she’s proud that she did it all on her own. Especially given how helpful Aemond had been last year. Just thinking about it makes her heart sink.
He’d been living with them for a few months by then. They were comfortable with each other, existing in the same spaces, eating dinner and watching movies together when Alys was out or working late.
Sometimes he’d put his arm around the back of the sofa, letting her lean into him while they watched 90s thrillers, leaning into her every so often to make a joke or a profound observation. They could analyse movies forever, staying up late until their eyes were tired, leaning in closer and closer and never really realising it.
And then when exams came around, the stress just got to her. “It’s half the suffering,” Alys insisted, “you’re not doing yourself any favours, so don’t do it.” Easier said than done.
There was one particular module on Conflicts in the Modern Era that was chipping away at her sanity. It was her last exam of the year and every time she went over her notes she just felt hopeless.
Aemond offered to help her study. He had loads of notes and old assignments on his laptop from his undergrad and his masters. They spent hours in the dining room, going over readings and practice questions.
He would sit next to her, leaning over every so often to read through what she was working on. Every hand on her shoulder, every reassuring “hmm,” or utterance of “good girl,” when she got something right sent shivers down her spine.
She knew it was wrong, but she didn’t exactly want it to stop.
The exam ended up going a lot better than she anticipated. She opened the paper and instantly saw that, by some miracle, there were a few questions similar to the ones she had done with Aemond.
She came home ecstatic. Alys was at work but Aemond was home, loitering in the kitchen. She practically leapt into his arms when she saw him, telling him every detail she could think of with a huge smile on her face.
Aemond’s hands settled on her waist. He leaned into her until all she could see were his bright, blue eyes. “I’m so proud of you baby,” he said in a voice that made her breathless.
He leaned in further until his lips were on hers, soft and warm, kissing her tentatively. She thought it might be over quickly, until she reached up, teasing her fingertips over the nape of his neck while his grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer, kissing her deeper.
When they pulled away, both a little breathless, he rested his forehead against her and smiled. She smiled back.
But she snaps out of that trance when she realises they’re pulling into the driveway.
She looks across at Alys for a moment, laughing at something Cregan just said.
Her chest feels like it might crush under the weight of it all, but time presses on and things seem to be moving forward for the better. She’s happy with Cregan. Who wouldn’t be? He’s funny, smart, maybe a little over confident at times but she can forgive that. And she’s got the whole summer before she starts her masters. With Cregan in the picture she figured she might as well stay at KLU. He’s been trying to convince her to move in the flat with him. There’s no reason not to, it’s close to campus, his flatmates are nice and they seem to keep the place clean. She keeps saying she’ll think about it.
He reaches for her hand as Alys leads them through the front door.
The house looks immaculate and it fills her with dread.
Alys has decided to use her graduation as an opportunity to host a family dinner. Maybe she’s intending it to be a grand offering of peace, maybe she just wants to show off, or maybe she’s just lost her mind because putting two halves of a warring family in the same room seems like a disaster waiting to happen. Not to mention she’ll have to introduce everyone to Cregan.
The dreamy rhythm of a Mazzy Star song drifts from the kitchen. Aemond is leaning over the counter, in a black shirt with his sleeves rolled up, prepping a rack of lamb. She tries not to look at his hands as he takes pinches of salt, pepper and spices between his fingers.
Alys heads straight for the vodka, offering a round of martinis before the dreaded guests arrive.
She and Cregan both decline politely, and when Alys turns to Aemond he purses his lips. “I don’t drink vodka martinis.”
Alys rolls her eyes. “Thinks he’s so sophisticated,” she says to Cregan.
Cregan chuckles and plants a light kiss to her cheek, muttering about taking a shower and disappears down the hall.
Her eyes meet Aemond’s for a moment. He smiles sincerely. He’s playing one of her favourite songs.
She tells her mother she’s going to get dressed, and feels Aemond’s eyes following her as she heads upstairs.
When she gets to her room she puts her graduation robes on a hanger and lies on the bed in the black slip dress she wore underneath. Something’s pressing awkwardly into her back, Cregan’s jeans and t-shirt. She tosses them across the room and falls back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling and listening to the hum of the shower.
Is it unfair to hate someone for listening to a song? Did he remember it was her favourite or was it a lucky guess? Maybe he was trying to tease her, or else it could have just been a coincidence, but that doesn’t seem like him. Aemond rarely does anything accidentally.
Cregan saunters in with a towel around his hips. He looks down at his clothes on the floor in front of the door. “Not where I left them,” he mutters.
She pretends not to hear him.
He gets dressed quickly, all he has to do is put on his jeans and clean white shirt.
“How many people are coming tonight?” He asks, spraying some perfume on his pulse points.
She keeps her eyes on the ceiling. “Viserys, Alicent, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jace, Baela, Aegon and Helaena.” Luke and Rhaena were going to stay home with Joffrey, and Daeron would still be in Sunspear until the end of the month. Just as well, there would already be too many people to keep track of.
“I hear some of the family stuff from Jace,” Cregan says, “sounds like a mess.”
She hums to herself. “Oh, you have no idea.”
She takes her hair out of its low bun and fixes it into a more casual look, leaving it mostly loose but out of her face. Her makeup has managed to survive the day pretty well. She touches up her blush and wipes away her lipstick, applying a sweet tasting cherry lipbalm instead.
When they reappear in the kitchen Alys is nowhere to be found but Aegon and Helaena have already arrived.
Aegon and Cregan pair up nicely, swigging bottles of beer while Aemond pours out three gin and tonics.
She compliments Helaena’s patterned skirt and red boots. In return she admires her dress. “You two are matching,” she says, as Aemond hands them both their drinks.
He raises his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth are tight. “Happy coincidence.”
“Black’s not exactly a fashion statement,” she adds, taking a sip.
Aemond hums in agreement.
She takes a breath to relieve the tension in her shoulders. “How are you doing?” She asks Helaena, “didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you at the wedding.”
Helaena’s doing a PhD in Etymology at Highgarden, between that and her various art projects she seems happy, but something’s off. She’s never exactly been outgoing but she seems particularly timid, wide eyes darting constantly to Aemond and Aegon. She’s nervous, but in all fairness they all are. Or they should be.
While Helaena goes on about species of butterflies, she finds her attention almost completely on Aemond, his hand gripping his glass in the corner of her eye, the sound of his breath, those well timed hums and the smell of his aftershave. She takes another sip of her drink to steady her nerves, hoping neither of them notice her hand trembling as she brings the glass to her lips.
Eventually Alys waltzes in with Rhaenyra, Daemon, Baela and Jace following behind her. That seems like a good opportunity to escape. She goes to hug Jace and Baela, and follows them when they go to stand with Aegon and Cregan.
The tension is palpable, Alys having a stiff conversation with Rhaenyra, Daemon lurking at the edge of the room with a glass of whisky, and Jace stealing glances over her shoulder, at Aemond and Helaena.
She catches whispers of their conversation but nothing tangible.
“What’s your problem?” Baela hisses to Jace.
He tuts. “He’s staring daggers at me, fuck’s sake.”
Aegon’s lips thin. He excuses himself curtly and joins his siblings by the glass doors to the garden.
Their little group falls to an uneasy silence.
“Well done, dickhead,” Baela says, rolling her eyes.
Cregan gives her a confused look. She puts her hand on his shoulder and comes onto her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “I’ll show you the powerpoint presentation later.”
Somehow the mood only gets colder when Viserys and Alicent walk through the door. It’s almost pitiful, watching Rhaenyra and Daemon trying to win his attention while Alicent keeps her hand on her husband’s shoulder, muttering into his ear whenever she can.
Not speaking to Aemond has meant she’s mostly been out of the loop, but she can guess they’ve not moved past the dispute over Viserys’ will.
Helaena and Aegon both go to greet their parents. It’s cordial at best, light hugs and pecks on the cheek, and Viserys shakes Aegon’s hand like this is the first time they’ve met. Aemond doesn’t go near them.
The lack of warmth is only more noticeable when Viserys greets Jace and Baela with open arms and a pleasant smile. He hugs her too, congratulating her— after all that is why they’re here— and shakes Cregan’s hand firmly.
She catches Aegon’s eye over his father’s shoulder. He frowns, almost comically and goes to find another bottle of beer.
Before long Alys ushers them all into the dining room.
Alys and Viserys sit at the two heads of the table and the others fill in around them. When they see Alicent has taken the seat to Viserys’ right, Rhaenyra and Daemon move to the other end of the table. Helaena sits next to her dad and they both smile vaguely. Aemond, rather diplomatically, takes a central seat between Aegon and Rhaenyra.
In an attempt to avoid sitting across from either of his uncles, Jace settles next to Alys, and once Cregan sits next to him, the only free seat is directly opposite Aemond. She sits down without a fuss.
Once everyone is a bit more settled, Aemond and Alys go back to the kitchen to bring in small plates of salad and seared tuna.
It starts off with smalltalk. Cregan and Jace are muttering to each other on her left, while Baela and Helaena have a friendly catch up to her right, leaving her to prod at her starter, waiting for an appetite to appear.
She doesn’t dare to look up past the space in front of her plate, or the pair of eyes she can feel burning into her.
Once they’re finished, the plates are whisked away and Aemond presents them with lamb chops, fondant potatoes and summer greens, while Alys pours out glasses of red wine.
Viserys’ knife scratches against his plate as he carves into the meat. “Really excellent lamb, Alys.”
“Aemond did the food,” she says.
He pauses, looks down at his plate and carries on eating.
She hears Jace whispering something into Cregan’s ear and they both grunt in amusement.
“Something funny?” Aegon asks sharply, reaching for his glass.
She finally looks across the table. Aegon’s face is a dangerous mix of anger and anticipation.
“Just admiring Aemond’s culinary skills,” Jace muses, spearing a cut of lamb on his fork, “didn’t realise he’d gone domestic.”
“Jacaerys,” Rhaenyra hisses.
Aegon huffs but keeps his mouth shut with a stern look from Aemond.
Viserys’ attention suddenly latches onto his grandson. The rest of the table falls quiet while he asks Jace about his exam results. 65 average. Just a few marks off a first.
Aegon nudges his brother but Aemond doesn’t react.
Their father seems to notice. “Jacaerys is shadowing me for the summer,” he says pointedly.
Aegon finishes off his glass and immediately refills it.
“Not coming to Dragonstone, then?” Helaena pipes up in a brighter tone, leaning to look at Jace.
The ancestral home of the Targaryen family, a beautiful estate along the coast outside the city. It’s more of a castle than a house really, passed down the generations over centuries. They use it as a holiday home now.
She went with the Strongs one summer. Ten weeks of beach trips, reading by the pool and fresh seafood for dinner every evening. It was the first time she really remembers meeting the Targaryen siblings. Aemond seemed so quiet then, always with his nose in a book. It feels like a lifetime ago now.
Cregan’s voice in her ear takes her by surprise. “You alright?” He asks, stroking his hand along the silky black fabric on her thigh. “You looked a bit lost there for a moment.”
She can see Aemond looking at her in the corner of her eye. “I’m fine,” she says, pushing Cregan’s hand away.
“We’re just a little busy at the moment,” Rhaenyra says, “work is… hectic.”
Alicent visibly bristles.
“Might make it down for a few weeks, if the boss lets me off,” Jace says.
“I’m excited to have you,” Viserys says, “good to get him used to the order of things nice and early.”
“Yeah, amazing what you can do when you have everything handed to you on a silver fucking platter,” Aegon says, casually taking a long draw from his glass.
Alicent and Rhaenyra look horrified. Daemon and Viserys are both clenching their fists.
“He says as if Otto Hightower didn’t have to buy him a place at KLU,” Jace retorts.
Aegon shrugs. “So what if he did? Got the degree, didn’t I?”
“And what have you done with it?” Viserys says in a scathing voice, “bought a flat with my money. Drank and screwed your way through life with no concern for your career or your family.”
Aegon tuts. “The fuck does that mean, family?”
“Leave it,” Aemond mutters and the table settles into an uncomfortable quiet.
“At least Jace has some direction,” Viserys says, breaking the silence. For a moment his eyes dart to his wife.
Alicent’s brown eyes are wide and glassy. “And my children don’t?”
She watches Aemond’s lips flicker into a sneer before he composes himself and goes back to staring vacantly at his untouched glass.
“That’s not what I meant, love–”
Daemon chuckles quietly. “And yet…”
Alicent slams her knife against the table with a jarring clatter. “Maybe they would have amounted to something more if you had shown even the slightest bit of interest in your own children!”
A chair scrapes against the floor and Helaena’s silver hair billows behind her as she leaves the dining room.
Baela grabs her wrist and pulls her to stand. “Excuse us,” she says sweetly. Not that anyone will hear her over the shouting match brewing between Alicent and Daemon.
They find Helaena in the lounge, on the sofa, picking at her nails.
“Hey,” Baela whispers, coming to hold her hands so she stops.
Helaena looks up at them with glistening blue eyes and a trembling lip. It’s the first time she’s really seen the resemblance between her and Alicent.
Raised voices echo from down the hall. By the sounds of things Aegon and Viserys have joined in too.
Helaena releases her hands from Baela’s and presses her palms to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” she says, taking a few shallow gasps. “I just don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
Baela hums in agreement.
Tears start to trickle from her eyes. “I used to love hanging out with you and Jace and everyone. I don’t understand… what did we do wrong?”
She isn’t sure what to do. She feels so helpless just watching Helaena as she starts to cry. Baela sits next to her and puts her arm around her shoulders.
And while the arguing persists, Helaena eventually starts to calm down a little, wiping her tears on her sleeve and leaning into Baela. “We missed dessert,” she sighs.
“We have ice-cream in the freezer,” she says, “strawberry or vanilla?”
And just like that her face lights up. “Both.”
“Noted. Baela?”
Baela smiles sympathetically. “Strawberry please.”
She catches fragments of the insults being thrown around the dining room as she walks past. “Hightower leech”, “spoiled cunt”.
She sees a figure in a black shirt through the frosted glass door to the kitchen. She holds her breath as she opens the door.
Aemond is leaning over the counter, fiddling with a packet of cigarettes. He looks up as soon as he hears the door. She lets it close behind her and leans against it.
He stares at her with a tight jaw, a sad little pout on his lips and a slight scrunch in his nose. Despite everything she can’t help but feel sorry for him.
She tuts to herself and goes to place two bowls and two spoons on the counter, avoiding Aemond’s gaze.
Not my problem.
She goes towards the freezer and hears Aemond sigh heavily behind her. She hovers her hand over the handle.
Not my problem. Not my problem. Not my problem.
“Is it stupid of me to ask if you’re alright?” She asks, turning to fave him.
One of his wide plams is pressed against the counter, his legs crossed casually at the ankle. “No.”
“And are you alright?”
His nostrils flare as he takes a slow breath. “I told her this would be a bad idea,” he says, tapping the box against the counter. “But what do I know, it’s only my fucking family.”
The way the light shines on his face makes the scar over his left eye seem like a shadow. She’s never asked about the details of what happened, but then he doesn’t like to talk about it.
Two months ago she would have held his hand or pulled him into her arms when he was this anxious.
But things have changed now.
“Aemond, I–”
“Babe?”
She whips her head round to see Cregan and Jace standing in the doorway. Guilt twinges in her chest and she doesn’t know why. A conversation is nothing to be ashamed of, surely? She hadn’t even heard the door open.
“Baela and Helaena are in the lounge, right?” Cregan asks.
“Yeah,” she says, “I’ll be there in a minute.”
They both glare at Aemond before they leave. When she turns to face him, he’s looking back with a cold indifference.
“He seems nice,” Aemond says once they're gone. “Palatable.”
She starts to drag her teeth over her bottom lip but stops herself. Aemond’s eyes are so intense, glaring from across the room with a dangerous look of fury and sadness. That’s exactly how he looked at her, the night of the wedding, when they were in her hotel room. When he asked her about Cregan then she liked how it made him jealous.
Her blood starts to simmer, a feeling that cuts deeper and hurts more than hate. “Is this it then?” She says.
His brows scrunch into a frown, but his wide eyes seem more bewildered than anything. “What do you mean?”
It’s like a switch clicks in her brain and something in her heart dies. These last few weeks, even with things going so well with Cregan, she’s carried Aemond with her, hoping that one day she’d wake up and things would have worked out differently. It’s what she’s been doing for the last year anyway, she just never managed to break the habit.
It has to end somewhere, the lying, the guilt, and the naivety that she meant something more to him than a pretty face and a convenient fuck.
She needs to let go and she’s known that for a long time.
“Forget it. You’ve made your side of things clear,” she says, her voice starting to tremble. “This was never going to end well and I should have thought about that before I led myself on.”
She takes a step towards the door but he’s in front of her, keeping her between the freezer and the counter.
“Do you love him?” Aemond mutters, quickly and quietly.
She can feel her heart beating in her throat.
“Do I… what?”
He takes advantage of her hesitation. His hand clamps around her wrist as he moves to the door. It takes a few moments to realise he’s dragging her with him.
The door to the lounge is shut. She hears Cregan’s booming laugh on the other side as Aemond leads her further along the hallway.
And suddenly they’re in the downstairs bathroom. She stands in front of the sink, staring at her own reflection as the lock clicks.
She watches Aemond in the mirror. The room is small and narrow, even when he’s standing by the door he’s close. Then he starts to close the distance between them with slow, taunting steps until he’s standing over her.
She can feel him and smell his aftershave, the bitterness of gin and the sweetness of red wine.
There’s that dark look in his eye again, determined, and hungry.
“Did you really think I’d let you keep up this pathetic little act?” He murmurs, eyes fixed on hers through the glass.
“What act?”
She lets out a little gasp when he places a hand on her hip and pushes his hips against her, grinding a growing hardness against her so subtly he might not be moving at all.
He leans into her but no part of him makes contact with her skin. She shudders at the heat of his breath running over her ear, neck and shoulders. “I said you were needy, didn’t I?”
Her shoulders flinch when a single fingertip touches the nape of her neck. He draws it gradually along her spine as she desperately resists the urge to cry out at the tingling sensation it brings, arching against him because her body has nowhere else to go.
“And so sensitive,” he says and stops just as he reaches her lower back. “It was all for me, wasn’t it? The crop tops, the staring, even Stark, you just wanted a reaction.”
She’s always been a good liar but when she opens her mouth to reply she finds she just can’t do it. She doesn’t want to, not when he places his hand on her side and traces over the curves of her waist, her hips, the pouch of her stomach and her thighs. It’s been so long since they’ve been this close, and it’s not close enough.
“You stopped wanting me,” she breathes.
“Stupid little slut,” he says, leaning his chin over her shoulder. He starts dragging both hands down her thighs, taking the hem of her dress with him as he moves back up. “How could I ever stop wanting you?” His voice is harsh and hypnotic all at once. Cold and unforgiving. It sets her skin alight and leaves her wanting more.
But it doesn’t make sense. He was the one who left the hotel room.
“I don’t understand… this isn’t fair.”
“But you and I both know you don’t like to play fair,” he rasps, tracing circles over the tops of her thighs, occasionally brushing over the hem of her panties.“I just know these last couple of months have been fucking unbearable without you.”
She bites down on her lip to stop herself whimpering at his touch.
He groans as his head falls against her neck, hands still pawing at her legs and the dress hitched around her waist. “Let me fuck you,” he utters in that low voice that means it’s taking every ounce of effort to hold himself back. “I know what you need. Just be a good girl and let me fuck you.”
Anticipation floods her body. She can feel her self-control slipping. She can’t think straight, can’t think past him or a world beyond this moment.
She wants it too much to feel guilty, for now at least.
“Please,” she utters.
“Please what?”
“Fuck me.”
Suddenly his soft touches are gone and he yanks her panties down to her knees. One hand slides between her legs, prying them open enough so he can circle her clit with the pads of his fingers. The other snakes up her body and takes a gentle hold of her throat.
He finally brings his lips to her cheek. They graze over her skin as he mutters, “you said something to me, that night. What was it?”
She scoffs. “You’re such a cunt.” She can hear how weak her voice is as she says it.
“Mouth on you, baby,” he coos, “come on, I know you remember.”
She shakes her head fervently, hoping she can focus on the movements of his fingers, the pleasure building and building inside her.
“I want to hear you say it, baby.”
She lets herself melt against him, clinging desperately on his arms, breathless but defiant as she meets his eyes in the mirror.
With a short huff he withdraws his hand, but keeps her against him by her neck. He easily undoes the buckle on his belt, bringing his trousers down just enough to free his cock.
She bucks her hips on instinct as he slides the tip through her folds, gathering her wetness, and smiling when he realises responsive she is to him.
“Have you always been this restless? Or have you just missed me?”
Her head hangs slightly as he teases between her entrance and her clit. She can feel how thick his cock is, how hard he is and she already knows it’s going to make her feel so fucking good.
The grip on her neck becomes firmer, demanding her attention back to the mirror. He holds her gaze as he slides into her tight, slick cunt.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, “look at how well you take that.”
He’s right. The sight of her pleading face and parted lips as he holds her and pushes deeper inside of her only adds to her arousal.
He fucks her slowly, precisely, placing a hand on her stomach and pressing into her while the impact of his thrusts are muffled by fabric.
“Can you feel that?” He whispers, “can you feel how tight you are? Can you feel how deep that is?”
“Ah— fuck, yes…” she chokes, savouring the burn and the stretch of his cock as he drags through her walls and hits her sweet spot. When his fingers come back to circle her clit it all becomes so light and perfect and deliciously overwhelming.
“I knew you still wanted me,” he pants between the gentle kisses to her cheek. “Say it.”
“No,” she manages to whimper.
“Say it.”
Her orgasm comes as a sudden burst of warmth and Aemond isn’t far behind, suppressing a grunt as his hips still and his cock throbs inside her.
A few moments pass and he turns her head towards him, keeping his eyes on her lips. He leans in to kiss her and she twists her head to the other side.
“Fucking brat.”
Suddenly he brings her to face him fully, effortlessly lifting her by her thighs to rest her against the edge of the sink.
There’s no teasing this time, no pretence, just need. He pushes himself into her in one cruel snap of his hips.
He’s too impatient to give her time to adjust before he starts to fuck her, fiercely and without mercy, hands digging into the flesh of her rear, pulling her in over and over again. He brings his forehead against hers, glaring into her eyes like he hates her.
But like this she can wrap her arms around his neck, hold him even closer and lose herself in just him.
“All you need to remember is you’re mine. You’re fucking mine and you know it.”
Tears well in her eyes and she can only take what he gives her. “Fuck… Aemond...”
Her climax builds until it’s almost excruciating, and then it tears through her, a release unlike anything she’s known for months. She keeps her arms tight around him, burying her face into his neck as her thighs shake and her whole body tenses and trembles.
Aemond doesn’t stop, fucking her through it until she’s writhing with the overstimulation.
“Too much,” she whines, “fuck it’s too much!”
He clasps a hand over her mouth to muffle her protest, dangerously echoing on the tiled walls and floors. He comes again, gnawing at his lip to keep himself quiet and spilling deep inside her as tears stream from her cheeks.
He admires the mess they’ve made as he pulls out, her cream on his cock and his cum leaking from her quivering cunt. His eyes flicker back to her face, his expression softening and his lips curling into a half smile.
Dazed and still desperate she leans into him, but her lips barely get to graze his before he pulls away.
“Oh now you want to kiss me?”
She frowns, which only seems to amuse him.
By the way he grabs her jaw she doesn’t need to be told what to do. She offers him her tongue and swallows when he spits into her mouth.
A satisfied groan rumbles in his chest and her belly flutters in anticipation, as if he hasn’t just made her come twice, as if she can’t feel his spend starting to drip down her thighs.
He slips her off the sink and kneels down to pull her panties up her legs. Then he fixes her skirt, smoothing down the fabric with his palms.
“You’re going to be civil,” he murmurs, one of his hands coming to fix her hair. “You’re going to go back out there, kiss your boyfriend on the cheek, but I want you to think about me. Think about how good I make you feel. Do you understand?”
She nods.
“Words, baby,” he says as his hand comes to cup her jaw, stroking his thumb over her flushed cheek.
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“That’s my good girl,” he says softly, leaning in to plant an almost chaste kiss to her lips.
She tries for more but he steps away, eyes roaming over her to make sure she’s presentable.
With a vague “hmm,” he carefully unlocks the door and slowly steps out. He shoots her a quick wink before he closes the door, his footsteps fading down the hallway back towards the kitchen.
Her legs almost give out underneath her and she clutches the sink to keep herself standing.
That certainly wasn’t how she was expecting this evening to go.
She’s not sure how she’s supposed to show her face and go about pretending like nothing’s happened in front of their families. Maybe she’ll rediscover her ability to lie, kiss Cregan on the cheek and play the part of the sweet girlfriend, but what kind of person will that make her?
She looks at her reflection, at the glimmer of blissful tears and sweat on her face.
A familiar laugh drifts down the hall.
How is she ever going to look her mother in the eye again?
General Taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy
Series Taglist: @marthawrites @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @boundlessfantasy @sahvlran @tinykryptonitewerewolf @arcielee @tssf-imagines @aemondsfavouritebastard @skikikikiikhhjuuh @queenofshinigamis @lost-and-founds @izzydlb @dc-marvel-girl96 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @padfooteyes @castellomargot @pet1t3
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‘kay we got a lot of Ethan being ghostface and all— but what if it was the other way around hm? Here’s the idea:
Reader is ghostface who is anonymous and neither detective Bailey, Quinn, or Ethan know who they are —
But reader is a lot more violent — so when Sam asks: “so who was the other one that attacked us?“ And they don’t know who she’s talking about until the reader appears as ghostface and they’re all surprised who’s under the mask.
Let me know if this makes any sense 😭
A/N: Ghostface reader...? SIGN ME TF UP
A/N: Got a little confused because i was like, 'how is this going to work if none of them know who the reader is...'
A/N: So Im thinking...WHAT ABOUT AN OG READER WHO WENT A LITTLE, YK, MAD?
A/N: Reader is an OG who reveals themselves as ghostface and everyone is shocked because no one has seen them for years...YEA??
A/N: Btw, I forget some parts of the movie so i had to makeshift things and make them make sense but idk if i did a good job
A/N: Ngl, i literally forgot half the lines they said in the movie too so i had to improvise
My Return...
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RATING: SFW
FANDOM/GENRE: Horror, Ghostface, scream 6
TAGS: @kittiescrownedsoul, @zspen
POV: 2nd person
WRITING STYLE: One-shot
READER: The scene that happened in the movie will change so much its a whole new lot just to fit the reader in (Im overexagerrating it but it changes a bit)
REMINDER: Do NOT transfer, translate, modify, copy or steal my ideas!
CW: Blood, mentions of attacking, knife, murders, murder attempts,guns, shooting, stabbing, swearing, spoilers for scream 6
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"Ethan, Bailey...?" Sam eyed the other masked figure. "Mindy...?" The figure shook their head and pulled the mask off of their face. "Quinn.." Tara shook her head. "You're dead though..." Quinn chuckled. "It was all an act!" Tara backed up into the nearby brick, feeling the brick be loose.
"You're all crazy..." Ethan shrugged. "We prefer the term psychotic," Sam shook her head. "It was you three...the subway, the apartment, that goddamn old building!" Quinn, Bailey, Ethan quirked an eyebrow. "What building?" Bailey asked while pointing his gun furhter into Sam's direction. "What..?" Bailey rolled his eyes. "What building, Sam?"
Quinn raised a finger. "Hold on. We never attacked them at the old building," Ethan nodded. "Then who..?"
"Surprise..."
Tara and Sam swiftly turned around to meet another Ghostface, one that felt...off.
"Who the hell are you?!" Quinn shouted. "Is that a way to treat someone who has more experience with Ghostface than you ever will?" Quinn scoffed. "Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?" She repeated.
"Well, if you insist..." The unknown Ghostface slowly took off their mask, revealing...you. "[Name?]" All of their eyes widened. You, an OG, who had gone through for much shit trying to survive from Ghostface becomes Ghostface itself?
They all sat there in silence. When finally processed, Ethan, and Quinn feel a burst of excitement coarse through their bodies, an OG...helping them?!
"So you've been helping them...?" Tara grip tightened on the brick. "Helping them? Oh, no, darlin'. Im just doing this for fun. Im quite tired of being the prey, so why not the predator?" Their excitement died down.
"All those years of running away from Ghostface, and being betrayed by others. I just thought, 'well why not reverse the cards for a bit,' hm?" You laughed. "And oh, how right i was. this has been fun!" You turned to the three other Ghostface. "You three make good Ghostface, but not as good as Billy, Stu, and the others."
Hearing that gave Ethan somewhat of a boost of confidence. "Where's Richie in that list?" Quinn asked. "Richie? Oh...he was the worst Ghostface Ive seen," you slowly spat, enjoying provoking them. "So pathetic," Sam starts and you watch her, amused.
"Thats not true," Bailey retorted. "Yea. Your son, he is a man-baby, let his girlfriend do all the killing..." Bailey had gotten even more furious by the second. "Shes right," Quinn pointed her knife at you. "You, you stay out of this!" You only snickered in response.
"He was a strong, feral young man!" Bailey's voice cracks. "He was a limp-dick little fuck, who cried before i slit his throat." Bailey was one second from pulling the trigger, but before that happened, Sam had ran over to your side, missing the bullet.
Tara charged at Quinn, hitting her face with a brick. She fell backwards. "Damn," you moved backwards. You smirked, before swiftly walking up behind Bailey, kicking him in the back so he fell. "What?! " You crouched down, grabbing the gun and tossing it Sam.
Ethan began chasing Tara, while Sam busied herself with Quinn. Tara was running from Ethan, climbing away from him. "I've always wanted to stick something in you, Tara!" Tara turns around while Ethan Sticks his knife up. "Fuck you!" Tara shouted. "Fuck you!" Ethan shouted back.
"Gotcha!" You hear Ethan catch up with Tara after a few minutes. She screams before shoving a knife down his throat, twisting it while a smile grin ghosted over he face. "You're dying a virgin," He screams in pain while eating that knife.
You pulled out your knife before stabbing Bailey in chest, over and over after keeping him down with your foot. Bailey put up a fight, tackling you while you tackled him back.
You heard a crash, only to see Ethans head under a TV. "Shit looks like that hurts..." QUinn screamed at the sight of her father and bother being murdered. SHe charges at Sam, who puoints the gun at Quinn. "Looks like your down another brother."
Quinn's body fails down, after being shot in the head by Sam. Sam turned around, to meet you, but by the time she did, you were gone. "where did they...?" Tara shrugged at Sam, both of them just standing in silence.
⋆。°✩˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗✩°。⋆⋆。°✩˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗✩°。⋆⋆。°✩˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗✩°。⋆⋆。°✩˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗✩°。⋆⋆。°✩˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ
⋆。°✩˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗✩°。⋆⋆。°✩˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗✩°。⋆⋆。°✩˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗✩°。⋆⋆。°✩˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗✩°。⋆⋆。°✩˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ
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