In which Daisy and Billy are unconventional ghostfaces, with vendettas against any band who even dare try to upstage them. On the last night of their tour they decide to do something bigger than ever, their biggest play yet. Because what's a concert without a little fun, without a few blood curdling screams. Anything for fame right?

Warnings: Mentions of blood and knives,with details of slight gore!! Billy Dunne is fucking smitten with Daisy Jones.

2.1k words - @djatsweek ||| Dedicated to @anniiecrsta

‘Wanna play a game?’

‘What’s your favourite scary movie?’

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Tension had been high with the six as of late. The group had their biggest show yet coming up, and how fortunate it was to fall on Halloween, a celebrated day in such a large bustling town. Ofcourse the flyers had stated that dress-up was necessary, because what’s a concert if there isnt a theme for a night of fucking fun…and slaughter.

Billy had been pacing back stage in his dressing room for the past fucking hour, hands trembling, dried blood still scraped under neath his fingers nails, the remnants of the last night running in his mind. Everyday leading up to Halloween, him and Daisy had been playing a fucking dangerous game. No nights off, especially not tonight. But now his hands were fucking trembling as he cursed himself. 

Last night it was him, him who held that shiny fucking blade in his hand. Him who rushed through hallways and crashed upon the prey, chased as she cried and screamed, curling into a ball in the corner of their own bedroom. Oh poor Annie, her harrowing screams had filled his ears as he plunged the shimmering knife into her gut, painting it with deep crimson before he pulled it back out, watching as it dripped onto the floor spilling beneath his long gown. Annie’s eyes had held his as he plunged the knife into her repeatedly, the girl had mumbled an incoherent fuck you to the man as the blood filled her mouth. Suits her fucking right for thinking she’s a better singer. What the fuck was ‘Hey Man Nice Shot’ anyways. ‘Honeycomb  Look At Us Now’, was fucking better than whatever that crap was. The lyrics, the beats, god all of that crap enraged him. Billy Dunne was over Annie fucking Winchester. Over her fucking angelic voice and long locs of hair that danced behind her as she charmed the room with her beautiful voice. Shame no one can hear the pretty girl's cries now, no more singing or screaming for her. Billy wants, no he needs for that to be permanent. So in a fit of envy and rage he lets the knife slice into her for a final time, right along her throat. Silence at fucking last.

He’d then fled in an instant, Daisy’s cruel fit of laughter left echoing from Annie's phone that lay in their limp hand, the last thing the poor girl heard, was a mockery of her own cries.

Billy had felt no remorse. A familiar smug smile had twitched its way onto his face as he disappeared into the night. Billy Dunne had a taste for blood, and fuck was he hungry for more.

It’s then that Daisy emerges, hair soaked with sweat, sticking to her forehead in little spirals as she storms into Billy’s dressing room, and plonks herself on his floor, arms outstretching onto the floor as she lays in a daze. Remnants of white powder lingered under her nose as she lay there giggling, Daisy had been enjoying this far too much. Eyes as wide as ever, course she was high on drugs, but it wad more than that, so much fucking more. She knew it, he knew it. 

‘Are ya ready Billy Dunneee?’ She asks him, the end of her words dragging out in a sing-song motion. Daisy was excited, course she was. Her hands were practically aching to touch something over than a damned microphone.

Billy had hummed his response, his shining teeth showing as that dumb little grin grew onto his mouth. Tonight…tonight was fucking different. One phone call…then boom. No messing about, just needy and blood thirsty work. No more of the crap support band. They hadn't been bothered to learn the name, what was the use anyway. No one was going to remember them after this. After the blood was smeared, the satisfaction of screams being cured. Only then would they perform.  Only then, can they claim the fucking rock scene as theirs. Which it always had been. 

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Cheers had erupted in the stadium, slowly deafening as the support act left the stage, and waltzing back to their dressing room, on the biggest high of their damned lives, unbeknownst to what awaited them. The three men had soon lounged over the sofa’s, drowning themselves in an array of alcohol. 

Ring. Ring.

‘Ay, will that be your little ladies?’ One of the men jokes, sick grin on his face as his bandmate picks up the phone.

‘Alright darling?’ He slurs into the phone.

Fucking boring. Daisy had groaned to herself from her own dressing room. It wasn't as fun when they were high or drunk. Barely fucking cohearent, took the damned fun outta it. 

‘So good baby..Wanna play a game?’ She says into the phone, a soft flirty voice coming out. Lucky for her the man was into it, convinced it was whatever lady he’d managed to convince to come to her room. Probably wanting a easy fuck, and what lady doesnt want to say theyv’e fucked a rockstar. It made her sick.

 ‘Mhm, come to my room and we can.’ The man groans into the phone.

‘NO! What's your favourite scary movie?’ She gnarls into the phone, she was the one who played these games, who manipulated these little people into nothing more than a puppet.

‘...Carrie suppose.’ He had mumbled into the phone. She could hear him drinking away, the little gulp in his throat. Oh how she’d like for it to be silent. He’d groaned some more at her, begging to see her pretty face and she’d had enough.

‘Answer my question…and I will be their baby.’ She coos at him and then he's compliant and Daisy’s heart is practically pounding in her chest.

‘In the movie, what does poor little Carrie have dumped onto her at prom?’ Daisy asks, finger tracing over the silver blade she was twisting in her other hand.

‘Easy..fake blood sweetheart. Now c'mere, I want my prize.’ He whispers into the phone, clearly pleased, thinking he’s won.

‘Wrong! It’s pig blood you dumb fuck.’ She sneers into the phone, a little giggle leaving her mouth. ‘Wonder if your friends are covered in fake blood too aye?’ she giggles rabidly into the phone before ending it.

In the other dressing room the man had turned around, only to be met with a masked figure, the mask of a ghost covering their face. Billy was chuckling behind the ghostface as he wiped the blood off from his knife, letting it drip onto the carpet. That’s when the man sees his two bandmates. Lifeless on the couch, whiskey glasses in hand, the dark alcohol dripping down their arms and onto the plush couch. His face drops in horror as he sees the way their throats have been sliced from top to bottom, vocal chords completely split in two. Those men never had a chance to scream for their friend. Not that they ever deserved it.

Billy was still laughing under his mask, oh god the look of fucking fear and disgust that had been plasted onto this man’s face was damn near fucking priceless. He wished he could frame this moment, see the way this man’s life flashes before his eyes every time he claims someone else. Anytime he stops another prick from having their rise to fame, he wants to see this. Were they so dense that they really thought they could out do him? Billy fucking Dunne was unstopable.

‘She’s gon take her time with ya, ya ready?’ He chuckles under the mask, as he advances forward to the man, now so little, trembling like a little bunny rabbit as a hunter holds the arrow up to its fuzzy little head, before shooting right through it, instantly immobilised. 

God his blood was boiling, the way he felt right now cold never ever compare to a single drop of fucking alcohol. He’d rather be drunk off this, off the fear of others, watching as they crumble beneath him. He’d meant it to Camilla, when he promised to never drink again. Just never mentioned this new hobby he had found..she didn’t need to know though.

Daisy is bursting into the room by the time Billy has the man cornered, his knife sliding down his head, blood tricking down his ghostly pale face. ‘Awe, you got him ready for me?’ She giggles, practically skipping over to them, pulling the knife from the holster on her thigh. 

‘Course I did trouble.’ He says, looking over to the shorter girl, dressed in the same black gown and ghost mask. God… he was fucking in love with her. He’d kill anyone she asked, smear a proposal in their blood if he had to. So he steps back, letting her take the lead, she really had earnt this.

Daisy ran her knife down the man’s face, not too harsh to cut, but enough to scare him. She then slowly circled round his neck and then as-if she had all the time in the world, she steadily pushed the knife right into the centre of his throat, all the way down to the handle, leaving it there as he choked, tears rushing down his cheeks as he fumbled to speak. Then she pulls it out, hysterical laughter leaving her mouth, ‘Cat got yer tongue now?’ She hums, pressing the blade down the length of his throat, watching the dark red liquid spill over his collarbones and chest. Ah silence at fucking last. Her eyes were beaming under the mask, basking in his little startled state. A poor lamb of slaughter.

‘Ya think it’s enough.’ She asks, pulling out the knife and twirling it in her dainty hands as she turns to look at Billy. She can't see his face, but she can sense his smirk, feeling the waves of pride of desire rippling off of him. ‘He’s all yours love.’ He says voice low, coming over to stand behind her as she finishes the job.

‘All mine.’ She beams, turning back around. The man was now deathly white in the face, tears stained down his cheeks, all the way to his trembling dark lips. Oh she felt giddy. Better than any of the times her mother had given her a lollipop, fucking rare occurance at that. 

‘Bye Bye.’ She giggles, as she raises the knife, plunging it deep into his chest, letting it go down with him as his body slowly drops to the floor in a growing limp state.

He was slouched in the corner now, Daisy and Billy towering over him as the last seconds of his life flickered through. No fame, no glory, no big name songs for anyone to remember him by. Just an asshole, the world was better to be rid of.

‘God I feel fucking amazing.’ Billy groans, pulling off his mask as the man before them disappears into the abyss. Billy’s eyes were shining, heart beating like he had the whole world at in hands, he felt like the most powerful man alive. Smug smirk on his face as he peered down at Daisy, as she too removed her mask.

‘This is better than anything I’ve ever taken.’ She giggles, looking up at him as once again, her fringe sticks to her forehead covered in sweat.

‘My pretty little killer.’ He whispers, cupping her face in one hand as he rubs his thumb over her cheek, smearing remnants of mixed blood. She was his everything. No-one got Billy Dunne like Daisy Jones did. And no-one worshipped thhis woman like he did. He was damn near infatuated by her.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Daisy Jones and The Six held their best performance that night. The crowds were wild, ladies screaming and dancing, afraid of the night ending, wishing they were as free of a spirit as Daisy Jones. Men throwing beers and wishing they were as fucking cool and famous as Billy dunne. Groupies were by every door, begging to go home with any member they could, and their merch stand was fucking empty, as sparse as the fucking desert in a heatwave.

And Daisy and Billy? Couldn’t keep their fucking eyes off eachother, blood coated hands clutching to one another at any chance they got. A pleased and satisfied glint in their eyes. 

Everyone would remember them, no-one would remember their support act, or any band who had even tried to come close to them. In the next coming weeks, all anyone will think of will be the fucking six. And they’ll get off scot free. Only the dried blood under their finger nails, and the desire in their eyes when they meet will tell the story of tonight. No-one will ever amount to them, no matter how hard they try. They’ll be met with a blood lusting fury of two manic lovers. 

Oh, would it kill you to try? Give it a try.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

OMG I HAVE NEVER DONE ANYTHING LIKE THIS ON TUMBLR AHHH!! if u made it this far then well done and thank you SO MUCH for readings!!!

so it said hank olson was finnick odair and art baker was annie cresta!! now…if you know me, you know I LOVE ODESTA. so naturally this made me scream. (i love hank and clementine as an fyi but hank x art is also so cute and very odesta coded for this talk.)

hank is SO Finnick Odair, because he crafts himself this perfect image, this idea that he know it all. Hank knows the in’s and out’s of the long walk, he think he knows how to beat it and how to win, and for a short while he believes he can. Like Finnick, man of the capitol, who knows how to plays their games, even at his own cost, it’s for the ones he loves. He knows how to function and live in the capitol, what will get him by, what will wreck him. And despite this, both of these characters don’t fuckin give up till they die in insanely gruesome ways, and sadly leave behind their wives.

art is SO Annie Cresta, because despite it all being stays pure and beautiful the whole time. Even as his body starts to deteriorate and he becomes insanely sick, he stays positive and is fuelled by the people around him, by the love for his family he wishes to get back to, and to return a necklace to his dear grandma. Art is a true sweetheart, someone who shows insane strength and beauty in something so grim. Like Annie, the mad girl. Who instead has her mind that slowly deteriorates, slowly making her lose herself and her grip on reality. And yet she’s still as bright as the damned sun, she stays and she fights for the love of those around her, the hope of being a mother, for the lovely Mags who she feels she owes so much too. Despite all the horrors she is strong and pure and never ever lets anyone take that from her even in the hardest of times.

And then we have Hank and Finnick both losing their lives, both being on the cusp of freedom, of safety and sanity with someone they love. Whether that’s Art of Clementine for Hank, that’s up to you. But for Finnick that is undeniably Annie. That they finally reached something they could be proud of, only for it to be ripped away at a final moment. Gone. Empty.

Then we have Art and Annie, Art who tries to save Hank and screams for him, he coudlnt save his best friend, someone he cared and loved for. He’d ran to save him, to keep him alive a moment longer but it is futile. After that, we don’t see Art the same again, Hank’s death shatters him. For Annie, who finally gets to marry Finnick, to bare his child and be free in their hometown. Only to be broken with the news he won’t be returning home. The man she has loved and fought for behind closed doors for years has been taken from her hundreds of miles away and there is nothing she can do to change it. She has their baby only as a reminder, she has to be strong again, this time knowing she is alone.

ANYWAY I HOPE YOU ENJOYED MY TED TALK :3 YAYAY SO FUN IM SO OBSESSED WITH THG AND TLW!!!!