Sickly Sweet

sickly sweet

premise: becoming a monster was not how you saw your life going with the one you loved. but then eddie’s gone and you’re all alone. henry making sure to bring the both of you back together again.

pairing: vampire!eddie munson x (f)reader x vampire!henry creel

word count: 3k

warnings: eighteen+ content, blood and gore, dubcon (in the sense of reader not giving consent to be changed into a vampire), dark content-ish, endgame poly, mentions of eddie and henry hooking up, threesome illusions, choking, teasing, time skips, henry’s an ass.

etc: don’t ask me what this is but it just came to mind and was inspired by interview with a vampire a bit ok. eddie vamp edit credit goes to @cherubsfool.

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

You’d like to say you remember how it happened but you don’t. You only remember waking to a scorching pain in the back of your throat and an insatiable thirst.

And then there was Eddie.

Eddie who you thought you had lost. Who you mourned. Still mourned for. Cried for. Called out for at night through sleepless tears.

Here he was alive and above you. A scowl of concern on his face.

“It’s going to be okay!”

When he touches your skin it burns. His touch is cold while your body feels like an inferno. Like molten lava is running through your veins burning down every nerve ending, blood cell, and organ in its way.

You know now that it was doing just that. Burning everything in its wake to rebuild you into something else. Something deadly and gruesome.

“I told you I didn’t want this!” Eddie’s voice is like hot led, it sears, makes your ears ring, sounds off. Too loud. Too angry to be his.

You’re too weak to turn your head. To watch his descent from beside you, a loud crash in the corner of the room, growls, angry words.

This is all wrong. Your Eddie is not an angry boy, he’s kind, has a good heart, soft, understanding.

Everything is wrong. The way you’re breathing. The weakness in your body. The burn, the sweat that’s pouring off of you as you twitch and ache. Your eyelids feel heavy, breath coming out in a hoarse brittleness that makes your chest shake; were you dying? Was this death? Is that why Eddie was here?

You try to open your mouth. To speak. To say Eddie’s name. To cry out. To do anything but you’re stationed in pain and soon all you see is black.

“I told you I didn’t want this!” The anger that’s flowing through his bloodless veins is enough to have him across the room in seconds, his hand around the blondes throat.

“Ooh,” Henry smirks, hands up in defense. Fangs still dripping your blood. The sight making Eddie’s nails dig into the skin of his neck. A gruff wince falling from the blondes lips. “If I knew this is all it would take to break you I would have done it ages ago.”

Henry’s laugh hit’s the spot where his heart used to be. A growl burning harshly in his throat.

Eddie never knew anger like this. Not before this. Before he became this thing—monster. But now all he felt is anger. Everyday. Anger and despair from the endless need, crimson, copper, ache.

And the desire to have you.

For you to be his again.

It was a dead end fantasy that only made the anger worse. Fed the despair as he fed off of others.

In a perfect world Eddie would present this new self to you and you’d love him despite it. You’d wrap your arms around him and welcome him into your warm embrace and he’d be able to breathe again. He’d feel whole. Found.

But then the wind would blow just right, your window left open late at night as you got ready for bed. His dark figure behind a tree as he watched you; the scent of you filling his lungs where air couldn’t. The scent of your blood…of other things he could smell more now that he was this.

And he’d be reminded why he couldn’t show himself. Why he couldn’t allow you to wrap your arms around him, embrace him, love him again because he’d hurt you.

Not intentionally. No never intentionally.

That monster inside of him that craved the copper drip from one’s flesh would have its teeth in your neck within seconds. He’d be draining you of your sweet blood, your delicious taste sedating him while your eyes grew more lifeless with each savory swallow.

He’d kill you.

You’d be dead like him, except there would be no coming back for you.

So he couldn’t get close. Ever.

He was dead to you and he had to stay that way. For your own good. Even if it made him want to wipe out an entire town with the anguish it caused. He would do anything to protect you, from himself, from others—from Henry.

But he failed.

The heavy smash of the blondes back against the wall has a man sized hole cracking into the drywall. The pictures on the wall shattering at their feet. A pretentious laugh slipping into the cracks of Eddie’s rage.

“Why?”

“I figured you were sick of watching her. It was getting a little…depressing.”

“I told you! I told you. Not her!”

“I know,” Henry makes a pitying face. Moves a strand of Eddie’s hair out of his line of sight, cold palm lingering at the apple of his cheek. “It broke my heart to watch how sad you were. We don’t sulk.”

“Bullshit.” It had been two years since Eddie was like this. Two years of living alongside Henry—the one who had changed him. Turned him into the same deadly beast that he was.

He had asked him once. While they sat in the obnoxious mansion Henry called home; they called home.

“Beauty shouldn’t be wasted on human life. Neither should the hatred I saw in your soul.” Henry had looped his finger around one of his curls, a look of amusement and fondness in his eyes. Eyes that Eddie remembers looking into as he pressed his wrist to his lips and told him to drink. Stealing away his life; a life that was nothing to write home about, but it had you in it.

And Henry took that away from him.

“You could always change her. If you miss her that badly.” Henry had told him one night after Eddie came home just before dawn. By now he knew where he was going every night. If he wasn’t walking the streets beside him hunting, he was watching you. “Might be nice to have another to play with.” The smirk that met Eddie’s scowl was sickening.

He didn’t trust Henry. Anyone who could kill so effortlessly and freely as he did, who could rip the throat of the lover in bed at the same time he gave them pleasure was not someone who deserved trust.

He should have known that this would happen. He should have left Henry’s side a long time ago. Freed himself of the torment, from the psychopath.

But maybe he had become a masochist. Maybe that’s what helped with his anger-filled-loneliness; Henry.

His cruel ways. His beautiful smile. His mouth. His tongue.

Eddie would be lying to himself if he said that the thought of turning you, having you by his side forever didn’t cross his mind. But your sweet smile, full of life and joy, the kindness that he remembers always being in your eyes, set him straight. Reminded him that you were not like him. Or Henry.

You were good and they were fucked.

Depraved beasts.

Bloodthirsty monsters.

You didn’t deserve a life like this.

He can hear how weak your lungs are. Can sense those last breaths hanging on, waiting to see if your organs are going to help, going to save you from eternal darkness.

“Times running out.” Henry reminds the obvious, his tone filled with that berating amusement Eddie wishes he wasn’t used to. He can smell the sweetness of your blood still lathered on his tongue as Henry leans closer to him, the fist around his neck doing little to deter him, to actually hurt him. His lips are inches from his, “don’t you want to taste her? Don’t you want to save her? She needs you Eddie.” The tips of his nails scrape against the side of his neck as Henry tries his best to be affectionate, to hit him where it counts—where he holds a sliver of that humanity still. That softness he never lost.

Henry knew how to use it against him in all the right, and wrong, ways.

“What’s done is done. Save her or let her die. Your choice, but we both know you needed me to do this.”

“No.” Eddie scowls at him, the urge to press his teeth into the blonde's neck and rip out a chunk making his fangs buzz.

“You’d never have the strength to do it yourself. To turn her the way you wanted. I can feel how badly you want it. Take it. Take her. Make her ours.” Henry smirks, “or should we drain her dry? Have you really grown so fond of me that you don’t need her anymore? I’m touched,” when he leans centimeters closer to press his lips to Eddie’s in a mocking kiss it has an animalistic noise coming from his throat as that boiling rage has him pushing Henry—enough to break the chest cavity of a human but only enough to have the blonde going the rest of the way through the wall, unharmed.

“Good boy.” Henry says happily through the rubble as Eddie disregards him completely, moving back to your side.

His freezing fingers run along your cheek, soak in the last bits of warmth that he can feel quickly slipping from your body. Your body that’s almost lifeless. That’s so very close to becoming unresponsive and gone forever. Floating on that plain of darkness that only exists after death. Alone. You’ll both be alone.

But, this way, you’ll finally be with him.

Fuck Henry.

But he can’t let you die. Not like this.

Even inches from death you look so pretty. Even as Eddie bites into his own wrist and holds it to your lips, letting his blood drip into your mouth; one drop, two, three, four, then your throat his moving. Swallowing him down. Taking the poison of a monster to save your own life.

“Good girl,” Eddie whispers. Hates that he smiles. Hates that he feels a fluttering of something he hasn’t in what feels like centuries when he see’s the blood taking. The poison mixing with the venom of Henry’s teeth and tongue—you’d be his again.

Finally.

That insatiable thirst you remember, the one that scorched the back of your throat had grown since that night; to something worse than hunger. Than desire.

It was a sickening need that would leave you doubling over, a growl of pain and demand for the bittersweetness of what used to flow through your veins. For what you now needed to drink to survive. To kill for to live.

You couldn’t say you were happy to have ended up like this. To have become something that people wrote about in books and teenage girls went gaga over—if only they knew how torturing-ly dark and immoral it was to be such a thing. To live a life of not being alive but not fully dead, somewhere in between forever.

Until you dried up from thirst or someone stuck a steak through your heart.

You weren’t ungrateful for Eddie’s choice. Could never hate him for it for doing what he had to do, for bringing the two of you back together.

At first you had been more than grateful. Had spent every waking moment in his arms, the idea of spending centuries at his side seemed like an easy trade off for breathing and a pumping heart.

But then the thirst came. The pain. The blood you had to spill to live out those centuries with Eddie.

The anger and distance followed.

The more you killed the less the idea of Eddie turning you into this became a saving grace—now seen to you as a curse he passed onto you.

Henry was at fault with all of this. He was the one who got the brunt of your anger.

Eddie acted with the humanity that was still in his dead heart.

Henry was acting on jealousy and pettiness.

Both had put you in a numbness rage that blossomed into something dark and gritty and terrifying in the eyes of your lover.

A year had gone by without you and Eddie so much as being close let alone occupying each other’s beds, arms, bodies.

He resented you for turning into the monster he created and you resented him for aiding your turn into that monster.

When Henry demanded the three of you sit and drink together, the expensive china he had swiped from a family of victims filled to the brim with blood drained from only the finest of veins, in each of your hands as you sat in silence—the record playing in the background the only noise in the room.

And where you could see it tearing Eddie up inside, could feel the pull, the push, the tug, in your unbeating heart to reach out for him, for him to do the same—you ignored it, but he let it solidify in stolen glances and silence that came from his parted lips each time he attempted to find the right words but came up short.

Henry was eating it up. Loving it. The tapping of his nail on the china as he smirked at the both of you, as he tried to get under your skin with jabs and teasing words; and tried to anger Eddie with picks and pokes about how gruesome your kills had been when you went out.

“She looks so good covered in blood.” His eyes giving your body a once over, “makes me wish I hit a vein when I sank my teeth in her. Cover her in her own sweetness and licked it up.”

And while you hated Henry, despised him, and the lack of heat in your body made it hard to warm at words or blush; it did not stop the burn that happened between your legs each time he gave you that look, or cornered you in the hall and let his teeth scrape against your neck until you pushed him away, or how each time he accompanied you on a kill and blood trickled down his chin you found yourself wanting to lean over and lick it off of him.

It was hard to tell if Henry wanted to fuck you to spite Eddie or because he actually wanted you.

Sadly both turned you on.

Eddie had been the only boy you had been with and even after your untimely death he was still the only one.

Nights when you laid in the bed you could never use for sleeping, you thought of him, of letting this bitterness and rage slip and crawl into his bed—to feel his lips once again on yours, his touch, his tongue between your thighs.

But then you’d remember the look he’d given you when you’d come home one night covered in blood, darkness in your eyes, hair and skin from your helpless victims still under your finger nails; the look that let you know he had regretted changing you, bringing you back together, the look you’d give to a monster.

“Don’t be so squeamish, Eddie.” Henry had said as he leaned against the banister smirking down at the two of you. Chuckling as Eddie retreated down the hall, a door slamming behind him.

That had been the figurative nail in the coffin that pushed that distance even further to the point of silent aching.

And no matter how much you ached and hurt, rage and all: Eddie still had your heart. You’d never wish to betray him.

No matter how enticing Henry made it.

Even with your back pressed against the dirty wallpaper right now, his hands on either side of your head, lips so so close to yours.

“I know you're lonely,” a pause, a smirk, “and wet. I can smell it.” His knee slots itself between your thighs, the fabric of his pants hitting your covered cunt as the top of his thigh pushes up the bottom of your dress, making you swallow down a pathetic noise.

“You’re sickening.” You sneer, giving him a scowl.

“Why do you care what he thinks? Has he told you that he used to be in my bed every night before you came along.”

His words are meant to sting and they do. They hit exactly where he had them aimed and it has that rage simmering in your decaying chest cavity.

“Fuck off, Henry!”

He chuckles, “there’s that rage.” His lips are inches from yours now, a hand sliding down the wall to press a thumb at the corner of your mouth. “Fuck, I love it. Eddie’s so disturbingly sweet, just as he tastes. But you,” his hand trails down your chin to the column of your neck, his fingers wrapping around it. “You’re just as fucked up as me.”

“No,” you shake your head. Feel the added pressure he puts on your throat. Try not to let it affect you, try to focus on the rage, on anything other than the throbbing that’s burning your cold flesh. “I’m nothing like you.”

You choke on air when his grip grows tight enough to have your fingers move to his hand and try to pry them off. “It’s not an insult, don’t be rude. I made you. I can end you.” His forehead is on yours, nose to nose, lips brushing yours as he speaks. Other hand falling between your legs to run his nails up your thigh, “but it’d be a waste when all three of us could be do something so much more fun.”

And when his lips press to yours, his grip on your neck loosening, your fist is balled to push him away, but then you’re doing the opposite; leaning into him, kissing him back. Feeling that rage morph into that same need you get when you’re hungry—the need for flesh, to sink your teeth into something, to feel something.

“Care to join us, Eddie?” He’s saying when he pulls away. That hunger in you makes something inside of you plummet when you look behind him and meet Eddie’s eyes.

You expect an excuse to come. For the forgiveness and begging to come but it doesn’t.

Maybe it’s from the lack of rage in Eddie’s eyes and the understanding and lust that fills them instead.

Maybe it’s how an entirely new hunger is building inside of you.

Whatever it is has you opening your mouth and saying, “please.”

Henry turning back to look at him, giving him the softest smile you think he could ever fake, as he says, “remind us what it’s like to be sweet.”

It’s that time of year where I rewatch Teen Wolf/The Vampire Diaries/The Originals/Supernatural and feel like Y/N again.

Lmao!! It’s been a minute.

Countdown

Whumptober 2022: 16. "No One's Coming" Fandom: Batman, Batfamily, Batfam Word Count: 486 TW: Angst, Left for Dead, Hopelessness, Mentions of Kidnapping/ Beatin, Bomb, Ambiguous Ending Notes: Thank you to @lorecraft and @loverhymeswith for looking this over for me! 💖

There is no hope of escape. You know that. After all, this isn’t the first time the Joker has done this. He had already conducted this method of kidnapping, beating, and leaving for dead before with spectacular results. It wasn’t any failure on his part that Jason had been brought back to life.

Your brother had told you in hushed whispers late one night after his third glass of whiskey what it had been like. Sitting there, watching the clock on the bomb as the remaining moments of his life slowly tick, tick, ticked away right before his eyes. The anguish of knowing that no one was coming for him and that he was going to die, alone and afraid. 

He had tried to fight, to find a way out, but sometimes there just wasn’t one. And for him, that was the worst part. Knowing what was about to happen, knowing there was no hope for rescue, and knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. He had spent his last seconds in that warehouse completely hopeless and resigned to his demise.

And now, you are in the exact same situation. Left in this storage unit, wounded, and tied to a chair with nothing around except the bomb that is slowly sealing your fate with every passing second. Yet while Jason had been given a second chance after his death, there would be no Lazarus pit for you, no life-giving fix-it to reverse your destiny. No. Miracles like that didn’t happen twice. 

As the clock in front of you enters the final minute of its countdown, you wonder if anyone has even noticed you are missing yet. It’s only been a few hours since the Joker grabbed you and it wasn’t uncommon for you to turn off your comms while on solo patrol. You preferred the calming sounds of the city to your brothers’ arguing in your ear. But now, you would give anything to hear that sound again, just one last time. 

Ten seconds left. Nothing to do but wait and watch.

…. 9

…. 8

…. 7

…. 6

That’s when you hear it. As you watch the 6 shift effortlessly to a 5, you are alerted to their voices down the hall.

…. 4

Your family found you after all! You feel a wave of relief course through your veins as you hear Jason, Dick, and Bruce all calling your name. They are desperate to find you in time…. but there isn’t enough time.

…. 3

If you call out to them now, you'll only draw them closer to the blast, closer to danger. But if you remain quiet and do not alert them to your presence, there’s a chance they’ll be far enough away to be safe.

…. 2

…. 1

Jason had been wrong. It was better to die without that last useless spark of hope.

…. 0.

Taglist: @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @lolzghost, @thefictionalcharacterssimp, @venomsvl, @sugarysweetsandpainfulteeth, @your-friendly-neighborhood-al, @hellfire-fan-club

Batsis!Reader x Harley Quinn - “Too Demanding”

Batsis gets kidnapped by Harley Quinn so that she can prove a point to her Mr J, but once she reveals the reason behind your kidnapping, you tell her how similar the both of you are. You both end up the having the best sleepover you have had in a while until your brothers had to ruin it.

Requested by anon: “Hi can you do a batsis reader where the reader gets kidnapped by Harley quinn and instead of hurting her they are having a conversation bashing on the joker and batman and the batboys come in and it turns into a sleepover bashing superheroes and villians Thank you!”

A/N: I kinda voiced my opinion on men and Jarley so sorry about that! And there’s an Agent of SHIELD reference… Hope you like it!

Word count: ~1.2k

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Summary: After the sudden loss of your mother to mysterious circumstances, you’re claimed by a father you didn’t know you had: Bruce Wayne. If it isn’t bad enough that you’re complete strangers to one another, your world is flipped upside down with all the changes said to come with the Wayne name. What’s worse is that you’re not so sure your mother’s death was an accident.

Warnings: Angst, Anti-Police themes, Cursing, Depression themes, Negativity, Numbness, Disassociation, Depression, Existentialism, Cursing, Misandry, Crying, Suicidal Thoughts (if u squint), Yelling, Outbursts, Injury, Blood, Catcalling

Mentions of: Death, Suicide, Body Fluids

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