Acquired Taste // Eddie Munson x Reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

The air tasted impeccable after your feast, swirling into your lungs like it was dripping with honey, the oxygen weaving into your limbs and filling each cell with a lightness that was new to you. You close your eyes, kneeling beside what was once Billy Hargrove, chin rising to the sky so you could suck in heaps of intoxicating air. 

"Hmm.." You hum to yourself, lips peeling into a vacant grin. With each passing second, life returned to your body. When you stand, it doesn't hurt like it did beforehand. Any trace of ache or pain had fully dissipated now that you'd sated the throbbing hunger within you.

The insects chirp louder, or perhaps you could just hear them better now. The wind whips through your hair, sending it floating around bloodied features, sticking to the crimson coating your chin, your neck, the very tip of your nose.

You should be disgusted. Horrified. But, the you that would have felt that was now long gone.

You were something different, and yet you weren't disappointed about it. Body humming with a vibrating electricity, you felt more powerful than you ever could have dreamed. It was truly fucking fantastic. 

Leaving Billy right where he is, hardly even remembering he was there in fact, you twirl and skip and dance through the darkened woodland. It was wanton and wild, leading to your foot catching in a root and sending you flying to the ground, your leg catching on a sharp branch and tearing into the skin. "Shit!" You exclaim, though as you look to the cut, there's nothing at all there. "What..?" You ask the bugs, the trees, the falling leaves. 

Picking up the branch, you slice into your skin once more, watching with awe as it automatically folds in on itself again, knitting itself back together in barely a few seconds with no pain affecting you at all. Your responding laugh was borderline maniacal, a cackle at your own powers that rumbles to your very core. You were elated and lightheaded, basking in the glow of your feast. 

Lost in the reverie of your newfound sentience, you were giggling ever so quietly to yourself as you make it home at last, stepping through the back door. Your parents were asleep, though they wouldn't have bothered to check you got home safe anyway. 

When you get upstairs to the bathroom, you switch the shower on and finally take in your visage in the mirror. A quiet gasp fills the room, deafened by the constant stream of heated water, though it wasn't because of the blood drying to your skin or the devilish glint in your eyes, no... It was over how you actually looked. The eye-bags from not sleeping well were gone, your skin was blemish free and glowing. Your hair, though matted with the essence of Billy, was shiny and voluminous. 

You looked... Well, hot. Really fuckin' hot. 

And if beauty was pain, then who was to say it had to be your pain? 

So you grin at your own reflection, twisted and wicked, inebriated with how addictive this feeling was. A dainty, scarlet coated hand rises so you can blow yourself a kiss, tacky blood transferring between your fingertips and your lips, before hopping in the shower.

----------------------------------------------

Come morning, your body still hadn't even started to settle. You felt on top of the world, your confidence sky-high and your vanity palpable. But who could blame you? Being undead seemed to be working out well for you. So far.

You had no idea what you were now, but you weren't sure you even cared in the slightest anymore. It was like any real emotion was drained from you when your life had been. All that worry, the insecurities, the anxiety. It had dissipated and shifted into a God complex and apparent immortality. Which, you guessed, was better. You felt that way at least.