Infectious Crimson (M. Yandere x Fem. Reader)

The Patience

A/N: As usual, I would recommend putting the video on loop.

   

Tonight. It was going to happen; it had to be done. There was no other solution that had formed itself, but he didn't give up all hope. Some time remained. At the last moment, she could burst in through the door and stop him. She could give him a plan that wouldn't be as terrible. After all, she did know that it was happening. He had tapped lightly on her shutters, and she, thankfully, had answered since both of her parents were asleep again since her father had been given another break. The meeting had been quick given the situation, and she hadn't stopped him from leaving even though he had seen in her (e/c) eyes that she desperately had wanted to. Unfortunately, she didn't give him an alternative, but she still could.

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Emorie quietly walked towards the Feldman household. He was coming from the direction of the southern woods. Yes, he could've raced across the street, but he was in no hurry to enter the home. Technically, he should be since taking longer gave the villagers more chances to spot him, but he couldn't find it in himself to move any faster. What he was about to do never grew any less horrid.

He even hadn't eaten before coming. Otherwise, he probably would've emptied his stomach due to how nauseous he felt about the near future. It wouldn't surprise him if he threw up during ... that activity with her. Hopefully, he didn't since she might push him away, then, but he might not be able to help himself.

At the backdoor to the home, he had avoided alerting any of the chickens. They all were fast asleep, and he could hear no movement in the household. No smirk or smile greeted his lips, though. Instead, a frown remained there, but he'd have to force himself to smile soon enough to convince Jetta. His left hand reached out to the door, and his nails hit the wood lightly. Slightly, his hand shook, and his head hung down.

Locks of nearly white hair hid his face partially, and he felt every part of him refusing to pick the lock. He had to, though. It was his plan. (F/n) had agreed to it, and he needed to get it over with. His right hand gripped his left wrist. "Open the door," he ordered quietly to himself. It took a few more moments, but his left index nail soon picked the lock. The door clicked open softly, and he stepped inside.

Quietly, he closed the door behind him. It was dark throughout the whole house, but he walked through it as if it was daylight. None of his soft footfalls woke any of the residents. Barely making any sound, he explored the household. Doors opened and closed, and he heard steady beating hearts.

Blood and flesh smelled like freshly cooked eggs, vegetable stew and different kinds of cooked fish. No smell was unpleasant until he got to the last room. The man in the room, who he knew was her older brother, smelled like cooked eggs, just like his father, but he grimaced when he got the scent of Jetta's blood. It smelled like a boiled egg that had been around for too long, not rotten but nearly there. He thought that humans were supposed to smell at least somewhat good to him. Yes, the smell of human food was worse than her, but the smell still was very distinct and something he'd rather not eat; however, he wasn't going to afford himself the luxury of being picky, nor would he let his future son. They still had to kill humans, and he originally was one; he'd take what he had to and wouldn't kill someone just because they smelled appetizing.

For a moment, he clenched his right fist before he forced himself to relax. Going over to Jetta, he crouched down beside her and rested a hand on her one shoulder. She wouldn't be able to tell the difference between his hands; she'd see his human self. Gently, he shook her awake, and she moaned in her sleep before she blinked her eyes open. Behind him, her brother shifted around on his bed, but he didn't wake up.