ʀᴜɪɴ | ʏᴀɴ! ᴄᴀᴇꜱᴀʀ x ꜰ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Yandere! Caesar x F! H! Reader | implied! Blink-and-you-miss-it! Blue eyes x reader
𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Caesar is sure that if all it takes to keep you with him is to reshape the world, he will do so.
A/n: hiiiii my babesss!! I'M BACK!!! So sorry for dissapearing!! I'm working on more Yan! Apes and your requests !! Hope you enjoy some Caesar in your day♥︎ lmk ur thoughts!
Please like, reblog and comment. Your support and comments is what fuels me to keep writing
☆彡.。.:.・☆彡
Caesar first noticed you because you didn't flinch before his presence.
The other humans always do, they always instinctively recoil when he approaches, avert their eyes in fearful instinct, their shoulders stiffen and they point their guns as if expecting full on violence from his part outright.
But you don't.
You look at him the way you look at the campfire or the trees— He has seen how peacefully you look, when he has surveiled the human camp but also the times he's been there.
You watch with such care, so curiously, with genuine respect.
You’re weaker than him, fragile in a way that’s so human... than it feels dangerous to Caesar. Your hands tremble slighty the first time you find him in your camp, when you offer him water after he helped fight off some intruders on his territory. He notices how you do not pull them away when his bigger, coarser hands touch yours.
“Thank you,” you said quietly, a small smile on your lips. "For helping us." Your gaze holds his green one and even though Caesar understands the words perfectly, he understands more the tone in your voice.
The Gratitude, devoid of fear.
Trust.
Something inside him coils tight and from that fateful meeting, his world narrows to you.
You are allowed to stay in the ape colony once your human camp companions search for a new camp –you never fully understood why they had to abandon camp so suddenly or why they never warned you about the move– because Caesar says so.
That is enough for the colony.
Because Caesar's word is law.
He assigns guards because it's what a good leader should do, for the security of his apes but he always ends up watching you himself.
Always from a distance, where you cannot fully see him but he can perfectly see you.
He's always telling himself it is for the good of the ape colony, because, even if you have been so good to him, humans are unpredictable.
Humans always betray.
But you don’t.
You never do.
You settle in the hut he ordered Rocket and his apes make for you in the outskirts of the colony. You listen when he speaks, even when it’s only with his eyes. You obey his orders even if they leave you isolated, when he finally grants you the honor of his presence, you ask questions about him, his likes and dislikes, his sons, about the colony, about the other apes.
Moments with you become addicting to Caesar because they're so calming, so so normal.
You worry when he seems overtly tired from patrolling for hours, from hunting for days. You treat the apes not as monsters, but as people, even the ones who chuff at your presence, who openly dislike your presence and ignore your efforts. You treat them all as equals.
When you join them in the communal fire (always invited by Caesar), you laugh along with his family and it is soft, startled, as if you do not expect happiness to find you again.
Caesar finds himself timing his patrols so he passes your hut as much as possible. Always finds excuses to speak to you, sometimes he even tracks the paths and hours you go out berry picking so he can follow silently from the tops of the trees.
“You should not... wander alone,” he told you once, gruff voice and careful eyes, when casually he patrolled by your favored bush area.
“I know,” you answered with a smile, your tattered outer shirt made into a sort of bag for the berries you find. “But I feel safer here than anywhere else.” With a smile as soft as the early morning breeze you offer Caesar some of the sweeter berries you’d picked.
Safer with Caesar, his mind corrects you as he grabs the berries, making sure his warm skin touches yours for a few agonizing long seconds, his green eyes staring deeply into yours, as if they hid a secret he’s been dying to know. His heartbeat picks up and his chest puffs out to make him look bigger, stronger, more reliable, fitter to be your mate.
His thoughts feel like a whirlpool, with you as the vortex, sucking Caesar deeper into you. He knows exactly what this is, but he does not dare say it aloud in fear of making it too real for his poor heart.
Alas his undoing begins with his fear.
Malcolm and his human group come to Caesar for help again, finding one of their own living among apes. Even though you love living with the colony, bonding with people like you is a breath of fresh air you didn’t know you needed. Caesar notices how Malcolm speaks to you too easily, too closely, the way Caesar himself always craves to do. He remembers how Blue Eyes listens to you too closely around the communal fire, even some other apes—some watch you with interest, curiosity, and some sometimes with something dangerously close to affection.
Caesar tells himself it is natural. You’re kind. Gentle. Friendly.
But when Malcolm laughs and you smile back, laughing softly behind your hand with what, in the firelight, seems rosy cheeks and something sharp twists in Caesar’s chest.
They do not understand you the way I do.
They will fail you.
They will take you away from me.
That night, Caesar dreams of cages again. Of hands violently dragging you away from your shared cage, screaming into the dark hallways, terrified (e/c) eyes looking at his, hands frantically clawing the tiled floors, searching for him.
Of you yelling his name in terror and him finding you too late.
That night he wakes shaking, holding the furs of his nest so fiercely his hands feel sore.
From that moment on, protection from afar is no longer enough for Caesar. Hovering from a safe distance feels like needles picking his back, warning of threats that aren’t there. He feels like a coward that could fail you at any moment, just because of his fear of getting to close.
“You shouldn’t... go beyond... the river,” Caesar says softly orders, one day as he's sitting beside you at the entrance of your hut.
You frown, stopping in your weaving. “Why?” You ask, turning your head to look at his hardened profile.
“Humans... may be near.” You nod softly, accepting it easily. Too easily… which comforts as much as it and unsettles him.
And soon there are more rules.
Don’t walk alone without his sons or him.
Don’t leave the Colony without warning Caesar beforehand.
Don’t speak to strangers, be human or ape.
Don’t wander after dark.
Each one sounds reasonable enought for you, so you don’t notice how it tightens an invisible wall around you.
“You worry too much, Caesar” You tell him once, smiling up at him as he sits next to you in the communal fire with two bowls of fish.
Caesar does not smile back, pushing some more of his fish into your wooden bowl.
“Caesar worries... because Caesar... cares.” he responds, sitting closely to you with his eyes fixed in the fire. The ‘I worry because the thought of losing you makes my mind bend and fracture into something I'm unable to recognize’ goes unsaid between the two of you.
One day, Blue Eyes helps you carry fruit after lunch, Cornelius hangs out his back. He's still young, earnest and most of all, proud to be useful. He smiles at you when you thank him, offering him and his little brother some of the fruit he helped carry as a 'Thank you' as Cornelius climbs you and affectionally rubs his cheek against yours. Caesar watches the interaction from the trees, an unreadable look in his face. Later that day, Blue Eyes returns with a slight limp, refusing to meet both yours and his father’s eyes.
“Blue eyes fell from horse,” he signs as he notices your worried look. “Got... spooked”.
Caesar places a hand on his son’s shoulder—too tight to be reassuring, just for a moment.
“Blue eyes must... be more careful,” he replies, his eyes looking at the genuine concern in your face.
That night, as Caesar is busy speaking with Maurice, you notice a bruise under the fur of Blue Eyes’ arm when Cornelius was playing with his older brother.
“Blue eyes, what truly happened?” you asked, unsettled and worried for the young chimp, your eyes look for his but Blue eyes' gaze stays on the floor while Cornelius messes with his fur.
“A training accident... with horse.” The sudden apperance of Caesar makes you jump in your seat, while Cornelius abandons his older brother so he can cling to his dad.
You hesitate, looking for the blue eyed chimps' gaze, when he does meet your eyes, the blue in them seems sadder. You nod as Caesar’s gaze fixes on yours, the trust in your eyes feels both like salvation and damnation.
Over the following days, Caesar builds you a new hut.
“It’s... safer,” he explains. “Farther from... danger.”
It is farther from everyone else too. But you don't argue, which is what frightens him most—how easily you adapt to his whims, how willingly you are to let him rearrange your world.
Some nights, he stands outside your hut, listening and guarding your sleep.
She sleeps because she knows I am here. She sleeps because she belongs to me.
When you startle awake and find him watching from beside your nest — one he proudly built with the finest furs and softest leaves—, Caesar soothes you with quiet words and gentle touches, his presence by your bed almost inmmediate.
“Caesar won’t… let anything happen... to you,” he promises, his hand brushes back some hair from your forehead and he means it more than anything he has ever meant in his life.
One morning, some weeks later you ask the question he has been dreading since he realized his feelings for you.
“Caesar… will I ever be allowed to leave?”
His world tilts and his chest tightens, his mind clouds with darkness as the ape feels the urge to vomit and scream at the same time.
Leaving means humans.
Leaving means danger.
Leaving means loss.
Leaving means Caesar may never see you again.
His hands instinctively curl into fists.
“Why would you want to?” he asks carefully, jaw tense.
You hesitate, but your hands curl on your lap nervously. “Because… it’s still my world too.” Something fractures inside him, clean and irreversible, how could he have a world without you?.
Because your world must be Caesar, just as Caesar’s world is you.
“No,” he says.
You blink in surprise. “No?”
“You are safer here.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Caesar steps closer, eye level to you, his breath curls with yours. His voice lowers, rough with an emotion he no longer bothers to hide.
“Caesar cannot... protect you out there.”
“And you think you can protect me from everything?”you ask, a mix between disbelief and pleading in your tone.
His eyes lock into yours, green darker than usual.
“Yes.”
From that moment on, your reality bends to accommodate his need.
Anyone who suggests you should have choices is dismissed—or punished. Anyone who lingers near is reassigned, and all who questions Caesar learns to fear.
He tells himself this is leadership, that great sacrifices are required to protect what matters. At night, as you sleep, he confesses his devotion to you.
“I was alone before you,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. “You make Caesar better.”
You don't pull away and that is more than enough for Caesar.
So one day, when you tried to forage —just beyond the boundary he set, not even straying far from the colony —Caesar was there instantly, his hand closed around your wrist gently but with clear meaning.
“Don’t,” he says, rough voice trembling.
“You’re hurting me, Caesar” you whisper, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes and he releases you immediately, horror flooding his face.
“Caesar didn’t mean—” He stops, breath ragged. “... Caesar can’t… lose you.”
“You won’t,” you carefully reassure him. “But you can’t keep me captive like this.”
Caesar looks as if you had asked him an impossible thing.
If she leaves, she dies. If she stays, she lives. Why can’t she see that Caesar’s love means her survival?
“Caesar… loves you,” he mumbles, his forehead against yours. His words sounding less like a confession and more like a verdict. "Please... stay with...Caesar".
In the end, the colony learns not to ask where you are.
Because you’re always with Caesar.
Always under guard.
Always “safe.”
Caesar sits beside you at night in your hut, at this point it has become his as much as its yours. Watching you sleep in a nest that’s so much his as it's yours, tracing the outline of your existence and burning it in his memory.
The world took everything from me. I will not let it take you.
If you cry, he’ll soothe you.
If you resist, he’ll wait.
If you fear him, he’ll try to convince himself it is temporary. He will be able to fix it.
Love, after all, is patience. And Caesar had decided when he first saw you, so long ago, that if the world cannot be trusted—
then the world will simply have to be reshaped.
Around him.
Around you.
Until there is no one else left.
