✮⋆˙Crimson moons don't grant wishes˙⋆✮
⋆⭒˚.⋆Yandere Rerir x Reader ⋆⭒˚.⋆
Warnings: Angst, gore, yancore, but like it’s complicated, cheating, infidelity
Imagine being Rerir's apprentice. A newly hired executioner. Forced on him to train, another burden to carry as he maims and kills and walks through the gore as if nothing happened.
And despite having such a grim job, Rerir can't help but notice how eager you are. Little ray of sunlight glowing through Khaenri'ah’s permanent gloom. Bouncing on your toes, trying to reach his height. Soft smile painted across your lips as your fingers clutch your crimson marred weapon. Rerir watches the blood drip onto your uniform’s boots. It’s not right, too eerie, too wrong. He’d love nothing more than to peel that smile off your face permanently. Vividly imagining his palm striking your plush cheek, hoping his nails leave jagged marks under your nose and along your chin.
To say that you annoy him is an understatement. The way you look up at him, stare into his eyes, his soul and ask, “Did I do a good job, master?” it revolts him. No one should take such puerile delight in depriving others of breath. Rerir just scrunches his nose and walks away. Covering the memory of your haunting smile with Tholindis’ lovely face. His darling sweetheart is waiting for him back home.
He has to hate. He wants to hate you so desperately.
Loyalist, he scuffs with disgust whenever he sees you cheerfully crossing off the names from the recent target lists. He should despise you, be repulsed...
But he can’t. Rerir hates the way his heart beats faster when he sees you. Latley your smile, that macabre grin, has lost all its blight. Maybe it was never there to begin with. He’d always been prone to hallucinating; maybe he’d just taken your brightness for an eventual darkness. Waiting for the light to be snuffed out.
But it never was.
“Master Rerir, we’ve just gotten word of a Crimson dynasty gathering in the old moon temple,” You chirp. And for once, Rerir can’t help but smile down at you fondly. “Right, then let’s get to it,” he commands with a jovial lite cascading across his exhausted voice.
He can’t remember when this started. When he first pushed you against a blood-soaked wall and captured your lips in a starved, lascivious kiss. When he first cupped your cheeks forcefully in his bloody hands and glided his tongue over yours. He notices how you wring the blood between your hands nervously after the fact. So he entwines his fingers with yours, the meeting of your palms making the gore squish and releasing a disturbing noise as it begins to leak from between the cracks in your Interlaced clasp.
And you know he loves Tholindis and goes home to her every night. But when he's at work, his whole world seems to revolve around you. You're his darling little apprentice. He keeps you under his wing, safe and sound. He can be Rerir at home, the maladroit, melancholy-prone man everyone seems to know. But with you, he’s free. Free of secret identities and quotidian formalities. He doesn’t need to hide the monster that he is. He can revel in the kill, bathe in the gore. As you cling to his arm, smiling like the sun he’s never seen.
And for a time, a short untouched time Rerir is happy. Truly utterly happy. When the voice starts scratching inside his cranium, you make it stop with a simple kiss to the cheek. When Tholindis dodges his proposal, you make him feel better by throwing him to the ground during sparring practice. When he’s drowning in the guilt of all those he’s killed. Inhalaling thier screems until his lungs begin to bleed. You stop the crushing crimson waves with a simple tug of his hair and a tired head on his shoulder. So finally, he may breathe once more.
To Rerir, you are a rock in a lonely, stormy ocean. And maybe it’s not the tender love he feels for Tholindis. But it’s a desperate need to feel you close. to have your lips caressing every inch of his body as he breathes in your essence and memorizes your bones through his calloused fingers.
But you can't stop cataclysms.
Celestia knows Khaenri'ah tried.
It’s centuries later that Rerir sees you again. After stitching together his broken body once more. He sees you stalking the night of Nod Krai, snuffing the life out of targets you've been paid to eliminate.
He can’t help but laugh. Has all that destruction taught you nothing?
There’s a tug at the little remnants of his heart. When he sees you twirling his old weapon above your head before piercing it through a cowering man's chest. Oh, how he’s missed you, longed for you. He floats up onto the rooftops, awaiting your departure.
snatches you from the sky and relishes in your struggles and screams. He feels like the monster in a children’s storybook who steals unruly kids. Maybe he always has been. Maybe those stories were modelled after him.
You recognize him immediately after he throws you on the ground around starsand shoal. Your eyes widen, losing the hardened cold you’d become accustomed to. Your body shakes as you try to stand. “R-rerir?” the questions tastes so sweet and salty on your tongue. like a mouth full of pomegranate washed down with fresh blood. The Monster in front of you nods and opens his arms, awaiting your embrace...
Yet it never comes.
He’s forced to pull you in himself. To silence your insults and threats with a putride kiss. To break your wrist so you don’t pick up his own weapon against him.
“Traitor,” you scream, “Sinner,” you accuse. Oh, but darling, how can you say such dreadful things to the man you’ve always loved? To the man who gave up his nation because you’d driven him to madness.
And he’d like to think that you had fallen in love with the Rächer of Solnari long, long ago. Before you even knew of the man named Rerir. Before you even knew he had slivers of good lacing his bones. Before the world fell apart. And stripped him of you.
“Loyalist,” he mutters in our ear, like an inside joke lost in translation. Hot breath tickling cartilage as he entwines his dagger-likefingers in your hair. You glare at him with unfocused eyes. Consciousness split. He feeds you bits of the abyss until you turn into one of his minions. His precious little monster, following his beck and call. There are seconds when your eyes return to something almost human, when you use them to glare at the sinner you once loved. But then there is a voice in your head again, his voice, feeding your anguish. Slithering between your organs and swimming in your blood until he’s taken over and your eyes glow a haunting violet. A forced smile pulling at your lips.
His mindless little zombie
"My loyalist. My love. MINE,” Rerir says, as his lips violate yours once more.
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