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#Neuv is a difficult character to grasp
genshin-side-piece · 8 months
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Love Me Tender
Warnings: Yandere Content, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Captivity, Implied Stalking, Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Touching, Sexual themes, not smut (sorry), my bad writing, anything else I missed, 18+, Minors DNI
Maybe OOC for him? It's hard to say.
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Neuvillette's favorite time to be with you is in the dead of night. He enjoys the days, in the sense that he enjoys being near you. Watching you from across the room did bring a sense of comfort from the knowledge that you were safe in his care, but that was all. He garnered no satisfaction in it, not when he ached to be so much closer to you than what he is allowed to be. You denied him that. Despite you being in his home, in his care, you denied him the right to be next to or close to you. He was only ever allowed to be near and even that had not come easily. It was the one concession you had made after doing all you could to avoid him.
In the past, outside of meals, you had always left the room the second he would appear. It was in vain of course. Neuvillette would follow you, like a loyal dog follows its master. His eyes fixed on your form, dutifully watching your every move. Room to room, hallway to hallway, until he finally cornered you in a space where you could not escape. From there he would take his appointed place near the door, keeping you where he wanted you until it was time to change for dinner or on the rarest of rare things, he allowed you to take dinner in your room before going to bed early. It had gone on from the day you had entered his house, lasting for months on end. You would run and he would chase. Oddly, he found it fun. The concept of chasing or hunting you awoke something dormant in him. An instinct that had long been buried due to its lack of use. It became a game between you, a battle of wills to see if he could trap you or if you could manage to get away. You never did of course. He had the upper hand when it came to his hunting grounds. If he wanted you in a particular room or to travel a specific path, he knew which keys to hide and which doors to lock beforehand to get you to go the way he intended. 
His favorite place to keep you was his study. Unlike the other spaces in his house, the study was on the smaller side. His desk dominated most of the space in the room, leaving either a small sofa or a chair beside him as your only two choices if you wished to sit. Any of the other options you had tried, like the corner that was furthest from him, were automatically dismissed. Seeing you was a luxury he could rarely afford. While he enjoyed his hunts, Neuvillette preferred not to waste what time he did have with you moving furniture every time he wished to see your face. His one insistence on the matter had been that you make a choice between resting by his side or the sofa. He had told you he didn’t have a preference of where, even though it was very clear he did. By his side was always preferable, though the thought of you sitting on the floor that first time awoke something that the gentleman in him tried its best to deny. Just the idea of you kneeling beside him was enough to make his c*ck stir. On the nights he didn’t come to your side, he laid awake, practically consumed by it. Your cheek grazing his thigh, his fingers combing their way through your silky hair, your contented little sigh as you rested your full weight against his leg. It was pathetic to think that fantasizing about the most basic forms of contact were enough to bring him to a swift orgasm, but here he was. After many months together, Neuvillette found himself so desperate for your acceptance, for your love, for your warmth that the mere mention of contact would cause him to make a mess of his hand. Maybe it was a good thing you always chose the sofa. If you did bring yourself to willingly be beside him or touch him, he might cum on the spot. 
He had time to work on that or at least that’s how he consoled himself as he cleaned himself up in the dark. The weather had been warm as of late. It had made maintaining a specific distance easy for you. He had to wonder if you would feel the same way once the weather turned cold. His office, like the rest of his house, did have a reputation for being drafty. Since you refused anything beyond the most basic of garments from him, it was only a matter of time before the cold got to you. What would you do then? Would you accept that as your appointed guardian he would have little choice but to punish you for your foolishness by holding you in his embrace as a means to warm you back up or would you suffer the chill for the sake of your own stubbornness?
The answer, to Neuvillette’s great surprise, was neither.
If his study was one of the coldest rooms, then outside of the bedrooms, the warmest place in the house was the drawing room. When the winter months came, the drawing room became a place of refuge for you since your keeper advised you that hiding in your bedroom was out of the question. Even if Neuvillette would happily cover you with blankets and furs should you ask, your pride decided you were better not to. You would rather freeze or in this instance, tolerate him being near you for the sake of staying warm. It had been a small victory for him. One that he relished every time he looked at you. From then on, you allowed him to sit in the same room as you, provided he stayed on his side. If he dared to get closer, he earned himself a scowl worthy of shearing the cliffs of Fontaine into the sea below. That’s if you looked at him at all. On the nicer days, your eyes were always fixed on something else, mainly the windows and the world beyond them.
Your present situation is not fair. He’s been made painfully aware of that through his own experiences with you. In general, Neuvillette understands that humans are meant to be free, or free within the limits that the laws of the land allow. The loss of that freedom should those laws be broken was to remind your kind of their place in this world. You, however, had broken no laws. At least none that were on the official books. In the eyes of Fontaine, you had been a model citizen, therefore you should be free. As far as Neuvillette’s own standards and rules were concerned, your behavior had been less than ideal. Hence his need to lock you away.
Neuvillette remembered the day or rather the circumstances that had caused him to clip your wings. He’d had you on schedule for sometime. You weren’t aware of it, but through his own manipulation of your life, you would wake at a certain time, eat at a certain time, work for a specific length, and finally report home at an appointed hour. Before his influence you had run around as you pleased. Your erratic behavior of running to and fro had made watching you from afar impossible. The schedule he slowly imposed upon you fixed all of that. You being at a specific place, at a specific time made things easier for the melusines to keep an eye on you and report in. Everything had been running rather smoothly, and Neuvillette found himself pleased with the outcome. You were where he wanted you, when he wanted you. Things were as low maintenance as they could be, until you decided to throw a wrench into the machine. 
He had been stuck at the opera for days, knee deep in an idiotic dispute. It was on that day, that you had decided to deviate from your normal routine. Thinking back on it, had things ended there and you had gotten back on track, nothing would have happened. In Neuvillette’s mind, one day's worth of deviation was tolerable. You took days off from time to time. It wasn’t too hard to pick up your routine on those days. You generally slept later or ate at different times, but there was one constant; you always kept yourself to the city. The melusines could find you without too much trouble. The only real inconvenience was that the daily reports about you were thrown off their schedule. He didn’t particularly care for it, but in this instance, it hadn’t mattered. This time, outside of one fact, the reports about what you ate, where you went, and who you spoke to couldn’t be made at all. How could they, when you had vanished without a trace?
There had been no warning, none of the usual signs that you were tired or stressed or in need of a rest. The day you had vanished started like all the others, the only difference was that it had begun with your bed being empty. The report that you hadn’t gone to work as you should didn’t reach him at the opera. Neither had any of the others regarding your lack of contact. Instead, the reports had been delivered, as instructed, to his office at the Palais Mermonia. Words like vanished, missing, and lost didn’t find him until he returned to the city two days later. At the time, he had believed you had been kidnapped. His own panic that you were missing had dismissed the concept that you had left of your own volition. The idea that you had decided to go away to the mountains for a few days seemed inconceivable to him. You hadn’t slipped your schedule while he had been distracted. You hadn’t taken one of the water taxis out of the city while no one was watching. No, in his own paranoid mind you hadn’t left, you had been kidnapped. Neuvillette had many enemies. Despite his own discretion regarding you, they must have gotten wind of you. That had to have been it. There was no other reason for the fact you hadn’t returned. You had been stolen. The very idea that you had been taken triggered something in him; something ancient, something primal. He needed to find you. He needed to hide you. He needed to protect you. Your part would be to comply with his wishes. Refusal was not an option. 
Neuvillette’s search for you was thorough. He scoured the countryside for you, searching above and below the surface for any sign of you or your abductors. No crevice of Fontaine was left untouched. No stone unturned, no ruin not inspected. It took him an additional three days to find you. When he did, the little house that you were staying in seemed anticlimactic. There were no guards nor was there any real fight. Just your utter confusion at the sight of the Chief Justice standing outside your door and Neuvillette’s solemn vow that he would never allow anything like this to happen again.
Even if it meant locking you away, your freedom could stand the sacrifice.
The contempt and rage that followed was something that took Neuvillette completely by surprise. He didn’t believe you possessed such strong emotions, but they were there. All it had taken was the cage door being locked shut to bring them to the surface. All he could do was listen as your cries and protestations lasted for days on end. Initially he had tried to calm you, calm your anger, but it had only made things worse. Stern or soft words didn't make a difference. You just continued to rage at him, so in turn he met you with silence. It wasn’t that he was insensitive to the situation, he knew taking your freedom wasn’t ideal. Where Neuvillette took issue was that he simply didn’t understand your reasons for being upset. The loss of freedom was unfortunate, but was it necessary. The schedule had been designed to keep you out of trouble. His motive in bringing you to his home was to keep you safe. You had deviated from one, so the solution was the other. Could you not see he was trying to help?
Even with his justifications though, it would be a lie to say that he didn’t feel guilty about what he had done. Your safety was of the utmost importance to him, but he desired nothing more than for you to be at peace with his decision. Neuvillette had brought you here for your own good. The world was a dangerous place and you, well you were far from safe in it. Your little disappearing act had shown him how incapable you were without him. That the schedule he had imposed upon you from afar was not enough. You needed a heavier hand to guide you, to keep you, to protect you. He knew you would be happier if you could be free, but that was no longer an option. Maybe that’s why he could never bring himself to be harsh with you. Neuvillette knows that on the surface, he could make your relationship be what he wanted it to be. Should his patience run much thinner, he could take a firm stance with you. He could apply force. It would be nothing for him to attach a leash to the invisible collar he made you wear and keep you at arm's length at all times. You could be bent, you could be broken, and most of all you could be rebuilt how he wanted you to be. Then, his dream for a life with you might be fulfilled. If he remade you how he wanted, you would smile at him like you do other things. He wouldn’t find himself envious of the sun, the music from the phonograph, the books you are permitted to read, and even the birds that play on the other side of the window. You wouldn’t love all of them more than you loved him.  He would be worthy of the smile he yearned for. The same smile he adored from afar and the same one that vanished the second you see him. His very soul shattered every time your lips fell into a thin line across your face, never failing to draw that same line across the room and his own heart.
That's what made the dead of night so special.
In the night, after sleep had claimed you, the hard line that you had drawn between you and he vanished. The darkness that consumed the world hid the truth of the entire situation perfectly. In those precious hours, he could pretend that you loved him. He could pretend that you understood his reasoning for his actions towards you. In his own mind, Neuvillette could make you accept that you were something delicate and rare. That you were unable to guard yourself from a world so keen to harm you. That you needed him to help you. He had imagined your gratitude a thousand times over. Decant thoughts of you thanking him for being your savior, of you falling into his arms, of your sweet lips on his, of your soft cries as he plunged his c*ck into you over and over.
It was untoward for him to think of you like that. He shouldn’t really. It was ungentlemanly to do so. But some things couldn’t be helped. When the night washed away the scowl that was reserved solely for him, Neuvillette found it all too easy to let his mind wander. He embraced the privilege of crossing the threshold of your bedroom and pretending that the smile you often wore in your sleep was for him. He could approach you without hesitation then. He could indulge himself in the feeling of your hair in between his fingers as he brushed it away from your face, the warmth of your skin as he ran his hands over the parts of your body that your nightgown or the heavy comforter refused to hide. He could work out his own frustrations by your side, his one hand fervently stroking his c*ck, while the other traced the lines of your thighs.
The entire charade was a ridiculous one. Something that in the cold reality of day he would dismiss as folly and nothing more. Logic, in this case, would always win out. You weren’t grateful to him. There was no way you ever would be. You didn’t understand his reasons for confining you. You would never understand his reasons. How could you? In your short life span, you had been blessed with peace. The world as you knew it hadn’t been torn asunder. You hadn’t witnessed the destruction of all you hold dear. If you had, perhaps you might share his view that you needed to be kept safe. Then, maybe Neuvillette wouldn’t have to reduce himself to being nothing more than a pathetic figure, pining for you in the dark.
Because god how he wanted you, how he needed you, how he loved you. On his worst days, when the burden of the nation was to the point that he felt the weight of it would crush him, he had you. His corner in the drawing room tied him over until the stars climbed high into the sky. Then, in the darkness of your bedroom, with only the moon light to serve as witness, Neuvillette could wrap himself in around you and wash his own worries away with the tears he spilled into your hair. Whispering a silent prayer that when the dawn came, perhaps today would be the day that you would see that he is yours. 
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