#ikemen wellington

[weird-profiterole]

Let him be gay for Napoleon, Horatio. 🌈

Don't repost, only reblog

[austerlitzxwaterloo]

I saw a video with a little girl shouting her father's name and I was like "I know where it happened too" 🙈

Don't repost, only reblog

[xxsycamore]

MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

MLM - Napoleon x Wellington mafia au >:)

DEVOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOn

Yes. With pleasure.

[ 🌈 character x character or genderbent!character x mc requests OPEN 🌈 ]

For Different Universe, Same Love content creation challenge, hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and me.

𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐀𝐔 ┅┅┅Napoleon x Wellington

𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐮𝐨𝐢, 𝐥𝐨 𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐢

"Tsk. It was a bluff."

With the cigar between his teeth muffling words - meant for his own ears only, anyway - the gesture of fishing out a lighter from the inner pocket of his long black coat is met with a similar dead end. Rain keeps falling overhead. Not the best moment for having a smoke.

Half-mindedly pocketing back the cigar as well as the fine-crafted metal object with the emblem of the Buonaparte Family engraved on its side, the capo rushes to raise a hand in stern protest before an underling can open an umbrella over his head. He's then quick to give the impending order.

"We're returning to La Malmaison. I want the messenger in my office."

Sometimes going against the saying would be a better option. The sound of three dozen men loudly voicing their receiving of the order echoes around the alley. The sound of their footsteps follows like a march, one which Napoleone refuses to lead for the opportunity to enjoy his smoke in the company of his own nagging thoughts instead, under the eave of one of the nearby buildings painted in beige.

Not having taken a single step to his destination yet, he hears the familiar yet still blood-freezing sound of a gun being cocked behind him. The barrel touching the back of his head, cold and metallic and whispering both good day and goodbye.

"You decided to show up, after all, Wellington?"

The other party stays quiet, seemingly unamused with the capo's sense of humor in such circumstances. That Wellington, never the one to return a good greeting. Nor the one with good manners to apologize for showing up late to a meeting of his own arrangement.

Raindrops gather and spill over the edge of the wide brim lining the capo's fedora, a trademark accessory he can be often seen with, a near symbol of his persona. Their pitter-patter on the luxurious cashmere falls unbothered by the intensity of the scene which otherwise holds the power to make hearts belonging to some of the most capable men in the mafia stop.

"I take it as you've thought about the offer I extended to you."

"I have."

An offer of joining powers against the greater evil; such a classic. In fact, so much of a classic, that the don has already been offered the same, by the greater evil in question nonetheless. All that is left is for Wellington to decide which man has him seduced the best; privileges, goods, promises, and riches. And perhaps more.

Well, the barrel shoved against his nape is one way to announce his final decision.

"And I accept the offer."

A lifetime of control over those pesky facial muscles that like to spill the truth uncovered shatters as jade eyes widen. It's good that he has his back facing him; for once the unfavorable position is the preferable one.

The gun is lowered. Lips curved upwards, Napoleon turns around.

"You took the right decision, partner."

With the capo's leather-clad hand extended in invitation for a handshake, eyes meet eyes. The blonde has his full of looking at the familiar smirking face and directs his gaze to the extended hand instead, giving it a haste shake.

"I believe I interrupted your smoke." Wellington states, taking out his tobacco box; a symbol of his own famiglia engraved on it.

The drizzling rain halts to a stop as if to eavesdrop on the rare scene of the two powerful men standing side by side in the small alley.

And though the rain has stopped, they remain close, sheltered under the narrow eave overhead.

[whatever you want, you get.]

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran  @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @my-day6 Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[aavalon]

Dazai: and now for a gay update with Napoleon and Wellington

Napoleon: getting gayer

Dazai: thank you, Napoleon

[naresnani]

Ikevamp as Highschool teachers AU

and I'm just going to imagine my own Indonesian public high school rn because fuck it

Gym teacher Napoleon: I DO Not Care what anyone else thinks napoleon should be This idea won't leave my head no matter what!!!!! Help me!!

Napoleon dealing with teenagers being insane all day seems like the life he wanted! The boys gets along with him and they even hang out in the canteen often. The girls rely on him for various helps. Very popular teacher. Most students love him

History teacher Wellington: he's incredibly boring for everyone except the extremely nerdy. Likes to write on the whiteboard instead of using the projector, but he got a terrible cursive writing. He loves getting questions but doesn't show it....

Most students use his boring class to secretly work on other classes HWs. He'd try to stop them with surprise quizzes. They don't like him :)

Also GUESS WHAT! THESE TWO ARE DATING! WHAT ELSE DO YOU EXPECT FROM ME

More hcs: Wellesley is really really bad with technology. Napoleon would drag Isaac to his desk so Isaac would help him with the, the microsoft excel document. He did something with the tables and now it's all only showing the same numbers. Please help. (Napoleon kinda Suck with computers too and probably made things worse.)

Speaking of, Computer teacher Isaac turned math teacher: at some point in my hs years they decided that they don't need the computer class anymore. So it went poof. They still give the teachers jobs teaching something else but goddamn this poor boy!

Mister Isaac is pretty good but he teaches too fast sometimes. You just have to go up to his desk in front of the class with your notebook and then huddle around him with your friends as he explain better.

Art teacher Leonardo: I feel like my art teacher was practically similar to this guy. Constantly smells of smoke. Chill and lazy. Likes to tease his students about their terrible, terrible artwork.

You just have to match his vibes to like him.

Music teacher Mozart: He despises his students treatments of the school's musical instrument. They don't get enough funding from the goddamn government to buy more of these precious things

English teacher Arthur: gets along with the weird nerdy kids.

Literature teacher Dazai: supports your yaoi fanfiction for the assignment!

Comte: the headmaster.

The others: Alright.... Hah.... I've lost my juice......if anyone else got an idea then please..........

Tagging: @kissmetwicekissmedeadly because I just talked about it with her a couple of hours ago......

[klutzyroses]

IkeVamp: Wellesley

I've always wanted to draw @weird-profiterole 's version of the Duke of Wellington, but I...am not so great at drawing men so...yeah.

So after 1200 years of practice, here he is!

Tada~

🌸

[noisy-weasel]

So I never read napoleons route In Ikemen vampire so I'm curious who did they decide is his "rival"?

[lordhelpme0-0]

Ikemen Vampire Incorrect quotes #3

This is for people who shipped Napoleon with Duke of Wellington and Tsar Alexander the First or something…anyway— Back in the olden days—:

Wellington/ Alexander: Napoleon!

Napoleon: *suddenly awake* am I dreaming…? No wait—, your both dressed…

[kerrysdreamcorner]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬

An Ikemen Vampire Fan-Fiction

Ⓢⓤⓜⓜⓐⓡⓨ

The horrors of past experiences come back to haunt Ruby’s dreams. Luckily, the dreams are just dreams, and the nightmare hadnt become reality.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: Nightmare comfort

Ruby will never forget that room.

Wooden. Dark. Cold. It was the same place, she knew it was, but why was it suddenly so long and narrow? No matter how many times she rushed back, nearly tripping over herself to avoid being cut by the saber, her back never hit a wall. The room was endless, the hooded figure was gaining on her, and she couldn’t get her voice to work. Fear had its freezing hand wrapped around her throat, nails biting into her flesh and drawing trickles of blood.

The saber came up again, and in a brief reflection of the light, Ruby realized it wasn’t fear’s hand around her throat. It was the hand of a dark haired man, and it wasn’t his nails that pierced her flesh. His mouth was attached to the side of her neck, bright jade eyes glaring at their reflection in the sword as he pulled her back by the waist again and again, keeping her out of harm’s reach.

It was only then that Ruby realized just how limp her legs were. She hadn’t been moving on her own at all.

Then, finally, her back hit something solid. A wall. There was no more escape, and the man behind her was suddenly gone only to reappear right in front of her. He caged her between his arms, used his body to block the weapon from hitting her.

The blade pierced cleanly through his chest. Ruby lunged forward-

And shot up in bed.

Chest heaving, sweat clinging to her skin, Ruby’s eyes darted around the room. The walls, the window, the furniture, the bed and the blankets, they were all the familiar sights of her beloved’s room. And her beloved was fast asleep behind her, safe and sound.

The relief was overwhelming to the point of tears. Twisting and wiggling in his tight embrace, she managed to turn towards him and shimmy a few inches up the bed, just high enough for her arms to wrap around his head and tuck it against her chest.

“I got you.” She mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. His hair was dry now, but the fresh smell of the shampoo he used lingered.

Napoleon, unsurprisingly, was sleeping like the dead. Ruby was grateful for it this time. Reliving the god awful experience was painful enough for her, but she could only imagine what it was like for him.

Napoleon, who had come to her rescue and suffered near fatal wounds to protect her. Napoleon, who while even on the verge of death loved her so much he denied himself of her blood. Napoleon, who heard her pleas to keep living and gave in to his desire.

Napoleon, who had given up his humanity to erase an opposing threat to their future.

Ruby ran her fingers through his hair, gently scratching the back of his scalp. His arms tightened around her as he nuzzled further into her chest, and she stopped her affection in fear she had woken him. After a minute of silence, she resumed.

“Nunuche.” He suddenly spoke in a half-asleep voice. “Why are you awake?”

She hesitated, trying to decide how much of an answer she wanted to give. “It’s nothing. I lost my sleep, is all.”

Rain started to hit the window, the sliver of moonlight coming in through the glass taking on a blueish hue. A simple shower had started, by the sound of it. Gentle, soothing sounds.

Napoleon exhaled deeply and gave her chest a chaste kiss. “Bad dream?”

“Yeah.” She gave in quickly, voice muffled by his hair as she spoke against his head. “I dreamed about… you know…” She touched his back, which had healed since.

His thumb drew gentle circles over her shoulder blade. “It’s over, mon amour. Arthur Wellesley won’t hurt us anymore.”

‘It’s over.’

He was right. The Duke of Wellington had no reason to come after Napoleon any longer, but when Ruby thought about what he endured to make that happen-

A hiccup shattered the thin walls that kept her emotions locked in. Napoleon moved with the quickness of a well-trained soldier, sliding her down the bed until he could press her head into his chest, just as she had done with him. He adjusted the way he held her, one hand cupping the back of her head to keep her against his drumming heart, the other locked around her waist and over her back. Ruby slid an arm beneath his so she could wrap it around his shoulder, her other hand pressed against his chest. Their legs tangled, locking them together completely.

“Do you feel that?” Napoleon whispered, voice tender. “As long as your heart keeps beating, so will mine. I linked my heart to yours through an oath, and I have no intention of breaking it.”

Ruby sobbed and buried deeper into him. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for, nunuche? You can cry.” He massaged the back of her head with the pads of his fingers. “Je t'ai eu.”

‘I got you.’

Had he heard her before? Or were they just so aligned that he thought to whisper the same words? Either way, his words reached deep into her heart and wrapped around it like a shield.

Ruby’s tears didn’t stop, but they did slow down until her breathing evened out and exhaustion guided her fears away. Napoleon fought off his sleep until he was sure she was at peace.

Then he drifted off, too.

[krys-loves-otome]

OC Brain Rot Post #1: Thea and Abby and the Rivals Fight at the Mansion

OC Brain Rot (originally based on this post) is where I basically ramble some about my OCs and what they're up to currently outside of my writings and arts. Basically, these posts are, in essence, brain dumps. Sometimes there might only be a couple sentences and half-formed ideas, others might go into meta involving my ocs and whichever game universe they are apart of.

Most post will be based around my otome OCs but some original ones might slip in once in a while! You just never know where my brain might take me.

I'll also make a big, huge note here that these posts won't be spoiler-free! At the beginning of each post, I'll try and make note of which game and OCs I'll be talking about. Spoiler parts will be under the cut.

For this post, there will be Spoilers below about the Interlude route of Ikemen Vampire, right around Chapters 10 and 11.

Thea and Abby will feature in this rot. Normally, they are two characters that have their own universes. However, I also fall inevitably into joining their universes together just so I can have them both interacting with the boys and being friends (Thea is quite protective of the shy and timid Abby), so I'll also include some thoughts about both of them together in this part of the Interlude route.

Here we go, onto the brain rotting!

-----

For Context: The Interlude Route in Ikemen Vampire is a transition arc between the first and second acts, right before the act 2 for the suitors are released and two new characters are introduced. MC is stuck in the past because Comte's magical time door is broke and going home is likely an impossibility at this point, unless you want to be lost in the time soup for all eternity. So now, MC is trying to make the best of the change in her plans.

Vlad, still bent on not letting the vision he saw in the future come to pass, revives the rivals to our suitors and they have been terrorizing everyone the past few chapters. Where I'm at currently, Vlad has met with Comte and Leonardo and they tried to talk things out, purebloods to pureblood, but Vlad still refuses to stop his mission and the three part ways.

He then sends the ones he's revived to the mansion in an all out attack. Napoleon and Jean take the most brunt in fighting Wellington and Gilles with Leonardo and Comte assisting them. Dazai and Sebastian were guarding the door while the other non-fighters (Mozart and Isaac) were in the piano room. Theo had gone on his own to face off against Gauguin to get revenge with Arthur following him to make sure he didn't do anything stupid, such as going through with the revenge quest he was on.

This is initially where the girls start off in. Vincent is also in the piano room but soon goes out on his own because he also figures that Theo was about to do something stupid and while I initially thought it was dumb of him because he left the non-fighters defenseless (his little info blerb he's the strongest of the non-purebloods and I had many instances of 'why you do that, something bad gonna happen to the non-fighters! Vincent, my love!') but he didn't want for Theo to do his stupid thing, so he goes to Theo and it's sweet (me still thinking it was dumb but whatever, narrative gonna do what it wants).

For Thea, she goes with Vincent after Theo. No risking yourself for your brother nonsense! She cares too much about Theo too, she's gonna stop him. And she knows a little bit about fighting (as stated in this power-scaling reblog I did), so she'll be mostly okay. Theo pulls her to him as he flips the pool table in the game room and all four of them are dodging bullets, currently.

For Abby, she stays with Mozart and Isaac in the piano room, scared as this is some terrifying shit going on! When Vincent said he was leaving for Theo, Abby was very, very scared, numerous things running through her head, all of them not good. Worried for everyone outside fighting currently, for Sebastian and Dazai guarding the door, for Theo and Arthur out on their own, and now Vincent going on his own to find Theo. She wishes she could curl up in a corner somewhere, close her eyes and cover her ears until all of this was over, but she can't, not when all of her friends are fighting right now.

Before Vincent leaves, she does tug on his sleeve, wanting to ask him to stay. She knows how strong he is and wants him to stay with them, but seeing his eyes, how worried yet determined how he is. He was set on finding Theo.

So, in the face of that, all she could do was let go of his sleeve and say "Be careful."

Vincent smiles and gently pats her shoulder, promising to come back soon, with Theo in tow.

Once he's gone, however, Salieri comes after Mozart with a knife and we're back in terror time again. Isaac stays the closest to her, they're both terrified! Mozart shielding both of them. He manages to break the mind control over him with standing in front of the piano, reminding him that he had admired his music in their first lives, what has happened to you to attack another music lover? Things seem to simmer down in the music room because of that.

In the combined universe of both girls, it's relatively the same, Vincent still goes off to find Theo, but Thea goes with him, determined to find Theo and to help him or stop him from doing the stupid thing. Abby still tugs on Vincent's sleeve, still sacred but ultimately lets him and Thea go. They both cared a lot about the younger van Gogh, so who was she to stop them just because she's scared?

And... this is as far as I've gotten with this brain rot. Just a fun little brain exercise to put the girls in the goings on with what I'm playing currently. Hope to be able to share some more brain rots with you guys soon!

[batteryrose]

Photograph of two men. (1889)

[weird-profiterole]

"My whole world" or "how smooth Napoleon can be"

Old comic I forgot to post 😅

Don't repost, only reblog

[austerlitzxwaterloo]

Happiness can take different shapes,

For Napoleon, it's round shaped.

Don't repost, only reblog

[xxsycamore]

—𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦

► SYNOPSIS:

Impulsively, Napoleon drinks a potion with the premise that it would turn him into a human.Unfortunately, Wellesley is too late to stop him.

...It doesn't go as said on the label.

▍napoleon x arthur wellesley 1st duke of wellington  ▍rating: G ▍tags: Crack Treated Seriously; Humor; Light Angst; they're fighting :( ; Arguing; Shapeshifting; Making Up; Happy Ending; reference to that one scene at the cliff; Established Relationship; Kissing; Sexual Tension (just a lil bit); Fluff; Naps; also present in the fic are: Sebastian, Arthur, Theo, Vincent, Dazai, Comte ▍wordcount:  1,751

▍masterlist

▍a/n: WOOOHOOO IT'S DEVON ( @batteryrose ) 'S BIRTHDAY!!! I've already extended my greetings but here too I want to wish one of the most special people in my life a Happy Birthday <3 Thank you for being my friend and thank you for everything you create that would undoubtedly never cease to amaze me and so, so many others. Hope you like this fic, I really had fun writing it!! ILY!!! Everyone else too, I hope you enjoy! This fic came to existence because of a little inside joke about napolington cats and Devon is just adorable when he sends catvideos to associate with them ehehehehe >:) I needed to document that somehow for the archives!

"Haven't you given up already? Trying to be human."

Napoleon keeps looking at the glass vial in his hand, the question making him snap out of the trance momentarily, as evident by the slight twitch of his lower lip and by that alone. They're in the garret, Napoleon has his leg propped up, elbow rested on top, vial in hand - the liquid glistening with the shine of morning light coming from the open window. He must really be riddled with the thought of that, as to wake up so early today. Wellesley is getting concerned, and more than that, pissed off.

"Psh. As if this would do anything." He gives the vial a small swing, trying to belittle the belief he puts in its contains, but Wellesley knows better. The blonde turns his head away, a silent declare of I'm done with you.

Napoleon uncorks the vial and lifts it to his lips.

"No!"

Wellesley jumps and in a flash he's on top of him, alas unsuccessful in his attempts to knock it off his hands on time. Napoleon's lips are stained pink from the liquid. And they're emitting a mocking laugh.

"Wellesley, c'mon. We've seen this scenario play out already. It's probably just another aphrodisiac."

Icy blue eyes are furious. He must think this is a game; to get him worried, to risk his own wellbeing in a gamble with his nature - for what? - and to laugh it off as a final at that.

Wellesley grabs a fistful of his stupid half-undone shirt and pulls him in for a kiss. He licks the remaining liquid off his lips, it's sugary and cheap.

In the way Napoleon answers the kiss, Wellesley realizes he's just as mad at him as he is at Napoleon. They just rock with the waves of that emotion, pushing and pulling, waiting for the potion to kick in or whatever.

* Poof! *

Just as Wellesley thought he'd punch his chest (lightly) and announce his leave for the sake of better morning activities, he discovers that he doesn't have the fist to do that. It all happens very fast.

His world shifts and twists and suddenly he's reduced in size - just like that - and in his newly lowered field of vision is this black and white cat, looking as distressed as he does. Is that…?

"Meow?"

Oh no. They've somehow…shapeshifted into cats. This must be the potion's doing.

The reply he receives from the black and white cat is, of course, another Meow.

Wellesley feels a lot of things right now. A lifetime of events and then another one after being reborn, and some things are still just out of his league. He's confused alright. Vampires do exist, alright, he gets that one. But this…

He's confused, alright. But more than that, he's enraged. He didn't ask to be dragged in this.

"MROWWW!"

Not his best battle cry, but Napoleon has to catch these hands now. These paws.

They end up in a ball, biting at each other, letting out a cacophony of noises until one gets the higher ground on the windowsill, the other follows, and it turns into a chase - right off the window and onto the mansion's roof.

The garret is quiet and empty. In a couple of seconds, just barely missing the unusual scene, a man in a butler's clothes enters the garret, eyes scanning every nook and corner.

"My goodness…" He sighs, marking the terrain as cat-clear, allowing the assumption that the strays had somehow climbed through the window and are now gone through the same route. He crosses the room and shuts the window closed, thus sealing the only entrance back home for Napoleon and Wellesley, unknowingly.

* 🐈🐈 *

The two furballs decide to be reasonable for the time being and don't fight on rooftops - moreso, they should concentrate on getting back inside instead, after discovering that they've been locked out. Their scouting for open second floor windows ends up with no results. All they find is Dazai's lunch, thus confirming the mansion's rumor that the eccentric resident doesn't only use windows for his entrance and exit but occasionally hangs out in the roof as well. While he's nowhere to be seen, Napoleon steals his lunch, promising himself that one of these days he'd cook something for the writer to clean his karma. He then shares it with Welley.

It's the first step towards peace, and they eat in content silence. Afterwards, Welleymeow approaches Napocat, making his fur puff up in tension for a second. The other however shows clear signs of being friendly, giving him that long stare slow blink, shortening the distance until..

Bonk.

"Mmrreow."

Pupils dilating, Napoleon gladly accepts the metaphorical reached out hand, returning the gesture and rubbing himself right back on Wellesley. The afternoon sun is nice and pleasant, and they lay down on one of the more flat areas of the roof, beginning to groom each other lovingly after the good lunch. It's also the perfect time for a cat nap. 

* 🐈🐈 *

Sleeping and lazing around the best of the afternoon away, it's about time they come up with a plan.

One strategy is meowing under the other residents' windows. It's a very basic one but it's also all they can agree on while with reduced communication. It fails as soon as they find themselves on the ground underneath Theo's window. Now, Theo is not known for being the biggest cat lover out there, and luckily for him he lives in mansion far away from any streets littered with cats. His reaction to hearing such creature's noises under his window is understandingly negative - a shriek of fear, but then - is that?! Theo actually opens his window, looks down at them, loading them with hope…

They get swore at, in colorful Dutch. And they make a run for it before any flying objects could come down to them, or worse, before King is sent to chase them away.

The sprint around the mansion grounds only ends up separating them as the peace wordlessly snaps. They both know it's for the best they put some distance between each other because likely they'd end up fighting again without the aid of words to work this out among themselves.

* 🐈🐈 *

Napoleon is not sure how much time has passed, but wandering off has been clearing his head successfully at least. He is still mad at Wellesley - first, because it's always the same. A stupid potion or a sleepless night of honest talk, it's like he never truly understands him about the whole vampire and human stuff. The second is, why the fuck didn't he stop him sooner? It was obviously a stupid idea. Ugh.

With every step of his little furry paws forward, he comes to terms with his current life. What if he never transforms back? It's laughable, he ended up being less of a human than ever. 

Maybe this time he could get it right. No more resets needed.

He could get to town, unite with the other strays… lead a revolution against the mutts…

Stupid Wellesley.

* 🐈🐈 *

He strolls close to the riverbank, lost in his own thoughts, until a familiar meowing gets to his ears. They sharpen, head turning to locate better the noise - and then he sees him. The white cat in front of him is undoubtedly Wellesley. He didn’t expect for the two of them to end up on the same place, but here they are. With unfinished business.

It's a quiet glare at first, in the way all street cats would start a fight, and for the lack of better communication possible between the two of them. The precise steps taken by each and an occasional chase and they somehow end up on a top of a boulder overlooking the river.

It's a little too late by the time that it clicks that yes, they've been in that situation before. In a way more different circumstances, but still somewhat the same. Napoleon's claws miss their target and his balance is lost - he tries to claw at the rock to try and climb back up but it's unenviable. The last thing he sees is a mass of white fur following him in his fall. And then comes the splash of water.

* 🐈🐈 *

Of course, this close to the shore, the water level is low - maybe knees high or so. Napoleon can say so, because he actually has knees now.

His ass hurts like hell because apparently he fell on it. Shallow or not, he still managed to get himself drenched and is now getting his wet bangs off his eyes. When he opens his eyes again he sees Wellesley, in the same state as him. Human-bodied and all.

Wellesley curses under his nose, splashing water at Napoleon and striding in large steps towards the land, leaving the other behind. Napoleon's ass still hurts. He needs to ask for the blonde to turn back and give him a hand. It's embarrassing.

Wellesley just comments that it's what he deserves.

* 🐈🐈 *

The sun has set by the time they reach home. Upon entering the dining room to announce their return, they're not surprised to find the residents seated for dinner.

"I believe you, Theo. I didn't see them personally, but…" Vincent sympathetically places a hand on his brother's arm as the brunette has propped his chin on it, sulking. He must be talking about the cats under his window. Dazai looks as if he is about to mention his missing lunch, connecting the dots, but he is interrupted by the two men's entrance.

"Messieurs! Gods, I've been worried sick! Where have you been all day?" Sebastian eyes them in concern from head to toe as they're quite the sight. Dripping wet clothes and everything.

"It's, uh. Long story."

Arthur motions his fork in the air in Sebastian's direction, gulping down his bite in a haste.

"Leave them be, Sebas. You know how young fellas are when inlove." He finishes it off with a wink.

Seated at the end of the table as the parental figure he is, Comte sighs out the last of his own concern before letting a chuckle, and the others follow.

"We're going to hit the bath and be back in a bit. Excuse us." Welley grabs Napoleon by the collar and drags him out of the dining room before he gets another reason to get angry at the french. And here he hoped they could finally make up once and for all in le termae…

No more potions. Period.

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[aavalon]

Napoleon: bye Wellington! Bye Comte! Bye Sebas! Bye MC! Bye Wellington!

MC: you said ‘bye Wellington’ twice

Napoleon: I like Wellington

[naresnani]

Annihilation

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire | Napoleon Bonaparte / Arthur Wellesley | Words: 3.2k

Tags: NSFW, dark au (see notes), rough sex, biting, bleeding, blood drinking, masochism 

Summary :

Looking at the former Duke of Wellington, he couldn't call that final state the same thing as beautiful, but he couldn't find any other word more perfect for it.

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Notes: So this is based on the... netflix castlevania-esque AU I thought up a while ago, which illustration can be seen here. You should probably check out that post first to make more sense of the setting. Anyway this was also written for the 2022 Napoleon Week event ran by @kissmetwicekissmedeadly (or @xxsycamore ) and Me, for the prompt of day 2 - Scar // “I can’t call this beautiful.” Taken A LOT of artistic liberty with this one.

Also, Mind the tags.

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A gash of lightning lit up the decrepit castle alive. Unlit chandeliers clinked above restlessly making a show for no one while the following thunder hums underneath the flooring. The foyer looked dead-still otherwise, as is always the case. The entire place seems barren no matter how much work is being done here in reality. It is still as hollow, still as noiseless, still as dead.

The only place something wretched could call home. Lord Vlad's lair. Desolate enough to not be disgusting. It's as good as one could get being the risen dead. Only the higher ranks could ever even hope to catch a sight of its towering structure. But there's really nothing all that exciting once you find it. A human might, but for him it's either this listless existence or the grimy blood-mixed dirt of the battlefield. 

Napoleon remembered that he was human once. Sort of. And sometimes it's achingly obvious that he was still a bit of one. 

Because all this destruction in the name of Vlad's revenge towards humanity blankets him in something indefinable. It's not even guilt nor bitterness. It's something he desperately needs to shake off to resume his path, but couldn't. 

Total sensory and emotional deprivation was perhaps not how man are made to live. The intoxicating effect of violence to mend it just doesn't last long enough for him. Pain doesn't last long enough for him. Wounds and anger doesn't. Death doesn't. 

Lord Vlad often laments that of beauty. Not everlasting enough, not indestructible enough, not his enough. Especially after humanity had taken away his love forever—burned at the stake for being his. Now suppose love and beauty is something he deems unachievable but desperately seeks for, and that desire is what made all the other great purebloods relegate him. He's too human. All too human. 

Napoleon considered. Could what he's dealing with be something… a tad similar to that? 

The entrance door behind him screeched an awful sound. The key's few clicks dislodged some of the vacuum that oppressed the place. Something else is now roaming the building. 

By the sound of the staggered steps and the burning metallic stench, Napoleon knew exactly who it would be. 

"Finished with your mission?" He turned back just a degree. He could catch the silhouette of a bowing figure, prowling slowly to where he was standing. It barely took notice of him until they caught each other's eyes. "I know I will always find you this way."

Blown out pupils, skin and cloth covered in blood and filth. There's nothing behind that window. 

The former Duke of Wellington stared from that shadow. Napoleon thought this sort of fall from grace couldn't be more erogenous, this end result of evolution. He wished the remaining half of him would finally submit to that end—no more trace of the former human! But he couldn't find a way. He couldn't yet bridge this agonising limbo and be done with that ineffable emptiness. 

Looking at the duke, he couldn't call that final state the same thing as beautiful, but he couldn't find any other word more perfect for it. 

"I'll admit, I was waiting for you," said he. 

The creature stalked, and finally lunged for him from that distance, crashing him into the wall before Napoleon could draw a knife off his holster. 

He held off the duke with an arm against its throat and finally managed to fish out the knife. He boasted the weapon in front of it, chuckling as if threatening to cut its face open, before landing the sharp side across his own arm instead. 

Blood spilled generously from the cut. He let the former man sink his teeth into the wound, suffocating his body further into the wall just to drink every drop of it. He groaned through gritted teeth in pain, but one couldn't let this Wellington stop drinking before it's over.

Seconds passed with lips sucking harshly on the wound and the duke hadn't yet gotten enough of it for longer than expected. He realised, Wellington wouldn't stop until he's dry. 

With heart jumping frantic in his ribs Napoleon shoved him off with all of his strength, enough to send him tumbling hard onto the floor. As expected Wellington instantly stood up without a sweat, bent over as if he's about to retch. 

He did just that with mouth opened as wide as it was able. Nothing came out of him. 

"You… damn you." 

The human voice that belongs to him. Raspy, quiet. Much younger than one would expect. 

"... I knew it. It's your damn stench again. You've been doing this on purpose."

Napoleon’s lips couldn't stop their curve. Wellington spat on the floor and got nothing out but saliva. Not lingering taste from the back of his tongue, not the smell. He groused. Looked back towards Napoleon. 

"What in devil's name do you actually wish to do? Get me hooked? Slowly turn me into your slave?" 

"What would you reckon I wanted?" 

"It will not work out as well as you think." 

Napoleon lost the smile. He leaned forward. 

"Listen, here." He grabbed Wellington by the shoulder—a mock friendly gesture—and harshly pulled him closer to whisper, "You were the one practically choking me out for it. Don't give me that attitude. I could've just put you down to make it easier for the rest of us but Lord Vlad is sometimes rather attached to his dogs."

Wellington snarled. "Then you know very well what will end up happening instead is you, torn up into pieces all over the ground and floor, unsalvageable—and that's something you cannot afford to regret too late."

Napoleon's eyes twitched. He smirked. "I had wondered if you'd care even slightly if I'd died… maybe you do."

"I care whether or not you've died by my hands."

"Huh. That's surprising." 

"I have some conscience left." Blue eyes pierced into dull emerald ones. "Unlike you."

Napoleon endured Wellington's biting gaze. It shocked his nerves into a cold standstill. In a way it's more ferocious the more it possesses reason. Because he could shred you apart better with intention. 

But Napoleon had been with him for a while—longer than he could recall the era before—and each day, each time they stood on the same battered battleground, the same village burnt into crisp, he knew that it's true. 

Wellington would chew him out for every single 'inhumane' death and then drop down to scavenge a fresh corpse the next moment. An idiot of principle. He never spared Napoleon a single glance before this. Never gaze at him as prey. Never took him apart the way he wanted him to. Napoleon wants to feel the receiving end of that monstrosity. For once, for once in this dull indestructible existence. 

That conscience Wellington decided to keep, 

"Hmph." Napoleon averted his eyes, almost to hide a smile. "It's unfortunate."

He wanted Wellington to take him, badly. 

His arm had stopped bleeding. Napoleon brought his hand up to bite the pad of his thumb until it broke skin and grazed it across Wellington's lips. It caught the duke off guard, shutting up tightly. Some red coated the lower curve. He could definitely still taste that savoury blood all too well. 

"But consider… that I maybe do enjoy seeing you like this." He smiled wider. His thumb stopped at the edge of Wellington's mouth, urging it to finally tremble open, tongue darting out slightly to lick the blood off. Napoleon could nearly pinpoint the way the high spread from the prickle of the duke's taste buds into his darkened eyes. "Seeing you addicted. To me."

Wellington's shaky hand hesitated, before it grabbed Napoleon’s to push his thumb further into his mouth to lap up any excess drop even after the wound closed up almost instantly. He couldn't hide his frustrated grunt, flattening up his tongue up to a knuckle, and further up the arm still, cleaning up any dried stain of the previous bleeding. 

"That's it… just like a dog," Napoleon cooed. 

Hearing that Wellington fixed him with slight fury, shiver, whatever emotion was overcoming him right now, and pushed Napoleon further up the wall to latch his mouth into his neck, earning him a shocked huff from the man. Just having Napoleon's pulse be this close made him shudder. His lips could trace the warm blood flowing under the skin. 

Then he felt a cold, sharp instrument resting on the skin of his nape. 

Napoleon tutted. "Ah-ah-ah. You can't have what you want. I'll kill you."

Napoleon's knife blared its warning. Wellington somehow restrained himself, letting Napoleon down, his teeth just a touch away from his neck. He could effortlessly tear through it just as that knife could smoothly sink into him, but he kept his lips shut. Breathed in what air that he could gather around to ground him. 

"Keep your teeth away and I might- just keep your head on your shoulders." Napoleon sounded breathless. He couldn't help his heart running faster than he'd like it to. "It's not a pleasant experience. Faust possibly won't even bother with you."

Napoleon expected Wellington to be provoked and leave this game alone, but instead he felt rough lips diving in and rubbing, picking, pinching—tongue licking the same spot with the beating pulse over and over again. Arousing a single nerve. It's ferociously gentle. Torturing. Too intimate.  

He arched his back off the wall to slightly escape from it but Wellington planted his full weight to prevent it from happening. A pathetic moan almost left his throat. This simple helplessness along with the weight of someone devouring him this way almost built the excitement he was seeking. 

It was supposed to be a long game, but Napoleon couldn't make himself stop it from advancing. 

He pulled on the duke's hair. Wellington started sucking some skin deep into his lips until it broke the small vessels beneath the epidermis, just until he could almost taste the blood under the thin layer. Just there. So close but not here. He was only licking Napoleon’s bruises and he needed to sink into him. Fits his mouth on him. Something. Anything. 

Something hard was pressing into his thigh. Napoleon's cock, leaning into the lines of his trousers. "...You fucking harlot."

Napoleon's laughter emanated. He shifted the knife behind his neck just a bit to remind him of it. 

"If we're both getting off to it, can't say it's a bad deal."

"So this is what you've been fantasising about, huh?" He dragged his thigh a little just to see Napoleon’s reaction. "What is this, a sick death wish? A paraphilia? A self-destructive fetish?" 

"If only it were so casual. I…" Napoleon winced and bowed his head. "It's not simply lust. I want to be crushed out of this vessel. This… residue of humanity is dragging on my skin. I can't stand what it's doing to me anymore."  

"Haah, what are you even…" 

"I need undoing." He looked back at him. "Undoing, you hear me? Proper ruin that'll keep me breathing. There's no such thing. Only some that'll break me enough."

Wellington scowled. Whatever nonsense this man is going to give, he knows what he actually wants. They stare at each other closely. "Why me? not the Lord, not the doctor, or just some random wench that you can find." 

"Why you. You're the only one that I-" Wellington wouldn't understand the slightest, of course. Napoleon closed his mouth for a second. "Allow."

Closer. "Allow to what, precisely."

"To fuck me." The knife sat deeper into the skin. 

Wellington sneered, a tad amused. "If that's the case…" 

His hands roamed for the first time. It pressed through clothes into the dips of Napoleon’s ribs, waist. He stopped a hand on one of Napoleon’s thighs to drag it back to his cock. They wouldn't leave each other's eyes out of sight. New shivers thundering in him. Wellington whispered,

"Turn around."

Napoleon kept their eye contact. He slowly released his knife from Wellington's neck, lowering it, and eventually letting it fall onto the floor. 

He trusts him with his life. 

Wellington twisted him around while dragging his hips backwards. Napoleon grunted by the strain. He pulled off Napoleon's trousers just enough to free his erection. 

Napoleon grinds his teeth so as to not moan while Wellington stroked him. He tugged Napoleon’s shirt open to reveal more skin, to fit his teeth into while the man was writhing. He supposed this is the only way he'd get his fill. 

"Is this what you were thinking of?" He squeezed on the stroke up. "This is what you wish I'd do?" 

Napoleon couldn't speak or he'll let out an egregious moan. He grinded his hips back into Wellington's to get his cock harder. The duke tsked. He lapped up his own fingers clean before shoving them into Napoleon’s trousers and pressing into his hole. 

Napoleon swallowed up a grunt. The finger dragged along his walls, stretching a muscle he didn't realise could be pulled so pleasantly. It breached deep enough to graze rub into his pleasant spot, and he let tremors rumble throughout his body. This is as close as contentment he's going to get. 

Wellington grazed his teeth on his shoulder and Napoleon finally moaned. His cock and entrance kept being stroked and stretched incessantly at the same time no matter where he escaped his hips to and he felt everything coming in together, climbing to a single point. 

"...How simple."

Napoleon chased his release himself by fucking into Wellington's hand and fingers. It felt just like any other one. Could've jerked himself off and gotten the same result. He leaned his head into the man behind him, panting, searching the blue eyes that were keenly watching him. 

"You could do more than that."

"Be patient." 

Wellington collected all of his cum into his palm, tugging the oversensitive cock to spill everything out. He used them to coat his own erection while Napoleon shook over the prolonged stimulation and he pressed his forehead onto Wellington's cheek while taking a lungful of air for each stroke he gave. 

"Take your clothes off if you have to," Wellington said. His breath still reeked of rot that Napoleon wished would eventually also blight him. That beautiful end. He idly pressed his mouth into Wellington's—catching him off guard—while he let his trousers fall, his half unbuttoned shirt and jacket falling off his shoulders; the duke once again thrown off by how much he was giving him. 

The kiss didn't move their lips. It simply froze them still. Wellington hesitatingly trailed his hand along Napoleon’s bent arm to find his fingers that were stopped in the middle of unbuttoning, and finished the job for him, pushing it off and letting everything fall to the floor. 

Napoleon’s body was entirely unprotected, while the duke's clothes and armour still pressed intimately against his bare skin. They didn't see each other's eyes. They might not ever want to see them again. 

Wellington even spoke against his lips, so he didn't need to pull away. "You're giving me everything."

"Yes. This is nothing."

Wellington's fingers danced along Napoleon’s abdomen, his erection absentmindedly resting between Napoleon’s behind. This is nothing but the banal state of being. Debased human body. 

"This is what you want destroyed?" 

Some lifeless limbo that you're living in. 

"Or do you actually want it… completed?" 

He slowly rutted into Napoleon’s willing entrance, while his hand reached down to cup the other's softened penis.

Napoleon moaned while grabbing hold of Wellington's clothes behind him for anchor. 

"You're bothered by your longing. Means emptiness has filled you. There's no way to escape that for a human."

"I- I fucking realised. –ak-!" 

Wellington set a brutal pace that dragged and opened his tight insides unceasingly, stimulating more nerves that spread to all the tips of his body. His cock soaked Wellington's hand, who did not move to give it any attention. 

"Hah, poor thing. I didn’t realise all that anger and blatant disregard are… quite literally desperation."

Napoleon’s barely swallowed gasps and moans poured out towards the tall hollow ceiling. His pleasure and pain couldn't spill out anywhere, just coiling and coiling inside because he couldn't let himself cum until he's certain that monster wouldn't keep going. 

"I shouldn't destroy you, you might've deserved this torture of being." He slowed down to thrust full and deep, rolling his hips to hit the spot Napoleon would feel his dick the most. He trailed his hand and softly held Napoleon's bare shoulder close to his lips. "But… you could have this from time to time."

"A-ah- just, keep going."

"I know." Wellington bit a piece of skin. He kept up his grinding while relishing the small trickle of blood. Napoleon whined and it's a noise Wellington never heard from his mouth—the cock in his hand got impossibly harder and his passage clenched tighter onto the dick penetrating him. 

"- -Oh… I should- really.. savour you."

Napoleon exhaled long and deep breaths. Wellington slowed down for a moment, long enough to make Napoleon realise the hair tickling his cheek, and the hand idly tracing his bare abdomen. The cold air blowing around him contrasted with their warm breaths. 

They continued long into the night. 

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Napoleon whimpered as he felt the heat trickling down his legs. He has not felt this mentally exhausted in a long time. The bed they've moved into creaked as Wellington shifted behind him, grasping the back of his thighs and began licking him up to his aching hole. 

"You- !" 

He doesn't have the strength to complain, dropping his head down onto the sheets. Wellington could taste some drops of blood. He cleaned it up and prodded his tongue in to lap up any that could've been left in his wake. 

Napoleon was trembling on the bed. He couldn't yet feel anything close to what he's been looking for, for any pain that Wellington bit into him kept fading back into nothing. There's nothing that the duke would do to him further except just… making love and making love. 

"... You still wouldn't give me what I want."

Wellington laid atop of him, biting the side of his neck deep into his artery, eliciting a very weak cry. He only sucked in a couple rich gulps before immediately pulling out, only licking the rest of the blood that seeped out. 

Napoleon had filled his palette enough. He didn't know what else he could do. The wound closed up quickly, as any inflicted wounds would have on the halfling, and Wellington thinks he definitely shouldn't just try to finally finish him in one go, not even if he actually wants to. 

The man was probably too spent to continue anything anyway. He let Napoleon roll to the side and his back on his arm. He brushed the sweat off the man's forehead idly. He couldn't find anything else to touch, or to stare at. 

They accidentally looked at each other's eyes. It's not as bad as they thought it'd be. 

"I don't know what you truly want, and I don't think you do either, do you?…."

Long and weakened breaths. The castle became a silent and hollow cranium, again. As it will always be for eternity. But the duke did not know that during those last moments where he had gently brushed the sweat off his fellow's skin for seemingly no reason, had been the closest Napoleon had ever gotten to feeling complete.