#vanessa x ethan

[onscreenkisses]

PENNY DREADFUL, 2x07 - “Little Scorpion”

requested by anon

[romangoldendreams]

dark smile only for you

[chevaliermalfets]

[imfagentsworld]

Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One Premiere in Rome, 2023.06.19 ❤️

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #1

Transformation 🔀 / Farmer's Market 🌽

Ethan jolts awake on the couch in his apartment with no memory of returning. For a single, perfect second, nothing hurts, and then his human sensations rush back one by one: his back is killing him. There’s an awful crick in his neck on the right side. His head pounds, and his throbbing stomach churns like a washing machine. He stifles a belch and carefully lays back for a few moments longer. Fuck. What did he eat last night?

There’s not even the barest hint of warmth to the sky through the window. He gingerly swivels his neck until he can catch the microwave’s green LED display: 4:27 am. His alarm is going to go off just minutes from now, but he’s not sure he’ll be able to even haul himself upright for another hour at least. All of his systems have diverted power to his throbbing stomach, and he needs those systems to get the cafe up and running.

Except his alarm is across the room at his bedside, and when it shrieks to herald the morning he curses his past self for not being able to collapse like ten feet to the right. Can’t trust anyone these days, not even your own subconscious.

He stumbles across the room and smacks the snooze button, lies down carefully on his back with a pillow behind his neck and sleeps for nine more halcyon minutes before he has to get up for real.

He sits up slow, stifling a gag and then a series of progressively uncomfortable belches that make even him, a connoisseur of all things supernaturally gross, wince with disgust. The old ladies in town are always asking how a nice boy like him hasn’t settled down with anyone. He belches again, a deep rumble that makes him groan and press an arm to his stomach. Yeah, he’s a prize, all right. 

He showers with the lights off, and even if he can’t see the water turn rusty as it streams down his distended midsection, he sure can smell the sting of iron rising with the steam. Never thought he’d be at a point in his life where he could not only recognize the scent of his own blood, but also associate it with relief. 

The hot water soothes some of the aches in his protesting body, but his center of gravity is weighed down with what-the-fuck-ever he gorged on last night, and he’s so stuffed that he can’t draw a full breath. Jesus. Sad state of affairs when a man can’t take a shower without getting winded.

After almost forty years of this, Ethan’s at least amassed a fair amount of clothes that look professional enough without also exacerbating his various aches, pains, and post-shift bulges, not to mention the few — okay, twenty — pounds he’s put on lately. He throws on a loose t-shirt and a looser flannel over it, unbuttoned, and the biggest pair of jeans he owns, also unbuttoned. It takes him longer to put on socks and boots than it did to shower, and afterward he has to sit there panting for a few minutes with his head as between his knees as he can get it.

He ties up his damp hair, throws back half a dozen ibuprofen and chases it with a palmful of antacids, then eases down the stairs to the cafe. Out of habit he checks the mirror at the base of the stairs for any rogue smears of blood or viscera on his face and immediately he wishes he hadn’t. Oh, he’s clean, all right, but he looks like something the dog dragged in. 

He gets the coffee going, starts his prep routine, and sticks a slice of each of yesterday’s cakes onto the warmer for Vanessa. After five minutes on his feet, he has to take a breather against the industrial fridge. Great. This is gonna be a long one.

When the coffee’s done, he rips open two ginger tea bags and pours his coffee in over them. Not exactly a winning combination but it’s the most efficient if he wants to feel both awake and functional. He gulps it down as fast as he can, takes exactly three minutes to sit on the floor in the deep freezer and try to marshal himself into some kind of order, and then hobbles to the front door to turn the OPEN sign around at six on the nose. 

And predictably, at six-fifteen, Vanessa appears on one of the front bar stools like a specter in layers upon layers of draping black, her familiar cloud of ozone and plum wafting back to him in the kitchen like some ancient pagan essence. Her slim black bicycle is looped to the rack outside the window, secure under a deceptively robust lock that no teen yahoo has yet managed to crack. He asked her how she managed that once, years ago, and she just smiled and said it was a very old spell. He didn’t believe her then, but he does now. 

“Good morning,” she calls, and Ethan catches a belch in his fist and pokes his head out to say hello.

Her eyes widen slightly when she sees him, and he half-heartedly tells himself that it’s probably not personal. Anyone would react that way to seeing the bags he’s packing under his eyes.

“Morning,” he says gruffly, sweeping his flyaways back from his face. “Your cake’s coming in a second. Moving a little slow this morning.”

“I can see that,” says Vanessa, ever tactful. “Rough night with your dog?”

He scowls at her, and she smiles beatifically. He’s hated the euphemism since he was growing up; it’s one thing for everyone to talk around it the way they do, but he’d rather they’d just say it outright than dress it up in cutesy language. Vanessa, on the other hand, finds it charming.

“Just for that, you’re getting coconut,” he says, turning back to the kitchen and pressing a hand to his gut when he’s sure he’s out of her sight line. Vanessa doesn’t protest, because she can see the future and knows he’ll give her devil’s food anyway.

Other early-morning regulars trickle in, and Ethan slogs through rote orders while Vanessa sips her first mug of coffee, black except for a touch of cream. He already has a to-go cup set out for the latte she’ll order before she leaves for the morgue. 

He slugs another mug of ginger coffee, though it does little to help the glut in his stomach. It used to baffle him, how Vanessa kept that little figure when all she eats is cake and coffee with cream. Now he thinks maybe it’s not so much what he’s eating as it is that he’s running around the neighborhood stuffing himself multiple nights a month and stretching out his appetite for the rest of it.

Christ. At least it’s getting a little easier to breathe. 

His headache has subsided a bit by the time Vanessa finishes her cake, though his bloat hasn’t. His stomach is still roiling unhappily, and each time he bumps it against the counter, he swallows down a groan. It’s barely been an hour, and all he can think about is how much he wants to lie down. Cesar will be in at eleven; maybe he’ll let him handle things for a while and take an hour for himself.

“Do me a favor and eat some damn vegetables for lunch,” he says as he switches out Vanessa’s plate and fork for the check. “Or I’m gonna resort to hiding them in the cake so I don’t have to drive you to the hospital for scurvy.”

It’s an old threat, but the morning wouldn’t feel complete without it. Vanessa dabs at her lips with a napkin, her eyes bright with mischief. “Your concern moves me deeply, Mr Chandler.”

“Latte’ll be — urrp — right out,” he manages, and he immediately goes red when he fails to stifle the belch that spills out of him. 

For her part, Vanessa goes red too. The mischief in her eyes gets crowded out as her pupils dilate. 

“’Scuse me,” he mumbles, and he ducks back into the kitchen before he can do any more damage. He makes her latte with his pulse flooding his ears, embarrassment worming through his already overstuffed stomach, and under the grumble of the espresso maker and the scream of the steamer, he tries to prod out any remaining belches with his free hand before he has to face her again. 

He tries not to look her in the eye when he goes back out with her latte, but of course Vanessa is staring right at him, her half-distant gaze beveled to too fine a point. He grimaces and slides the latte toward her, mumbling something about how he’d said it was a rough night, and he’s about to sidle around her to check on someone else and make his escape when she grabs his forearm.

Her hand is cold against his bare skin, her round black nails sharp, and he blinks at her, uncomfortably aware that he must look like a wild animal caught in headlights. Vanessa’s pale eyes blink back, her wide pupils making her look even more like a creature from beyond the veil. 

“I have something that could help,” she says, her grip relaxing infinitesimally. “A tincture. Not with me, but I could come back on my lunch hour.”

“Oh,” he says, squirming, “no, that’s all right, don’t go out of your way. I’ll be fine. Just overdid it last night.” He palms his stomach sheepishly, and Vanessa’s nails flash against the skin of his wrist as her grasp tightens again. “Really, Vanessa. I’ll live, I swear.”

“Well, that may be,” she intones, retracting her hand and tucking it primly into her lap. “But you don’t have to suffer.”

He scuffs out a laugh. “You tell that to the universe, Miss Ives, or to God or whatever deity you’ve got on the horn this week. Doesn’t make much difference to me who it is, but I’ve got a bone to pick with them.”

She watches him for a long, pointed moment before gathering her things and wrapping her hands around her latte instead of his tender flesh. “I’ll let them know,” she says dryly, and then she’s gone, bicycle lock coming apart easily under her black manicure.

He holds out until Cesar shows up, a little earlier than scheduled because he’s still trying to impress Ethan, and then he begs off for an early lunch and goes upstairs to nap. He dreams fitfully of Vanessa’s black nails, of the rich blackness of overturned earth and of fresh blood singing across his tongue. When he wakes up, he doesn’t feel sick so much as just heavy.

There’s a plastic takeout bag looped around his doorknob when he steps out to head back downstairs, supplementary doses of ibuprofen and antacids coursing through his system, and for a moment his gag reflex kicks. Did he order food in his sleep? He’s probably beyond help if he’s gotten to that point, good Christ. 

But no. Inside there’s a little tub like Vaseline or hair pomade comes in, nondescript black, no label. There’s a note taped to it, handwritten in long, spindly letters that adjoin and stumble against each other:

Cesar let me up. He is quite susceptible to psychic threats. Apply a teaspoon or two to each wrist before you go to sleep tonight. You can add some on the back of your neck as well to mitigate nausea. Repeat in the morning if necessary. It does contain turmeric so it will likely stain any fabric it touches. Use with care.

Feel better. No one else will remind me to eat vegetables.

V.

P.S. I did not threaten Cesar. I simply asked if he would like to see what his future held if he didn’t let me up to your door. He declined. 

And then Ethan’s laughing to himself on the tiny landing between his apartment and the diner, long past caring if the sound filters downstairs for anyone else to hear. He unscrews the cap and brings the tub to his nose: that’s turmeric, all right, and alcohol, aniseed, and something with a sweet burnt-sugar note he can’t quite place. He opens his door and tosses the bag onto his bed, then heads downstairs, shaking his head. Vanessa’s getting that cake for free tomorrow, that’s for sure.

[phantompoguefangirl]

The way Blair Redford gently takes the girl's face in his hand or hands EVERY SINGLE TIME HE KISSES SOMEONE-

I-

I am not okay.

Like LOOK AT THIS

EVERY

FUCKING

TIME

I CAN'T-

FUCK-

[athenodora-sulpicia-writer]

Hi!! Could you please do Vanessa Ives x fem reader with some angst?? 💗💗

A Little bit Broken- Vanessa Ives

A/N: Hey, I hope this is close enough to what you wanted, there wasn’t much to go off of aside from the angst so I took some creative liberties.

Warning(s): Alluding to smut.

I hadn’t wanted to believe that Vanessa had fallen so quickly and irreversibly into despair but when the proofs staring right back at you, there’s not much of an argument you can muster to try and convince yourself otherwise.

I’d tried to leave her be, to give her time and space. Even though my heart and mind kept fighting against my decision, I loved her and I would do anything for her even if it meant leaving her for some time.

Yet when I’d received a private letter from Mr Lyles and he’d told me of the state of Vanessa, I couldn’t believe, I didn’t want to believe it but deep I knew what the letter contained was true and it had broken me leaving me in tears.

I’d only received the letter an hour ago in the late evening, it was now terribly late and dark but I couldn’t wait until the morning to see her and to hold and make sure she was safe.

I had to force my way through the back door the kitchen, it had been stuck and the handle would barely move. At the time I couldn’t tell whether the door had been locked or whether it had some how sealed itself shut in the two weeks that I’d left Vanessa to herself.

Now I stood bare the stairwell, I’d just walked through the living room that had letters and papers scattered across floor and dust had seemed to be as common in the as oxygen.

Looking at the hallway and the grand stairs, things didn’t look anymore promising. The floor no longer held a clean sheen of polish or its dark mahogany colour, instead it was almost black with some sort of dirt and dust, everything seemed to be in a desperate need of care.

But that was all beside the point, I wasn’t hear to worry about the state of the house or it’s decor, my mine and only concern was the woman that I knew would be hiding upstairs in her room, hiding herself away from the world.

It took me a minute to gather the strength I knew I would need to be able to face her. What had become in the weeks I’d left her alone, had she been eating? Drinking? Sleeping? I knew I wasn’t going to get the answers to any of those questions, until I braved the stairs upwards.

And so I did, lifting the skirts of my dress I took one step at a time, not to certain of the security of the stairs, considering the state of the rest of the house, I knew it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious.

Once I’d made it to the top of the stairs I began to walk down the darkened hallway that I’d mesmerised by heart, my final destination being the last room at the end of it.

At first I walked at a somewhat cautious and silent pace, not wanting to alarm the ravenette I knew was here.

“Vanessa!” I called out to the silence of the corridor, a few seconds past and no reply came but then I heard a loud bang and then crash and sound of shattered glass penetrated my senses and I didn’t even have to think twice before break out into a sprint to her room.

It didn’t even take me ten seconds to reach the end of the corridor and into Vanessa room, to where I heard the shattered glass. My eyes darted quickly around the room and then they landed on their target.

She was there, disheveled but alive and suddenly a wave of relief washed over me, and as my face broke out into a wide smile and my eyes began to water with tears, I took a step forward to run to her and embrace her.

But then I stopped myself, my eyes quickly caught the glimpse of shattered glass that was lying on the floor next to the writing desk Vanessa was sat at.

I might have scared her when I called and she must have accidentally knocked the gas lamp off her desk and it must have smashed upon impact.

“Vanessa I…” I began to say but then I stopped myself when she looked at me, her eyes locking with mine and their usual bright blue that always seemed as if they were sapphires, were now a dull version of what they once were, clouded and glassed over and I almost struggled to read her expression.

“What are you doing here?” She’d spoken to me but her voice was almost lifeless, almost bleak sounding and my heart broke at not only the tone of her voice but also the question she’d asked me.

It was so blatant and sharp, did she not want me here? Had I don’t something wrong? My mind began to reel with all these questions and suddenly an anger I didn’t know I had began to let itself loose.

“What am I doing here? What do you mean what am I doing here? I’m here for you!” I started to shout, I didn’t want and I’m not sure where it came from but suddenly I was angry and upset all at once.

“I didn’t ask you to be here,” she responded back, her voice colder than before, louder and almost steel like.

She continued to stare at me, only now she was getting up from her seat at her writing desk. She wasn’t wearing an awful lot, just a simple black, almost sleeveless dress. And then some of questions began to be answered.

I could quickly see she hadn’t been eating properly, she hadn’t been starving herself, from what I can see but she’d certainly lost some weight. Her face was a little more hollowed and her hair didn’t seem to have been brushed in several days and suddenly that anger I had was stunning into a rage but it was a caring rage.

“You didn’t have to, I got a letter of Lyles and ran out of my home as quickly as I could.” I began to explain the bite was still in my voice. “I was hoping what he said wasn’t true, that you weren’t letting your self perish in a hellhole, it seems my hope was stupid.”

I stood closer to her, now only a foot or two away. There were so many things I wanted to do, I wanted to scream and shout her for what she’d done to herself, I wanted to take her downstairs and make her eat a proper meal but then I wanted to pour her an nice bath and sit with her and wash her hair and just take of her.

“What did you expect!” She shouted and screamed at me and suddenly I wanted to jump out of my skin and walk away. I’d never heard her about like this before and it scared me, more so than the demons and witches that had plagued us for so long.

“Everyone’s gone, Ethan’s off to the American gallows, Malcolm’s burying his dead children and you were tortured and almost killed and it’s all my fault!” She screamed again and suddenly tears were falling quickly down her cheeks and she began to shake in her spot standing on the floor.

All of it was true, Ethan had been shipped, Malcolm was burying his dead sun and I had almost died but none of that was Vanessa’s fault. We’d all made our own choices and we new that going into this, she couldn’t and shouldn’t blame herself.

“How is any of it your fault? We all made our choices Van and we chose to stand by you, at least I did, I love you!” She knew I loved and she exactly how much and the. Suddenly the tears became less and her eyes darkened and suddenly she was running towards me.

Her lips crashed upon mine and suddenly I was kissing her back. Her normally soft lips were now harsh and rough and I couldn’t tell whether this was out of passion, anger, lust or a mix of all three.

Then before I could understand it, I had accepted it and soon we were pulling each other free of the clothes that confined us both.

Though as Vanessa was trying to get my corset off, I stopped her movements and looked at her. “Why now?”

“I’ve missed you and I can’t bare the thought of not being near you for a moment longer.” It was a simple answer but it was good enough for me and as such I allowed her to continue unlacing my corset and soon we were spending the rest of the night together entertained in each others bodies, enjoying the intimacy of one another.

[silcntsinners]

Small starter for @musesofhororr

Ethan x Vanessa

It has been over a year since the two had seen each other. The day they decided to part ways was the worst day of Ethan’s life. part of him had never healed and yet he tried to find comfort with other women. No one could ever compare to Vanessa Ives, the woman who stole his heart. He had heard rumours of the woman moving on with another man, Ethan out of spite now dating a woman he had met at a bar one night.

The day he was invited to sir Malcom’s birthday was the day he knew he would be reunited with Vanessa again. He wanted to attend, the man having a slight fondness for the older man. Bringing his new date felt like a bad idea so Ethan found himself walking inside the house empty handed, wanting to not bring eyes upon him. That was until his own eyes locked with hers, every feeling flooding back instantly.

[yencirilla]

if i had a nickel for every time a witch and the werewolf she's romantically entangled with get confronted by a werewolf hunter and they have to fight him, i would have two nickels. which isn't a lot but its weird that its happened twice.

[djcanipe99]

[romangoldendreams]

there is a certain place where all the ugly, broken, freak things lie

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #10

Full Moon 🌕 / Containment Breach ☢️ (both-ish!)

Because nothing is ever private in a small town, the word that Ethan’s bad knee is acting up again ahead of the full moon spreads quickly. Maybe this means I’ll make it through a shift without stretching my stomach out for the next week, he’d joked to Vanessa, but lo and behold, she’s sitting at the cafe counter on a Friday evening when Mrs. Spier bustles in with a deep ceramic dish covered in foil and wrapped in a dish towel, and she watches Ethan’s face freeze in grim recognition.

“Ethan, dear, we heard about your knee,” says Mrs. Spier, reaching over the counter to pat his face sympathetically. “Don’t tax yourself, sweetheart. Just stay in and we’ll make sure you’re plenty well-fed.”

Ethan approximates something like a smile. Vanessa grips the edges of her barstool. 

“Thank you,” he says, because Ethan is a good boy who was raised — well, politely, at least. From what Vanessa’s heard about his father, the jury’s still out on right. “I’ll be all right, Mrs. Spier, but I do appreciate it.”

She pats his hand. “Of course, dear. Any time. Mrs. Thomas and I are always happy to provide.”

When she’s gone, Ethan lays his arms on the counter and dramatically drops his head onto them. “Why?” he asks, and Vanessa pets his hair soothingly. “Why is it always me? Can’t they send someone else casseroles for once?”

“Because you’re a nice boy,” says Vanessa. “And everyone likes seeing you fed. And they know you’re too much of a gentleman to say no.”

He groans, pulling himself upright and flicking a dishtowel across the counter. “Well, with the stuff from your friend, I’m not even supposed to shift tonight, right? So I can just stick it in the freezer.”

“You shouldn’t physically shift,” Vanessa corrects. “I have no idea whether you’ll have any of your other usual symptoms.”

The syrup is from Vanessa’s mentor Joan, who lives states away and deep in a forest without a postal address now but still managed to make a vial of aubergine liquid appear in Vanessa’s mailbox a few days ago. She promised that it would prevent Ethan from transforming to avoid any further damage to his knee, but her instructions neglected to mention any side effects and there wasn’t time to send a letter back and ask. But Vanessa trusts her, and Joan would have warned her if Ethan were going to spend the next eighteen hours as a human body with a dog’s brain.

“I’ll be over as soon as I finish dinner with Sir Malcolm,” she promises. “I’d invite you along, but —”

“But you can’t have a werewolf at the table,” says Ethan wryly. “Understood.”

“Not even a temporarily disabled one,” she apologizes. “Take care. Don’t do anything foolish while I’m gone, please.”

She slips her bag over her shoulder, and Ethan meets her for a quick kiss. “I’ll try not to.”

As she leaves the cafe, she nearly collides with Mrs. Barrett and another casserole.

— 

Vanessa fidgets all through dinner with Malcolm and his chess-rival-slash-home health aide, Sembene. The meal is perfectly nice — Sembene is a gifted cook in addition to his other talents — and it’s lovely to speak with Mina again, even if it is mostly to relay her responses to her father’s questions. 

Sembene has just served dessert — a maple brown butter cheesecake that Vanessa can’t help thinking would go perfectly with her morning coffee — when her phone buzzes in her bag. Malcolm dislikes cell phones, especially when their usage flies in the face of the formal dinner etiquette he was brought up with and has yet to shake, but he’s in the midst of monologuing at the chair reserved for Mina’s spirit about a book he read on the Franklin expedition and doesn’t appear to be losing steam any time soon, so Vanessa throws caution to the wind and surreptitiously fishes her phone from her bag. 

Come over, says Ethan, and a tendril of heat runs through her. 

Eyes on Sir Malcolm, she types something that she hopes approximates What are you up to?

“Now, you know, at the time, there was much conjecture about the existence of some supposed Open Polar Sea,” Sir Malcolm is saying. Mina rolls her eyes at Vanessa, who stifles a grin. 

Gaining weight, Ethan replies with a picture of two casserole dishes scraped clean. Vanessa does everything in her power to keep a straight face, but something must betray her, because Mina snorts and stage-whispers, “Are you sexting your werewolf boyfriend at Friday night dinner?”

Which is incredibly rude, because Vanessa literally can’t reply to her without everyone else hearing, so she settles for narrowing her eyes reproachfully and moves her foot around under the table until she finds Mina’s cold mist and kicks her.

Malcolm’s book review lasts another half hour, and she passes along Mina’s bored interjections with increasing restlessness. Ethan is holed up in his apartment stuffing himself with casserole and instead of being there to help things along, Vanessa is learning more about a group of doomed Arctic explorers than she ever cared to know. 

“Will you stay for coffee, Vanessa?” asks Malcolm finally, and she seizes her opportunity to flee. 

“No, unfortunately. I’ve an engagement early tomorrow morning.”

“Ah,” says Malcolm, a gleam in his eye. “With your gentleman?”

Vanessa squirms. “Yes.”

“She’s sexting!” cries Mina, precisely because no one but Vanessa can hear her. “I saw Goody Ives sexting at the table!”

“Oh, hush, you,” she says to Mina, and Malcolm gives her a fond, sad smile that almost makes her wish she could stay a bit longer.

“You two were always teasing each other,” he says. “I expect she’s telling you to bring him around some Friday evening. We’d all like to meet him.”

“Yes,” Vanessa agrees as her phone vibrates again. “That’s what she’s saying.”

As she unlocks her bike in the moonlight and flips on the headlamp on her black helmet, she opens Ethan’s latest message: a picture of his swollen belly flopping out from his unbuttoned pants, shirt ridden up to the crest of his stomach, with the caption Containment breach.

— 

She uses the keys Ethan gave her for emergencies to let herself into his apartment and finds him spread out on the couch, a pillow behind his head and both hands cradling his overfull gut. He doesn’t look green, as she’d feared, but he’s definitely flushed, and he’s breathing is shallow, like his appetite might have crowded out his lungs. A third casserole dish sits on his coffee table, half-eaten. 

“Sorry, it took me forever to get out of dinner,” she says, draping her coat and bag over one of his two kitchen chairs. “How are you doing?”

He gives a pitiful groan, and she perches on the slice of free cushion near his knee and rests one hand against his hot, stretched skin. “God, that feels good,” he says in greeting. “Your bad circulation’s finally good for something.”

“Yes, you’re welcome. I take it that Joan’s potion had no bearing on your usual side effects?”

Ethan tries to stifle a belch in his fist but times it poorly. Vanessa pats his belly sympathetically. “Yeah,” he says, puffing out a long breath. “I’d say it didn’t. Only difference is the wolf's stomach is a lot bigger.”

“Oh, poor thing.” She strokes at his belly gently, and he lets out a soft sound that unlaces something inside her. “Look at you, at the mercy of your appetite. You must feel quite heavy.”

“You have no idea. I feel like I swallowed a bunch of wet cement. You probably couldn’t — urrp — even see it in that picture with my gut in the way, but the button on my jeans burst clean off. It’s over there somewhere.” He waves toward the half of the apartment that functions as his bedroom. “I was too full to get up and find it.”

Without meaning to, Vanessa’s hand slips down to grip the bottom of his stomach, where it’s just soft flab and stretch mark scars. “Of course you were. You ate two entire casseroles and part of a third. You ate yourself out of those pants, of course you couldn’t get up.”

He hiccups. “Those things weighed at least four pounds each. The old ladies aren’t fucking around.”

“And you still managed to finish so much of it,” purrs Vanessa, carefully maneuvering more of herself onto the couch without putting pressure on Ethan’s stomach. 

“Want to know the worst part?” he asks, chasing the words with a heavy belch. 

“Yes,” says Vanessa, kneading his stomach like a cat.

“I’m still hungry,” says Ethan, and it’s all she can do not to pounce.

“Do you want me to help you finish this one?” she asks, indicating the half-eaten casserole on the table.

Ethan slumps back against the arm of the couch. “No, I can’t do any more casserole. I don’t know if I should eat any more, anyway. I can barely move now.”

“Afraid your appetite will get the better of you?” she teases, grazing her fingertips over his distended stomach. “That you won’t be able to help yourself?”

“Yes,” whines Ethan. “I have no idea if my body even knows I haven’t transformed. For all I know my stomach will let me eat ’til I burst.”

“”Well,” she says, “I’ve got something for you, too, if you’ve got just a bit more room.”

Ethan winces. “Is it a potion that’ll let me go back in time and not make this decision?”

“No, sorry. It’s cheesecake.”

“Vanessa!” he groans.

“Not much cheesecake,” she amends. “Just a slice. Sembene sent it home with me for my breakfast, but I’d just as soon as let you have it. It’s maple brown butter, and it’s excellent.”

“Don’t tell me that!” says Ethan, curling one arm around his belly. “Christ, Vanessa, I think you want me to get stuck on this couch. What, so you can have the bed all to yourself?”

“Of course I’ll help you to bed,” Vanessa soothes, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “You’re nice and warm, and you’re not nearly so big that we couldn’t share it.”

“Sounds like there’s a yet there,” grumbles Ethan.

His stomach gurgles. Vanessa pats it gently. “Is that a yes on the cheesecake?”

Ethan shifts his weight and burps once, twice. “Yeah,” he says grudgingly. “I do want the cheesecake.”

“Well, now you’ve made some room,” she says, tousling his hair as she takes the casserole dish and brings it to the counter. She returns the battered tinfoil to the top of it and makes space in the fridge, then retrieves the cheesecake from her bag. She takes a plate from the cabinet near the sink, a fork from the drawer by the fridge, feeling a bit tender about knowing where to find everything in his apartment. The first time she’d checked on him after a shift, she’d felt so awful about having to bother him for every little thing — where was his first aid? his towels? his detergent?

“This is going to sound counterintuitive,” says Ethan, pushing himself up on his elbows, “but while you’re up, can you get me a beer?”

Vanessa shoots him a playful look. “You just want me to hear you belch all night.”

“You say the sweetest things,” he returns dryly. “I just wanna take the edge off a little. But I guess it’s not the end of the world if you get a little hot and bothered about it.”

He mirrors back her coy look, and she pops the top off his beer and swoops back to him, delighted. She helps him straighten up and nestles in beside him, bare feet tucked beneath her. He takes a long pull from the bottle and burps again, then sets it on the end table beside the couch. 

“All right,” he says. “Hit me with some cheesecake.”

“I promise it isn’t much,” says Vanessa, balancing the small plate on the crest of his belly. “Is that okay?”

He nods, and she slices off the first bite with the side of the fork. His eyes flutter closed as it lands on his tongue, and Vanessa watches, enchanted.

“Fuck,” he says through the mouthful. “That’s so fucking good.”

“Isn’t it?” She feeds him another bite, and one of his hands — maybe unconsciously — comes to rest on the side of his belly, as if bracing himself for what’s to come. She inhales sharply, and he grins at her.

“Oh, hot and bothered already? You haven’t even seen me waddle to bed yet.”

Now it’s Vanessa who closes her eyes, imagining how much he’s eaten and how badly it will affect his gait, his ability to move without wincing or grunting with discomfort. How she’ll have to help him into clothes he can sleep in, because his jeans and work shirt won’t do. How heavily he’ll fall into bed, the positions he’ll have to stay in so as not to upset his stomach. 

“Oh, god, I’ve killed her,” says Ethan, and she snaps back to herself to find him grinning. “You short out there for a second?”

“I can’t help it,” she says, feeding him another bite. “You’ve given me a lot to work with here.”

“Yeah, about that,” he says, slugging from his beer. “I was thinking — hic-urrrrp — earlier, shifting probably burns at least some of the calories I consume as a wolf, right? So even when I gorge myself —”

“Every time,” interjects Vanessa.

“— some of that is immediately getting used up when I shift back. But tonight I’m not shifting at all, so all those calories I’d normally burn off are just gonna pile up.” He pats his belly, and the lowest part, where his bloat gives way to soft fat, jiggles tantalizingly. “I’d say one casserole probably adds up to a few pounds on its own, never mind two and a half.”

Vanessa whines, pushing herself gently against his hip. “You’ll wake up tomorrow ten pounds heavier.”

“Mmm, then I’m gonna need someone on the other side of the bed to conduct some experiments to see which clothes still fit.” He swallows another forkful of cheesecake. “Strong possibility that none of my clothes are going to fit for the next week, regardless.”

“I think I may burn out some light bulbs this weekend,” says Vanessa. “Or perhaps my pipes will start leaking. Something that I’ll need to ask you to fix by reaching up over your head so I can have a little treat when your shirts ride up.”

“Oh, am I your little treat?” asks Ethan, amused.

She scoops the last bite of cheesecake onto her fork and brings it to his lips. “There,” she says softly. “Yes, you are. How do you feel?”

Ethan hiccups. “Stuffed,” he says. “Massively stuffed.”

“Poor little thing,” she murmurs, kissing the top of his head. “Can I help?”

He nods, tugging his shirt up over the tightest part of his stomach. “Work your magic, please.”

Vanessa prods and presses, massages and manhandles. Ethan belches from the exertion of her hands on his skin, his eyelids growing heavier as her touch grows gentler. He gulps the rest of his beer and lets Vanessa push out the residual air in his stomach, and she kisses his neck as he groans and rolls his hips, trying to find a modicum of comfort.

“All right,” she says softly, stroking his hair as his eyes begin to close again. “We should get you to bed.”

He belches once more, soft and airy, and lets her prop an arm across his shoulders. With effort, she heaves him up to standing, and he lets out a sharp exhale as his weight shifts. Vanessa reaches to brace his belly with her free hand. His breathing is harsh and shallow as they slowly make their way across the room to his bed, and by the time he drops onto his mattress, he’s panting, breath stolen by the tremendous glut in his stomach.

“Oh, god,” he groans, wrapping his arms around his hugely bloated belly. “I’m never eating again.”

“You say that now,” says Vanessa, helping him tug his shirt over his head. His gut sits heavily in his lap, rolling over the undone waistband of his jeans and onto his thighs, and she jerks a little, involuntarily, at how large he looks.

He helps her get his jeans off, and she fetches a fresh, oversized t-shirt for him to wear to bed. He struggles into it as she changes into the spare pair of pajamas she keeps in his bureau, and then she crawls into bed and pulls him to her.

“Oof, careful,” he gasps, and she loosens her grip. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she murmurs into his ear. “There’s just so much of you I want to hold.”

Ethan huffs. “Yeah, well, just wait until all this settles. There’ll be even more of me, and it’ll probably jiggle.”

“Oh, darling,” she teases, pulling the covers up over them both. “You say the sweetest things.”

[vmsteenbeans]

@happilyshanghaied I WILL NEVER BE OKAY

[athenodora-sulpicia-writer]

I’m Already Gone- Vanessa Ives

Spoilers ahead

Context: I’m not going to give to much of an explanation just incase some people aren’t listening to the spoiler sign above.

A/n: All I’m going to say is that I cried whilst making this, so just a bit of pre-warning I think it’s quite sad, of course it’s Vanessa Ives x Fem Reader.

Warning(s): Major character death

I'd gone with them to save her, actually I'd been the first out of the door. Blind sighted and plan less but I had to save her, I had to save Vanessa, I loved her.

She thought I was dead, for an entire month she'd thought I was dead. For a while I thought I was to, after the events at the Nightwalker's home I'd appeared dead apparently according to Ethan and Sir Malcolm I'd been tortured to death.

Vanessa thought this too, that's why she'd fallen into the arms of another. Yet I hadn't been dead just in a constant state of sleep like death.

That's how my body had healed itself, by shutting down completely and restarting, something I hadn't known a witch could do but I was grateful for it.

I'd only woken up hours ago and very quickly, in a state of shock, Ethan had explained everything that had happened and what was currently happening.

He'd succeeded, Dracula, he'd made Vanessa the Mother of Evil and now the world was at the brink of the apocalypse and humanity was all but doomed. That's when it was my turn to be shocked and quite frankly frightened.

We'd dealt with vampires and Nightwalkers before but the apocalypse was something beyond our experience and quite frankly our comprehension.

But I didn't care about the end of the world or that humanity may be experiencing its final days. All I cared about was saving Vanessa from the teeth of Dracula, I couldn't let him take her from me, I wouldn't allow it.

I only needed to hear the words of where we'd find him from Kat and I was sprinting out of the manor and into the pestilence infected air of London.

The air didn't affect me thankfully, due to my biological differences as a strand of witch, I was protected from the sickness and so I walked through, almost running. The only thought in my head was Vanessa, my Vanessa.

I'd made it to the place Kat had described as Dracula's lair and I knew the others weren't far behind, if I focussed my hearing enough I could hear the distant sound of their feet meeting the cobblestones.

The place was dark and filthy and the stench was horrid and I wondered what barbarians I would encounter here.

Eventually everyone else had caught up and were now here and quickly we were being attacked by the night creatures.

I wanted to get away, to run down the corridor I could sense Van was down but I was being assaulted left and right by these creatures of the night and even as I tried with all my energy and abilities to clear a path through, I couldn't.

The fighting continued and I tried as best as I could to keep myself and my friends safe but I barely had enough magic to serve myself after waking up, let alone so many other people.

Somehow, in a way I wasn't certain what had happened, the fighting stopped and we were surrounded by the dead bodies of Dracula's creatures but when I looked around to check that we were all still alive, Ethan wasn't there.

Then I began to panic, had they killed him? Was he still alive? but then my questions were silenced when I saw him walking out from the shadows.

I knew something was wrong immediately, I saw how his shoulders were slumped and how his face was utterly tear stained and face vacant.

A fear I'd never experienced before began to consume me as I asked, "Ethan, what happened?" And now I knew I didn't want to know the answer.

He didn't answer, "Ethan what happened!?" I shouted at him and then his eyes met mine and I knew what had happened.

"Y/n," he began to say, voice weak but I didn't need him to finish, I didn't want him to finish that sentence.

"No," my voice was no louder than a whisper as I stood there. "No, No, No," each time my voice got louder and I looked around in a frantic panic.

"NO!" I screamed running at Ethan before being stopped and grabbed at the shoulders by Kat but it wasn't him I was after.

I ripped Kat's grip from my shoulders, my shouts turning into screams and tears tracking down my face faster than a waterfall.

Once I'd gotten free of her grip I broke out into a run and sprinted down the corridor Ethan had emerged from.

I heard them shouting after me and their shouts for me to stop but I couldn't, I was frightened, frightened that what I saw in Ethan's eyes were true.

I made it to the end of the corridor, a door now facing me and my vision was blurred by the tears that hadn't fallen.

I stopped and hesitated my hand shaking as I went to open the door further to enter, paralysed by the fear of what I might see.

But then I opened it and that's when my entire world came crashing around me like shattered glass.

There she was, the woman I loved, the woman I had been through Hell and back to fight for, laying on the floor dead.

That's when I lost control of my body and an ear piercing, soul shattering scream ripped from lungs and out into the world.

I fell to my knees by her body, shaking violently as I scooped her head and chest into my lap. Her skin was so cold and pale and her heartbeat was almost none existent.

"Van," I whispered, my voice uneven from the tears "Van I'm here, I'm here please don't go," I cried to her praying she would hear me.

"Y/n she's gone," it was Ethan's voice I heard behind me but I couldn't accept it, I refused to accept it. Even if I had to fight the Devil myself I would bring her back.

"She's not," I spat at him not allowing myself to take my eyes off Vanessa for even a moment. It was his fault she was like this, she was completely alive before he'd seen her, I knew that, I could feel it.

But even now, I knew there was a little bit of life force left in her, the connection we shared told me so and the slow and radically uneven beats of her heart reminded me.

"Vanessa come back to me," I spoke "I know your still there." There was no response, no flutter of her eyelids and I feared that she was actually gone.

"I love you," I whispered as I kissed the top of her head, not wanting to say goodbye and a single tear slipped down from my cheek and fell onto her own. I didn't want to accept that she was gone.

Now I held her body closer. I'd failed to protect her, this was all my fault, I'd let her die. I wasn't here and so I'd tortured her into accepting this fate. I was the one who deserved to die not her but I didn't think the world would accept the trade no matter how many times I offered it.

"Y/n," it was the faintest of sounds but even then I'd know that voice anywhere, how it had made me laugh and how it had made me smile.

"Van," I whispered back looking down at her and then I saw her, her eyes had fluttered open, she was still deathly pale and her eyes were sorrowful but she was alive.

"You're alive," she whispered her voice cracking as she tried to lift a hand to stroke my cheek. When her hand met my cheek, I held it there with my own, crying anew and smiling.

"Yes, yes I am Van, I'm here, please stay with me," I told her hurriedly gripping onto her like a lifeline, I couldn't let her go a second time.

She looked at me with her beautiful eyes that were still a pretty blue. She looked at me and smiled, a sorrowed smile, something mixed with a strange and twisted happiness but a strong sadness.

"I can't," she whispered to me, her thumb stroking me on the cheek as I continued to hold her close.

"I have to go Y/n," her voice was so weak and tired, "I can't live anymore, I don't deserve to, I've caused so much pain and I can't keep hurting you or anyone else. It doesn't matter where we take this road, someone has to go."

"No Van, no don't say things like that, you've never hurt me, you've only ever loved me, if one of us needs to go, please let that be me."

"I can't do that Y/n, I want you to know that you couldn't have loved me better but I want you to move on."

"But remember all the things we wanted, all the memories we still have to make. Remember Van, you and me against the world, I need you." I cried and cried I couldn't let this be true.

"You'll go on without me Y/n, I promise you'll find love and live a good life," her voice was almost gone "we were always meant to say goodbye, now let me go Y/n."

"I can't do that Vanessa, I love you to much, please just let me be selfish this once." I had to convince her out of this.

"I love you to Y/n, I've always loved you but we both know I need to die, because I'm already gone." Then I watched how with her last bit of strength, Vanessa pushed herself up and pressed her lips against mine and I knew it was a final goodbye.

"You were my only love Y/n," and with my name, Vanessa's eye began to close and her body fell back into my arms and that's when I felt our connection fade out of existence and the whole world went silent with her.

"And you were mine," I whispered into her ear and then my entire world was consumed by grief, guilt and sadness and all I did was cry. I cried with the love of my life still in my arms and now I'd never felt more alone.

[silcntsinners]

Starter for @deathtransformed

Ethan had so much dread inside of him knowing this ball would only stir up all the feelings he had for Vanessa. His love for her was so deep rooted that no woman could ever compare and yet he couldn’t help but feel anger and sadness towards the woman, she had picked a different path and that path was beside another man who he had not had the pleasure of meeting… yet. Tonight that would be that night and Ethan had to keep telling himself that he didn’t care, that he would be civil and respectful.

As night approached, Ethan had made his way to the ball with his date on his shoulder, walking in proudly to not show any discomfort. Hecate had been courting him for a while and yet ethan hadn’t been giving her much thought until recently. He looked across the room to the wooden bar, not many had arrived yet but the place was starting to fill up with more and more guests. “Can I get you a drink?” He offered, giving the woman a soft smile. “A nice red wine please” she spoke as Ethan nodded and walked to the bar, only turning when feeling a touch to his shoulder. It was as if he knew the feeling, he knew her.

“Ms Ives” he said before even turning around, moving his eyes towards her date then back onto her. “It’s a pleasure to see you again and nice to finally meet your date” he spoke out, not wanting to even say the word ‘date’ but it was the truth. “I hope you are keeping well” Ethan added, acting as though they were nothing but acquaintances.

[resident-idiot-simp]

Wolverine getting some of Deadpool's 4th wall awareness because of the matter and antimatter ordeal

Featuring: @existentialgaybirdnerd @steriotypicaloutlaw

(x)

More for @castielsprostate

Bird: Mind to mind communication using the voices even far apart

Ok ok but Logan who can now truly understand Wade and everyone is super confused by it. Also (I am convinced at least Vanessa thinks he's absolutely onto something so this just confirms it for her) But others start thinking Wade may not be completely insane possibly

On the other hand they now think Logan is insane as well which is just as funny.

But all of the small things that would change. Chef's kiss

Bird: They use the voices as a sort of comm link too, Logan can keep up with wade’s style of thinking now and can even finish his thoughts with him

But imagine everyone's reactions to the seamless communication between them. As well as Logan now talking into thin air like Wade does. It definitely gets people thinking

Ethan:

Now I'm just imagining a scenario where they're talking to Colossus or someone else and it's just

W- "Yeah, sometimes we finish each-"

L- other's sentences. It's really not"

W- "that big of a deal... And you were supposed to say sandwiches, we talked about this Peanut." Wolverine rolls his eyes and lovingly shakes his head.

(Bold is them both talking at the same time)

Bird: Logan would chime in with the wrong words sometimes specifically to fuck with Wade, and then when they’re both pissed they speak at the same time and in the same register and it gets creepy

Wade and Logan having conversations that make absolutely NO sense to anyone besides them. The boxes asking things or a conversation about other impossible things that others wouldn't know

Bird: There’s an entire four way conversation and the outsiders are only getting half of it lol

Also something that always gets me about characters being self aware is the implied idea nothing they do matters or it would hurt the others that are unaware. Well maybe more so the latter point. Because it doesn't matter if it's not technically real it's real to them so I just never like that argument. All to say I think Logan really just doesn't give a shit he isn't technically real

Bird: Oh absolutely not, Logan would have his first 4th wall break and just raise an eyebrow and look away and slowly as they happen more and more on purpose he does things to fuck with the audience

Wade talks to the audience to share a joke Logan talks to the audience to insult/mock them. Surprisingly it makes all the difference

Bird: Logan freaks people out by looking into the distance and spitting a kind of joking insult and then walking away

It also somehow convinces people that it's still definitely the same wolverine and he hasn't completely lost his mind

Bird: When people start getting more suspicious of him he’ll insult something and stalk off

Vanessa is elsewhere taking a victory lap. Also Laura is very confused but also falls into the they are onto something club. I feel like Al ABSOLUTELY believes they are onto something

Bird: Laura likes to try to spot what they’re talking to, looking in the vague directions they’re looking at. Al will simply hold out a hand to one of them, go “point me” and flips off whatever audience they’re talking to now

Al is to old and has seen (or not seen) too much and specifically lived with Wade long enough to know

A) He isn't insane

B) He's almost always right

C) he knows things he really shouldn't

Bird: And when Logan starts doing the same stuff and insulting the air instead of just joking with it, she starts asking to flip off who Logan is talking to and he’s all too happy to point her

And once they explain exactly what happens she's just like oh yeah that makes sense. She doesn't need more context

ALSO This makes them both anchor beings but specifically one anchor being. They merged they now have to both be there for it to continue to exist

What if this was the first time it has ever happened in the TVA want to just study them because how did you manage this??

I read a fic that mentioned this also almost seem to increase their powers slightly and I love that idea as well

Bird: Kind of combines them, makes the healing faster and makes them harder to hurt

It's barely noticeable but it's just enough to make them even worse to deal with. They become the bane of everyone's existence because they are now truly unstoppable

Also the X-Men are trying to figure out exactly what happened. It isn't working It can't really be explained well because Wade is just kind of beyond exclamation

Logan is just vibing now while being more immortal than ever and having a whole new world opened up to him. I imagine it gets to the point where he's learning more and more and he just starts pointing randomly at some of the people that come across and saying actor's names and Wade is just beside him nodding enthusiastically and praising him