Yes Aemond X Maesters Daughter Part 2, Part 3 Please Love The Concept!

yes aemond x maester’s daughter part 2, part 3 please 🙏 love the concept!

thank you!!!

they def have a mini series energy, especially bc i feel like aemond's character arch between season 1 and season 2 is so sharp reader being with prince aemond is so different from reader being with prince regent aemond and i think it'd be fun to explore both of those dynamics

also i like the idea of reader's father having to treat aegon after rook's rest, like aemond coming to visit the maester and telling him he can do so much more for his daughter (and family) as prince regent (and maybe even king one day 👀) and kind of implying he shouldn't take good care of aegon

the maester and aemond really match each other's freak, and by freak i mean the desire to manipulate individuals and political situations for the personal gain they believe they deserve

“What was behind me all those months ago was just foreshadowing the gruesome future”

Known

A/n i see this as taking place a little after  this , but they're both separate drabbles that can be read on their own :)

Summary: Late night drinking turns into reminiscing between friends. Or, in which you realize that you've always felt safe around Logan.

Warnings/info: age-gap (both characters are of consenting age!!), casual drinking, unnoticed pining, technopath!reader

----

The colors and voices radiating from the TV screen are easier to feel than experience, the electric current buzzing against your skin.

You move to sit up a little straighter, hands pressing into plush cushioning as you adjust. There's a distance to the way you're feeling, as if some odd lightness has managed to wedge itself between you and the world around you.

You lean forward, reaching for the bottle abandoned on the coffee table in front of you. Your fingers press into the glass as you move back into place, the side of your thumb tapping against the neck of the second beer you've finished tonight. A third might be nice, but the darkness around you makes the door feel too far to even think about getting to the kitchen.

There is a bottle of whisky only an arm's length away...it'd be easy to--

"No." The word is flat in its finality.

A soft laugh gives you away immediately. You press a palm against your lips as if that'll take the sound back. Sometimes Logan reads you so well you have to wonder if he has secret psychic abilities he hasn't told anyone about. "I didn't say anything."

He turns his head, lips pressing together in what feels like an attempt to dismiss the amusement behind his eyes. "Didn't have to." Logan's attention shifts back to the glass in his hand. "You're not drinking it."

You shift, turning to better analyze him. There's a stiffness to him that doesn't suit the amount of alcohol in his system. Maybe he's overcompensating for something, like his level of commitment to the stance he's taking. "Okay," the response is warm, cheery.

Logan lets out a breath as he leans forward, angling himself so close his forehead nearly touches yours. He watches you with an openness that's more dizzying than the alcohol in your system. "I mean it."

His proximity is so disorientating you nearly forget that you're meant to respond and not just stare at him.

"Fine," a genuine concession. Nothing else comes to mind, and you can't bring yourself to look away from him. The overwhelming desire to look at him is far from rare, but you're usually better at suppressing it.

You set one of your hands against the space between the two of you. "I'm gonna go get another beer."

He sighs, as if something about the statement has deeply drained him. "You're not."

Your lips part in a mock gasp. "Are you cutting me off?"

The joke seems to ease him, the corner of his mouth pulling itself upwards. "You're drunk."

Please--who gets drunk off of two beers? You narrow your eyes, not sure if you're more offended by the assumption or his hypocrisy. "Am not."

He has the audacity to smile fully. "Then let's keep it that way." The side of his hand moves to rest against the back of your palm. He's--Logan's always so warm. "Don't need to make putting you to bed any harder, princess."

An uneasy warmth begins to crawl its way up your neck. "Y'know you've had twice as much to drink as me, and you're still going."

You press your lips together in an attempt to hide the fact that you're arguing for the sake of it more than out of a desire for more alcohol.

There's a beat of silence as Logan tilts his chin downwards, making the distance between the two of you feel even smaller than it really is. "And when you're my age, you'll get a third beer."

You let yourself openly frown. "You're no fun."

He sighs, attention shifting back to his glass. "Don't pout."

"I'm not," it's a little more directly dishonest than you'd usually be, but the mood seems easy enough for you to get away with it. "I'm just...talking."

Logan watches you for a moment, doubt etched into his expression. "Sure, kid."

You roll your eyes as you shift away, arm stretching forward to place the bottle back on the coffee table. When you lean back, body pressing into the couch, a strangely poignant wave of drowsiness hits you.

The show you had been forcing Logan to watch has been replaced by something bright and loud. The sitcom had been familiar in that slightly off way, the theme song and characters like something out of a recurring childhood dream.

Before your thoughts can snag on the blurriness of your past, you lift a hand. You let your mind give into the draw of the electric current, the two melding until all you have to do to change the channel is flick your wrist. You flick through a few of them before settling on a show you're much more familiar with.

"You're a regular universal remote."

Despite yourself, you smile. The more you've worked on using your powers, the better you've gotten at motor control. Before, sometimes so much as touching something plugged into the wall was enough to make you lose control. "Much cooler than being the person that blew up the toaster."

He laughs once at the memory, the sound low but warm. "Or electrocuting me."

You glare. "I never electrocuted you." It's the truth. Your first few days here had been hectic, the stability you were being offered seemed too good to be true; every instinct in your body begged you to get out before it was too late. But you hadn't hurt anyone.

"But you thought about it." You don't have decent response. When you met Logan, you were running on nothing but adrenaline. "It's okay, I didn't make the best impression."

When the two of you first met, Logan had been...gruff, and maybe defensive in a warranted way, but you can't remember ever not liking him. Maybe that's why you felt more comfortable around him than anyone else, Logan never spoke to you in a way that felt like a facade.

But he doesn't need to know that, so you just shrug. "We're good now, though."

The show cuts to commercial break, an ad for detergent filling the screen. You let yourself relax further into the couch, your head moving to rest against Logan's arm.

"Yeah," he mumbles, "We're good."

You're aware of your blinking, of the weight of your eyelids and the focus needed to pull them back into place. Logan's presence makes it easier to accept the sluggishness and the vulnerability that comes with it. This isn't the first time he's made you feel okay about something like this.

"Logan?" He hums once in acknowledgement. You let out a quiet breath, the words briefly tangling in the back of your throat. "I'm glad you were the one that found me when I was like that."

He's quiet for a moment, and then his hand squeezes yours. "Me, too."

His voice is so quiet it almost feels like an extension of the electricity floating through the air, another thing that's easier to feel than to know. Your eyes fall shut, and you're comfortable enough to let them stay that way.

----

Taglist: @whyausername99

have now fallen into the dress to impress back rooms

guys i’ve unironically become addicted to dress to impress

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Normalcy

A/n deadpool and wolverine drabble bc the movie was a little too good

Summary: Still reeling from the loss of your powers, you struggle to hold it together inside the TVA's void. Thankfully, you find an uncharacteristically peaceful distraction in your old friend Deadpool and in the wolverine variant who wants nothing to do with you.

Warnings/info: reader is a (former) avenger (bc i love the avengers <3), reader is described as having similar powers to wanda and having trained with her (bc i love wanda), implied beginning of an accidental love triangle if you squint ig, maybe too much lore for a drabble (?), me writing for characters for the first time so be nice 😭

----

The lines etched into your palms do not bend and twist to spell out secrets, there are no messages worth decoding pressed into your skin. Knowing this is not enough to stop you from staring at your hands like if you could just think about it hard enough...

"There you are, Peanut." The words are so warm you're briefly pulled out of your internal angst. You straighten, head lifting slightly and arms crossing in front of your chest. "Thought I lost you."

Wade continues forward until he's directly in front of you. He pauses, watching you with an unabashed openness that you'd only ever allow him to get away with. "Kidding," he tries, "I'd never lose you."

The familiarity of the casual affection eases you further, the corner of your mouth tugging itself upwards. "I was like 15 feet away from you."

"Sorry for caring." It's his go to comeback when it comes to defending the displays of affection you have the audacity to find overdramatic.

You blink, lips parting despite your lack of response. The world has felt a little slower these last few days, moving at a pace that leaves you with no choice but to reflect. Maybe it's the void.

"Hey," his voice feels a little flatter without his usual humor, "Are you okay?"

You let out a breath, shocked by this new low. Sure, you've known Wade for awhile and you've both seen each other through plenty of stages, but he's never felt the need to attempt a genuine pep talk for you. He's never struck you as the pep talk sort...for anyone. Do you really seem that off?

It's bad enough that your identity crisis has stolen the abilities that would have helped your trio pop out of the void with no real fanfare, you can't also make your insecurities everyone else's problem. "Yeah." The response doesn't feel convincing, but with Wade wearing the Deadpool mask, it's hard to be sure. "Just y'know...we're in a void and our reality might be ripped apart, so I've been better."

He's still watching you with a level of focus that's unnerving. You've gotten used to his familiarity, his lack of care for personal space or the social rules around watching people. "You're doing it again."

"Seducing you with my ability to have a heart to heart while looking this good in my suit?"

You sigh in an attempt to dismiss your slight smile. Happy or sad, superhero that once fought Thanos or regular person that can't regulate their emotions, Wade always treats you the same. "The staring thing. You said you'd stop."

"No, you said I'd stop." The correction is a return to what you're used to. He takes a step towards you, his proximity now forcing you to tilt your chin up slightly to look him in the eye. "I'd never promise to look at you less."

"Comforting."

He angles his chin downwards, making the limited distance feel more significant. "I thought so." For a moment, he's quiet in a way that doesn't feel very him. "Are you sure you're...good?" His hesitance is another reminder that this is far out of his element. "I know this is your first..." Wade's rarely careful, only ever treading lightly on the one subject you never want to bring. "Outing, since..."

"I lost my powers."

Wade goes quiet again. If this conversation is as inevitable as it seems, a part of you wishes it could have come up elsewhere. Maybe in your shared apartment, definitely without the mask so you could better interpret his reactions. It's not often you keep secrets from him, but the hollowness you feel knowing the part of yourself you've lost isn't something you can just share.

It's more than just about missing your party tricks, it's about losing a part of yourself. They were all that was left of your time with the Avengers, of what Wanda taught you before Westview.

He lets out a breath. "They're not lost." You raise your eyebrows slightly, giving him a look meant to caution him against sympathetic optimism. "We don't know that."

He seems so happy to be able to tell you that there's no proof that any and all magical abilities have been flushed out of your system, you don't have it in you to remind him that that's mainly because you have no one to ask. What's left of the Avengers and your government connections either barely understand what you were or are untrustworthy.

"Educated wish?"

His mask muffles a slight gasp. You press your lips together in an attempt to resist smiling. "The last one worked out great."

Your eyebrows pull together skeptically, a reminder that the two of you are still technically in the middle of the last educated wish he attempted to speak into existence. "Didn't Wolverine stab you multiple times--"

He cuts you off with a heavy sigh. "If I took getting stabbed personally, do you know where we'd be?"

In a reality where Wade holds grudges over those kinds of things, you wouldn't be anything to each other, except maybe enemies. You've never pulled a knife or sword or anything sharp on him, but when you first met he did startle you before you had a total grip on your abilities, which resulted in him getting thrown through a wall.

"I never stabbed you."

His hand finds your shoulder. You let him drag his thumb against against the fabric of your suit. "And that's how I know you really love me, Peanut."

You roll your eyes in an attempt to dislodge the warmth that settles in the pit of your stomach. The last thing Wade needs is encouragement. "I mean, I do go around stabbing everyone I like less than you."

He lets out a sound that feels like a scoff attempting to mask itself as a dry laugh. "There's the sense of humor that'd hurt me if I knew you less."

"Well--"

He squeezes your shoulder, "I know you." Okay. You'll let him have this one because maybe there's some truth to what he's saying. "I'm going to go check on the car, because a fucking Honda Odyssey would break down on us for no reason before we got to the fight."

"For no reason or because of the bitch fight you and Wolverine had in it?"

There's a beat of silence in which all you can do is try to imagine Wade's expression behind the mask. You'd like to think that he's smiling. "Oh, Pumpkin." He sighs as if you've stumbled onto saying something terribly naive. "It wasn't a bitch fight, it was awesome, and probably turned you on."

You deadpan a flat, "You caught me." He hasn't let go of your shoulder, and a part of you is oddly glad for it. "I'd offer you help with the car, but..."

You're self aware enough to acknowledge your strengths and weaknesses, car maintenance being the latter. Wade doesn't even let you get your oil changed by yourself anymore.

"I've met you." He squeezes your shoulder again, the gesture weirdly stabilizing. "Give me 15 minutes to actually look at the car and then I'm all yours."

Wade lets go of you, his arm falling to his side. "Aren't you always?"

He lets out an exaggerated gasp. "You're making me feel cheaper than my usual rate, Peanut."

You smile as he turns away. Things are always a little easier with Wade. It's more than just distraction, it's his way of making things feel a little lighter. You're not sure what to do with your 15 minutes of solitude to avoid falling back into self pity.

You originally broke away from the group of void trapped heroes under the premise of needing fresh air, but even here, with the expansive, sparsely wooded area at your disposal, the oxygen in your lungs still feels flat. If Wanda were around, you'd be able to ask if she felt the strangeness of this other plane of existence as well. At least then you'd know if your dislike of the void is only mental or an actual sign of life from your abilities.

You begin to walk forward, hoping to shed all thoughts of both your former self and the eeriness of this other world. There are other people you could talk to you. The others have been polite enough, or at the very least, passionate enough to be talked into facing Cassandra.

The trees you've been wandering through grow in their sparsity, the edge of the woods revealing a patch of grassland highlighted by a fire's warm glow. You squint past the tree line, attempting to make out the figure sitting in front of the flames. Wolverine.

Secluded from the group and staring at a campfire. Surprising. Though, you guess it's not fair to judge him too harshly, you left the group to brood as well.

He doesn't like you, doesn't know you well enough to dislike you, but it took him no time to find a way to get around that. Maybe it's your proximity to Wade. You've done your best to take his hostility as un-personally as possible. You've seen enough people you really care about go through the guilt ridden, fallen hero thing to know how deep that kind of hurt runs.

You've never known a Wolverine or Logan Howlett variant, so you have no way of knowing what he was like before. Sure, you've heard stories, but you're also overly aware of how the media can twist and turn those stories to fit their narrative. One day, a superhero is the world's greatest protector, and the next their the greatest menace. Maybe he was always a little dark, or maybe he wasn't.

"Don't just stand there." The gruffness of his voice startles you more than it should.

Heat crawls up your neck, a part of you more embarrassed than you should be. You weren't lurking, or at the very least, you weren't trying to.

You sigh as you abandon the safety of the tree line. "Sorry." He turns his head away from the fire. "I wasn't--I was just walking."

He's quiet for such a long moment you almost expect him to not respond at all. "Without your shadow?"

Wow, only a halfhearted dig at Wade. You must have caught him in a good mood. "Friend, and he's looking at the car. I'd be looking at the car with him, but I figured the odds for tomorrow are bad enough as is."

Another uneasy stretch of silence. "Yeah." There's not much, if anything, to take from the comment. "If you're here to convince me to go with you guys tomorrow--"

"I'm not." It's an honest answer. You had been walking around aimlessly and happened to stumble onto him. "I'm not into the pep talk thing." He scoffs, the sound lacking in genuine aggression. "What?"

He lifts his gaze from the fire, his eyes settling on some point past the horizon. "I thought you were an Avenger."

You're not sure what bugs you more, the fact that he's so sure he has you all figured out or the implication that the Avengers spend their days encouraging each other instead of actually doing things. What the Avengers are--or maybe were--is so much more than that.

You step forward, further separating you from the cluster of trees. "The Avengers are about a lot more than that."

His attention briefly shifts onto you before returning to the flames. If the silence is meant to be dismissive, it doesn't feel that way. There's a patience there that doesn't suit his usual brooding.

"Do you care if I sit?" The question is forced out before you can overthink it. "I promise no inspirational speeches or small talk."

After a beat, he dips his chin downwards in a nod so subtle you would have missed it if you had been watching him any less carefully. You're more relieved by his acceptance than you should be, your feet carrying you towards the campfire.

You sit at a polite distance, knees bent in front of you. His silence seems to push against the void's sluggishness. Maybe the issue has been you fighting this world's momentum.

"Why are you with him?" You're not sure if you're more shocked by the question or the break in silence. When all you can do is blink, he continues, "You seem--" He subtly clears his throat, as if struggling to admit this next part, "Nice, normal."

Oh. If you had been focused, you likely would have got what he meant without the clarification. "I know Wade's a lot--especially to you." You place a hand against your knee, thinking about that very specific safety you only feel with Wade. You don't have to try at being anything, or worry about earning your keep in any capacity. "But once you get to know him, he's a good friend."

You look away from the fire pit in time to see the skeptical look Logan throws in your direction. "I'm serious." His expression doesn't change. "He um--after I stopped being important to everyone else, he still liked me ." This isn't the conversation you wanted to stumble onto, especially not with someone who you barely know and actively dislikes you. "That sounds kind of dumb, but the point is, he's loyal."

He turns his head back towards the fire. "You always call him by his name." The observation is so stiff you'd consider it hesitant if it came from anyone else.

You've never thought much about Wade's name. Part of it is familiarity, and the rest of it is a force of habit. Even when you were with the Avengers, you preferred using actual names when off duty. It's easier to separate the mask from the person beneath it when you make an active effort to.

You shrug. "I'm not into off duty superhero names, Wolverine."

He falls silent again. You concentrate on the flames, the way they illuminate the world around you. "You can--" He cuts himself off, attention never wavering from the fire. "You can call me Logan, if you want."

An unsteady warmth roots itself in your chest. You didn't expect any sort of kinship between you and the wolverine Wade stole from some other timeline beyond him occasionally accepting your attempts at creating peace between him and Wade.

"Okay," you focus on keeping your tone measured, avoiding any emotions that might startle him, "Logan."

There's no tension in the quiet that follows. You let the minutes pass until you're certain that Wade's waiting for an interruption disguised as an attempt to help. "I should go, Wade's probably waiting for me."

You push yourself to stand. You let yourself glance at him one last time before turning towards the trees you emerged from.