Felix + Sad Eyes

felix + Sad Eyes

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

stop 😭 (don’t ever i love u)

False Prophets

A/n was looking through my drafts and decided to let this logan fic leave the vault also fun fact the title is inspired by a line in a gracie abrams song

Summary: After the laboratory that's served as the only home you've ever known is ambushed by those that don't believe in the mission you've dedicated your life to, you're left with no other option but to trust the stranger that helped do so.

Warnings/info: slight allusions to manipulative use of an unspecified religion, reader has a touch of stockholm syndrome bc she was raised by a cult that experiments on mutants, brief mentions/implications of being medically abused by a caretaker, age gap (reader is in their early 20's)

----

The knife is as intangible as everything else. You squeeze the blade's handle regardless, knuckles straining against your skin as you try to force the metal's weight to mean something to you.

How did--how did things turn so quickly? Father Daniel grabbed you by the arm, he dragged you up the stairs and into the above ground. He gave you little instruction and even less explanation.

Protect the cause. That was all he could say before the defiers found you. Things had moved so quickly, your instincts allowing you to neutralize an assailant before--before the world became little more than a nauseating haze.

The pulsing ache behind your skull, the weight of your limbs, the resistance of your lungs, the dark spots clouding your vision. You set a palm against the floor, the coolness of the tile doing little to ground you. It's not unusual for you to feel unwell after over exerting your abilities, but this has been something else.

You need to--to evaluate, to begin the contingency process. Who knows how much time you've lost?

You bend your legs, hand pressing against the ground as you try to stand. A sharp pain immediately latches onto every tendon in your body. You screw your eyes shut. Breathe. Breathe.

A soft creak brings you back to where you are. The handle in front of you begins to twist. The door's pushed open, revealing a man who occupies too much of the doorway for you to consider bolting.

His attention shifts around the small space before settling on you. Everything about the stranger is harsh--his stance, his expression, the blood staining his clothing and skin.

The man takes a step forward. You flinch, head hitting the closet's back wall. He presses his lips together before exhaling. He holds his hands out in front of him as he steps back to where he was before, behind the doorway's threshold. "I'm not going to hurt you."

One of the many lies Father Daniel had warned you about. When you don't respond, the man sighs again. "So drop the knife. You look more likely to hurt yourself with it than me."

The perceived weakness only adds to your mounting unease. You scoff. He may have the physical advantage, but you have something he doesn't. You tilt your head, ignoring the pounding of your skull as you focus on mentally reaching for him. He's easy enough to latch onto, but actually doing anything takes more from you than you'd ever admit.

You take a deep breath, letting your energy build before pushing it onto him. It takes longer than it should, but eventually, your mind finds the strength to obey you. Just as the man's starting to bend to your will, his feet beginning to drag against the floor, your hold on him lapses.

Great--you've revealed your only real advantage and for what. You try to stand a little straighter, eyes landing on the stranger. You stare at him with wide eyes, fear making it difficult to breathe right. Father Daniel has always warned you about what happens to your kind in the real world.

You don't know what you expect from him--anger, horror, something else equally brutal. Instead of displaying any of that, the corner of his mouth briefly pulls itself upwards. "Got it out of your system, kid?"

"I'm not a kid." The raspiness of your own voice surprises you. "Where is he?"

He seems to know what you mean immediately. "The man that held you hostage and experimented on you for what--twenty years?"

Of course that's what he'd believe. "Father Daniel is a visionary with a divine calling, who is doing what he needs to do to pioneer a better future for mutants and humans alike."

"Yeah? Is that why he hasn't let you go outside in two decades?"

You scoff. It's not--the situation isn't like that, and to pretend that things are that black and white is ridiculous. You've been outside. Family outings to the movies after particularly strenuous medical trials, birthdays, and sometimes Christmas. Sure, you're not worldly, but that's the cost your family pays for safety. Until society is no longer cruel to your kind, you're safer in the lab.

If you were feeling a little more like yourself, you'd tell him all of this. But all you can manage is a defensive, "I've been outside."

His eyebrows draw together, something in the look coming terribly close to un-harsh. He doesn't believe you. Whatever. This man's opinions mean nothing to you. The only thing you know about him is that he's one of the ones that decided to invade your home in order to target you and Father Daniel's work.

His eyes drift downwards, landing on the band-aids stuck to your forearms. Some urging part of you wants to explain that things aren't always like this. That your labs and medical trials only make a fraction of your life, that these last few weeks have only been extra uncomfortable because Father Daniel has been getting closer. But the words needed to explain this to a stranger feel so far, and you doubt he'd be able to understand, regardless, so you settle for turning your forearms away from him.

"Congratulations," he mumbles dismissively, attention shifting away from your arms, "You're going again."

"What?" He sighs, as if there's something deeply irritating about the question. He can't--he can't possibly mean to take you from here. You squeeze the knife's handle. "No. I'm not--" Your protests don't impact him in the slightest. "No."

"I know it doesn't seem like it," there's something measured about his gruff assurance, "But you'll be okay if you come with me. I'm taking you to people that want to help you."

You press your a hand against the wall, as if the plaster will offer you a means of escape. "No one like you wants to help someone like me."

He watches you for a moment, something behind his expression becoming a little less fragile. "Someone like me?"

The man takes a measured step forward, crossing the door's threshold. Dread digs into you as your mind tries to reach for him. You've barely touched his energy before a piercing ache in your skull forces the connection to snap. If the stranger noticed your attempt at self defense, he gives no indication of it, taking another step in your direction.

He continues forward, his movements slow and definitive until he's so close you have to tilt your chin upwards to look him in the eye. Like this, his anger feels less...prominent.

After a moment, his eyebrows draw together slightly. If you didn't know any better, you might have mistaken the look for a barely there grimace. The man drops his gaze downwards, and you follow his line of sight.

His hand, the back of his palm--he had been weaponless before. And now, sharp, metal blades have split his skin from the inside out. You lift your chin to meet his gaze. He's not exactly smiling, but there's something gentle about the set of his mouth.

You angle your head downwards again, carefully pulling your free hand away from the wall. You move slowly, holding your arm out between the two of you for a moment before letting your pointer finger touch the edge of one of the blades. In another life, you might've been willing to tell him how cool you find his mutation.

He pulls back immediately, his hand moving away from you as his claws retract back into his skin. "You get it now?"

You press your lips together. Just because he's a mutant doesn't mean he's like you. Very few people understand your family's mission, and he isn't one of them. The fact that he broke in here is proof of that. But the ache in your skull is too disorientating for you to be efficiently hostile, and maybe there's a small chance that the fact he wanted to ease you when he could have easily just attacked you is throwing you slightly.

There is no good answer, so instead, you offer another question, "Where is he?"

"He left." The response is flat. "Ran downstairs and then disappeared."

What? Father Daniel--he left. That's not...that's not part of the contingency plan.

Okay--you let out a breath in an attempt to neutralize your expression. If Father Daniel left, he must have had a reason. There are other things that needed protecting. He'll come back.

You must look as thrown as you feel, because the man sighs. "Do you understand now?" When you don't react, he pauses. "You can stay here--in an abandoned warehouse, or you can come with and--and get some help."

Help. The word digs at you. You're not--not some kind of victim. You were chosen for a higher purpose, your mutation was given to you so that you could help others. However, that doesn't mean that the prospect of staying here, in a now compromised lab, without your family, isn't much more unappealing than leaving with this stranger.

You swallow, ignoring the lump in your throat as you weigh your options. Maybe there's something to remaining within a certain proximity to those that attempted to destroy Father Daniel's work. You could learn about their operations, their goals and desires; then, when the time is right, you'll have information to share with your family. It might not be the simplest task, but it's better than waiting.

This man also knows more about the outside world than you do. You could always just use his offer as a way to get some distance and then bolt once you're somewhere more secure. It might be easier to find Father Daniel from somewhere...out there.

You can't will yourself to look at him as you nod, wounded pride only amplifying your anxiety.

"Okay." His voice gives you no indication of what he thinks of your compliance, but something tells you that he'll be cautious of you for awhile. "You gonna drop the knife?"

The request is spoken so casually, you do briefly consider listening. You've never been much of a physical fighter, and you're sure the stranger could easily overpower you regardless of your small weapon, but you can't bring yourself to let it go. Besides, the stranger gets to have multiple knives physically attached to him. You should get to keep your one.

You briefly lift your chin in a vague gesture towards his hands. "I'll lose mine when you lose yours."

Some aspect of him seems to shift, his brow relaxing and his lips pressing together. The differences are gone too soon for you to dwell on them, his expression returning to its default blankness as he turns. You assume that's the closest thing to an 'okay' that you're getting, so after a beat, you follow him.

----

a/n i was considering adding to it and it lowkey feels like a waste of lore not to, so if you'd like a part 2 lmk!!

ik i’d feel sm better if i wrote something on here but i have the kind of writer’s block that makes me feel like im crashing out 😭

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.

guys i’ve unironically become addicted to dress to impress