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marinaaniseed · 4 years

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Dark ‘n’ Stormy, Pt. 11

Summary: It’s the day after the stuffing chapter. New Asgard decides which system of government it wants. Not much smut, an awful lot of politics.

Length: 6.9k. A more sensible person than me might try to edit this down, but honestly, I feel like you’d all be horribly disappointed if I didn’t write all the words.

Warnings: Eh the usual. Kinky food stuff, smut, drinking, swearing, mental health wonkiness, Asgardian politics, body shaming, intrusive media, social media shittiness, uncomfortable family relationships, mentions of starting a family, mentions of dead characters, smutty pictures, some ridiculously long speeches that might give you feels. I think that’s it.

Notes: This chapter, quite literally, took months to write. Apologies, therefore, if it’s a bit disjointed or I contradict myself. This bad boy is now over 50k in total (!) It took a while, because I couldn’t quite decide how I wanted it to go. Also, writing a story a day for the entire year is quite time consuming and a really fucking terrible idea. Typos and errors are all my own but please alert me to anything spectacularly bad so I can fix. I’ve not given this any distance, so I am hella word-blind.

Also, one of you gets a mention :P

Need a reminder of what’s happened? Pt. 10 & the masterlist.

If you like what I do, please let me know.

It wasn’t the cockerels crowing that woke you, but the dogs excitedly greeting someone.

“Whuh time issit?” you mumbled into Thor’s hair, your hand resting on his still full tummy as you spooned the sleepy Thunder God.

“Too early.”

He wasn’t wrong. Groggily you pulled yourself away, rummaging around for something to throw on so you could investigate who your visitor was.

Opening the bedroom door, you spied the Valkyrie crouched down by the settee, rubbing Geri’s tummy.

“Why?” you asked, not really awake enough to form a proper question.

“Why what?” Valkyrie responded, continuing to fuss the dog at her feet.

“Why are you here? Now? At this godforsaken time?”

“Has Thor forsaken this time in particular?”

Your glare said it all.

“I jest, sorry. Have you been online? Checked your phone? Seen or heard the news?”

“For fuck’s sake, Brunnhilde,” you said, startling the dogs and finally rousing Thor, “I’ve literally just gotten up. Because of you. When would I have done any of that? And why does it matter?”

“I’ll make the coffee, you go get Thor.”

You’d barely turned and taken a step, when you collided with the solid mass that was your lover.

“What’s wrong? Why is the Valkyrie here?” he asked, holding you to his stomach.

“Not a fucking clue.”

You weren’t exactly a morning person. Even less so after a few cocktails, and when your awakening had been rude. Not the good kind of rude, either. Thor knew, from prior experience, that waking you unexpectedly was like deciding to disturb a wasp’s nest. Nothing good would come of it and it wasn’t something you’d likely repeat in a hurry. You were a surly, venomous grump, sure to sting whatever had disturbed you.

Either Brunnhilde was more foolhardy than he thought, or something was seriously wrong.

Brunnhilde returned to find you slouched on the settee, buried in Thor’s hoodie with the hood pulled up and over, almost to the point of covering your eyes, in a vain attempt at ignoring the world. The steaming mug of caffeine placed on the table next to you was met with a snort of derision, and it was with no small amount of trepidation that Thor sat next to you, before pulling you onto his lap. Maybe whatever had brought the Valkyrie would concern only him, and you could doze off against his chest.

“Did you enjoy your pizza last night?” Brunnhilde asked, breaking the frosty silence.

“Yes,” Thor smiled at the memory. “How did you know we had pizza?”

“That’s what brought me here. I’m sorry it’s so early.”

Why would pizza have brought her here, Thor wondered. Did she need a recipe? Did she have some left over? Was she planning to open a pizza place in New Asgard?

“Someone… someone, erm, they snapped some pictures of you. The two of you. In the restaurant. They must’ve recognised you.”

“So?” Thor queried softly, hoping that you had begun to return to sleep in his arms.

“Well, they sold them to some media people. You’re, erm, trending on Twitter. I wanted to tell you before you saw for yourselves, some of the reporting is… unflattering.”

Yeah. Thor could already picture it. Being fat and in the public eye was just a magnet for the worst kind of people.

“If they’ve worked out who Y/N is, it’s not been published yet, but it’s only a matter of time,” Brunnhilde continued.

“Ah, balls,” you said, finally joining the conversation.

“Indeed. A few months back, I asked some friends to do some digging on you. Don’t be alarmed, I just wanted to be prepared for the time when it eventually emerged that you and Thor were together. I didn’t find anything to be worried about in what they found on you, but I understand that there may be things that you’d prefer to stay private. The silence of those involved can be arranged, if you wish.”

There were certainly things in your past that you weren’t exactly proud of. You probably should’ve realised that you couldn’t stay under the radar forever.

“No, it’s ok. Don’t waste your resources, or those of your friends. I’ve been alive long enough to know that if the tabloid press thinks there’s a story, they’ll dig it up somehow. Or just make one up. I’ve done what I’ve done, and that’s the end of that. Anyone commenting on my life probably has stuff they’d rather keep secret,” you answered with a sigh.

“Very well. Do you want to read the dossier?”

“No, no. I’m sure it’s very thorough and accurate. Thor, do you want to read it?”

“Anything you wish to tell me about your past, you can tell me about yourself,” he answered, running his fingers through your hair. “Whatever you have done, it’s of no consequence. You’re here now, that’s all that matters. Some youthful follies could not reverse my love for you.”

You nuzzled your face into his chest hair to hide the tears you could feel beginning to sting your eyes.

“Is that all, Brunnhilde? May we return to bed?” Thor said.

“Yes, of course. Apologies once again for disturbing you. I just wanted you to hear it from a friend before you heard it elsewhere.”

You were fast asleep again by the time Thor gently laid you back on the bed. You must’ve been warm in his hoodie, the early rays of sunshine beginning to seep into the bedroom, but he didn’t want to disturb you. His mind was all over the place, so he decided to check the news on your tablet while you were tucked into his side.

Thor’s Hammered!

King of Ass-gard

Pizza Gut - Avenger destroys pizza buffet

Thor quickly put the tablet back down. It stung to read the words they wrote about him, but even worse was what they wrote about you. They didn’t know you, why did they get to judge you, speculate about who you were and why you were with him? You were just another name on the long list of loved ones he wasn’t able to protect.

Gingerly removing himself from your side, relieved when he didn’t wake you, Thor decided to sit back on the settee, letting Loki slither over him. The snake wasn’t as helpful as his brother, but he found it calming anyway.

15 minutes later, the sound of a message being received made him jump. Unlocking his old phone, he saw it was a message from Brunnhilde.

I know you said you didn’t want to know about Y/N’s past, but I think you might find this interesting…

There were several links at the bottom of the message. Thor didn’t want to pry, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help but be curious as to what was that important that Brunnhilde had felt the need to send him a link.

Moving as quietly as he could, he returned to the bedroom to grab the tablet, before settling back down to see what had been sent.

Typing the address was a torturous process, his fingers weren’t quite dexterous enough to easily manipulate Midgardian devices, although he was becoming more careful with them. Still, he nearly dropped the tablet when he saw where the link took him to.

It was a gallery of pictures. Pictures of you, to be exact. You weren’t naked but it was obvious that these weren’t the kind of pictures you shared with friends or family. He’d heard about these kinds of sites, adult sites they were called. The model had a different name, but it was definitely you. No doubt about it.

Pictures of you in corsets that pushed up your breasts and cinched in your waist. Pictures of you with chokers around your throat. Some pictures where you wore clothing made of a strange material that seemed to fit you like a second skin. Some more where you wore beautiful lingerie in vibrant colours, brilliant blues and vivid violets.

The pictures on the next link were a little different. Leather gloves, ball gags, handcuffs. Fishnet stockings and knee-high leather boots. Why had he never seen any of these outfits? Carefully gripping the tablet with one hand, he moved the other inside the waistband of his pants, rubbing at the head of his excited cock.

For a split second, he considered what Brunnhilde had thought of these pictures. Had she shown them to Sif? What if they’d both enjoyed them?

His cock grew harder at the thought.

And he knew he should feel a little ashamed. You hadn’t mentioned these pictures, so it probably wasn’t something you were proud of, but he couldn’t help but look, hope that others had looked, and seen just how sexy you were.

He didn’t really understand the third link. That seemed to be a niche site. You were barely visible, clad in rain gear, and wrapped in heavy duty tape to secure you to a post.

But, Brunnhilde really had saved the best until last.

Bound, gagged, blindfolded. Eyes wide in another as you looked at the woman stroking your hair as you sat tied to the chair. If he had to be king, he’d insist on having a throne, just so he could recreate that image with you. Only, in his version, you’d be wearing a lot less clothes, his face between your thighs, eating you out until the only thing keeping you upright were the ropes that held you in your place.

It was funny. He’d not really enjoyed being in chains, in a cage, when he’d encountered Surtur. But the thought of you being bound, held captive while he pleasured you in all the different ways he knew how. Now, that was something he liked the idea of.

Freeing his cock, he began to stroke in earnest, the images he’d just seen and images of what he’d like to do to you fuelling his desire. The harder he thought of them, the harder he got, and the harder he pumped his fist.

His orgasm was explosive, and Loki hissed at him angrily. Geri and Freki perked up their ears to see what the fuss was about. He knew he should move and clean himself but he was comfy, he was relaxed, he could rest here for a moment or two.

***

Evidently it was more than a moment or two when he awoke to the sound of pans clanging around in the kitchen. There’s no way you couldn’t have seen him, and there’s no way he could pretend it was anything else. He’d fallen asleep with his cock out, the evidence crusted onto his tummy.

Tucking himself back into his pants, he approached the kitchen with caution.

“Good morning, my love,” he tried.

“Good afternoon,” you corrected. “Dare I ask?” you said, looking at his gut pointedly.

Nothing good would come of lying, so he tried his best to explain the truth.

“Ah, well, what happened was, you see, Brunnhilde sent me an electronic letter with some links on my phone. So I looked at them on the tablet,” he explained.

“Brunnhilde sent you porn?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean maybe? The links were to pictures of you.”

“Ah,” you said, understanding. “Brunnhilde’s friends found those.”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed them. I enjoyed doing them.”

Thor doesn’t ask for an explanation, doesn’t press you, doesn’t tell you about his fantasies. You’ll tell him when you want to, if you want to. He’ll tell you when you’re not trying to cook avocado eggs Benedict.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbles before walking off to the bathroom. He’s glad that you’re not angry or upset, but he’s still embarrassed that you caught him in that position.

The shower is cold, but not cold enough to cool him down from his thoughts. Thoughts of those photos, thoughts of last night, and thoughts of what he’d like to do with you in the future. He could probably roll around on Jötunheimr and still feel too hot.

He’s quiet during brunch, but you don’t press him. You just hold his hand, silently telling him that everything will be alright.

You’d briefly checked your phone before Thor had woken up. There were so many notifications, you were afraid it might crash, and you’d put it back down again. Today was an historic day for New Asgard, you didn’t want to overshadow it by worrying about what Twitter trolls had to say about you. It keeps buzzing on the table next to you, and you continue ignoring it.

“Are you going to check that?” Thor asked. “It might be something important.”

“I don’t really want to, I’m afraid of what I might see,” you said.

“I understand, but the longer you leave it, the worse it will be. Maybe just check if there is anything from your family. You don’t want it playing on your mind throughout the day.”

Thor’s right, and so with a resigned sigh, you picked up your phone and looked at your notifications, dismissing anything that wasn’t important.

A message from Sam on Skype that read I knew you had a thing for older men, didn’t realise you liked them THAT old ;-) now I know where you are, let me know when I can visit. Ignore the haters, they’re just jealous.

There was also an entire chain of emails from your mum, without a subject. She’d never quite gotten the hang of email.

Is this you/??>????? And then a link to a news website.

It is, isn’t it.

WHy didn’t you tell us. Where you were????

Your father is looking at flights.

He’s found some cheap ones with Ryanair, we’re coming over in a fortnight. Flying to Oslo. Charlie is coming too.

He can’t find anywhere to stay in New Asgard, are there no hotels????

Answer me.

“Ah, fuck,” you said, staring at down at your phone.

“What’s the matter?” Thor asked, worried that you’d seen something critical of you.

“My family knows where I am now, they’re coming to visit,” you mumbled. “In two weeks.”

“That’s wonderful news, I can’t wait to meet them,” Thor said, kissing your hand.

“Yeah,” you said doubtfully. You loved your family, but they could be tricky at times. They were hurt, of course, by your vagueness on the subject of your whereabouts. You already knew they were going to make some unintentionally hurtful comments, either about Thor, or about Alex, or both. They were also likely to do the same about you.

“Two weeks,” Thor mused, still enthusiastic about the prospect of meeting your family. “I think that gives me sufficient time to build a place for them to stay.”

It was lovely that he was excited by the prospect, but you groaned internally. Something told you that Thor was not going to have time for much if the vote went the way you thought it would.

“I’ll tell them we can accommodate them somewhere,” you said, firing off a quick email. “Now, let’s forget about this and focus on the task at hand. Brunnhilde wanted us there no later than two, that only gives us an hour.”

***

At 2:10 you arrived at the mead hall, Thor in his full regalia, you in the dress he’d gifted you for the May Day feast. Geri and Freki loping along behind you. You went to add the one remaining cake to the long table of food, while Brunnhilde intercepted Thor.

“Is everything alright, after this morning?” she asked him.

“Yes, I think so. Y/N is strong, although her family have elected to visit. That seems to have shaken her,” Thor sighed.

“It must be hard to face someone you thought was dead, even if you love them, once you’ve been through the grieving process,” Brunnhilde noted.

“It is.” Thor knows it’s hard, he went through it enough times with Loki, but he’d do anything to have his brother back. Or his mother, father.

There are flowers everywhere. Bouquets on tables, bunting hanging from the rafters, and people everywhere with flower crowns on their heads. Thor’s pleased with how well they’ve turned out. He makes a note to thank everyone involved, as well as to the plants for blooming so abundantly for him. There was something very satisfying about growing things and tending to them, becoming one with nature.

He’s not surprised when you return with a flower crown, plus one each around the dog’s necks. He doesn’t think they’ll last long, which is why he’d made sure to cultivate flowers that wouldn’t make the dogs sick when they inevitably tried to eat them. Thor particularly likes how you look with your flower crown. He’s seen you wear one before, of course, but they really do suit you. He hopes that if he has to be king, then perhaps one day you’ll wear a different kind of crown.

“Hello, Brunnhilde. Apologies for our lateness. I didn’t grab a crown for you but if Thor doesn’t want this one, I’m sure you can have it,” you offered, holding out the wreath.

“That’s quite alright, I’m not really one for crowns,” Valkyrie answered with a small shake of her head. “I’ll leave you two to mingle, just don’t be late for the vote announcement.”

“We won’t,” Thor assured her, knowing full well that they won’t start without him. “I fear this may not be the only crown I accept today,” he continues, taking the flowers from you and placing them on his head.

“I’m sorry,” you said, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ll support you, no matter the outcome.”

Thor knows this, and he’s glad of it. He’s still not comfortable with being in charge, quite content with his life, building things, tending to the plants, and playing with his animals. But at least he doesn’t have to do it alone. After Loki died, he was so very alone. Korg and Miek were great, but there was something missing in his life, a much closer form of companionship that he’d finally found again.

“Let us mingle, I’m sure there are many children who will be glad to pet the dogs,” Thor said, looping his arm with yours at the elbow.

*** By the time it gets to the hour of the announcement, Geri and Freki have had their bellies rubbed by seemingly every child in New Asgard, much to their delight.

A little boy had brought you a small posy of flowers, and was extra pleased when Thor held him in his strong arms and let the child place the flowers in Thor’s beard. It’s very haphazard, and a little one-sided but Thor’s pleased with the end result, when you show him in your pocket mirror.

It makes him ache desperately to have a child - well, children - of his own. He thinks about what kind of uncle Loki would’ve been.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have stabbed them.

It’s too hot in the mead hall. Thor’s been trying to drink slowly, aware that he’s drinking out of nerves more than anything.

Dutch courage, you’d called it. Allegedly, Dutch soldiers had drunk jenever before going into battle. Thor considered that a little risky. Drinking was best done after battle, being clumsy while handling a weapon didn’t strike him as the best strategy. Then again, it seemed to work fine for Brunnhilde. It didn’t really happen to him, but supposed many people got nervous before a fight.

Thor knew you had a Dutch friend, a teacher. He wondered if they might bring jenever with them if they ever came to visit?

Bruce came over, crowds of Asgardians parting easily for his bulky frame.

“Hey buddy,” he said, hugging Thor. “Are you ready?”

“About as ready as I’ll ever be,” Thor answered. A few years ago, he’d thought he was ready. Had almost been crowned king.

He never thanked Loki for royally screwing that up. It was only now, with hindsight, that he could appreciate the favour his brother had inadvertently done him.

“It’s time,” Bruce told Thor, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Thor looks back at you, but you shake your head. This is an Asgardian matter. Your place is at the back with Geri and Freki, not onstage with Asgard’s elite.

“Do you know?” Thor asked Bruce, desperately.

“No Thor. Even if I did, I couldn’t tell you,” Bruce noted. “Whatever happens, you have people that care about you. It won’t be like it was before.”

Thor joins Valkyrie, Sif and several others onstage. Bruce waves his hands, dampening down the crowd that buzzes like a hornet’s nest. Despite all the assurances, this is still a volatile situation and Bruce says a silent prayer that everything works out for the best.

“Thank you all,” Bruce addressed the crowd. “Thank you for trusting in the process and for allowing us, as outside observers, to count all of your votes. No system will be perfect, but we hope that you will all respect the outcome, whatever it may be. It took three rounds of voting for an option to gain over 50% of the vote. I’ll now hand over to Captain America, who has the results.”

Bruce steps down, stands to the right hand side of the stage as Sam steps forward. Anticipation builds around the room, like static during a storm. Sif holds hands with both Thor and Valkyrie, holding in a breath as she waits to see which of the people she cares about most will draw the short straw of heading Asgard.

She fervently hopes that the people will have chosen another option, but she doubts it. Most Asgardians fell on one side of the divide or the other - traditionalists who wanted to continue the existing royal family, and those who felt that Brunnhilde was the best leader amongst those left.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Sam said, grateful that someone the Asgardians were familiar with had addressed them first. “The result is very close, but let me assure you, it is accurate. We counted every single ballot ten times, just to ensure there was no discrepancy. With 50.8% of the vote, the people of Asgard have chosen the option of an octarchy.”

The room erupted with people cheering, complaining, or otherwise chatting with people about what it all meant. Sam waited for the commotion to die down before continuing.”

“Furthermore, the proposed solution, as outlined within the election materials is that Thor, son of Odin.” Sam paused, Thor’s full title sounding odd coming out of his mouth, but that was what the piece of paper he was holding said. “Thor, son of Odin, shall rule as king, and head of state.”

Thor paled visibly and your heart went out to him, glad that Sif was holding his hand.

“Succession will be a matter of blood, as it has always been, unless Thor shall have no issue. In that event, the people of Asgard will once again convene to decide how they wish to be governed. Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall serve as his second in command. She will rule in his absence or if he is incapacitated, if Thor does not have an heir of legal age.”

Sam shook his head. He shouldn’t have let Bucky write the speech, he should’ve known his metal-armed partner would try to stitch him up with flowery Asgardian language. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Bucky smirking, standing next to Bruce. Sam makes a mental note to put on his suit later, pick Bucky up, and drop him in the North Sea.

“The other six members of the council will be chosen as follows. Thor, son of Odin, and Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall each choose one. Two more shall be elected by the people of Asgard. The final two shall be selected at random in a lottery of all citizens who have come of age. These positions shall be reviewed every ten years, unless circumstances, or the will of the people dictate otherwise.”

The place descends into chaos, even the dogs start barking at all the noise, and it only stops when the valkyrie gets to the front of the stage and lets out an ear-piercing screech. Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at her, wincing.

“Settle down everyone, settle down,” she shouted. “I respect this result, just as I said I would, and I pledge to serve both Asgard and its king to the best of my ability, as long as I am able to do so. I would like to thank you for your trust and patience during the time in which I served as Asgard’s caretaker. I know that not all of you were happy with the situation, but I hope I served you well. There is one among us, who I would like to nominate for inclusion on the council. However, I am aware that some of you may feel it is a conflict of interests. As many of you are aware, the Lady Sif and I are in love. She is my nomination if you will accept her.”

Raucous applause erupts. Sif is well liked, and most people are pleased to have her helping to steer Asgard’s course, even if she’s a little too eager to head into battle at times.

“Very well, I thank you all for your trust,” the valkyrie continued. “While I have the floor, there is one more thing I wish to do. I was going to do it later, but I think now is best, to declare my love in front of all those I serve.”

This time it’s Sif’s turn to go pale, as the Valkyrie sinks to her knees, turning back to Sif.

“Lady Sif,” Brunnhilde began. “I have lived long and travelled far, and there is no beauty that can compare to yours. Your love shines brighter than any star, and I am a better person for you sharing it with me. I have no title or riches to give you. This is but a small trinket, for I have already given you the greatest gift I have to give, which is my heart. I would be honoured if you would accept this ring as a token of my love, as is the custom on much of Midgard, and agree to be my wife.”

Sif is openly sobbing, and Thor’s not sure he’s ever seen her cry before. Scores more around the room wipe away tears as Sif slowly moves forward, allowing the Valkyrie to slip the ring onto her finger. Once it’s in place, Sif takes Brunnhilde’s hands and pulls her up, embracing her tightly and kissing her fiercely to a chorus of cheers.

It’s a wonderful sight, and you’re glad that there’s something for Asgard to celebrate, even if the vote didn’t go everyone’s way. Your throat goes dry as Thor nervously makes his way to the front of the stage to speak.

“Hello everyone. Apologies if I seem nervous, it has been many years since I last addressed so many,” he said, fiddling with the hem of his cloak. It’s far too hot to be wearing it, but he’d insisted that this was an important occasion and that he should dress accordingly.

“My congratulations to the Lady Sif and the Lady Brunnhilde. Theirs is an excellent union, and I wish them an eternity of happiness together.”

Thor waits until the cheering dies down before continuing.

“I, too, respect and honour the results of this vote. No man can outrun his destiny, and it seems mine will always be to rule Asgard as its king, even though I feel ill-equipped to do so. Fate apparently wills it so. I have not led Asgard well these last few years, and I apologise for that from the bottom of my heart. I have been remiss in my duties. I know that some of you do not trust that I have changed, but I give you my solemn word that I have. That I will act for the good of Asgard, and the other eight realms, as long as there is life in my breast.”

The entire room draws a collective gasp as Thor sinks to one knee. Panic sets in. This can’t be happening. Surely he’s not about to propose as well?

“I kneel before you, as your humble servant,” Thor continued, and you sighed in relief. “Too long, the people of Asgard have knelt before the throne. No more. I kneel before you all, and ask for your forgiveness. I am not the man I was, but I hope with time, that I will become someone better, someone worthy of the position that I find myself in.

“Asgard is not a place, it is a people. My father told me that, and I see now how true it is. I thank each and every one of you for trusting and believing in Asgard, in each other, when I did not trust or believe in myself. Together, you have created something strong and beautiful. I thank you for sharing it with me. You have rebuilt, you have shown incredible strength and fortitude.

“I am sorry for abandoning you. It is the most dishonourable and cowardly thing I have ever done. I asked the Valkyrie to rule in my stead, because I felt she was the best person for the job. I am truly sorry for abandoning Asgard in her hour of need. Thank you, all of you. Thank you for preserving our traditions and stories. Thank you for building a new home for us all. Thank you to everyone who has helped today. Baking delicacies, creating flower crowns, playing music. All that you do, on this day and every day, to ensure that we survive, that our culture survives, is appreciated by me.

“I hope to be able to thank you all individually, but please understand, it may take me some time. I kneel before you, as your king, humbled by the faith you still place in me. I shall work to rule as a king of the people, not above them. The throne should not be an untouchable pedestal on which I am put.

“Although I do not have a crown, I kneel before you, ready to serve Asgard, completely and unreservedly.”

“About your crown,” a voice called from the stunned crowd, as all eyes turned to look at Lorelei. She walked slowly through them, people parting for her, before she stopped in front of the stage, directly in front of Thor.

“When Hela attacked, many of us realised that Asgard was in peril. As we fled the city, some of us gathered up important artefacts. I apologise for keeping this from you, your majesty, but there never seemed to be an opportune moment…” she trailed off, reaching into a leather satchel, slung low against her hip.

Several people fainted, as with trembling hands, she pulled a crown from it.

“My-my father’s crown,” Thor mumbled, stunned.

“Yes, your majesty,” Lorelei explained. “I apologise again for keeping it secret, but you had already lost so much, I did not wish to remind you of your father. I have kept it safe, all these years. I believed that one day, you would be restored to the throne. I believed that day would be today.”

With trembling fingers, she reaches out the crown as Thor lowered his head. Tears were running down his face, into his beard, for everyone to see as he sat back up, slowly rising to his feet.

A collective sense of shock reverberated around the room, and you anxiously stroked your two dogs, who sat flanked you on either side.

“Thank you, good Lady Lorelei. This truly is an extraordinary gift. I thought I would never see this again, let alone wear it. I do wonder, now, what else was saved from Asgard, but that is a matter for another time,” Thor advised. “I have but one more matter to discuss, before it is time to feast. There is much to celebrate this day, and I hope it is one that will long be remembered.”

Thor paused, taking a moment to look around the hall. His friends, his people looking up at him. It filled him with a tiny spark of confidence that everything would work out fine this time, unlike when he had told Loki it would, all those years ago, after Asgard was destroyed.

“Like the Lady Brunnhilde, I too have someone I wish to nominate to the council. Like her, this person is one who is very dear to me,” he noted, looking across the heads of everyone to look you in the eye.

Thousands of heads turned to face you as you froze, wishing the ground would swallow you up.

“I wish to nominate the Lady Y/N. She has done so much for Asgard, though her time with us has been short so far,” Thor admitted. “As an outsider, I believe she has much knowledge and wisdom to offer us about Midgard, its people, and their customs. Her counsel is invaluable to me, and I would like to offer her a place at this table, if there are no objections.”

Deathly silence descends, everyone waiting for someone to say something.

“A wise appointment, your majesty,” Leifr spoke up, and a chorus of cheers echoed around the room.

“It is settled then,” Thor exclaimed happily. “The other four positions shall be determined in due time, but now I say it is time to eat, drink, and dance our fill. There is much to celebrate as we enter into a proud new chapter in Asgard’s history.”

Everything was a blur for several hours as you try to process exactly what’s happened. Thor being king again was something you expected, and he seems to be taking it well. His speech was genuinely moving and you could see many Asgardians visibly softening to him as he spoke.

But appointing you to be one of Asgard’s eight rulers?

No. No no no. This could not be happening. You didn’t belong here, didn’t want that kind of responsibility.

Judging by the way people keep congratulating you, it definitely is happening. You barely have an appetite, pushing your food around, eating small amounts whenever Thor prompts you to try this dish or that.

It had been a productive few hours for the other three newly instated rulers. Between them, they’d managed to hash out a plan for getting the other council members appointed. They’d even found time to draft a press release with Pepper, covering the events of the day. The world media would be taken aback. New Asgard had never released any information before. Along with the details of the election, Pepper had made sure to note that the new rulers would be willing to engage with journalists going forward to ensure transparency about what the kingdom was doing, but that they would not interact with any outlet that did not respect Asgardian privacy or engaged in hurtful gossip about them.

Apparently, the prince of another country, and his wife, had done something similar a few years prior.

You sit completely zoned out, a zombie. Utterly alone while surrounded by people. Geri and Freki lie protectively at your feet, aware that something is wrong.

Even Thor can sense that something is amiss. You’re paying no attention to him eating increasingly absurd portions. He even mentioned that he was getting full and you just nodded politely, a slightly vacant smile plastered to your face. You didn’t even try to touch his stomach, where it sat pressed up against the table.

Eventually, Sam manages to make his way over, whispering in Thor’s ear. You’re dimly aware that they’re talking about you, by the way Thor keeps glancing nervously in your direction.

“Let us go for a walk,” he said, standing up and tugging at your elbow. “Young Sam said that you look like you could do with some fresh air.”

Moving on autopilot you follow him, Geri and Freki loping along behind you. He leads you down to the beach, the sun setting in the distance as Thor gently maneuvers you into sitting down on a driftwood log.

“Are you quite alright?” Thor asked, running his fingers up your bare arms as he crouched awkwardly in front of you. “You seem distant, distracted.”

“This is all just very overwhelming,” you said, looking at your hands where they rested in your lap.

“I agree, much has happened today. We can return home, if you wish?”

“Why did you appoint me to the council?” you whispered, voice shaking. “I don’t know if I’ll still be here in ten years. What if we split up? I don’t belong here, I’m not Asgardian. I don’t want this responsibility, I’m not qualified, I don’t want to do this.”

Thor’s heart sank and he let out a sad sigh, finally sitting on the soft sand, his hefty stomach making it hard to keep his balance while he crouched. He’d done it again. He’d thought only of what he wanted and hadn’t consulted you. He’d upset you, ruining your evening.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tipping your chin up to make you look at him. “That was thoughtless and selfish of me, I should have consulted you before announcing my plan. Today has been trying for you, and you were already anxious and upset. I’m truly sorry for burdening you further.”

“I know you didn’t mean to Thor, but I’m so scared and sad.”

“Oh my love, no. I really am such an oaf,” Thor said sadly, pulling you into the small amount of lap he had left. If he kept on like this, he was going to really struggle to hold you like this soon.

He wants to kiss your lips, to kiss away all the hurt and worry he sees in your eyes, to kiss it better like his mother used to kiss his and Loki's scrapes and grazes. But he lets you bury your face in his shoulder. All he can do is cuddle you while you cry, chest heaving against his, while he rubs little circles onto your back, mumbling apologies all the while.

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to upset you, to make you scared or anxious. I can see that I was mistaken, even though I only meant it as a good thing, as a compliment to your character and your intelligence. I truly know of no other in the whole of Asgard more capable than you, not even Brunnhilde,” Thor explained. “You are wise for one so young, and far more learned than any of us when it comes to this land we find ourselves in. Please, allow me to apologise unreservedly for the hurt I’ve caused. Allow me to make it right, allow me to pick another to serve in your place.”

You're so silent, shaking in his arms. It hurts Thor in a way he’s not felt since his father banished him. What if he's finally gone too far? What if this is the thing that pushes you away from him?

It scares him more than the thought of Thanos returning once more.

“A trial,” you said softly, as you raise your head.

“Pardon?” Thor asked.

“Until the end of the year, I will serve for a trial period. But if at the end of that time, I still don’t want to do it, then you must replace me, without any reservations.”

“Of course, of course. Are you absolutely sure?”

“No,” you admit. “But I am willing to try. I trust you. I trust you not to force me into anything I can’t handle. I’m humbled that you and your people have accepted me, and are prepared to give me this chance. I know it’s a great honour. So I will try to repay that trust that you have, I will try to serve Asgard, even if it doesn’t come easily to me.”

“No one who seeks power or has it come easily to them should ever be allowed to wield it,” Thor noted, rubbing his nose against yours. “Thank you, my love for agreeing to try this. I will honour your request should you change your mind at any point. I admit, I was scared that I had lost you, that my foolishness had driven you away.”

“You’ll have to do more than that to get rid of me,” you laughed wetly, wiping your face on the back of your hand.

“That’s good news, although I hope never to test that theory,” Thor told you, relieved. “Do you wish to return to the hall? I’m sure you could persuade me to have some more wine and sweet treats. As you can see, I am not quite at capacity,” Thor teased, moving your hands under his tunic to touch his taut tummy.

“I think I would like to head home. I’m emotionally exhausted and I just want to faceplant into your tummy and go to sleep.”

“Also an excellent plan,” Thor admitted, standing up with your still in his arms.

“I’m not too tired to walk,” you tried to insist, looking down at your bemused dogs as they trailed alongside the gentle giant carrying you.

“I know that, I just wanted to hold onto you some more.”

Thor’s going to be extra affectionate for the next little while, still reeling from the feeling of almost losing you. Now he finally has something to lose again, he’s resolutely determined not to let it happen.

@innerpaperexpertcloud @morganhoran1671

#Dark 'n' Stormy #endgame thor #thor #Thor Odinson #THOR SON OF ODIN #thor smut #thicc thor #fat thor #squishy Thor #Soft Thor #chubby thor #chonkythor #reader insert #Female reader #x reader #avengers x reader #reader x thor #female reader x thor #The Avengers

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skvaderarts · 4 years

Text

Happy Holidays Everyone!

Here’s my yearly Christmas fic if your interested! I love all the art you’ve been posting! Repost with links to your art and fics! Let’s make a thread!

Gathered for Greetings

I’m going to end up writing a Christmas fic every year, aren’t I? That’s okay. I just hope that next year I’m no literally writing it on Christmas day! Curse you, procrastination!

-~-

When they’d received the invites in the mail, they’d been skeptical.

Togetherness wasn’t something that none of them were used to, but it was something that they were willing to play at, if only because of the simply apocalyptic year that they’d all had thus far. Due to obvious circumstances, the majority of them had little to no experience with planning holiday events, let alone even attending them, but that wasn’t going to stop them from trying. In a strange turn of events, Nero and Kyrie were probably the most well acquainted with how holiday parties worked due to the addition of the orphans a short while back, but even then they had never thrown a party. After all, there weren’t exactly a lot of people they could invite, and they didn’t have a very spacious living area. Try as they might, there was only so much that they could do, especially on their limited finances.

But there was one unexpected additional point of intrigue that made this particular holiday get together a bit more interesting than it already seemed to be at first glance, and that was the setting that it was set to take place in. That, and who’s idea it was in the first place. Towards the start of the holiday season, V had approached Nero with a very much out of character proposition:

“... I think we should do something this year… at my house.”

Nero remembered looking at him as though he had grown a second head. Had V lost his mind? From what he knew about his generally socially challenged sibling, this particular request seemed like something he’d come up with after a particularly traumatic head injury or as the result of a late-night cheese binge. Was he caught in the middle of some kind of irreverent fever dream?

“Why do you wanna do that? I thought you hated parties.”

V had looked away from him, obviously uncomfortable with the reality that he was now going to have to explain what he was thinking. He’d figured that he’d more than likely have to do that, but that reality did little the quince the feeling of unease that he felt in the pit of his stomach. Voluntary honesty was difficult, especially when it forced him to speak on matters that he could frankly do without digging out of the lower recesses of his mind. He’d prefer to keep his problems buried deep, and this certainly counted as a problem, but he’d brought this up, so he was going to follow through.

“You’re correct, I do… but this is the first time I’ve ever had a family to actually commemorate the occasion with, and as such, the first time I…” he paused for a second, looking down at the floor with an earnest look of sadness.” I’ve never actually celebrated Christmas. Ever. Even as a child. I was hoping to change that.”

So naturally, not being a heartless psychopath, Nero couldn’t turn down such a heartfelt plea, especially from such a close member of his family. It was rare for V to ask for anything, and after the frankly hellish few months they’d had since his resurrection, he couldn’t think of a logical reason to dismiss his idea. He’d had an opportunity once or twice to do something for the holidays once he’d met Kyrie’s wonderful family as a younger child, but the idea of literally never doing anything for it at all… It actually hurt his heart a little to imagine that. Aside from cultural or even religious reasons, how on earth did that even happen?!

That was a question for another day. If his older sibling wanted to have his house destroyed by their extended family, then he was happy to help him in that regard. So in the last days leading up to Christmas, Nero, Kyrie, and Nico had brought the children over and they had spent several long hours decorating, wrapping gifts, and generally trying to keep V from having a protracted anxiety attack from the prospect of having everyone they knew at his house. Planning it was one thing, but actually doing it was another thing entirely, and he’d never been the best at long periods of social interaction. It drained his social battery to even think about it.

“Do you think they’re actually going to come over? Hell, do they even like Christmas? They barely like each other!” Nero shouted down to V over his shoulder as he shrugged and secured the last of the lights over a doorway. He was dead tired of climbing this ladder, and he hoped that the architects that built the place and decided that it needed close to fifteen-foot ceilings were burning in hell right now. But if he ever saw V climb a ladder again, he was going to have an anxiety attack.” I can’t see our old man even being the festive type. Maybe Dante but…”

He shrugged, fussing over the bottom of the gigantic Christmas tree that Lady and Trish had brought over early that morning. Where they had managed to find a real twelve-foot tall tree on Christmas day was anyone’s guess. It was probably Morrison’s handiwork, considering the fact that he’d helped them bring it over in the first place. That man could find ice in hell. Lady and Morrison were in the kitchen with Kyrie and Magnolia. They were helping taste things while the two of them finished up the last of the cooking. V had helped them cook a short while before deciding to turn his attention to the entirely bare tree. Three people in one kitchen was a bit of a crowd, but considering the fact that this had once been Magnolia’s family home, not inviting her would have been extraordinarily unkind. In an ironic twist, he’d managed to find ornaments but nothing to actually put them on. How fortunate that they’d arrived when they did.

Nico and Trish were on either side of the tree, attempting to help him get the last few ornaments on and clean up the bristles that had fallen on the tree skirt. As it turned out, V was actually horribly allergic to pine needles. They made him break out in an extremely itchy rash, a fact that he’d gone his entire life without knowing due to the fact that he’d literally never gone near a pine tree. It made the process of hanging ornaments slow and slightly nervewracking, to say the least. He imagined that this was what it would feel like to try and decorate poison oak.

“I’d imagine that they have mixed feelings about this time of year, to say the least. It more than likely brings up unfortunate memories.” He stepped away from the tree and allowed himself to slump over on the couch. All this standing didn’t agree with him.” Admittedly, I was pleasantly surprised when Dante agreed to come over. Even more so when he called back only a short while later to inform me that Vergil would be following suit. I suspect there was violence involved in that negotiation.”

Trish scoffed slightly, trying and failing not to laugh.” Oh, I’m sure there was. I don’t think either of them like parties. It’s one of the few things they agree on!”

With a relieved sigh, Nero climbed down from the ladder, thoroughly done with hanging things.” Sorry, but those are gonna have to stay up until next year. No way I’m going back up there.”

V nodded, equally tired and ready to get started with the festivities..” Agreed. It is quite a hassle. Thank you all for tolerating my request. It seems that none of us particularly enjoy large gatherings or decorating for that matter. I’m flattered that you would do so for my sake at your own expense.”

Everyone present waived him off nonchalantly. None of them minded on this one occasion. It was a welcome moment of normality in their entirely supernatural lives, and they couldn’t say that those happened very often.

“Yea, well as long as this goes better than that damn beach trip, I think we’ll all be just fine.” Nico said as she walked towards the kitchen with a bag full of pine needles.” Now don’t touch that godforsaken tree again or I’ll skin you all alive. I’m tired of cleaning!”

An awkward silence washed over the room as they thought about that trip. It had been a stressful year, hadn’t it? Between that and Belial… “yea, well if you aim low, you can’t be disappointed, can ya? That’s how I talk myself out of bed every day.!”

They all turned in the direction of the doorway, surprised to see who had spoken. Standing before them were Dante and Vergil, the two of them seemingly taking in the surprisingly festive atmosphere. It had been Lady’s idea to play Christmas music. She’d even brought over wine for the occasion. She was perhaps the most excited person there besides Magnolia and the children who were playing in the next room over with Lucia. Getting the redheaded guardian there in time had been nothing short of a logistical nightmare, but they had pulled it off nonetheless. Even Matier had managed to come over for the occasion, no doubt surprised to be invited in the first place. There were still a few stragglers who would be coming later on such as Patty, but the number of people who had agreed to come in the first place was enough for V.

Much to their collective surprise and disbelief, V actually laughed at that statement. It was a sentiment that he honestly had to agree with. It was rare that V actually agreed with Dante on something so wholeheartedly, but this was one of those occasions.” You make a valid point, Dante. I suppose I’m just glad you both came.”

Dante and Vergil almost seemed flattered by the statement, unsure of what to really say. It had taken quite a bit for them to talk themselves into coming over, but seeing everyone there wasn’t something they expected and as such, they were a little unsure of where to start. But they were willing to try, and that was what counted, wasn’t it?

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all…

Looking notably uncomfortable, Vergil glanced in the direction of the tree. It had been a long time since he’d seen one of those… It brought back vague but vibrant memories he thought he’d lost to the void of despair that was his life a lifetime ago. Perhaps actually attempting to make a few new ones wasn’t such an awful idea after all.

“... Thank you for inviting us.”

With that statement, the entire room fell strangely silent again, everyone collectively surprised to hear Vergil say something so… agreeable. It was a nice change of pace. One could only assume that he was genuinely pleased to be included in something like this, but it was hard to tell. They had no point of reference. But if the barely concealed look of surprised pleasure on Dante’s face was anything to go off of, they had done something right.

It was Nero’s turn to break the silence. He was admittedly starting to get hungry, and he was sure the children were probably driving Lucia insane in the next room. It was actually time to celebrate.” Anytime. Now let’s go eat. Kyrie and V were cooking and magnolia brought over desert again.”

Dante practically teleported into the kitchen.” Well, hell you shoulda started there! Speak up next time!”

Vergil shook his head and followed after him at a much slower pace. He was in much less of a hurry to get to the kitchen. He hadn’t really come there for the food.” At least he’s eating something besides pizza.”

Nero and V nodded in agreement. The holidays were supposed to be about the little things. It was about time they went and enjoyed them. After all, it wasn’t every day that they all got to spend time together without it being a life or death situation. They were going to savor that. Well, that and the food. The food was probably going to be amazing.

-~-

Thanks for reading this little holiday fic that I threw together! You’ll all see how this ties into the main story once we get there in Hirathe. I thought you might like this. Happy Holidays everyone! See you on New Years! I hope next year is a little better!

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mysnarkyslytherinsecret · 8 years

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Okay so I just got this imagine idea. Basically it would take place during a ball and it features Severus and the person who he has feelings for(she likes him back,neither have had the courage to speak up yet)somehow they end up dancing toghether. While she is distracted Severus glances at her and whispers "Beautiful" at the sight of her, when she turns to ask what he said he covers it up by saying that he meant the music.I haven't thought of an ending but please write it!Doesn't have to be long

Severus Snape stood at the corner of the ballroom like a particularly ill-tempered shadow, practically itching to leave.

Truth be told, he hated Ministry functions- all these disgustingly smug Ministry bastards in their disgustingly expensive robes rubbing shoulders with others like themselves gave Severus the worst sort of indigestion. Though he had no appetite, he was, in fact, holding an empty champagne flute that he’d unceremoniously emptied at least three times in a nearby bush simply to avoid having to be asked for the fifty-millionth time if he’d like some hors d’oeuvres by one of the over-eager Ministry house elves.

He sighed heavily when the champagne flute refilled itself as though by magic and glared at the nearby house elf, who’d frozen mid-snap. With a slight wave of his hand, he dismissed the elf, who looked as though she was about to start boxing her own ears right then and there for displeasing him before disappearing with a sharp pop. Severus took a step to try and explain that this wasn’t necessary, but then he realized that since it hadn’t worked on all of the house elves he’d grumbled at over the years at Hogwarts for trying to be helpful and making things worse, it probably wouldn’t work on her either.

The only reason he was at the stupid event was because Minister Shacklebolt (damn him!) had told him that the galleons he’d be receiving along with whatever the bloody award of the week was this time were contingent on his attendance. He looked up at the ornate clock near the far side of the ballroom and sighed. There were still forty-five minutes until midnight, and Severus only had eyes for the Ministry’s clocktower. Once it chimed even a single time, he could finally disappear from this godforsaken place like a sour-faced Cinderella.

He snorted into the champagne flute at the thought, pretending to be in the middle of drinking it to avoid yet another overstuffed Ministry official who looked like he was about to come over and talk to him. He’d worn his blackest, least-ornate robes, the buttons fastened all the way up to his chin like armor against being considered sociable or in any way conspicuous. He looked over at the other recipients, which were basically a bunch of the members of Dumbledore’s Army (the wankers, he thought, all dressed up like they’re playing at being like their elders), and some of the other professors from Hogwarts. Minerva had already saved him a couple of times from nosy gawkers, but she was in the middle of dancing with Phineas Fickleboro, the esteemed Transfiguration researcher from Istanbul, and Severus knew that she wouldn’t be able to save him if someone happened to find him in his concealed space behind the fat marble pillar in the shadows of the ballroom.

A buzzing near his ear made him flinch and he swatted at it instinctively. Unfortunately, he forgot that he was holding the champagne flute with champagne still in it, and ended up pouring it all over the place.

There was a loud thump as something heavy hit the ground and a shrill squeal assaulted his ears, making him wince.

“HEY! What the feck do you think yer doin’?!”

Severus knew that voice. He turned his head slowly, as if this would change the truth of the person who lay sprawled out on her back, her robes drenched in champagne.

“Miz Skeeter. Apparently, you have taken my previous instructions to buzz off rather literally,” Severus said, stepping back and glowering at her. “Good evening.”

He swept off, hoping that he looked like he was stomping away in fury instead of fleeing. Skeeter had been merciless since his survival had come to light- following him everywhere during the day and having Prophet interns tail him at night. The damn woman was a pest who was obsessed with writing unflattering articles about him. Normally, Severus wouldn’t care.

He’d been called worse by friends, after all, and Skeeter was no friend.

However, he was also in the process of having several new potions patented, and plans to open his own owl-post apothecary, so he was doing his best to avoid as much negative press as was possible.

“Mr. Snape! A word, please!”

Skeeter had apparently found her wand and cleaned herself off, for she was following after him at a frightening speed. Severus turned away from her to find that he was mere inches from the dance floor. A murmur of interest filled the room and Severus felt his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment, but at the next bellow from the harridan behind him, he forced himself into the crowd of dancers.

Suddenly, someone had taken his hand and he felt himself spun around to find Minerva’s laughing eyes and cat-ate-the-canary smile as she led him away from the livid journalist.

“Thank Merlin,” he said, before he could compose himself, “I was beginning to think that bitch was going to cast a Permanent Sticking Charm.”

Minerva chuckled. “Well I knew that it would take a fairly extreme situation to get you out into the light of day-”

“It’s half an hour to midnight, Minerva,” Severus replied, unimpressed.

“Be that as it may, it’s good to see that you’re finally putting all those years of teaching Slytherin House to dance to practice, even if it’s little old me,” Minerva continued, twirling him out and then bending him backwards in her arms.

“You do know that I’m supposed to be the lead,” Severus said, once she pulled him up out of the dip, his cheeks going slightly pink.

“You’re three decades too young to lead me anywhere, and you know it,” Minerva chuckled as they two-stepped towards the other side of the dance floor. They stopped and clapped politely with the rest of the crowd as the music ended. “Now, then, what are your plans for the rest of the evening?”

Severus was about to reply when he felt a finger tap gently on his shoulder and he spun abruptly, his eyes widening with surprise. There, before him, stood a young woman who looked rather familiar, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Her hair was short, though ringlets of chestnut brown hair curled around her face in a wild sort of way that filled Severus with a strange heady sensation in his belly. She wasn’t heavily powdered or garishly dressed. There was a simplistic, natural air to her that he instantly envied, but she carried herself with a power and confidence that made her look older than her years. Her eyes were golden and seemed to shimmer in the light of the many candles floating above them.

Instantly, Severus found himself transported back to his stammering, awkward, teenaged self.

“Severus, you’re gawking,” Minerva politely whispered to him, and he shut his mouth, which had been hanging open and making him look (he was certain) like a total moron.

“Good evening, Minerva, Mr. Snape,” the woman said, curtseying slightly

“Good evening, Miss Granger,” Minerva said kindly.

“Please, I’ve told you a hundred times that it’s fine to call me Hermione. I feel like a first year when you call me that!” Hermione laughed, and Severus noticed that her teeth were even and white.

His mind flashed back to his cruel words about her teeth, before, and he hated himself just a bit more than he usually did.

“Old habits die hard, Miss Granger, but I’m sure that there are others who can be more easily persuaded to change their ways,” Minerva replied, a very peculiar smile playing across her lips as she looked at Severus and then looked at Hermione and back to Severus again.

“What?” Severus asked pointedly, glaring at Minerva, who waved mildly and melted away into the crowd, leaving him behind before he could stop her.

“I’m didn’t wish to bother you, Mr. Snape,” Hermione said, turning her bright eyes on him and completely stopping his scowl in its tracks, “but I saw you and I just needed to thank you to your face. You saved my life, you see…and-”

They both abruptly turned towards a horrible screeching sound.

“THERE YOU ARE, SNAPE! THOUGHT YOU COULD ESCAPE, DID YOU!?” screamed Rita Skeeter.

Hermione turned away from him for a moment, placing her body squarely between him and the practically rabid journalist, her hands moving up to rest on her hips.

And then, an odd thing happened.

Though Hermione hadn’t made a sound, Rita’s expression went from full of fury to bug-eyed with fear. Slowly, she backed away and then, when she’d reached the nearest doorway, she turned and practically ran out of the building as fast as her legs could carry her.

Hermione turned back, her face still midway between the intimidating murder-scowl she’d obviously been aiming at Skeeter, but when she finally looked up at him, her face had returned to the almost radiant picture of joy. She had protected him, but not in a way that he’d needed to ask for like some groveling, simpering fool. It filled him with a dangerous, pleasurable warmth and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from her.

“Beautiful,” he breathed out, before he could keep the thought from escaping his lips, and then, “Shite! I mean…the music is…er…beautiful…and…er…I was just going-”

His cheeks burned with embarrassment and he stared up at the cursed clock, which seemed to have only moved a minute or two past the half-hour mark. Damned thing. Hermione laughed, but it wasn’t a derisive sound. On the contrary, she sounded so merry that he almost joined in.

This was it. He must be going mad.

She held out her hand. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to have this dance. These Ministry functions are so boring, but it looks like you know what you’re doing, and besides, it will pass the time so that we can both get back to our research.”

This got Severus’ attention as he took her hand, leading her back onto the floor as the band began to play a downtempo waltz. “Research?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, mirroring his lead fairly well, though she was obviously about as rusty as he was. “I’m doing research on Ancient Runes and their usage in perpetually renewable charm energy. Unfortunately, there’s not a lot of money in the field even though it’ll be dead useful once I finally get it up and running. Hence my attendance at this pompous affair.”

Severus nearly fell over. It had not occurred to him that anyone other than himself (Minerva, perhaps, but she always enjoyed seeing everyone and was far more social than he would ever be) would feel similarly, much less need the money for ostensibly interesting (although complicated) research projects. Thinking about his own research made him realize something important.

“So…er…,you mentioned that I…helped you,” Severus said awkwardly. “What, exactly might it have been?”

Hermione smiled mysteriously and Severus felt his heart skip a beat. “I’ll show you if you’d like…when we’re done with this dance.”

Severus swallowed a mysterious lump that seemed to have appeared in his throat, and he willed his palms not to sweat. The way that she said those words was both seductive and innocuous. It was maddening not to know which it was.

And though he was trying very hard to tell himself otherwise, Severus really, really wanted to find out.

The song ended as soon as the clock struck midnight and Severus blinked rapidly, wondering where the time had gone.

“Thank you, Mr. Snape,” Hermione said, curtsying slightly.

“It’s Severus actually,” he heard himself say.

“Well, then, Severus-”

“Oi! Mione!” The slurred speech came from their left and they both turned to see a stumbling, drunken Ron Weasley being held barely upright by a sheepish looking Harry Potter. “G-weh from th’ git thar.”

Hermione let out a huff of exasperation and stomped over to Harry.

“He got into a drinking contest with a centaur,” Harry explained. “She won.”

“She godda mostest perdy trac’s o’ land,” Ron hiccuped. “I wanna ride ‘er like a pony. Coconuts ‘n everythin’…giddyap!”

“I shall forever regret taking him to see Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” Harry groaned. “Mind lending me a hand? I’m about ready to hex him.”

“C’mon, Ron, let’s get you home before you hurt yourself again,” Hermione sighed, her expression beyond exasperated.

It wasn’t until after she’d disappeared into one of the giant floo fireplaces with her two friends that Severus finally realized that he still did not know what she had meant to show him.

Or if he’d ever see her again.

“Come on, Severus,” Minerva said, clapping him heartily on the shoulder, “you’re free to leave now, or did you forget while you were mooning like a lovesick teenager over your dance partner?”

“I was not mooning!” Severus snapped, pulling away from her in a huff.

“Your lovesick expression says otherwise!” Minerva called out from behind him.

“She’s far too young!” Severus shot back. “It’d be disgusting.”

“You know what’s disgusting?” Minerva asked. “People who hide behind faulty logic to avoid their feelings.”

“HAH!” Snape practically yelled. “Perhaps I prefer logic! Logic is safe. Feelings are for dunderheads!”

He finally reached the border of the wards and Apparated away, his ears still burning with embarrassment as they picked up the sound of Minerva’s knowing laughter echoing through the cold night air after him.

“You didn’t have to stay for the after-party to get the monetary incentive for this award,” Minerva mused, handing him a glass of sparkling cider. “And yet here you are. And in some rather new-looking and well-tailored attire at that. Curiouser and curiouser.”

“You do know what they say about curiosity and cats, MInerva,” Severus replied with a sniff.

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Minerva replied. “You’re merely feeling a bit twitterpated, is all. It’s not the end of the world.”

“That still remains to be seen,” Severus quipped back dryly.

A rather handsome wizard appeared, bowed, and reached out his hand. “May I have this dance, Mademoiselle McGonagall?” he said, his voice thick with a prominent accent.

“Oh, it’s been years since I’ve been a Mademoiselle,” Minerva giggled. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for your Miss Granger on the dance floor, Severus.”

“She is not my Miss Granger,” Severus growled irritably.

“That remains to be seen,” Minerva replied with a wave as she was whisked off to the dance floor.

In the end, though he diligently searched for her, she found him again. He turned, trying to force himself not to grin like an idiot when he saw her standing there, her eyes sparkling.

“Hello again,” she said. “Are you…okay?”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“You look sort of like you’re in…pain?” She tilted her head slightly and he had to bite his tongue not to make an embarrassing squeeing noise.

“Oh, I’m quite all right,” he managed to grit out, “You know how it is.”

“Actually, I’m glad that we both decided to stick around. I’d hoped we could have another dance.” Hermione blushed and Severus tried to avoid locking his knees. It would not do to keel over in front of her, after all.

“Indeed,” he replied, taking her hand and trying to mirror what he’d seen other wizards with proper etiquette training do.

“I must admit, I am looking forward to it,” he said, twirling her around gently, not daring to look her in the eye when he said it.

“Oh?” she asked.

“The…thing you mentioned…that I helped you with?” Severus wanted to disappear into his shoes. He’d been practically obsessing about it for the past few weeks, but he’d had very little luck guessing at what it could be. But what if he was overreacting? Blowing things out of proportion? Hermione seemed to be humoring him with her smile and her sparkling eyes, but what if she-

“Well, while we’re admitting things, I was a bit intimidated by you at first,” Hermione admitted, cutting off Severus’ frenzied thoughts instantly, “but now that I’m talking to you, I feel rather silly about having been afraid. You’ve definitely changed for the better, Severus.”

Severus could feel his cheeks flushing at the sound of his name. Normally, he disliked how harsh his first name sounded when spoken aloud, but Hermione made it sound beautiful.

“What about your two male cohorts?” Severus asked, trying not to let any overt malice enter his voice. He did not want them to interrupt yet again.

He’d seen the headlines earlier that year regarding the big, public fight that had ensued after Weasley had asked for Hermione’s hand in marriage, and she’d refused politely, citing her desire to continue her studies before settling down. Potter, on the other hand, was determined to force Severus to join his happy family, much to Severus’ dismay. He sent letters, cards, and even tried to visit his house from time to time. Severus had become very skilled in the art of pretending that he was never home.

“Oh, they’ve been up in the VIP room for ages,” Hermione replied, gesturing to the stairs that wound up on the side of the room and opened up into some sort of second floor atrium with charmed glass windows that shone brightly with magic so that the people on the other side could see out but no one could see in. “That’s where all the good food is, and they don’t make you dance.”

Severus glared up at the windows, as though he’d be able to see into them if he did so, but they remained opaque.

“Harry has a hard time going out in public without either being assaulted by rabid fans or attacked by people who want to be the one to kill the guy who killed Voldemort.”

Severus winced at the name out of habit though his arm did not actually hurt when she said it, thanks to his patented Cursed Wound Salve. He’d begun work on it immediately after he’d realized that his cursed snake bite and the faded Dark Mark still had some residual power left in them that left him with debilitating pain, especially when the weather changed. It had taken him almost a year to perfect it, but after he had finally erased the lingering reminders of the two biggest mistakes of his life, he’d slept soundly ever since.

The song finally ended, and he found himself being led easily by Hermione out to a balcony where they could be alone.

“Don’t worry,” Hermione assured him, “This won’t take long.”

She grinned at him conspiratorily, and before he knew it, he found himself smiling back at her. This revelation made him blush, which made him feel increasingly out of his depth. Then, she pulled out her wand, warding the doors shut and turning back to him.

Instinctively, Severus felt his fingers itch to curl around his own wand. He didn’t like being backed into a corner without an escape route, even though his bloody heart was shouting at him to shut up and stop being so goddamn suspicious all the time.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, noticing his discomfort, “but it was necessary…I don’t want anyone to disturb us.”

She pulled her arm out of her sleeve until she was bare up to her shoulder and showed him the clean flesh on her upper arm. “During the war, Bellatrix tortured me and carved a word with a cursed knife right here, but thanks to your salve, it’s completely gone. It…it really helped me heal in more than one way.”

Severus immediately felt guilty about all of the amorous thoughts that he’d been harboring. Here he was, looking at her like a regular letch and she had just wanted to show him how well his potion had worked.

Goddamnit.

“You can touch it if you’d like,” Hermione said, indicating the soft skin on the side of her upper arm. The way she looked at him was pure sex, and Severus had to stomp on his other foot with one dragonhide boot to refrain from doing as she’d said.

“Actually, I would like to cast a diagnostic spell, if you would let me,” he replied thickly, pulling out his wand and waiting for her reply. The truth was, he didn’t trust himself to touch her. It was too dangerous. It was already dangerous enough to look.

She nodded.

He cast the spell, moving his wand over the length of her arm, marveling at how there was not even a trace of the curse left over. Without thinking, he gently placed his fingers against her skin and ran them over the space she’d indicated earlier. Her skin was soft and whole.

“Beautiful,” he breathed again, this time not bothering to apologize. It was, after all, true.

Hermione let out a soft noise, something between a purr and a sound of agreement. When Severus looked up at her face, he noticed that her pupils had blown wide as she watched his fingers sliding against her supple, silken skin.

“Also,” she said shyly, “I used it on this one as well, and it…well…I hope you don’t mind me showing you…”

This time, she seemed to hesitate before moving to unbutton her plain brown robes down to her waist. Pulling them to the side enough to show a flash of her bra and her sun-kissed skin underneath, Severus inhaled sharply.

The massive scar- the one he’d helped Madam Pomfrey heal after that horrible night in the Hall of Prophecies- it was-

“Gone,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. His fingers reached out as though of their own accord, to touch the space between her breastbone where the thick cord of cursed scar tissue had been. This time, as he traced his fingers against the softness of her skin, she shivered with delight and made a soft panting noise, obviously enjoying his attention.

“You have to understand,” Hermione gasped, “I wanted to write you a letter and leave it at that, but I couldn’t…I had to…I had to see you…let you…”

“Hermione,” Severus bent forward, his breath clouding against Hermione’s cheek, “I…I do not think it is wise for me to keep doing this.”

She angled her head up so that his breath came hot against her lips, which were as flushed as her cheeks. “And why is that, Severus?”

He shivered to hear his name said in such a way. “Because…I…I want to…I…”

Hermione nudged her way upwards until her lips nearly touched his. “But what if I told you that I wanted you to?”

Severus was inordinately glad for the ward on the door behind them as he firmly pressed his lips against her with a moan loud enough to warrant casting a Muffliato for good measure. Her fingers curled around his hips gently and he sagged into her, letting her pull him against her with a sigh of need. Trailing kisses down her neck, her ran his tongue against the naked skin of her arm in the place that Bellatrix had marked so cruelly. Hermione kissed him everywhere she could reach as he kissed her, holding her tightly as he did so. There was something about her that had drawn him in from the beginning, but here, now, it was a lesson in holding back against his overwhelming desire to take her then and there.

Her fingers were sliding down the slight gap around the waist of his trousers and he moaned loudly into her mouth at the pleasure this brought him. Even with his long, imposing robes, he always wore trousers underneath, but at the moment, he was very much regretting having them.

“If we don’t stop soon…it might go too far,” he panted, as she began undoing the buttons at his neck.

“I don’t care,” she replied ardently, “This may be my only chance to see you…to properly…to let you know that I…”

She kissed him firmly and pulled away with great effort. “I’ve read all of your papers. They’re brilliant. Your potion for cursed scars saved my body, but it also saved my mind. I was having flashbacks, nightmares, pain…it was hell. Anyone who can make such an amazing item and sell it at such a modest fee is someone I can’t help but feel for, especially in light of…everything.”

“Well, then, let me prepare a rebuttal,” Severus replied. “You are gorgeous.” He kissed her nose. “You are kind.” He kissed her cheeks. “You are smart.” He kissed her lips. “And you are a force to be reckoned with.” He kissed her chest above where her heart lay. “I came to this damnable function because I needed to see you again. I would be an utter dunderhead if I walked away from all of that in the name of propriety.”

With that, he kissed her mouth deeply, his mind going blank with pleasure. Behind them, the clock began to strike midnight and Hermione mewled with delight underneath him.

“Shall we?” Severus asked, pulling away, his wand at the ready.

“Oh, yes, please,” Hermione replied, her eyes half lidded.

His heart hammered in his chest as he grabbed her tightly around the waist and they Disapparated just as the last stroke of midnight faded away.

#severus snape #headcanon #ministry functions and such #lol #dancing #ballroom #hermione granger #snamione #snanger

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kiss-my-freckle · 6 years

Text

To pay the rent.

As I was saying before, Red had a serious problem with Tom marrying Liz. From the very beginning, he spoke of having issues with it. But it wasn’t just the marriage, it was Tom’s alignment with Berlin. So I was taking a look back at the dialogues, and it’s there. Tom aligned himself with Berlin for the sole purpose of marrying Liz.

Timeline.

There isn’t really a timeline for Red having hired Tom. For Red to hire a spy to act as a friend of a friend, to watch over Liz at an arm’s length, one would think that job would’ve started immediately upon hire. At the very least, started within a reasonable amount of time. We’re given what timeline Liz handed us in Berlin’s first episode. Tom and Liz met on July 9th, 2010. One would assume Red hired Tom in 2010, since I can’t imagine Red hiring Tom all the way back in December, and Tom not meeting Liz until seven months later. March 12th of 2011, Tom supposedly had his bachelor party, or what Liz was to believe was his bachelor party. Having a bachelor party eight months before the wedding is a hard sell for me. They got married on the 3rd of November, 2011. That following year, they spoke of adopting a child for like six months.

I’m sorry, but this all appears to be quite the rush of things. If Tom had his bachelor party in March of 2011, then he quite literally proposed to her eight months after having met her. Liz spoke of it, so he at least claimed and she at least believed he had a bachelor party. So yeah, eight months in and he proposed. Not long after, they started talking about adopting a child.

Tom’s alignment with Berlin. Red’s side of things.

Red basically spoke of Tom aligning with Berlin for the sole purpose of marrying Liz. The question then becomes, what for? I’m gonna go digging for dialogue, so this will likely end up a long post. Red didn’t threaten Tom. Major simply gave him his own little warning. In the eight months before their marriage, the only thing Red did, was fire Tom. This was stated by Red in Leonard Caul’s episode. In order, this was the dialogue Red gave to us.

He fired Tom, but left him alone because she was already in love with him.

Red: When I learned that your relationship had become intimate, I fired him. I should’ve removed him, but you were already in love with him.

Tom aligned with Berlin to protect himself from Red while he married Liz.

Red: And Tom, he shifted his allegiance to Berlin. In part, to protect himself from me. But also because it allowed for an inextricable intimacy and commitment to you. And so you were married.

Red used a conjunction to combine Liz and Tom being married.

Red: And so you were married. “And” I couldn’t stay away any longer. A confluence of peril had entered your life, and I wanted to be within reach, to have influence.

Here, he quite literally stated that he reentered Liz’s life because of the marriage. Something he spoke of again in Requiem before turning himself in.

Red: As I feared would happen, elements from Katarina’s past are circling Elizabeth like a pack of wolves in the night. I put Tom Keen in her life to keep an eye on her, and he married her. Kate: This isn’t about Tom Keen. It’s about your need for control. Red: Indeed. I need to control the danger to Elizabeth. I’ve built a vast criminal network predicated on that very principal. It’s time to live up to my mission statement.

Red quite literally felt that Tom’s marriage was an immediate threat to Liz, though I’m not sure why. He then spoke of wanting to kill Tom, but letting it go.

Red: I’d come out of the mountains, blinded by rage, flown 2300 miles, absolutely certain that you must die. And then - I saw Elizabeth. I’m a violent man, a terrible, powerful, violent man. But the way she looked at you, the way she loves you - I’m powerless against that.

Then Red quite clearly stated that Tom’s alignment with Berlin was done out of Liz’s best interest. An interesting piece of dialogue if you ask me.

Red: I’ll say this for you - you’ve always believed that you were acting in her best interest. Selling me out to Berlin, faking her death - you always thought you were helping her.

Shown quite clearly that he felt Tom an immediate threat to Liz, enough that Tom’s life no longer mattered, Red sent Zamani in to cut him open on his first day inside that Post Office. They weren’t even sure he was gonna make it.

Tom’s alignment with Berlin. Tom’s side of things.

Tom basically told us that he married Liz as part of a job. This was shown through multiple dialogues from Gina, Jolene, and Tom himself.��

Because Berlin sent Jolene, he himself beileved Liz to be Tom’s target.

Jolene: Wrong answer! Elizabeth keen is not your wife. She’s your target. Tom: She’s my what? What is this? Did they send you? Really? To what? Test me? I told you that I was in love with her because that is exactly what I am supposed to be. That - is my job.

Gina should know the truth in being Tom’s lover.

Gina: That’s why you want in on this? For her? Your phony wife? The mark you dumped me for?

Tom: I’ve done everything they asked. I married the woman, for God’s sake. I’ve made her think my entire world revolves around her.

Tom knew he had Liz when he saw she drew a heart in his shoe.

Tom: It was the sweetest thing. And ever since that moment, I just felt sorry for you. Because I knew - I knew that I had you. Part of me didn’t want it to work. But it did.

People don’t want relationships to work when they don’t want to be in them, so according to Tom, he didn’t want to be in a relationship with Liz. He literally felt sorry for her.

My view of Tom’s alignment with Berlin.

I believe Tom aligned himself with Berlin BECAUSE they asked him to marry Liz. In 5x8, we’re given Major’s warning that Red will kill him if he doesn’t get out.

Major: Get out. He will kill you if you don’t.

This was the only threat Tom received with regard to his relationship with Liz. Because according to Red, he let things be.

Red: When I learned that your relationship had become intimate, I fired him. I should’ve removed him, but you were already in love with him.

So if Red wasn’t threatening Tom, and Tom didn’t want the relationship to work, then his entire purpose for aligning with Berlin had nothing to do with Red, and everything to do with his marriage to Liz. They hired him to marry Liz, and because Tom knew it would anger Red all the more, he turned to Berlin for that protection from Red. The fact that he didn’t want it to work tells me that he entered Liz’s life as part of a job. Much like Katarina’s seduction and betrayal of Red, then later falling in love with him. And as Tom clearly stated, didn’t realize he was in love with Liz until it was over. So he continued to see her as part of his job.

Tom: So, here’s the deal. Agent Keen and I were uh, married. As like, a job, you know. But you ever take one of those jobs just to pay the rent, and you find out that you’re - you’re good at it? Karakurt: You cannot excel at anything you do not love. Tom: Well, yeah, I mean - where were you when I was married? I didn’t figure that out till it was over.

So, where does Red’s statement come in with regards to Tom’s alignment with Berlin? Because Tom quite clearly entered Liz’s life - then married her as a job.

Red: I’ll say this for you - you’ve always believed that you were acting in her best interest. Selling me out to Berlin, faking her death - you always thought you were helping her.

Red’s threats and warnings.

Then we had Red threatening Tom while warning Liz. Those dialogues coming right up. This first one was a warning to Tom.

Red: You will not marry her. You married her over my objection once. It will not happen again.

The rest are warnings to Liz.

Red: He’s reckless, dangerous. He’s not worthy of being your husband, and he sure as hell is not worthy of raising that child.

Red: People say youth is wasted on the young. I disagree. I believe wisdom is wasted on the old. All you can do, is part with it, but very few will take it. Least of all, the people closest to you. They want no part of it. No matter how often I warn you about Tom, you seem intent on discovering those perils for yourself.

Red: I know I say things that unsettle you about the dangers that lie ahead. I know I anger you with things I say about Tom. But if I’ve ever given you the impression that you won’t survive this, that you and your child aren’t going to have the simple life that I know you long for, I’m sorry. Because you are going to have that, Lizzy.

Red: I’m here to ask you, to implore you - please, don’t do this. I’m telling you, no matter what you believe, Tom is not the man you think he is. Liz: You’re wrong. You don’t know him. Red: He’s a criminal. Liz: No. He’s changed. Red: Men like Tom don’t change. You’re attempting to build a life with a man who is fundamentally dishonest. Liz: No. I am attempting to build a life with the father of my child. A normal life with two parents who love one another. With everything you know about me, can’t you see that? Can’t you see how important that is to me? To my child? Red: You were wrong about him once. What makes you so sure you’re not wrong this time? Do you really want your child to pay the price for that mistake for the rest of his or her life?

Red also spits out statements like these.

Red: Everything is not fine. She never should have been at that Godforsaken church.

Liz: He’s gone. My husband is gone. Red: Your husband never existed. Lizzy, I understand why you went after Tom today. The instinct to jump in is - But it isn’t gonna serve you well here. And from the emotional point of view, this must feel like an extraordinary violation and betrayal. But for Tom, it was business.

Red: The truth is, despite your feelings, your husband doesn’t matter. Zamani did you a favor, Lizzy.

Tom’s need to be married to Liz.

As I started out this post, Tom proposed to Liz eight months into their relationship. But that’s not the only thing that bothers me. It’s the idea of Tom needing to be married to Liz. He stated this in season five. Tom like literally just got back home after being gone for months, hadn’t even really settled back in yet, and he’s saying they need to get married. Like where does this come from?

Tom: You know what we need? Liz: To have sex? Tom: We need to get married. We never got married. Liz: Yeah. Great. First, let’s have sex. Tom: Okay.

Tom and Red, both reminding us of their first failed wedding. Liz, who barely knows Scottie. The only thing she knows of Scottie comes from whatever Tom told her. And Scottie sure as hell doesn’t know Red - or his connection to Liz.

Red: You’ve entrusted Agnes to Scottie Hargrave? Liz: Yes. To Tom’s mother. Red: Who ordered a hit on your wedding. So back to that S3 wedding and Tom’s proposal. Tom and Liz weren’t even dating. Tom was there to assist her during her exoneration, but they weren’t a couple. But there he was, proposing in Devry’s episode. Again, quite the rush into things.

Tom: Okay, uh - This is a washer. But I promise you, I’m gonna replace it with something so much better. Elizabeth Keen, will you marry me? I know I wasn’t the best husband. But I - I can be. I can be. I don’t wanna be anyone else. Liz: I don’t know what to say. Tom: “Yes.” You can say “Yes.” Liz: Tom - If I’ve learned one thing from being on the run these past few months, it’s that I can’t tell you what I’m gonna want 10 years from now. Even a year from now. I just know what I want right now.

It continously bothers me that Tom believed Red to be her father throughout season five, yet he was working his ass off, literally willing to play guinea pig just to get Red out of Liz’s life. Why? Why would a man who claims to love a woman, knowing full well that she wants her father in her life - and was quite happy to have this father in her life, would he want to take that father from her? He states this in Thrall’s episode.

Red: And the only saving grace is that you will be even further away, buried in the hold of a ship somewhere in the Indian Ocean. And Liz will finally be rid of you.

Tom literally believed it was the only saving grace for Liz to lose the father that she was happy to finally have in her life after 30 years. So, back to my question.

Tom married LIz as part of a job. This was shown through enough dialogues for me to believe it with certainty. Red himself said that for Tom, it was business. Tom himself said he didn’t want it to work. Berlin, Jolene, and Gina all believed Liz was Tom’s target because that’s what he was hired for. This is aside from the fact that Red was doing absolutely nothing to get Tom away from Liz. Eight months into their relationship, he’s proposing to Liz. Immediately after her exoneration, he’s proposing to Liz. He doesn’t wanna be anyone else and they need to get married. Exactly how does Red see this as acting in Liz’s best interest? Tom sold him out to Berlin so he could marry her. So how is marrying Liz as part of a job acting in her best interest?

Let’s go to the rest of the statement.

Red: I’ll say this for you - you’ve always believed that you were acting in her best interest. Selling me out to Berlin, faking her death - you always thought you were helping her.

Faking her death. Tom being the one who told her that “Your father’s alive” when his bones were buried in a suitcase. Everyone seeming to forget that fact because they’re too worried about who our Red really is. And it was Constanin Rostov that came for Liz when she faked her death, claiming to be her father.

For a time, I felt Red was working with Howard to get Tom over to Halcyon for a reason. For many reasons I suspected it, and still do, but this post is already long enough. So I’m gonna throw this out there as a possible theory. Why Tom would want to marry Liz.

Point blank: Financial gain.

I believe Tom worked for Constantin, hired specifically to locate Masha and return her to his care since he was needing a stem cell donation to survive. Constantin, already known as a wealthy Russian, as stated in the newspaper from Katarina’s disappearance. Alexander Kirk, as he quite literally asked Liz, “What would you do if you had more money than you could ever spend?” The man is loaded. He owns NexaCo Gas, the very gas they used to fill their tank in episode 5x8 when Tom took off with the bones. They show the sign twice, taking up the screen. Then they found out Constantin wasn’t Liz’s father. What happened next? Tom spoke to Liz about Red stopping her from learning the identity of her father by letting Kirk go. Red let Kirk go in 4x8, Tom stated this at the start of 4x9. Liz basically said she didn’t care. Later in the season, Tom headed over to Halcyon, a well-off company with government contracts run by his mother. That wealth began appearing in season three, “With a seven-figure donation that built this wing.” Red told Tom not to trust Scottie. Howard told Tom not to trust Scottie. Tom not trusting Scottie ended up putting his mother in prison. Then he turned around and got his mother out by testifying against Howard because Howard turned out to be the bad guy. But the one thing Scottie did that Tom couldn’t fix, was removed his share of the company by having him declared dead. "But the lawyers are working to have our son declared legally dead so the company can be put in my trust." And she did, she signed him out in Redemptions first episode. So Tom had nothing to gain or lose at that point where his parents were concerned. He put the bad guy in prison and got his “good” mother out. Then he picked up the suitcase, came home, and was told by Liz that Red is her father. Tom all-believing it, enough that he told Nik that the mystery of her father’s identity has been solved. What did Tom do at the start of 5x3, but tell Liz they needed to get married, they never got married. Then what did he do, but work against the very father Liz wanted in her life. “And the only saving grace is that you will be even further away, buried in the hold of a ship somewhere in the Indian Ocean. And Liz will finally be rid of you.” This was despite knowing Red is her father and knowing Liz wanted her father in her life.

I don’t care if she’s Queen Elizabeth and screwing her made you king. Get out. He will kill you if you don’t.

#Anti-Tom Keen #Anti-Keen2 #The Blacklist

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