#also I want to clarify that both of the other interpretations that I parroted before giving my own thoughts are valid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

liz-allyn · 3 years

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shudder; part 6/6 [agent mobius x reader]

Series Summary: Pre-Loki series. You are one of the most dangerous variants the TVA has ever recovered, but Mobius knows what makes you tick. Five times he made you shudder, and the one time you returned the favor.

Words: 4.4k

Chapter Warnings/Tags: smut, language, soft daddy kink, sex in otherwise unsanitary conditions, writer's horribly pathetic attempt at dirty talk

A/N: Here it is guys. I struggled with this chapter a lot, also mad respect for gn!writers. I don't think I succeeded in keeping it neutral (welcoming feedback on how I can improve) so I removed that tag.

You watched a small fire crackle in the darkness of an elevator shaft, being used as a chimney. Rain spilled down the walls, running over old steel and concrete, but at least you were no longer in it.

Once you had had the strength to move off the beach, you found a footpath scaling up the face of the cliff which led to an abandoned mining post.

The population of Olympus-V had steady decline for decades, either by migration, poverty, or famine. The planet had been practically barren for years, save for some mining operations to squeeze the last of the planet’s natural resources.

It was in one of those posts where you were now taking refuge with Mobius. You sat on the ground near the elevator shaft, your clothes still soaked, while Mobius fiddled around with building a fire. You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself and tried to keep your teeth from chattering.

“You know how many centuries it took early man on Earth to figure out fire?” Mobius mused as he tended to the flames. “I mean, it’s not a competition or anything, but other civilizations had it down in like a few decades, max.”

You rolled your eyes miserably. “I got him killed, you know,” you replied, not having the energy to follow Mobius into another one of his “fun-facts-about-history” rabbit holes. You’d been quiet for a while, with Mobius having to hold both ends of the conversation. The grim tone in your voice gave him pause.

“The new guy,” you clarified, your tone flat as you spoke of your deceased partner. The last time you and Mobius had spoken, he had sang his praises. “It was only our fourth mission together and he’s dead. Because of me.”

Mobius sighed and turned away from you, “That’s one interpretation.” He dropped another piece of coal into the flame and came to a stand. “Or,” he added, “you could say he was a great analyst who made rational, competent choices and was working with the best data he had. The fact that he trusted you doesn’t make him any less responsible for the outcome.”

He idly wiped his hands on his pants, carrying on and providing no harbor for your self-pity, “I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

“No. You wouldn’t.” Your tone was icy. “Because you weren’t there.” You glared at him from across the smallish room you were huddled in, bitterness souring your voice. “You sent me away, remember?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his head slightly. “I had no other choice,” he parroted the same old response.

That wasn’t an answer that satisfied you. At all.

“Why?” you bit back with a mocking tone, coming to a quick stand. You pulled no punches. “Because the TVA told you to? Because if the Time Lords—”

“—Time Keepers—”

“—Time Fascists,” you hissed, “think that I have a crush on you, they'll zap me out of my useless existence?”

He glanced over at you, smirking with his head tilted slightly. He replied with a voice as sweet as caramel, “Are you saying you have a crush on me?”

Your shoulders dropped. “You’re insufferable.” You turned away, wishing you could find a different mine.

“Hey, considering my recent valiant and heroic efforts to rescue you,” he replied, “you’d think you’d be a little nicer to me.” You let out an exhausted sigh, but he kept going - cool as a cucumber. “I thought we had a thing going there. I mean - first, you kiss me—”

You spun on your heel. “Kiss you!?” you scoffed.

“Yeah,” he drawled. “On the beach.”

“I was resuscitating you!” you argued. “You call that a kiss?”

He shrugged innocently, a sparkle in his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything,” he responded matter-of-factly. “But, uh, yeah - it was a little underwhelming.”

He grinned slyly. You wanted to simultaneously melt into him and burn him alive. You scoffed, shaking your head incredulously.

“What was the point?” you exclaimed. “What’s the point of rescuing me if I’m nothing but a - a tool? A blunt hammer for the TVA to snuff out anyone that steps out of line?”

The pain in your voice was unmistakable, and Mobius dropped his playful banter.

“You think I’ve enjoyed spending the last - however long it's been - hopping around the timeline hunting people who are no different than me?” Your heart ached with every word, “You think I enjoy killing?”

“No,” he answered, weighed with guilt, “I don’t.”

Your rage flared. “Then why won’t you just let me go!?”

“I can’t,” he quietly explained, eyes cast down. He wouldn’t even look at you.

Fuck this infuriatingly charming, cowardly little TVA sheep-whore.

You felt the venom pooling on your tongue. “God! You’re such a company man, aren’t y—”

“I can’t!” he raised his voice in a way that you’d never heard before, stunning you into silence. He lifted his gaze and looked at you solemnly, his expression filled with regret. His words were weak, broken - barely above a whisper. “...Let you go.”

You stared blankly at him, reading the tragedy written on his features. With his defenses down, you could clearly see every word: I don’t want to let you go. I need you, forever. You are mine and I am yours and nothing else makes sense beyond that. I’d do anything to keep you safe.

Were those his thoughts, or yours? You didn’t know anymore.

Mobius reached up quickly and loosened his tie, before deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt.

You were staring like a deer in the headlights. “Wha-Wai-what are you doing?” you blurted uncomfortably with a furrowed brow.

He rolled his eyes. “Not catching hypothermia, if that’s alright with you,” he snarkily said as he pulled off his jacket and shirt, revealing a soaked white undershirt beneath. You remembered that you both were freezing and wet. “I’m drying my clothes by the fire. We still have 10 hours and 23 minutes until we hit the radiation peak.”

Ah yes, you had almost forgotten.

Ten hours until the end of the world, or at least of Olympus-V. And because Mobius’ TempPad was unbelievably conveniently out of juice, and unable to open another Time Door, you were pretty sure you had about the same amount of time left to exist.

Mobius confidently felt otherwise. He rattled on some jargon about needing a massive source of energy to power the TempPad - something about electromagnetic waves, solar bursts, radiation of a dying star, the “sweet spot” between a steady charge and a gruesome death. You honestly stopped listening back at the beach.

You were too busy questioning his motives and your own. Were you happy that Mobius was trapped with you, about to be swallowed by the sun? Or were you furious that he idiotically ran right into an apocalypse and now you both were going to die.

He quipped that at least that technically made him a hero; maybe he’d get a plaque in the TVA cafeteria. You would’ve made some kind of cheeky comeback, but you were already dying inside at that devastating thought.

“Not to be too forward, but you should probably do the same,” Mobius added, bringing you back to the present situation where he was undressing in front of you. “You’re shaking like a chihuahua right now.”

You were about to question the puzzling thought of him being in a place in time to observe a chihuahua, but then he pulled his wet t-shirt over his head. You turned your gaze away reflexively as soon as you spotted human flesh.

Here you were - former soldier, mercenary, and spy, and fearsome hunter of the Time Variance Authority - blushing like a shrinking violet. It’s not that he didn’t have a point, it was just--fuck, he’s undoing his belt— is this real life right now?

“Don’t worry,” he scoffed flippantly. “I’ll even turn my back to preserve your innocence and sanctity.”

He was being facetious but it made you wonder if he had any idea how un-sanctified you were. Your eyes widened at the thought: Did he watch that on the highlight reel too?

Now he was pulling his slacks off, and you were tracking in real time again. He kept his promise and had his back to you, allowing you the privacy to undress. And you did.

You peaked over your shoulder to see him lay his clothes out in front of the flames. He dragged over an old canvas tarp he’d found - pieces of which he’d stripped off for kindling - and moved it to a safe proximity from the fire. He sat down in the middle of the tarp, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around him.

And he kept his underwear on - boxer briefs, you’d called it - not that you were trying to look below his waist or anything.

Once he was at rest, he rubbed his hands over his bare arms to create friction. You mirrored his steps one-by-one, until you were also sitting in your underwear on the canvas with your bare backs inches apart.

You both were quiet for a long time, facing opposite directions, surrounded by the cold darkness, and the sound of trickling water. You could still hear the waves thrashing and the rain bartering on the rocks outside. The crackle of the fire - the way the flame danced and dimly lit your surroundings, brought you a sense of peace. It was almost... romantic. Even if it was the end of the world.

“I know this is my fault,” Mobius declared, breaking the silence. You could hear struggle in his voice. “I know I was supposed to stay within my lane. My purpose is to preserve and protect the timeline, and that’s it, it’s just....” He sighed, and you listened carefully, hanging on his words. Was this doubt?

It sounded like he was trying to understand himself. “Something’s different now,” he explained, with a little bit of wonder and fear. “When we’re together, I feel… like I’m someone else. And I’m not who I was before. Before you.”

You quietly listened, thinking about how much you identified with what he was saying.

“My head is telling me it’s all wrong,” he said, “that I’m making a mistake. That I’m playing with fire.” His next thoughts brought the tiniest grin to his otherwise grim voice. “When I’m with you… I feel like a dope… Reckless.” The smile faded as his thoughts sobered him. “Dangerous.”

In the silence that followed, you wondered again whose thoughts you were hearing - his or yours.

“How can something that feels so right be wrong?” he mused openly - for you, the Time Keepers, and all the Sacred Timeline - to hear.

The question that hung heavy in the air had such a clear answer, of which you were certain. Your mind raced trying to think of how to respond, how to explain. You simply couldn’t find the words.

So you turned your body towards him. You reached over Mobius’ shoulder gently to cup the side of his face, and pulled him into a kiss.

It was slow and chaste, projecting every intention and emotion that you lacked the words to describe. Each time you moved your lips, you took another breath; you wrote another line of your love letter to him. He sank deeper into your kiss, as your souls tangled and caught fire.

And then you felt it.

You were positioned behind him, with his back to your chest when a burst of lightning crawled up his spine. A desperate shudder racked his body. He pulled away from you breathlessly, his eyes closed, as you both panted and glowed with the heat of the moment.

“If I didn’t know any better,” your lips curled into a sultry smile, “I’d say I was making you nervous.”

He opened his dark bronze eyes at that, drinking you in. He couldn’t help but mirror your mischievous smirk. In an instant, he snatched you up and pulled you onto his lap. You kissed him hungrily, straddling him, as his hands glided over your body.

Your mind went foggy, as any composure you had in the situation was evaporating. His lustful kisses scorched your skin as they traveled down your neck. He lifted you higher so that he could drink more of you in. You gasped and sighed at how your body reacted to him, your fingers digging into his scalp. He groaned with pleasure as he found your open mouth again, your tongue a welcoming partner.

He pulled you in tighter, your hips grinding further into him. You felt his want, hard against your body, and you felt the last of your innocence pooling between your legs. The friction made you let out an un-sanctified moan, breaking away from his kiss. The sound of your voice intoxicated him.

You were in a controlled descent backwards as he lowered you to your back.

When did you start trembling? Has it really been that long since your last time?

Your hands danced across his chest, triggering goosebumps. Even his skin wanted you. You writhed beneath him as he positioned himself between your legs. You were bursting like a firecracker with anxious need. Your hands groped him, nails gently grazing - traveling down his torso and beneath the waistband of his boxers.

He gasped as your fingers wrapped around his organ, fluttering his eyes shut at your touch. You were on autopilot, your physical need in command of your body, as you attempted to pull his stiff erection from his boxers.

Mobius snatched your hands and you froze. He pulled your arms up, grasping your hands tightly, and pinned your wrists to the floor on either side of your head. You were hit with a wave of confusion, followed by shame.

Maybe you’d read this wrong. You looked up at him, half-expecting to read an expression of disgust.

What you found was the opposite.

His eyes— gentle, dark, and focused intently on you— telegraphed a message for you to read carefully:

You were not the one in control here.

You felt the wind of butterflies deep in your core as you realized he had clear goals for you in mind. He was asking you - imploring you - for command of your body. For the record, he already had it - whether or not either of you were conscious of it.

You lay still, save for your chest’s gentle movements, as his eyes unravelled the layers of your being. Trapped in his gaze, you were stripped bare in more than just flesh.

You were time travelling again - years into the past. The pages of your chapters fell away, until you felt like a pupil again, watching your master navigating the geography of your body.

His grip softened, giving your palms an affectionate squeeze before he released your hands. His leering gaze was already gliding down your valleys, and his hands followed, letting his fingertips brush the delicate flesh of your forearms as they travelled.

All your mind could do to focus was count your every breath as his touch and kisses grazed your skin. You wondered how long it had been for him. You quivered at the thought of him planning this moment.

He took time tasting you with each kiss - down your chest, your belly, the crest of your hips. You lifted your core with his encouragement, allowing him to pull away your last remaining piece of clothing. You were finally unveiled before him. He sighed softly, mind buzzing, as he delicately spread your legs apart.

He moved so slowly with intention, relishing each moment. You were on the verge of losing it and he had yet to touch your most sensitive areas. He could feel your hips squirm with anticipation.

“I want you,” he pacified you, “more than anything.” He tenderly kissed the inside of your thigh. “But I need to know that you want this too. Without a doubt in your mind.”

You were desperate by this point, way past “willing.” Regardless, he met your eyes, waiting patiently for your consent.

You were consumed with lust. “Please,” you stuttered in passionate exhilaration. You could barely recognize your own voice, “You can do anything you want to me.”

His face twitched into a sinful smirk. “I know.” There was that confidence again. “But that’s not what I asked.” He steadied his composure and fixed himself in your sights once again. You gazed at him with a more sobered expression, giving this moment the respect he wanted.

He watched your lips now that he had your attention. “Tell me you want me to make you feel good,” he seductively implored. “Tell me you want me to take you, here and now. I need to hear you say yes.”

The way he asked for your consent could’ve put you over the edge by itself.

“Yes,” you practically moaned under your breath. It was a sinful, thirsty plea. “God, yes, please. I want you to touch me.”

That ignited his fuse.

He lowered to his elbows, positioning his arms beneath your legs. His mouth was on you, leaving you aghast at the force. It was like he wanted more than just to please you - he relished in devouring you, like a frozen dessert on a hot summer day. You jolted and gasped, more from surprise than pain. He took note anyway, and steadied his animalistic pace.

It wasn’t long until your eyes were rolled in the back of your head. You were thunderstruck, arching your body and moaning with ecstasy.

The way his name sounded each time it sprang from your lips made him drunk. Every time you uttered it, you felt him tense and groan. It was a perpetual cycle. Your hips would reflexively buck from the intense pleasure and he would just hold on tighter. He forced your thighs apart as you encouraged him to unleash more rapture on your body.

This was not a particularly new position for you, but it was good. You weren’t sure where he got the experience, but he was really, really good.

And if “Sacred-you”— “NC-17-rated,” “parental-advisory-warning-labelled” badass-you—could just see yourself now: writhing on the floor while being laid out by an older man, one whom you’d rarely seen out of a brown suit and tie. You didn’t think this man knew how to fire a gun before, but you were practically mewling for him like a kitten.

And god, he really seemed to enjoy it.

You warned him that you couldn’t last much longer. You felt the tension building inside. You wanted desperately to satisfy him, to feel him inside of you, to have him enraptured with you. But unless he slowed down, you were going to lose it right here with his mouth on you. You knew he had needs, and you began to plead with him to let you fulfill them.

You pushed down on his shoulders, begging him to let you have a turn. He pulled away, pausing only briefly.

“Uh uh,” he chastised you with a wicked grin. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

He was back on you before you could reply, this time reaching two of his fingers into your core.

Your head dropped backwards at the sensation, and now you were obscenely begging him for more. You’d happily given up any attempt at controlling what happened next, focusing solely on the nuclear fission in your body.

You blossomed for him as his fingertips pulsed on the most sensitive flesh inside inside you. Muscles you didn’t even remember you had repeatedly contracted. He impurely hummed and he lapped greedily at the fruit of his labor.

You were gasping for air, beaded with sweat, as you came down from your high. He leaned over you to witness the sunset of your orgasm. Eyes full of lust, he pulled himself free of his boxers and discarded them as he watched you.

When you glanced down to see the stunning sight of his stimulation, it re-electrified you. You pulled yourself into a sitting position on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your legs straddled him eagerly as he lifted your hips over his member.

The erotic sound you both made as you slid down his shaft was sinful enough to cast you both into hell. You kissed him, open-mouthed, and tasted yourself on his tongue. Now that you were on top of him, wrapped around him, he seemed more frantic and less calculated with his movement.

He was gazing up at you like a lustful teenage boy, letting himself be taken by passion. “God...” he whispered, suddenly less skilled with words. “You feel so... ah!... s-so beautiful...”

“You’re so hard…stretching me so tight,” you groaned into his mouth, and he growled in agreement, nodding his head.

He broke away from the kiss, “God - yes, ah, you’re s-so tight, baby...” You grinned excitedly as you climbed and descended his length. You moaned like a porn star as you rode him.

“I can call you that, can’t I?” he said through his own breathless moans. You glanced at him in confusion. He looked concerned. His hands braced your hips as you continued your movement. “Is that okay?”

“Wha-what?”

“The pet name,“ he explained through sighs, “B-Baby? I-I don’t want it to sound de-demeaning, or... patronizing—”

Okay. Now he was overthinking it.

“It’s fine,” you urged him to move on, growing more frustrated, but now he was babbling nervously.

“I could call you something else—”

“—don’t care—”

“—’s’important to me that you know I respect you, and I’d never—”

“I don’t care, I—You can call me whatever you want. Please, daddy… Just— fuck me…”

You crashed your lips on his, but felt his breath hitch as he tensed you immediately. You either said something very right, or very wrong. The sex had all but come to a screeching halt, as you reluctantly met his eyes.

He gazed at you thoughtfully, gears turning.

Timidly, you searched his face for judgment, for any sign of disapproval, but instead, there was a look of almost— awe.

You watched the change in him as the devil overtook him. His eyes turned three shades darker, pooling with lust. His expression of wonder melted into a devious smile. Your dirty talk awakened something in him, like he was remembering a long-forgotten visceral part of himself.

He scooped you up and laid you on your back again, pulling himself out of your body. You only had a brief time to revolt, until he sat up on his knees and he lifted one of your thighs up, pulling your leg over his shoulder. You watched curiously trying to figure out what he was doing, until he gripped your hips and pulled you downward— over his shaft.

You let out a painfully delicious cry as he bottomed out inside of you. He hungrily watched your expressions and relished in the sound of your moans.

His hand braced the inside of your other thigh, holding your legs open so that you were spread at the right angle for him. As soon as he began to thrust, you were done for.

You groaned with ecstasy. “That’s... it..,” he praised you, eliciting more cries from you.

There were no more performances. There was no more pageantry. No more room for pretending to be anyone other than who you are.

You were coming undone for him, and he watched every moment. Every dirty thought and fantasy you ever had might as well have been written on your body. He studied each line.

“Oh god, Mobius—yes,” you babbled as you squirmed.

“Yeah?” he breathed, teasingly. “Does that feel good?” You nodded frantically.

Sweat beaded down his chest as his hands roamed to find your sweet spot, and another desperate wave of ‘yes’s flooded out from your lips.

“What did you call me?” he enticed, his mouth watering for your response. “What name did you call me before?” You were struggling with words, but he wouldn’t stop until he coaxed the right one from you.

“Say it.”

You tangled your fingers in your scalp, turning your head away. He thrust into your hips a little deeper, and you cried out obscenely.

“Say it,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “I wanna hear you say it again. I wanna watch you say it to me.”

More lewd noises dropped out of your mouth, as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Yes, please, I love what’re… doing t’ me… I need it, daddy…”

He groaned with a lecherous smile, biting his lip. “You are so good for me.”

Lust was dripping from each word as he drew them out. His honeyed, Southern accent had returned. His eyes were blown black as he cooed with praise, “You make me wanna be so bad.”

You were gone after that. Your head tilted back, crying out through another climax. He could hear his own voice—that’s it that’s it—moaning in the distance somewhere, but he was enthralled with your little pleas. The tones of your voice washed over him; he used them to quell the blaze inside.

He knew everything he wanted to do to you, and everything you wanted him to do. And he couldn’t get past the feeling, as he buried himself deeper inside of you, that this was all... familiar.

This picture of you, spread out gloriously beneath him, was impossibly familiar. He imagined a bed that wasn’t his own, and light blue cotton sheets that couldn’t have been his, and the sunlight peeking from a sheer curtain, and falling across the ecstasy-filled face of his lover that he couldn’t have ever married...

That was....you.

Your voice was echoing in Mobius’ head. You whined and whimpered, glowing with passion, signaling that you were moments away from your climax. And then he was here - on Olympus-V with you, and he felt you tighten and flutter around him.

The sight of you, writhing beneath him as you reached orgasm, pulled a deep moan from his chest. White hot light flooded his vision. His body jerked and reacted in unison, filling you with his seed.

For someone for whom time had little meaning, he was now obsessed - trying to catch and hold back each fleeting moment. He leaned forward, his body spent, and you pulled his chin down into a longing kiss.

His mind was spinning. His lungs were still taking deep breaths. He pulled away slowly and rested his forehead on yours, his eyes closed as he struggled to make sense of what was real and what was a dream.

“I could never let you go,” he declared, deep in contemplation. You didn’t quite understand the connection in the present moment. You didn’t remember.

“Then stay with me,” was your gentle reply.

He gazed once again into your eyes with a knowing smile. “Always.”

A/N: And I'm leaving it there. For now. Please reblog with feedback, or send me a message on your thoughts. This is my first attempt at writing in a long, long time. Also it's my first attempt at smut so be nice with your feedback :-)

THANK YOU to all of you for your wonderful comments. Please reblog for support!

@generalhugzzz @isaxbella749 @yodaboo @aloyssia @simsiddy @coloursforyourportrait

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theriannation · 7 years

Text

Cringe Worthy Cringe Transcript

Video Available on Youtube: https://youtu.be/pxxhSajqnzY

Shannon: Welcome to Therian Nation. I'm your host Shannon Jackson.

George: And I'm your host George Ross. We felt like doing something a little different today.

Shannon: There has been an increase in cringe videos and antikin blogs ridiculing Therians and Otherkin. Those videos are filled with false and misleading information. Yet, this is unfortunately where a large portion of the general public is getting their first impression of us.

George: In response, Therian Nation thought we should point out what's wrong with these videos and correct the misconceptions found in them.

(Opening and Title screen)

George: Let's just get right in to analyzing the content of cringe videos and blogs.

Shannon: Parroting and Unoriginal Content. From video to video or blog to blog, the content is always the same. These haters like to copy each other. This way, they don't need to spend time researching, learning, finding, or creating their own content. The last three or four videos that I've personally seen were almost identical to each other, but repeating false and misleading information doesn't make it true.

George: Questionable and Unreliable Sources. When cringe videos and antikin use sources like Wikipedia and sensational news, it means that they are criticizing something which they don't understand. They don't care to learn either. Their only goal is to humiliate and offend.

Shannon: Use of Unrelated Content and No Links to Sources Clips of completely unrelated subcultures or events are often thrown in to purposefully confuse the audience about Therianthropy and Otherkinity. In truth, the Otherkin and Therianthrope communities are filled with well thought out essays about our experiences. But antikin would never share links to those sources. They wouldn't want to provide that information because their audience might actually decide to make their own informed decision about Therians and Otherkin.

George: Content Edited and Out of Context. Cringe videos generally use short clips that are heavily edited to be out of context. This tactic is used to confuse the audience because they don't get the full story. Clarifying points are often omitted in cringe videos in an effort to distort the concepts that Therians and Otherkin are trying to get across.

Shannon: Use of Fake Troll Accounts for Misrepresentation and Overgeneralization.

Fake troll blogs are used because antikin want to falsely represent hundreds if not thousands of unique individuals within the Therian and Otherkin communities. In truth, one Therian or Otherkin that is singled out in a cringe video does not represent all of us. One individual's views on a Tumblr blog does not indicate that every Therian or Otherkin believes the same or behaves the same. One person's views only represents that individual. Unfortunately, it's hard to get the general public to understand that.

George: Dramatized and Sensationalized Content. When we recorded this, all of the cringe videos at the time had used only the Nano cat girl video and a VICE article “Otherkin Are People Too; They Just Identify as Nonhuman”. The problem with media like this is that it's always dramatized and sensationalized in an effort to get views. And the makers of cringe videos have further sensationalized it by insulting and mocking us.

Shannon: Use of Shock Content. VICE and other media outlets choose information and edit their stories to shock the audience. They don't care about representing us in a truthful manner. Stories are exaggerated and embellished in an attempt to catch the audience's attention and get higher ratings and more views. Media and cringe video creators and anti-kin blogs always pick young, gullible, possibly vulnerable people as well.

George: No Range of Content and Use of Only Extreme Examples. Creators of cringe videos generally use the most extreme examples that can be found, usually of young children. Clips of younger individuals are used because antikin can't accept that the Otherkin and Therianthrope communities are also made up of adults. The creators of these videos fail to find content that is representative of our communities.

Shannon: Cringe Creators and Anti-kin Seek Attention. If they weren't seeking attention, they wouldn't be creating this kind of content that degrades and insults a group of people who simply fall outside of societal norms. They do this while claiming that Therians and Otherkin are the ones seeking attention. Projection is a common occurrence in cringe videos and antikin blogs.

I'd also like to point out that cringe videos usually get more views than content created by Therians or Otherkin. I guess people just don't want to hear the truth about us from us because it's really not that interesting. So just remember that if you watch a cringe video, they are only using the most extreme examples that they can find to get themselves attention at our expense.

You may be wondering, “If you're not seeking attention then why are you on the internet?” Maybe you haven't noticed, but everything takes place on the internet now. It's an easy way to communicate and keep in touch.

Therians and Otherkin kept more to ourselves on private forums during the 1990's and early 2000's. Yes. these subcultures were taking place long before Tumblr, which antikin lie about and refuse to accept. Unfortunately, forums move too slowly for the younger generations and so discussion moved to Facebook and other social media sites including Tumblr. This was a natural progression.

The majority of Therians and Otherkin do not put our essays and experiences on Tumblr to seek attention from the public. We share our experiences there so that it's easier for our fellow Therians and Otherkin to find it. We didn't want cringe videos to screen capture our blogs and videos without permission.

Cringe videos and antikin blogs are created by bullies, bored kids and bored adults. Seriously, the adults who are doing this should know better than to pick on kids and teens who are going through the natural process of discovering who they are. However, cringe videos creators and antikin do it to get attention at our expense. And sadly, a large number of people enjoy watching a person hurl insults and hatred at other human beings.

George: Now, we would like to cover some of the main misconceptions repeated in every cringe video and antikin blog.

“You can't use the internet if you're an animal. You can't type with paws.”

No surprise there. We are physically human. We were physically human yesterday, and the day before, and we have been physically human our entire lives. We will remain physically human for the duration of our lives. No denying that. I suppose all the anti-kin making cringe videos want an award for pointing out the obvious.

People who say this clearly have a fundamental misunderstanding of what Therianthropy and Otherkinity really are. This is about experiencing life as a human and also as something nonhuman. Yes, it's strange, but that doesn't mean that we aren't going to be thankful for and enjoy and take advantage of the human life we have been given.

“Otherkin are all mentally ill and should seek help.”

We do not have delusions of physically being another creature or of having transformed into that creature. Therefore, Modern Therianthropy and Otherkinity are not mental illnesses or clinical lycanthropy.

Quote Card: First and foremost, if you are not a psychologist or psychiatrist, you are not qualified to diagnose mental illnesses.

George: “If you think you're an animal, you should commit and go live in the woods.” or “You're not an animal. You wouldn't survive in the wilderness.”

While many Therians and Otherkin do wish that they could live off-grid and be more self-sufficient, this is not unique to Therians or Otherkin. Plenty of regular people have chosen that lifestyle. Therians and Otherkin may express a love for the outdoors. This is also not unique to us. Average people are enthusiastic about hiking and camping and roughing it for a while.

Also, it's not impossible for humans to learn to survive in the wilderness for extended periods of time, but this takes years of learning bushcraft and preparing yourself mentally and physically. Because most Therians and Otherkin are busy with school or working or both, not all of us have the time or resources necessary to pursue learning bushcraft. There are some Therians and Otherkin who are not interested in the outdoors at all. We know that we are humans, and we can appreciate the comforts of human society.

Shannon: My most favorite quotes from anti-kin must be “You can't have the soul of an animal!” and “Being an otherkin is not scientifically recognized, so it’s bullshit.”

Quote Card: We can experience phenomena without them being scientifically understood or proven. There are plenty of mental, cognitive, behavioral, social, natural, etc. phenomena that can be experienced or observed that science doesn’t completely understand yet.

Anyone is welcome to have a personal opinion that animals don't have souls or that animal souls can't be in human bodies or that souls don't exist at all. The existence of souls has neither been proven or disproved. We'll be keeping our own personal opinions and personal beliefs. We won't be changing them just because someone out there doesn't like them or agree with them.

On that note, some Therians and Otherkin believe that we might have atypical neuropsychology causing us to interpret aspects of our lives as nonhuman. This is just a hypothesis of course. But if there are some differences in our brain structure or brain function, then hate and insults can’t change that about us either. And just be to clear, atypical neuropsychology or atypical physiology does not equal mental disorder. It just means that our brains might not function or be structured like what is considered average.

While science has not verified the existence of souls, or verified any of our communities' psychological hypotheses, scientists have recognized and written about Therianthropes and Otherkin. Links to those in the description to some of those articles.

Quote Card: If studied properly by knowledgeable professionals and scientists, there are many Therianthropes and Otherkin who are willing to accept the findings related to our non-human experiences, even if those findings were to be different from the way we have previously thought about and understood Therianthropy and Otherkinity.

George: Our advice for dealing with the people who create cringe videos and antikin blogs is to simply ignore them. Don't give them the attention that they are seeking. Lack of attention will hopefully make them bored of the subject and they will move on.

Shannon: If you must engage with antikin, try to stay calm and use proper English and grammar. Have some sources ready too.

George: To all of my fellow Therianthropes, animal-people, and Otherkin, be true to yourself. Stay strong.

Shannon: Leave us a comment and let us know what else cringe videos and anti-kin get wrong. Therian Nation is researching methods to help you decide for yourself whether or not you a Therianthrope, and we're also putting together information about how to discover your theriotype.

George: There's a lot more to it than meditation! Subscribe to stay informed and remember to click the bell to receive channel notifications.

Shannon: Thank you for watching.

See the end of the video for a few bloopers.

Sources

Project Shift - http://project-shift.net/

Werelibrary - http://werelibrary.com/

Therian Wiki - http://therian.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page

Therian Timeline - http://theriantimeline.com/

“An Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis of Identity in the Therian Community” Timothy Grivell , Helen Clegg & Elizabeth C. Roxburgh (2014) Identity: An International Journal of Theory and Research https://www.researchgate.net/publication/262685394_An_Interpretative_Phenomenological_Analysis_of_Identity_in_the_Therian_Community

Bricker, Natalie, "Life Stories of Therianthropes: An Analysis of Nonhuman Identity in a Narrative Identity Model" (2016). Senior Theses. http://publications.lakeforest.edu/seniortheses/63/

“Understanding the Otherkin”, Gavia Baker-Whitelaw, The Daily Dot, Feb 22, 2015. http://kernelmag.dailydot.com/issue-sections/features-issue-sections/11866/otherkin-tumblr-definition-pronouns/

“Born in the wrong species” Nano the cat girl original video, January 26, 2016 - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YWeBunPiIzo

“Otherkin Are People Too; They Just Identify as Nonhuman” VICE, July 16, 2015. https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/from-dragons-to-foxes-the-otherkin-community-believes-you-can-be-whatever-you-want-to-be

Hasty Generalization https://www.logicallyfallacious.com/tools/lp/Bo/LogicalFallacies/100/Hasty_Generalization

“Applause 7” by Free Sound Effects - https://www.freesoundeffects.com/free-sounds/applause-10033/

“Award Icon” by Free Icons PNG - http://www.freeiconspng.com/free-images/award-icon-32903

#therian #otherkin #anti-kin #cringe

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seriouslyhooked · 7 years

Text

Wedded Bliss and Asterisks (A Modern CS AU) Part 3/?

Emma Swan is an enemy of love who just happens to be an up and coming wedding dress designer. She’s convinced that a fairytale kind of romance is nowhere in her future but when she meets Killian Jones, whose magazine is covering the opening of her new boutique, things change. Suddenly Emma finds herself drawing up new plans for her life, ones that seem to all be leading towards her own form of wedded bliss. Rated M.

Part One Here, Part Two Here. Also on FF Here.

A/N: Alright all, good news on two fronts. Number one we have both POVs this week. I know, crazy! But more than that this is the chapter where circumstances align and Emma and Killian finally introduce themselves so take that, slow-burn! Just kidding the slow-burn is still real, nevertheless, expect cute awkwardness and my usual overwhelming fluff. Thank you all for reading and let me know what you think!

While Emma would never wish for less success in her work, she had to admit after a few days of off-hours that she was beginning to feel the strain of launching a new business. The past few days had been so busy that she’d not only had to stay late every evening, but go in early as well. It was exhausting for obvious reasons, but Emma knew she might have been able to bear the work load better if she didn’t have a sense of missing out.

Three days away from her normal routine meant three days of not seeing the man on the train, and as sad as it was to admit, that lack of his presence actually affected her mood. Emma would never confess that out loud (because it was embarrassing to say the least), but her largest grievance wasn’t the constant things needing her attention or the inability to walk away from the store at a decent hour, it was that she was being denied her chance to see him.

Today, however, Emma successfully managed to fend off early meetings and she was riding her usual train. All morning she’d been bubbling with excitement despite how foolish that was, but it couldn’t be helped. It felt like this big wonderful thing and Emma decided to let herself have this. If hot guy was going to relieve some of the tension she’d found at work, so be it. Everyone had their vices, right?

There was only one problem: the train this morning was absolutely packed with very little standing room. Worst of all, Emma was surrounded by abnormally tall people. This made it impossible to see much of anything and made the already existent stuffiness of the car that much worse. Emma barely breathed the entire length of her trip (thanks to the stale odor of must, cologne, and cigarette smoke that hung about), but her real moment of ‘are you freaking kidding me right now?’ came when her stop for work finally arrived and the callous businessman beside her knocked her portfolio to the ground, sending her sketches flying everywhere.

Emma cursed as she hustled to grab everything, barely evading the other entering and exiting passengers, but she grabbed all her sketches just in time to get out before the doors closed. As she did she caught sight of someone out of the corner of her eye. Her heart picked up in that moment, but she wasn’t entirely certain it was him, and before she could see one way or the other the doors closed and the train moved on leaving a flustered and now disappointed Emma staring after it.

But unfortunately New York waited for no one, and Emma was forced thanks to the less than stellar ambiance that clung to the subway platform and the other people who were now staring at her to ascend the steps and head to work. She wove through the bustling crowds of people a little slower than usual, feeling that lingering bit of regret for having missed him, but eventually Emma resolved to get over it. She had too much going for her and too much on the line to be in this kind of funk. Besides, there was always tonight, at least if she could use this emotion for good and be productive enough to leave on time.

“There you are, and at such a more reasonable hour. How did it feel not to wake up before the sun today?” Ruby’s words were pitched Emma’s way before the door had even closed behind her but Emma couldn’t fend off her smile.

“Let’s just say I can enjoy my coffee the old fashioned way instead of injecting it like I have all week.”

Ruby grinned and waved Emma with her towards Elsa’s bakery citing the need for a team meeting, but Emma knew ‘team meeting’ was likely code for gossip and breakfast. Not that Emma minded. Both sounded like pretty good remedies to the lackluster start of her morning, and as soon as she caught sight of Elsa’s famous chocolate chip muffins Emma knew at the very least she’d get a necessary chocolate fix.

“Okay, so as you all know we have had a fantastic first week -,” Ruby’s words were quickly interrupted by Mary Margaret.

“But we’re not jinxing anything!” Ruby smirked and clarified.

“Right. For the superstitious ones among us we are happy for this turn of events but still working hard. There’s a lot to do, but I think I’ve found a way to keep the momentum going for a bit.”

“Oh let me guess! Skywriting?” Emma asked as Elsa giggled from behind the bakery counter and posed a ridiculous idea of her own.

“A blimp?” Ruby shook her head and countered with her own lunacy.

“No, I actually found a dozen people to get the store logo tattooed on their chests and then do an interpretive dance through Times Square.” A beat past before all four friends laughed at the excessive silliness. This was typical for them; trying to out-weird the other with crazy situations that would never come to pass.

“But on the off chance those dancers fall through…” Mary Margaret prompted and Ruby regained her composure.

“In that marginal slice of possibility, my friend Belle who works at Citizen NY reached out. She’s thinking of doing a feature piece on us.”

“Citizen NY?” Emma asked, more excited than she probably should be and all her friends looked her way.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Ruby asked.

Emma schooled her features even though she was actually really excited. Who knew? Maybe her stranger on the train would see the article and recognize her. The idea was intriguing and too exciting given the situation. She should not be subjecting herself to interviews for the sake of a man she’d never even spoken to. No, any decisions like this needed to be about the business. Hot guy couldn’t factor in.

“No problem. I just read it.”

“You – Emma Swan – read a non-fashion oriented magazine?” Ruby posed the question as if this were the single most unbelievable thing she had ever heard, but Emma merely rolled her eyes making Ruby laugh. “Anyway, yes, Belle works for them and I guess some stories didn’t pan out last minute so they’re hoping to get us in for the issue on stands the week after next.”

“Wow, that quickly?” Mary Margaret asked and Ruby nodded as Elsa jumped in with her thoughts.

“Sounds great! Any idea what kind of cake she likes? We probably want to butter up the reporters right? I made the most to die for hazelnut cream at home last night when I couldn’t sleep. I mean seriously no one could turn it down. Unless she’s allergic. Is she allergic?” Ruby and Elsa had some animated back and forth about menu planning as Emma let her more cynical tendencies rise to the surface.

“So what is she going to write about? I mean what’s the angle, other than the boutique?”

Emma knew there had to be an angle. There was no way Citizen NY was going to just come here and do a fluff piece. Everything that they wrote and published told a story, and as much as Emma loved the shop and was proud of what they were doing, outlining the basics of their vision wasn’t as captivating as the other pieces she’d read in that magazine. There needed to be something more enticing and more applicable to more people.

“We are.”

“Us?” Emma, Elsa, and Mary Margaret all parroted back.

“Yup. Picture this -,” Ruby used her hands as if she was framing the shot of a movie and let her dramatic flair take over. “We pan in on Columbia University freshman orientation. Four girls from four corners of the country, all scared and feigning otherwise, meet on the first day of move-in and realize they have three soul-sisters they never even knew about.”

Everyone laughed at that and Emma waved away the continued narrative. They all knew the story of how they’d found each other after all. It had been one of the best days of her life. She arrived at school on a scholarship she’d worked her ass off for completely ready for four more years of people not actually caring about her one way or another. Instead she found lifelong friends on the very first day and now ten years later they were all of them closer than ever. This was truly Emma’s family and she knew all of her friends felt the same way.

“So how intimate are we talking here?” Elsa asked and Emma knew that she had reasons to be somewhat wary in spite of her earlier enthusiasm.

Elsa had a high profile family, all of whom were fantastically lovely and supportive (despite the fact that Elsa, who was essentially an heiress) decided to bake cakes for a living. Even with their support, however, Elsa never wanted to reflect badly and if this was the kind of piece that would get too personal Elsa would never feel comfortable and neither would Emma though for very different reasons. Emma didn’t have a family home (okay, more like palace) in Newport to visit on holidays. She wanted nothing to do with any of the foster families she’d ever been a part of or even any of the group homes, but she also had no desire to dredge up past pains for the sake of a story.

“Belle’s cool guys. She won’t push. We have a lot of control here, control we wouldn’t have in another situation.”

Ruby looked to Emma and silently promised that this would be okay, and there was no one Emma trusted more to give her the truth than Ruby and no one who would fight harder to keep their good names protected than her friend. Emma nodded her agreement, knowing the others would follow as soon as she did. When they were all on the same page Ruby clapped excitedly and told them that interviews would happen early next week before getting called away on some store business. Mary Margaret followed close behind, but Emma lingered, wanting to savor the last of her coffee and her final five minutes of freedom before her day got hectic.

“So…?” Emma glanced up at an expectant Elsa and furrowed her brow.

“So what?”

“Did you see him this morning?” Emma willed herself not to blush and since Elsa’s smile didn’t get any wider she had to believe she was successful.

“No I didn’t.” It was impossible to miss the remorse in her voice and Elsa frowned, her hand finding her hip and a look that said she was trying to solve this problem appearing on her face.

“Well I’m sure he was just busy. There’s always tonight right?”

Emma sighed. Was there always tonight, though? Or was she coasting through her life assuming this guy would always be there? He wasn’t a sure thing, and the thought that he wasn’t permanent left this subtle ache in Emma’s chest even if it was totally mental. But for right now, Emma needed to vent her bit of regret without facing any judgment and Elsa always knew exactly how to handle those moments.

“I should have invited him to Graham’s.” Elsa looked surprised and Emma continued on. “Ruby suggested it on Monday night. She was joking, but all week I’ve been wishing that I did or that I at least said something.”

“So why haven’t you?” Emma waved her hand around in an anxious gesture.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just…” She trailed off, hating how weak it made her sound to admit that she was terrified of putting herself out there.

“Scared?” Emma nodded.

“What if I’ve built this all up in my head, Els? What if to him I’m just some crazy woman riding the same train as him who let her imagination run away with her?”

Elsa considered that for a moment and Emma appreciated the genuine thought Elsa put into this little conference. There was no instinctive reaction. If she asked Mary Margaret, her friend would cite the need for hope and belief in love. It was a reflex for their pixie-haired friend, just like how Ruby’s reflex was to be assertive and go for it all the time. Emma didn’t work that way though. Having walls around herself purposely installed to keep people away made the idea of putting herself out there so much worse. She’d been rejected her whole childhood. The last thing she wanted was to face that again. But she couldn’t stop the little voice in her head saying she was wrong to keep away. This guy was important – this guy mattered.

“You know what I think? I think you’re never going to know unless you try, and I think life only waits so long for us to make our move. If you let fear guide you, if you hide away because the risk is too great, you could miss out on everything.”

“You’re right. Besides, it’s New York and if he ends up being terrible I never have to see him again.” Elsa laughed and agreed. Sure, Emma would have to change her train habits, but that was so doable and the past few days were the proof.

“He won’t be terrible, though.” Emma tilted her head curiously.

“How do you know that?” Elsa shrugged.

“Because I trust your gut and your gut has been talking up a storm about this guy.”

That comment helped more than Emma could say because she too had long believed in the power of her instincts. She thanked Elsa and managed to get out of there with only three muffins in hand (which when it came to Elsa and her constant need to feed people, was a rousing success). As she moved back to her showroom and into her office though, Emma realized that something was missing. Her sketch – the one of the fairytale dress. It was gone.

“Ah, crap!” Tiana looked up at Emma with concern. “Sorry I just think I lost one of my sketches on the train. You know the one I made our first day?”

“The one that would bring the coldest heart to tears?” Tiana asked and Emma gave a half smile and then nodded, prompting a sigh from Tiana. “Was it a douchebag banker or an angsty teen?”

Emma’s attempt at a smile grew to an all out grin. She loved that despite the unfortunate nature of the situation, Tiana knew the struggles of train commutes well enough to guess what had happened. She also appreciated how her friend was always able to rein things back in when other people might consider the situation a crisis.

“Banker. Definitely banker.” Tiana sighed and linked their arms.

“Well boss there’s only one thing to do.”

“Cry?” Emma offered sarcastically.

“Nope. Keep on hustling until you make another dress just as magical.” Emma laughed, knowing it would never be that easy but that Tiana was right. There were so many more things on their plate left to do. She didn’t have time to be sad, just keep moving and hoping that somehow that dress would come back to her in some form or other.

…………….

E. Swan.

Killian traced the same signature scrawled in the corner of her sketch for what was likely the hundredth time today. It was all of five letters written in script that spoke to the same artistry of the dress above it, but these ones in particular had yet to leave his mind in the span of his whole day. Hours past and it felt like every minute was filled with musings on what the E could stand for, or if a woman as graceful and beautiful as her could truly bear a last name as fitting and as perfect.

This was of course unfortunate from a strictly professional standpoint. There were a million things to do, deadlines to be met for next week’s issue to go to print, but more and more the woman on the train moved back to the forefront of his mind. Killian should have been focused on the hiring process for his necessary new writers or the upcoming party to celebrate the fifth anniversary of the magazine in a month, but just as he would make headway in any area thoughts of her returned and he found himself opening his drawer to pull out the sketch once more.

This morning had been rough, the commute was less than optimal, and it wasn’t until the very last second when his stranger was about to move off the car that he caught a glimpse of her. It was a bittersweet situation, for one second she’d been looking lovely if a little disappointed as she glanced around the train, and the next she was jostled by a careless passerby, sending her sketches into disarray. She gathered them all quickly, too soon for him to make his way across the car to help as he’d attempted to do, but as she slipped out he noticed one last drawing left behind.

Before any less-enthusiastically invested riders could trample or pick up the sketch for themselves, Killian retrieved it, finding himself amazed by the sheer volume of talent that jumped off the page. The lines were delicate but decided and Killian wasn’t exceptionally well versed in fashion, but he knew the way these sketches looked was out of the ordinary. It wasn’t dramatized like a bit of animation, but detailed. The figure and the dress itself were more true-to-life and it spoke not only to an amazing mind for dress creation, but for art as well.

So she’s beautiful and brilliant, Killian had thought to himself on first inspection and the sentiment remained all through the day anytime he let himself indulge in looking at her work.

Clearly the lady was entirely out of his league, but this circumstance of fate made Killian feel like the stars were aligning. Finally he had his in, a way to interact with her without seeming like an insane person, and he’d been anxiously awaiting the moment when the work day ended and he could rush back to the train and see her. It wouldn’t be long now but Killian was a mess to say the least. He was a bundle of nerves parading as a functioning human being, but Killian couldn’t recall ever feeling more alive than he did with this newfound hope.

After their last encounter Killian had been ready to make his move and introduce himself. Thanks to the insistence of that couple on the train and the continued outcry from his heart, he was truly determined to push past his reservations and go for it. But then she’d been missing. Three days past and Killian didn’t catch a glimpse of her. It felt like the cruelest trick of fate. Finally he was man enough to say something but the chance had slipped away. Never again. The Universe had made itself clear enough to him – there were only so many moments that could possibly be seized and he was claiming one and claiming it soon.

“Oi, Boss Man!” Killian glanced up to his doorway and found Will leaning against the door jam with his arms crossed, an amused look on his face.

“What do you want, Scarlet?” Will’s grin widened as he sauntered into the room, coming in to take a seat.

“Well aren’t you just a ray of bloody sunshine?” Killian mumbled something about his friend being a smug bastard as Will chuckled. “I’ve just come to see if you’re all right.”

“I’m fine,” Killian replied too quickly. He almost groaned aloud at the mistake. His lack of cool was going to elongate this conversation, which was the last thing he needed.

“Really? Because you’ve been – and remember as your best mate I can say this to you – a bit of a downer all week. Then this morning you’re up in the clouds. Is it a plane? A blimp? No, it’s Killian Jones, walking into interns and forgetting basic rules of shipping things to print!”

“I didn’t run into any…”

The words died on his lips as Killian recalled that he actually had. When he was walking in this morning elated from finding the picture from his mystery woman, he’d nearly trampled one of the young lads here through school. He apologized of course but as a man who prided himself on always being aware and alert, it was a dead giveaway that something was up. If that weren’t bad enough he’d also gotten mixed up on the most basic of scheduling items for the printers and Will and Tink had born witness to it. Killian’s jaw ticked as he tried to brainstorm a way to get himself out of this situation but nothing came to him.

“So are you going to tell me what’s happening or am I going to be left to assume? You know I love a good story. Here let’s think of one right now -,”

“All right, all right. Mercy.” Killian looked up to the doorway confirming that the door was closed and then looked back to Will.

“I met someone.” Well technically that wasn’t true. He’d seen someone rather a lot and tonight he was going to meet her, or at least he hoped.

“One of Liam’s girls?” Killian immediately glanced up at his friend who seemed truly curious.

“No! And how did you know about that?” Will shrugged. “Liam told you. Of course he did. He’s bloody insane.”

“He’s uh… involved.”

Killian looked at Will and the two of them both chuckled after a moment at the understatement. Since they were boys Liam had been asserting his role as elder brother firmly, and when they lost their mother too soon that inclination only grew. He moved from brother almost to father in many ways, and that meant meddling, an awful lot of meddling.

“Well no. Despite Liam’s original wishes I’ve no need for matchmaking.”

“Because you’ve met someone,” Will countered easily.

“Aye.” Will considered for a second in silence and then understanding seemed to dawn on him.

“Is this why you’ve been riding the bloody train all the time? For a woman?!” Killian kept his face as neutral as he could though his instinct was to wince.

“I told you it’s about -,”

“Your carbon footprint. Yeah, yeah I heard you. I just didn’t believe you, mate. But a woman… well that makes so much more sense, doesn’t it?”

“You would know.” Instead of trying to deny Will sighed.

“That I would, mate.” Killian felt sorry for his friend in that moment. There was a level of defeat in his usually happy appearance that made Killian uneasy. He wished he had a way to fix this for Will.

“You realize we don’t have a rule against fraternizing, right? Technically you could see Belle and there wouldn’t be any repercussions.” Will barked out a pained laugh.

“Right, until the moment I ask and she’s mortified because I’m her boss and she’s not interested.”

“What makes you think she’s not interested?” Killian couldn’t claim that Belle was helplessly and irrevocably in love with Will, but there was certainly something there, a bond of some sort that he wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be more than mere friendship.

“What makes you think she is?”

“Tink would know. Tink knows everything. All I have to do is -,” Killian was raising his hand to press the intercom button as Will jumped from his chair.

“No!” Killian grinned. “I mean not now. There’s a lot going on. Too much to be starting something.”

Killian might have agreed with Will on that before. He’d often felt the same way, but recently it had been made clear to him that waiting wasn’t the answer. Sometimes a man just had to bite the bullet and go for it, even if the prospect of rejection was a bloody nightmare.

“We only have so many tomorrows, Will. Remember that.” Will stood up and nodded, clearly ready to take his leave.

“Thanks for that, mate. You’re a regular fortune cookie. Oh and you better hurry or you’ll miss the girl.”

Killian looked up and realized Will was right. He was later than expected thanks to this little visit and he had to get a move on. He didn’t delay anymore, wishing the people he saw on his way out a goodnight, but not tarrying any longer to discuss weekend plans or last minute details for the printers. Instead he made record time to the station and hopped on the train, his hands shaking from the adrenaline.

This is it. This is the moment. Killian thought to himself as her stop arrived but when she boarded the train he was struck a little speechless. He’d been denied the chance to truly see her in all her glory this morning, congested as the commute had been, but now he was left mesmerized, caught in the rapture of his own thoughts when he could be actually talking to her. When he realized that, Killian’s feet took a step closer and then another until he was just beside her.

“Excuse me, miss?”

The woman jumped at his words and her hand immediately flew to her chest. He could see the strain in her neck that came from being surprised, her heart rate jumping as he’d made himself known. Killian hated to think he scared her, but when her eyes caught his and he was able to see the real intricacy in those jade-colored pools those thoughts flew from his mind. All that was left was this feeling like he’d seen light for the first time in forever.

“Oh sorry. You just – I mean – uh, hi.”

The stammering from anyone else might have caused Killian to wonder what was wrong, but he could see the mirrored emotions playing across her face that he felt in his chest. Perhaps it was merely wishful thinking, but Killian swore he saw the faintest trance of a blush on her cheeks and a look like she was just as frazzled with sensation as he was. When he realized he’d been staring at her full lips and the way she got those words out for a beat too long, Killian cleared his throat and glanced back up at her eyes once more. Their impact hadn’t lessened, and it felt like a miracle he was able to get any words out at all.

“I believe you dropped this earlier.”

Killian handed her the drawing but it took her a second to tear her gaze away from him. In that moment he knew for a fact that this connection wasn’t simply one sided and his chest filled with pride. This woman saw something in him, something attractive, something worthwhile. She was guarded, a bit cool on the surface when he’d seen her from afar, but he could feel the tension between them. It promised something too delicious to describe and he was remiss when her eyes looked away until he caught on to how happy his returning the sketch would make her. Never in his life had something felt as powerful as her smile. He was consumed by it and wanted nothing more than to see her always just as joyous.

“You found it! Oh my god you are my hero, you don’t even know.”

Her fingers grazed against his as she took the picture and it was lightening to the touch. But as the car swayed a little harsher than normal around a bend, she moved forward, her hand resting on his arm to steady herself and he was done for. She blushed again and after a moment of holding onto him she apologized. Why she would ever do that, though, he couldn’t be sure. Unless of course he wasn’t as transparent as he felt and she couldn’t tell that this was the highlight of… well very possibly his entire life.

Killian knew without a doubt that the world lacked words to describe this feeling. He knew it was merely a turn of phrase, her calling him her hero, but the look of sheer relief and the happy smile on her face that lingered even after her slight embarrassment about falling into him sealed something inside of Killian. He’d long known that she was different, that there was something out of the ordinary about this beautiful stranger, but it went so far past everything he’d thought it could ever be. He was lost already, and they’d hardly said a word.

“Forgive me, love. A real hero wouldn’t solicit a favor after a good deed but I was hoping you might repay me with your name.”

The woman blinked up at him, clearly a little dazed until a humorous smirk played at her full lips. He’d never felt the urge to kiss somebody so profoundly in his life, but she was temptation in its most elevated form. Still he held back, needing her reply more than the chance to steal the press of her lips on his. No, when a kiss came, Killian decided, she would be the one to instigate it. Then, and only then, would he let his heart move as it pleased.

“Anyone ever tell you that you might be just a touch too charming?” Killian laughed at that and noticed the way her features softened when he did. She extended her hand as a means of greeting. “I’m Emma.”

“Emma Swan?” Emma looked surprised and then Killian countered. “I may have glanced at the signature there once or twice.”

“Oh, right.” She smiled again and Killian stood there like a fool, falling into the way it illuminated her whole person. She was already arguably too gorgeous for him to handle, but like this, and with her attentions aimed at him, Emma was a force of nature.

“So are you going to tell me your name or…”

“Oh shit – right, yeah – it’s Killian. Killian Jones.”

“So not Chad?” Killian felt his brow rise at the peculiar question.

“Not to my knowledge, no. I’m relatively certain this has always been my name.” Emma laughed and the sound filled the whole car and his whole world in the process.

“Sorry. That was a weird thing to ask. It’s kind of a long story.”

Killian couldn’t help himself from raising his hand in that moment and tucking back a strand of blonde hair that had fallen from her hair tie. He watched as her eyes widened as he did it, but she never pulled away. Actually Emma inched a bit closer when his hand eventually moved away back to his side. It made retreating that much harder, but he had to be a gentleman. The last thing he wanted was to come on too strong and scare her away.

“I’ve a feeling any story of yours is worth the wait, Emma.”

Her eyes filled with something in that moment, something Killian couldn’t exactly read but there was a force behind it. Whatever Emma was feeling, it was intense, maybe even as strong as the pull that he felt to her right now. Killian wanted nothing more than to ask her what she was thinking or even to lay out all of his thoughts for her, to show her that whatever was on her mind was safe with him, but at that moment he caught the tail end of the automated voice announcing the next station.

“Maybe another time. This is kind of my stop, which means…”

“That I missed mine. Bloody hell!”

Emma laughed again as she stepped out of the train and Killian followed her. He wasn’t actually frustrated though, and he couldn’t regret that he’d messed up his usual commute, not when he’d had this chance to get to know Emma, to get to finally see her and talk to her, and to confirm what he already knew – that she was someone worth knowing and worth letting in.

“Well, thank you again for finding this,” Emma offered as she slipped the sketch inside her portfolio and Killian assumed it was her way of putting distance between them. She was ready to say goodbye even if he never would be.

“My pleasure, Swan.”

Her eyes sparkled at his use of her last name and she smiled before waving and turning away. He watched her go, wondering what a woman as intriguing as Emma might be doing for the weekend, when she turned around and offered him a final question.

“See you Monday?” Killian felt his heart skip at the prospect and the idea that Emma would be looking forward to seeing him again.

“Aye, love. I’ll be here.”

“Good.”

With that Emma turned up the steps and headed out into the world, leaving Killian standing there with a grin on his face he didn’t bother trying to conceal. The truth was he couldn’t pinpoint a happier moment in the whole of his life (even if he hadn’t asked her to dinner as he originally intended), and though it might feel like an eternity between now and Monday he was hopeful, knowing that in just a few days time he’d get the chance at seeing more of Emma and maybe getting to convince her that they might be more than strangers on a train.

That thought alone was enough to fill him with a boundless sort of energy, and Killian decided not to wait for another train but to walk the three blocks back to his apartment. And all the while his world was filled with Emma Swan and the belief that he’d finally found the person he’d been unknowingly searching for for years, a person who made his heart feel whole and the whole world seem new.

Post-Note: So there we have it. The scene has been set, the first words have been spoken, and I am surrounded by feels. It’s becoming clear to me that I needed a new story because this early phase of sketching out where to go from here and reaching all the first milestones is fantastic. I really hope that you guys enjoyed and that you can all bear with me on this slow-burn. Let me know what you think, and as always thanks so much for reading!

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