Only a Crush
I have a new obsession: Glee! I watched the second episode for the twelfth time, and then my brain spit this out.
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“Hey, Emma.” She looked up from the fountain to his heart-breakingly adorable face, stretched wide in a hopeful smile. “I found these new disinfectant bleach wipes. What do you say? Boys’ bathroom, the science wing, nine o’clock?” He could not have practiced looking more seductive yet casual, she thought miserably.
With that, she couldn’t. She just couldn’t take it any longer. “Will, what are we doing?” His face froze. “You’re having a baby,” she continued softly. Confirming her suspicions, he didn’t react with shock but blinked, looking wary at her next step. “And anyway, I have a date.”
“That’s great,” he said, sounding enthusiastic. “With who?” Was that jealousy in his tone? Were his eyes narrowing slightly as he injected happiness into his voice?
“I’m going to go to Tulapalooza,” she said, accidentally making it sound like a question, then forced herself to say firmly, “with Ken.” There was definitely jealousy in his face now. You can’t have it both ways, Will Schuester, she thought with anger.
Emma forced herself to walk around him, feeling the bond between them stretching with every step. She nervously wondered, like Rochester, if it would snap and she would take to bleeding internally, as she tried not to cry. She caught a whiff of his cologne as she passed close by, and was catapulted into memories of the night before. He’d touched her, deliberately, trying to help her overcome her phobia. He had used himself as an incentive, taking the attraction that they both felt on a subconscious level and using it against her.
He’s not allowed to do this, she thought vindictively. I’m trying to keep myself from falling further, and he’s all but dancing naked in front of me, taunting me with what I can’t have.
With that, she tossed her hair. She would go on this date with the sweat factory, even if she was miserable the entire time, because she needed to get over this forbidden crush. It was only a crush, after all. It’s not like she was in love with a married man, because that was so much worse.
Only a crush, she told herself firmly as she walked away, refusing to look back, even as she felt the burn of his gaze on her ramrod-stiff spine. She blinked away more tears, and repeated, Only a crush.
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I’m thinking of writing more, maybe from his perspective. Because he totally knows what he’s doing, the bastard. You are married. You are not allowed to fuck with people’s lives like that.
But I can’t help but love him and hope that they do, somehow, get together. (somehow without her being the reason he leaves Terri, because you never want to be the marriage-breaker.)
Not that I’m speaking from personal experience… and that’s not why I’m extra-bitter towards him…
…and the Pirate, ch.8
A/N: I fixed it! This is the bright-shiny-and-new chapter.
This chapter gives a little explanation, and perhaps a bit more insight into the Captain, but hopefully not too much. 
Chapter 8:
(flashback to a few days ago) (I warned you guys that the timing is a little shifty) :p
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The Captain left the camp in a foul mood. The natives were clearly keeping something from him, and he’d felt so certain that he was missing something right before his eyes. There had been a moment when he felt a tingle of awareness, an electric frisson of recognition running through his body, as if his very blood knew something he did not. He’d looked about for a clue, but had been unable to see anything out of the ordinary, and his mood darkened even further.
He stormed about the jungle for a while, then had a revelation. The mermaids! It had been explained to him they were half within this world, half… elsewhere. He’d avoided them for as long as he’d been on the island, and their people operated under a shaky truce. In truth, he was uncertain and cautious around what he did not understand.
He found his way to their lagoon, wary of their seductive intensity as soon as he saw the wildly feminine forms frolicking in the pool below. He’d heard the stories his men liked to relay, and while he outwardly scoffed, he knew that they were a force to be reckoned with.
The mermaids spotted him immediately, and surfaced, watching him quietly. The leader reached up and beckoned him closer, granting him an audience. She said nothing, but he instinctively knew that he should shed his outward apparel, and bit back internal sneering at the heavy symbolism implied by his actions. He left his hat, sword, and coat behind, approaching them as a man instead of a Captain.
He bent down on one knee in a posture of respect but not submission. The girls swam closer, visibly pleased with his more approachable appearance. The leader reached out to him with a slow smile, but he drew back, keeping out of range. “You know why I’m here,” he said firmly. “What is happening to me? Why her?”
She shrugged, the casual move looking seductive and alien at once. “We will only say that you are connected at the deepest level. However, your confusion is due to her stubborn nature. She is largely unaware of the bond, and can only feel it when she’s particularly susceptible to this place.”
He sighed. He had wondered; now he knew the truth. “But… why? Why are the two of us linked in such a fashion?” He refused to admit that for the first time in a very long while, he was afraid. He did not know what this meant, and to be so deeply joined to another living person did not bode well for his black-hearted reputation. He had barely been able to resist her when she’d been a young girl, but now that she was full grown, and he could feel her, he knew that he was helpless to withstand her. What if his enemies discovered this supernatural union? He pushed the icy trickle of fear away, and focused once more on the swimming sirens before him.
They had been watching him calmly, and he wondered if they were able to hear his thoughts as if he’d voiced them aloud. The leader blinked slowly, then finally responded to his question. “As to why, only those responsible for bringing her here can shed light. We do not bother with motivation. We only know what was, is, and will be.”
He shifted alertly, his mind quickly calculating multiple possibilities and scenarios. “There are others involved? Who brought her here?”
She shrugged again. “That is for you to discover.”
He clenched his jaw, but maintained his temper. They were dangerous enough when mildly irritated; he had no desire to rouse their anger.
He began to stand, sensing that they had told him all they were willing to share, when the leader suddenly grabbed his wrist. He looked down at her, startled. Was she actually going to try to pull him down with her? She gave a flirtatious smile, and purred, “If you weren’t so clearly marked by her, I would try. But we only have one further directive: tomorrow, before sunset, you will stand watch beside the Black Castle.”
He gazed at her evenly. “And you will not tell me why?”
She laughed, the sound both lilting and terrible to his ears, and dove below the water with her sisters.
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The Captain paced impatiently beside his post. The Black Castle at sunset, she’d said. Here he was, and nothing. He’d dragged three of his men along with him, with no explanation, and was not willing to return empty-handed. They knew better than to question his orders outright, but he did not want them to begin whispering about his odd habits.
There. He felt her before he heard the crashing of her sprint through the forest. Pure, icy terror had gripped her, and she was reaching out blindly for him, without realizing it. He reached out for her, in turn, with the calm assurance that she was not going to die now, if only for the reason that he forbade it.
He readied himself for the inevitable confrontation, even as he ran towards them. He hadn’t seen the creature since… he refused to touch on the events of that day, and pushed the memories far once more.
Bursting into the clearing, he saw her standing with a stout branch, ready to defend herself, looking so fierce and yet helpless that he nearly laughed. Even as he arrived, it rushed her, and she fell to the ground, and he nearly stopped breathing. Flying into action, the Captain drew his sword and slashed at the creature to get its attention. It growled, finally scenting him for the first time, and eagerly turned towards him. He noted distantly that she scrambled back, out of harm’s way, and re-focused on the croc.
The creature growled again, and rushed him. He slashed, darting around its razor-sharp teeth, and sliced it deep with his sword. It let out a bellow of rage, and he took advantage of its distraction to cut at it again. He could not kill it with his sword, but he could certainly make it think twice about devouring her. Not surprisingly, it chose to retreat to the water, grumbling all the way.
Breathing heavily, he finally turned to look at the girl. She had collapsed against the wall, staring at him, most likely still struggling with the fear and adrenaline coursing through her, so he took a moment to evaluate her as well.
He was surprised at how much she’d grown. How long had it been since she had last been here? She was much taller, and had filled out into a woman’s form. Of course, he couldn’t really tell, given that she was clothed in… a tunic and breeches? She’d clearly been staying with the natives; he realized at once that she had been in the crowd that day, and he’d felt her proximity and his body had reacted.
She was still staring at him, pale and worn, looking as though she’d seen a ghost. Well, he supposed, perhaps she was. How could she have known that he had survived? She closed her eyes suddenly, and he wondered if she was about to faint. She managed to remain upright, however, and opened them to focus on him once again.
He shook himself and sheathed his sword. She appeared to be in the early stages of shock; he needed to keep her alert and awake. He chose to needle her subtly; now was not the time for forcing her to reveal how she’d appeared in his life once more.
An image of her, looking fierce and yet fragile, surfaced unbidden, and he forced himself to keep from laughing. “Well, Red-Handed Jill, I wondered how long you would managed to avoid me.” He saw her fallen bag, and bent to pick it up and carry it to her. “I see the natives were helping you after all.”
Looking a little worried at his tone, she slowly sank to the ground. She said something about the chief helping her for her brother’s sake, and proceeded to look vaguely distracted. When she raised a hand to her head and wiped at the blood, seeming confused at its appearance, he walked towards her swiftly. Had she been injured more severely than he had assumed?
He crouched beside her, eyes quickly taking in her bruises and scrapes. She needed to be distracted from her leg; it was bleeding profusely and he knew that she would be in considerable pain once the adrenaline wore off.
He wondered if she realized that in the stress, her “shields” were completely down, and he could sense what she was feeling. When a surge of contentment came over her, followed by embarrassment, he abruptly noticed that he’d been stroking her face absentmindedly with his thumb. He’d been trying to comfort her, but he was surprised to realize that the gesture had been calming to him as well.
More than a little startled at his own demeanor, he rose, masking his confusion with the same curt-yet-gentlemanly persona he’d donned so many years ago, and demanded that she accompany him to the ship. He wasnot worried about her, he simply would feel more comfortable once Smee had taken a look at her leg. And if he was taking advantage of their connection to subtly distract and soothe her, it was only because he did not see the point of being around a hysterical woman any longer than necessary. He was only taking precautionary steps to maintain his own sanity.
When she tucked her hand into his arm, he tried to ignore the feeling of rightness that having her by his side produced, and proceeded towards the dock where his men awaited. If she leaned on him a little heavily, and he slowed his steps to match her limp, neither spoke of it.
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A/N: So. What do you think? :)
(I know, I took the easy way out with the “omniscient third party explains all,” but they didn’t really explain anything, they just verbalized the undertones which you have all, I’m sure, picked up on. 
The Storyteller… p.6
Edit: This is now part 6, and I changed a few areas, so feel free to re-read! :)
A/N: I’ll be jumping around in the time sequences; I think giving a ton of backstory all at once is boring. I won’t be pulling a Lost sequence, though. :)
Chapter 6
Tearing through the forest, she never looked behind her, certain that over the sound of her beating heart, the creature was crashing inexorably behind her. She burst through the bushes into a clearing, and her heart sank; she had blundered her way to the Black Castle, trapped, with the castle’s wall behind her, the lagoon on one side, and more forestry on the other. Looking about desperately, she dropped her bag containing her meager belongings, and grabbed a fallen branch, ready to fight for her life.
She glanced at the water. Certain death lay in that direction; even she knew that the water was its territory. No help lay in the direction of the forest; the shadows seemed dark and oppressive from where she stood. She edged closer towards the trees, steeling herself for battle. The crashings grew louder, until the animal burst out upon her with a roar. Proud of herself for refraining from screaming, she wielded her branch and whacked it soundly on the side of the snout as it rushed her. That brought it up short; she could almost see the perplexed thought process as it re-evaluated her position as lunch. Evidently it was hungry, for it paused, and instead of retreating, crouched and narrowed its eyes.
Wendy nearly stopped breathing. This was it. It was going to attack her, and she’d be dragged into the water and drowned, and–
Strangely, in the midst of her terror, she felt time stop, and her fear seemed to melt away. An inner calm and sense of clarity came over her. She somehow knew that this would not be the way she was to die, and she almost heard a low voice saying, No. Not now.
Suddenly it snapped at her leg, tearing at her skin; she jumped backwards and fell before it could break her leg, hitting her head rather hard on the ground. She tried to stand again, scooting away as quickly as possible, but her leg wouldn’t cooperate. It began crawling towards her quickly-so fast-but suddenly something brought it up short.
She heard a metallic reverberation and suddenly the croc let out a bellow of pain and anger. It turned away from her, striking her head with its tail in the process and causing a hot flash of pain to pass through her, then it growled. …at her? No, there was something else in the clearing. Something threatening the croc. She forced herself to stand again, grabbing her branch, and focused on the scene unfolding before her.
There was a whirl of teeth and a flash of light glinting off of a sword. Then the croc bellowed again, the cry sounding pained, and suddenly crawled into the lagoon, disappearing almost at once. She allowed herself to fall against the wall as she tried to regain her breath and ability to think, as she looked into the forget-me-not blue eyes of her rescuer.
Captain Hook.
Moments
He leaned over, brushing the back of my hand in a smooth motion.
And with that movement, my soul shivered to life.
conversations
The sound of a voice rumbling through the phone lines shouldn’t send such heat curling through my body. Yet it does, distractingly so. I suddenly realized that he’d said something, and sifted through the echos in my mind to find the question.
“No, I’ll be fine,” I finally answered, realizing that the topic had shifted back to our earlier conversation. ”I’m sure he won’t come back since I borrowed Lola.” I reached down and patted the massive body at my feet affectionately. Ears pricking up at her name, she grinned and rolled over, paws in the air, tail thumping on the ground.
“If you’re sure…” He still sounded uncertain. I tried to quell the thrills that ran through me at his protective streak.
“I’m certain. I might take you up on the offer another time, though,” I warned teasingly.
Old friends
Old friends are like…
your favorite socks.
sweatshirt (warm, fuzzy, and real) hugs.
the smell of fresh laundry out of a dryer.
your favorite song from high school on the radio.
a bowl of soup when it’s raining outside.
kisses from a puppy.
Blurb in 50
He towered over me, mouth quirking in a grin. ”I’ve never met a girl who just likes to be touched*.”
I stood, smiling, and held out my hand. ”Nice to meet you.”
His hand curled warmly around mine, sparks shooting up my elbow as his eyes crinkled with shared laughter and promises.
*(”love language.” as opposed to “buying stuff,” etc.)
