Word count: 500 (five stand-alone drabbles)
Characters: Juliet Burke, Edmund Burke, Goodwin, Kate Austen, Jack Shephard
Timeline: All over.
Warnings: Obviously, sexual situations (including femmeslash).
Disclaimer: This is a fictional, nonprofit work for entertainment purpose only. The copyright in the TV show LOST and its components is owned by "American Broadcast Companies, Inc.", which reserves all rights therein.
She was nineteen years old, a little drunk and a lot shy with her shoulder pads and her frizzy moussed-up hair. The guy’s father had a blue Cavalier – an atrocity of a car, but it had a backseat and a radio playing “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”, so it would do.
She thought he was quite big, but she would have thought anything was quite big. It hurt like hell and it was over before she could expect to feel anything besides fear of getting pregnant.
He said he loved her. She can’t even remember his name.
The difference between kink and perversion is that kinky guys are fun. Edmund wasn’t fun.
Juliet was fresh from graduation and he already had made himself a name; she wouldn’t deny he had charisma (even if lacked everything else), so she, the innocent one, followed him around like a puppy. It was a matter of time for him to have her alone in his office; a matter of time for him to give her projects a second look, as if her research suddenly became good enough for him.
The irony: she opted for the divorce when he suggested the cameras.
She always faked it with Goodwin.
It was not his fault, God, no; he was wonderful, the kind of man she’d dreamed of during college; the kind that she thought only existed in romantic comedies, charming and sweet and head over heels for the clumsy main female of the story. He liked to cuddle, valued the eroticism of ice cream and was amazing in foreplay. When they had sex, it was for her. It was always for her.
But she never enjoyed it fully, because she couldn’t stop thinking of leaving that place – even if it meant leaving him too.
Kate smells of earth and hasn’t shaved in two months.
There is no conscious decision; there is only the feeling that they are going to die tonight. It’s Kate that starts crying. It’s Juliet that holds a hand over her mouth, afraid that the thing in the woods (whatever it is, she never cared to find out) might hear.
When they start rubbing their legs against each other, it’s not intentional. Their fingers move on their own volition, guided by instinct, both women creatures of the wilderness.
“This never happened”, a scared Kate whispers afterwards; they never mention it again.
There is a boat and there is Jack and anyone could see them there, but nothing matters anymore because she’s free. After three years she’s finally going home and it’s thanks to Jack – and she demands more freedom because they held it back all this time and they need this, they need this. The clothes are still on while their lips dance, their hands explore, bodies joined on a hard, swift movement and it hurts, but the tingling between her legs is precisely what makes her forget all the rest of the pain.
It’s everything she wants, in the end.