(no subject)
Title: When All Else Fails Fake It
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Meredith, Cristina (femslash if you squint)
Word Count: 250
Rating: PG
Prompt: #1 - Hyrdrogen for femslash100's periodic table.
Summary: Post Season Three finale. "You're kidding with this right?"
Week two of their honeymoon-gone-bad vacation in Hawaii she ends up with bleach blonde hair.
“You’re kidding with this right?” Cristina doesn’t even bother to censor her reaction - not that she ever does - inspecting a chunk of Meredith’s hair. She smells like salt from the beach, and her skin is still chilly to the touch.
“Why?” It’s instinctual to get defensive; she knows this is stupid but she doesn’t really care anymore.
Cristina frowns, dropping that section of her hair and smoothing it back behind Meredith’s ear. “Yes, that’s what I was going to ask.”
Meredith shrugs. “I was looking for a change.”
“Can’t you change something else?”
She wonders if Cristina happens to have any suggestions. Because clearly something is wrong with her. Something has to be wrong.
“I think if you’re trying to emulate eighty percent of the population here, then we’ve been here too long.” Cristina adds, making a scary amount of sense.
But they all look so carefree. They make it look so easy, with their boyfriends and their perfect smiles and no problems to speak of. It’s all very superficial, very surface level, but a part of her can’t help being envious. She wants that.
She wants it all to be easy.
Three days later, Cristina takes her back to the salon, to have it dyed back to dirty blonde, and Meredith can feel Cristina’s hand on her shoulder, a sign that at least there’s someone out there who can deal with the real her.
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Title: I Can
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: Sawyer/Juliet
Word Count: 250
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Post Season 4 finale. Juliet can do a lot of things. She can be his drinking buddy. She can smile at him when she passes by, something warm and familiar.
Juliet can do a lot of things.
She can be his drinking buddy. She can smile at him when she passes by, something warm and familiar. She can let him slip her shirt off and kiss slow trails down her bare skin, tasting of salt from sea and sweat. She can sleep next to him and pretend that there’s no place she’d rather be. She can bite her tongue the first thousand times he talks about Kate like she’s still there. She can even play house.
She can’t love him.
Maybe if this was before, maybe if she’d never been to that second island and met some man named Jack Shephard, maybe then she could. Or maybe it goes back further; maybe if she’d never come here, never met Goodwin, or back home with Edmund, maybe if she’d never spoken vows and changed her last name. Maybe if she’d never had her heart broken or left for dead.
Maybe then she could love him.
But she can’t trust him. She can’t find a scenario where this doesn’t end with her getting left behind in some form or another.
So she’s done falling in love; she’s saving that for the damn poets. And she should be done with him (and if she really cared about Sawyer, if she was really that selfless, then she would be).
Mostly - right now - she’s just done trying (to live, breathe, move on, push forward - that light at the end of the tunnel has finally flickered and died).