Lost Fiction: 'Dear' (Charlie/Claire)
Dec. 29th, 2004 04:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ciirceeMostly from Claire's point of view, this is another cracked-out fic that wandered through. Short, unbeta'd, written in ten or twenty minutes.
Why is random, strange silliness so easy to write?
Who wants to peek at Claire's diary entries?
Dear Diary,
The plane crashed. Obviously, I lived. Is it very, very sad that I’m glad the hot guy in the aisle seat made it, too? And that I’m hoping to get to know him before the rescue boat comes?
He’s very, very hot…did I mention that fact? Looks like a rock star. Did I ever mention the fact that I love musicians? And concerts? Thomas, as an artist, was an aberration.
I am using the Rock God in an effort not to worry over other things. I’d like to use him for more. Better leave it at that.
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
Rock God’s name is Charlie and he was in a band. Drive Shaft. Drive Shaft. Drive Shaft. Diary, the weirdest thing about being pregnant is how it all revolves around sex. I haven’t revolved around sex since I moved out of the flat and left my curtains behind.
Drive Shaft. Honestly. I can’t talk to him.
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
I talked to Charlie today, after all. Have I mentioned the heat index on this island? That rescue boat had better have cold showers.
On an unrelated note, Shannon is a complete bitch and I’m going to pull her hair at the first available opportunity.
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
If Charlie seemed, maybe, into you…would you throw him to the ground and tear all of his clothes off of him? I need a little advice; he either finds the Belly a turn on or he’s failed to notice it, somehow.
Boy, it’s hot today.
Love
Claire
Dear Diary,
In regards to the last entry: He’s noticed. Turn on? Still not sure. Please?
On an entirely related note: Thomas is a gigantic jerk.
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
Apparently, no rescue boat is coming. We’re stuck. Dilemma? I can’t stick Charlie with a pregnant girl and her baby just because he’s nice, sweet, and so hot he makes my bones melt just by looking at me crosswise. I just have to ride out (oh, good choice of words!) the lust until the baby comes. Nothing is as non-sexy as a newborn, dripping breasts, sleepless nights, and spit up.
He’ll find excuses to not be around then, right?
I just can’t let him hold the baby. Shirtless. Good lord. Tell me to shut up.
Love,
Claire
Dear Journal,
I can’t let Charlie be right all the time. So now you’re ‘Journal’ not diary. And I did not eat a bug. I just swallowed my tongue.
Oh, he wants to be friends. I’ll show him friends. No! No, I will NOT! Control, Claire, control. Remember not jumping him so that he doesn’t feel obligated to play daddy.
Guh. Who knew ‘daddy’ was a sexy occupation. Right up there with Rock God, really. Oh god. Rock God daddy.
I think the island heat has shorted out my brain.
Yours,
Claire
Dear Diary, Journal, whatever.
Dear Neurotic self:
I have to stop snapping at Charlie. It’s not his fault he licked his finger like that, right in front of me. He has no clue that I want to trip him and then beat him to the ground. Naked. Sweet holy night. I can’t stay at these caves. I’m not so worried about everything else…some of the others are thinking about setting up a night watch…but if I don’t leave, I’m going to let Charlie have it.
Yup. He’ll get it, all right.
Island heat definitely shorted out the brain.
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
Charlie is getting too much to resist. Is there any way to take a taste of him without him knowing that I bit him? Hard? And then licked a path over his bicep all the way to his wrist? And took a nibbling trail right back up, because he has the sexiest forearms in human history?
Is there???
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
Do something before I lose my mind and eat him alive.
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
Kidnapping by psychotic jungle man, NOT what I had in mind. You’re just lucky that Jack saved Charlie from being hung. AND that Ethan-junior was vocal in his disappointment.
Problem? Charlie’s probably on his way back to rescue me. He can’t die. Do you hear me? He can’t die.
He wants to play daddy.
I want to play house.
For real.
Promise me that things will work out?
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
Thank you. Oh, thank you.
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
Regarding the last few entries: Charlie, still so damn hot and I’d still like to make him hotter. Apparently he has no clue about any of this, either. I’m thinking of leaving you with his guitar. And hoping that he’s just naughty enough to take a peek at what I’m trying to show him.
Charlie, if you’re peeking…you look amazingly hot with that guitar and I’d love to see you in concert. I’d let you take a closer look at how I feel about that, too, if you wanted.
A really, really close look.
Love,
Claire
Dear Claire’s Diary,
You are my new best friend.
Love,
Charlie
Why is random, strange silliness so easy to write?
Who wants to peek at Claire's diary entries?
Dear Diary,
The plane crashed. Obviously, I lived. Is it very, very sad that I’m glad the hot guy in the aisle seat made it, too? And that I’m hoping to get to know him before the rescue boat comes?
He’s very, very hot…did I mention that fact? Looks like a rock star. Did I ever mention the fact that I love musicians? And concerts? Thomas, as an artist, was an aberration.
I am using the Rock God in an effort not to worry over other things. I’d like to use him for more. Better leave it at that.
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
Rock God’s name is Charlie and he was in a band. Drive Shaft. Drive Shaft. Drive Shaft. Diary, the weirdest thing about being pregnant is how it all revolves around sex. I haven’t revolved around sex since I moved out of the flat and left my curtains behind.
Drive Shaft. Honestly. I can’t talk to him.
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
I talked to Charlie today, after all. Have I mentioned the heat index on this island? That rescue boat had better have cold showers.
On an unrelated note, Shannon is a complete bitch and I’m going to pull her hair at the first available opportunity.
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
If Charlie seemed, maybe, into you…would you throw him to the ground and tear all of his clothes off of him? I need a little advice; he either finds the Belly a turn on or he’s failed to notice it, somehow.
Boy, it’s hot today.
Love
Claire
Dear Diary,
In regards to the last entry: He’s noticed. Turn on? Still not sure. Please?
On an entirely related note: Thomas is a gigantic jerk.
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
Apparently, no rescue boat is coming. We’re stuck. Dilemma? I can’t stick Charlie with a pregnant girl and her baby just because he’s nice, sweet, and so hot he makes my bones melt just by looking at me crosswise. I just have to ride out (oh, good choice of words!) the lust until the baby comes. Nothing is as non-sexy as a newborn, dripping breasts, sleepless nights, and spit up.
He’ll find excuses to not be around then, right?
I just can’t let him hold the baby. Shirtless. Good lord. Tell me to shut up.
Love,
Claire
Dear Journal,
I can’t let Charlie be right all the time. So now you’re ‘Journal’ not diary. And I did not eat a bug. I just swallowed my tongue.
Oh, he wants to be friends. I’ll show him friends. No! No, I will NOT! Control, Claire, control. Remember not jumping him so that he doesn’t feel obligated to play daddy.
Guh. Who knew ‘daddy’ was a sexy occupation. Right up there with Rock God, really. Oh god. Rock God daddy.
I think the island heat has shorted out my brain.
Yours,
Claire
Dear Diary, Journal, whatever.
Dear Neurotic self:
I have to stop snapping at Charlie. It’s not his fault he licked his finger like that, right in front of me. He has no clue that I want to trip him and then beat him to the ground. Naked. Sweet holy night. I can’t stay at these caves. I’m not so worried about everything else…some of the others are thinking about setting up a night watch…but if I don’t leave, I’m going to let Charlie have it.
Yup. He’ll get it, all right.
Island heat definitely shorted out the brain.
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
Charlie is getting too much to resist. Is there any way to take a taste of him without him knowing that I bit him? Hard? And then licked a path over his bicep all the way to his wrist? And took a nibbling trail right back up, because he has the sexiest forearms in human history?
Is there???
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
Do something before I lose my mind and eat him alive.
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
Kidnapping by psychotic jungle man, NOT what I had in mind. You’re just lucky that Jack saved Charlie from being hung. AND that Ethan-junior was vocal in his disappointment.
Problem? Charlie’s probably on his way back to rescue me. He can’t die. Do you hear me? He can’t die.
He wants to play daddy.
I want to play house.
For real.
Promise me that things will work out?
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
Thank you. Oh, thank you.
Love,
Claire
Dear Diary,
Regarding the last few entries: Charlie, still so damn hot and I’d still like to make him hotter. Apparently he has no clue about any of this, either. I’m thinking of leaving you with his guitar. And hoping that he’s just naughty enough to take a peek at what I’m trying to show him.
Charlie, if you’re peeking…you look amazingly hot with that guitar and I’d love to see you in concert. I’d let you take a closer look at how I feel about that, too, if you wanted.
A really, really close look.
Love,
Claire
Dear Claire’s Diary,
You are my new best friend.
Love,
Charlie
