Gift Drabble for bubonicplague
ETA: Sorry this is early, but I may not be on tomorrow at all.
Title: She always wants what she has not got
Words: 200
Written for: bubonicplague
Who requested: Involve a disillusioned ghost, and a mention of a
femmeslash pairing (it doesn't have to be the focus, but it can be).
They would NOT like to receive: Syphilis
Sorry, Bub. I couldn't resist.
The washroom door banged open as two women spun inside, locked in a passionate embrace. The shorter girl pushed the other against the wall and began nipping down the milky throat. “Luna….need…”
The pale blonde gasped as her blouse was pulled open, her pink nipples exposed first to the air, then to her lover’s flicking tongue. “Halloween, Hermione ... full moon…mooncalf ...”
“Shut up!” And then words were lost in a tangle of lips and tongues and fingers and sighs. Neither girl seemed to notice the silvery form floating out to watch them intently, cheeks flushed a slate gray, hand dropping down between smoky legs. Three voices cried out, nearly in unison…
“Enjoy the show?” Luna seemed unfazed as she rearranged her clothes.
“Obviously,” Hermione chuckled, glancing at Myrtle’s hand, visible through her ghostly robes and knickers.
“Don’t tease! I’m trapped here - forever alone.” Myrtle sniffed messily. “You could have a bit of sympathy…”
“You want sympathy?” Hermione pulled a small book from her bag. Sending it skidding across the tile to land at Myrtle’s feet, she added “Here’s a dictionary. I believe ‘sympathy’ is somewhere between ‘shite’ and ‘syphilis’.” With that, they left, and Myrtle was alone once more.
Title: She always wants what she has not got
Words: 200
Written for: bubonicplague
Who requested: Involve a disillusioned ghost, and a mention of a
femmeslash pairing (it doesn't have to be the focus, but it can be).
They would NOT like to receive: Syphilis
Sorry, Bub. I couldn't resist.
The washroom door banged open as two women spun inside, locked in a passionate embrace. The shorter girl pushed the other against the wall and began nipping down the milky throat. “Luna….need…”
The pale blonde gasped as her blouse was pulled open, her pink nipples exposed first to the air, then to her lover’s flicking tongue. “Halloween, Hermione ... full moon…mooncalf ...”
“Shut up!” And then words were lost in a tangle of lips and tongues and fingers and sighs. Neither girl seemed to notice the silvery form floating out to watch them intently, cheeks flushed a slate gray, hand dropping down between smoky legs. Three voices cried out, nearly in unison…
“Enjoy the show?” Luna seemed unfazed as she rearranged her clothes.
“Obviously,” Hermione chuckled, glancing at Myrtle’s hand, visible through her ghostly robes and knickers.
“Don’t tease! I’m trapped here - forever alone.” Myrtle sniffed messily. “You could have a bit of sympathy…”
“You want sympathy?” Hermione pulled a small book from her bag. Sending it skidding across the tile to land at Myrtle’s feet, she added “Here’s a dictionary. I believe ‘sympathy’ is somewhere between ‘shite’ and ‘syphilis’.” With that, they left, and Myrtle was alone once more.