Chapter Text
Glinda knew that Madame Morrible played favorites. She just never thought that she would become the favorite.
But once Elphaba had taken the leap, that was that. Elphaba was gone. And Glinda was left behind.
Left behind to pick up the pieces. Think of a way to make a better Oz. Figure out how to stay safe under the close gaze of the Wizard, of Madame Morrible. And, perhaps most importantly, how to get Elphaba back.
But with each passing day, that last part seemed further and further out of reach. Months had gone by, and Glinda had heard nothing from Elphaba. Surely the green girl could figure out a way to send secure mail if she really wanted to.
As much as it hurt, Glinda forced herself to slowly accept that maybe, Elphaba just didn’t care. Glinda had always been the one to ask for more from Elphaba. Elphaba had picked Fiyero when everyone fell asleep in Doctor Dillamond’s class. Glinda had wanted more on the train, but something held Elphaba back.
And so even in the last precious moments before their demise, they remained friends. Best friends. Just friends.
Elphaba wasn’t reaching out to Glinda. Glinda had no way to reach out to Elphaba. And so Glinda moved on.
It was just too painful otherwise. She was mad. Hurt that Elphaba hadn’t wanted anything more when they were together, and hurt that she seemingly wanted even less now.
–
After Elphaba’s escape, Madame Morrible’s treatment of Glinda changed overnight.
One day, Glinda was a dumb blonde, the annoying sidekick to Elphaba, who was the one with actual power. Glinda sensed that Morrible never understood why Glinda was there - why Elphaba insisted on including her in sorcery seminars, or in her visit to the Wizard.
Now, Glinda isn’t so sure why Elphaba had ever included her, either.
After Elphaba’s escape, Glinda was the new golden child. Everything that Elphaba had received from Morrible before, Glinda now enjoyed, and more.
Glinda’s days were filled with private sorcery lessons with Madame Morrible. “We must make sure that you can fight against her if she were to ever return.” Glinda’s nights consisted of state dinners and schmoozing, her specialty, to win the hearts and minds of Oz’s most powerful as Glinda the Good.
The Wizard was a busy man, always moving from one conversation to the next, one meeting to the next, to give everyone equal time. But Madame Morrible was always with Glinda.
At the beginning, Morrible stayed close to Glinda to be sure that she wouldn’t escape, that she wouldn’t do anything to undermine what the Wizard was working towards. But soon enough, Glinda proved her loyalty, if only by staying consistent in her inaction.
Once Morrible trusted that Glinda wasn’t going anywhere, she remained by Glinda’s side - but now, to mentor her on sorcery and on power dynamics. The two would watch dinner parties together, and Morrible would whisper to Glinda a spell that could be used for quickly cleaning the plates, or she would fill Glinda in on who the invitees were and why they were important to win over.
Glinda, at first, withdrew from Morrible’s proximity. But as the days turned into weeks, and Glinda decided that the best course of action was to stay and try to create change from within, she concluded that Morrible was an invaluable resource. She could teach her sorcery and everything she needed to know about Ozian politics. All she needed to do was stay on Morrible’s good side.
–
Sorcery lessons took place in an unoccupied dining room on the first floor. They had advanced from simple levitation spells and now, months later, were moving into more dangerous territory. Spells for battle. Attack and defense, if the need ever arose.
“Wand higher, my dear.” Morrible gently guided Glinda’s wrist upwards. “Good, just like that.”
With a flick of the wrist, Glinda succeeded, and fire shot from her pink translucent wand. A little too much fire, in fact, as it caught on a nearby tablecloth, setting the whole table aflame. Morrible jumped in front of Glinda, pushing her back with one arm, and with the other raised her wand to extinguish the flames.
It was only once the fire was out that Morrible looked back at Glinda to make sure she was alright. Her arm was still flung across Glinda’s chest.
Glinda gulped. She couldn’t control the blush that spread from her cheeks down to where Morrible’s arm was resting. Her heart was beating out of her chest but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She just looked into Morrible’s eyes, helpless, wordlessly asking for - something.
It was so scary, to almost be set on fire by your own spell. Glinda’s entire body was tingling with fear. She felt her nipples harden under Morrible’s arm.
It was only when Morrible withdrew her arm that Glinda realized time picked back up again. Why had it seemed to stop in the first place?
Glinda cleared her throat. “Thank you for saving me, Madame.”
Morrible narrowed her eyes, studying Glinda as if for the first time.
“You always were a queer one, weren’t you?”
The words made Glinda’s heart skip a beat. What was that supposed to mean? Was she back on Morrible’s bad side, just from one slightly over-performing spell?
But before she could say anything, Morrible swept away, cape billowing behind her. “That is enough for today. We will pick back up again tomorrow.” And she stormed out of the room.
–
Glinda couldn’t sleep that night. Her thoughts were racing with the danger she had created with the fire. It had been so hot, so close, so overwhelming. And then to have Morrible swoop in to save her. She felt conflicted. Morrible saving her meant that she was now on Morrible’s good side - she was important enough to be saved. But what Morrible had said afterwards, “You always were a queer one”. Was she slipping out of Morrible’s good graces?
And why had time slowed down after the fire? Shouldn’t it have slowed during the fire? When she was actually in danger?
But no, it had slowed after. When Morrible’s arm had been over her, pressing her back, away from the flames.
She felt hot just thinking about it. Morrible had been so close. Controlling her movement. And her body had reacted.
She felt her nipples perking up just thinking about it. It hurt, having been so close to someone after all this time. The last time she was touched by someone else was on the train to the Emerald City. By Elphaba.
Glinda had wanted more. She had flung herself over Elphaba’s lap to show as much. But Elphaba had kept her distance.
It was painful then, and it was painful now. To be touched. To want to be touched. And not to be given the chance. For more.
Oz, she hated herself for thinking this way about Morrible. But it really wasn’t about Morrible, was it? It was about Elphaba, her Elphie, and how she never wanted her back. Maybe she would have, if they had had more time together. If Elphaba hadn’t jumped. But she did.
And so Glinda was in her room, alone. And her hand came up to soothe a wanting nipple. Once she started she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Her hand drifted down, over her stomach, to find the wetness between her legs.
She thought of Elphie. She thought of Madame Morrible. She thought of how everyone always wanted her. Everyone except the people she wanted.
And Oz, she wanted them so bad. She wanted Elphaba’s green fingers between her thighs. She wanted Morrible to suck on her neck. She wanted someone - anyone - to tell her they wanted her back.
It felt good, to feel her folds, to give herself pleasure. But it made her feel bad, too. Bad that it was always just her, touching herself. Never touched by anyone else. Guilty that she didn’t want Fiyero, or any of the other suitors that flung themselves at her.
Maybe this was her punishment for wanting who she wanted. Wanting girls. To never have what she wanted. Maybe she deserved it - to be alone.
Head swirling with desire and shame, she came quickly and slipped into a dark sleep.
–
The next day in Morrible’s sorcery lesson, Glinda was determined to not make the same mistake twice. She would get the spell right this time, not set anything on fire, and squash any doubts that Morrible might have of her.
And she did just that.
With a flick of her wrist, she sent fire out of her wand, but pulled back quickly, extinguishing the flames before they got out of hand.
“Well done, my dear.” Morrible was very pleased, indeed, and ended the lesson early.
“One more thing,” she added before sweeping out of the room as she always did. “I require your presence in my quarters. There are some… personal matters we must address.”
Glinda didn’t know what that meant, but had no choice but to follow the sorceress out of the room and up the stairs to her private suite. This was the first time Glinda was in Morrible’s apartment, and it was exactly how she would have imagined it: dimly lit, with dark mahogany furniture clad in fine fabrics of deep velvety purple. It was refined, slightly intimidating, but warm. A fire flickered in the fireplace.
“Come. Sit.” Morrible gestured to the small table next to the fireplace. Glinda sat.
“I have noticed you have some rather… unique sensibilities.” Morrible began.
“I’m… not sure what you mean.” Glinda replied.
“Well, I am aware that you and Fiyero were an item during your time at Shiz. And yet you have yet to ask about him, all these weeks later.” Morrible paused, studying Glinda’s features. Glinda waited. “You spent an awful lot of time with that green roommate of yours.” She clearly didn’t even want to name Elphaba anymore. “And you even followed her here, despite the invitation clearly being for one.”
“She invited me.” Glinda was quick to reply.
“That may be so, but it is awfully queer.” Morrible let her glasses slide down her nose, looking over them at Glinda. “And then yesterday…”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know the fire was going to get so out of hand. I’ll try to do better in the future, I swear.” Glinda backtracked.
“No, no. That is not the problem at all. The problem lies in your… desperation.” Morrible’s eyes travelled down Glinda’s body now. Glinda felt the blush return but was unable to do anything to stop it.
“It is clear to anyone paying attention that you have… desires. And that they are not being met.” Morrible squinted her eyes, threateningly. “I suspect that there was only ever one person… one girl… that was able to satisfy your needs.”
Glinda’s throat was dry, she couldn’t say anything if she wanted to. Morrible continued.
“But she is gone, and you are going to marry Fiyero. If word gets out about your preference,” she spat the word as if it was disgusting, “we will have quite the show on our hands. Glinda the Good Witch is perfect. And she - you - must remain perfect in the eyes of the public.”
Morrible rose from her chair, walking slowly over to where Glinda was seated.
“But we mustn’t let your desire overwhelm you. We cannot have a repeat of yesterday, my dear. You were lucky that it was just me in that room. Had anyone else been there, it would have been obvious to them, too.” Morrible bent down and tucked a strand of hair behind Glinda’s ear before continuing. “You wanted me, darling. And we can’t have you showing your true preferences to everyone.”
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Glinda managed.
“You pleasure yourself, yes?” Morrible didn’t wait to hear an answer before continuing. “But it clearly is not sufficient to placate your need.”
Glinda waited.
“I am suggesting, my dear, that we make sure that you are satisfied. So that your desire doesn’t escape you in public where it could do real harm.”
Glinda shook her head, not understanding. Or maybe wishing she didn’t understand.
“Glinda. Let me please you.” Morrible was close enough for Glinda to feel her breath on her neck as she whispered into her ear.
Her body reacted of its own accord, and she let out a soft whimper.
Glinda’s reaction seemed to egg Morrible on. The older woman placed a gentle kiss on Glinda’s neck, and Glinda felt her head falling to the side to give her more access.
“Good girl.”
With that, Glinda lost it. Her hands shot up to Morrible’s shoulders to pull Morrible closer, but before she could bring Morrible down, Morrible pulled her up and out of the chair, leading her back to the king-sized bed, still sucking on Glinda’s neck.
Falling on top of the younger girl, Morrible started unbuttoning Glinda’s dress. “Tell me you want it.”
Glinda shouldn’t want it. This was Morrible. She was as off-limits as anyone could possibly be. And she was a horrible person.
And yet.
“I want it.”
It was like having chocolate for the first time. Indulgent. Wrong. But so, so good.
When Morrible’s fingers found their way inside of her, they found no friction at all. With only a few swipes of the thumb, Glinda was writhing under Morrible’s ministrations. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. This was her first time, she had never wanted to do anything with Fiyero, and Elphaba had never wanted to do anything with her.
Morrible clearly didn’t want her, not really. But in the moment, she just couldn’t bring herself to care. It felt so good, to be doted on, finally, finally, after all those years thinking she would never get what she wanted.
This wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. But Oz, did it feel good. To be taken, in exactly the way she needed.
Fingers moving in and out, thumb making slow circles, Morrible licked her way down to Glinda’s chest, taking a nipple between her teeth and sucking. Glinda finally let a deep moan escape, arching off the bed, unable to control herself. She was a puppet and Morrible was playing her. She couldn’t get enough.
Sensing that she was close already, Morrible sped up the movement of her thumb. Sure enough, Glinda fell apart.
She came in waves, and Morrible kept up her movements to draw it out as long as possible. Glinda thrashed and babbled, totally at the mercy of her body’s reaction. She reflexively grabbed onto Morrible, pulling her close, clawing at her back, bunching her robes in her fists, holding on for dear life. Her entire body shook uncontrollably until she couldn’t take any more.
Hiccupping, she tried to regain control of her breathing before collapsing backward into the mattress.
Satisfied with her work, Morrible brought her fingers, drenched with Glinda’s arousal, to her lips and sucked them clean.
“Good girl.”
Glinda couldn’t look away. It was like watching a carriage crash. But she was in the carriage crash. It was surreal, and wrong, on so many levels. But she never wanted it to end.
Madame Morrible stood up, brushing off her robes as if nothing had happened.
“Get dressed now, dear. Go wash up before dinner.”
Now, Morrible finally did sweep away into what must have been her private bathroom, robe billowing behind her, without looking back.
Glinda quickly put on her clothes and scrambled away to her quarters.