Girl!Schuldig, take two
I feel like I'm squeezing in just under the wire again. XD And, once again, I wish I'd spent more time working on it! I have two separate pieces here, but they're all under the same girl!Schuldig umbrella as the last set I put up.
I'm going to mark this...R-ish for swearing, blowjob talk, and fake smexings.
Enjoy!
=======
She hadn't chosen her working name for herself. Like everything else Rozenkreuz did, it was a command.
"You will be Schuldig now. Guilty."
Of course, she already knew what it meant, fuck you very much. Patriarchal bastards. Couldn't have a name that ascribed to her actual talents, could she? Oh no. For the rest of her team, it was Oracle this and Berserker that. But she…she was just guilty. Guilty of what, she didn't know, although she had a vague thought that it was the whole Christian crock, Eve and the apple and all that shit.
She was so sick of it. For fuck's sake, one of the Big Three was a woman, although people tended to forget it and they just remembered the strengths of the men who flanked her, and none of them were what they seemed. None of them were wrinkly and old where it counted. So why should it be any different for her?
She would have called herself Mastermind.
=======
The first night out on their own, Schuldig started a fight in a bar. And she would have finished it, too, if Crawford hadn't dragged her out before things got really interesting.
Sirens echoed in the distance as she and Crawford had it out in an alley a block away from the bar. She could see the light of a fire she hadn't started, the fire she had planned on starting, could smell the smoke and the fear of the drunks who were trying to get out.
"We're supposed to be inconspicuous," said Crawford.
"I was being inconspicuous!" Schuldig said. "I was gathering the information you wanted, just like a good little worker."
She offered him the truth of her mind and he rejected it without even looking. That stung worse than the bruise rising on her cheek, compliments of the son of the man they were here to kill.
Crawford glared at her, and she glared back. Who said work had to be boring?
"I had made plans, plans I expected you to carry out," he said. "Now I must-"
Schuldig clapped a hand over his mouth. His lips tickled her palms.
“I had plans too, you know,” she said.
Crawford didn’t say anything, didn’t think any clear thoughts, but she could feel the disdain oozing off him.
“Of course, my plans would have been way more fun than yours,” she said. “I still would have burned down the bar, but I would have let Brandt’s son rescue me and then…”
She felt the police start to fan out, searching. Crawford’s fingers wrapped around her wrist and she let him pull her hand away.
“I know what you planned,” said Crawford. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
Smug precognitive bastard.
“I was counting on it,” Schuldig said.
She’d wanted to rub it in his face. Her plan had been great: make nice with Brandt’s son, burn down the bar, let the son ‘rescue’ her, and in the heat of the moment, she’d thank him with a blowjob. Of course, she’d be mining for information that whole time and she’d undoubtedly find out everything there was to know about Brandt from the insider perspective of his in-the-biz son. Then, in the post-orgasmic confusion, she’d fuzz his memory over, leaving the act but not the actor. He wouldn’t remember her, and it would be job well done all around. It would have worked, too, if Crawford hadn’t shown up and dragged her away from her target du jour.
Footsteps, too close. Crawford shielded Schuldig from sight.
“They won’t see me if I don’t want them to,” she said.
Schuldig tapped Crawford’s head.
“Telepath, remember?”
Have it your way, then.
Crawford pushed her further into the shadows of the alley. Schuldig’s jacket scraped along the bricks, no doubt ruining the finish of the leather. It was almost like a porno: dirty alley sex with a one-time hookup. Schuldig laughed and Crawford tried to glare her into silence.
Police, remember?
“Fine then,” said Schuldig. “Let’s give ’em a show.”
What she found the funniest about it was that, while she didn't mind being crushed up against a wall with him, he found it absolutely detestable. While Schuldig was perfectly capable of controlling herself, she was equally blithe in admitting that frottage or whatever with her erstwhile commander would be hot. He fit against her nicely enough.
Crawford wasn't nearly so thrilled about it.
It's the only way we can get a bit of private talking done.
Sure. So what is it now, oh fearless leader?
She smiled up at him, tugging at the lapel of his jacket and walking him a step closer, a step further from the mouth of the alley.
Come on, you bastard. Fake it better or someone's going to notice that all is not well in Denmark.
I had expected…
Crawford shifted against her, simulating friction. Well, sort of simulating. Schuldig felt a flash of heat. There was only so much Crawford could do to stop the laws of physics, there. She toyed with the top button of his trousers and felt his discomfort rise.
Yes?
We can't fail. We have to complete our assignments perfectly.
Schuldig snorted into Crawford's perfectly mussed hair.
Feeling the pressure, are we? Welcome to my world.
She didn't feel sympathy for him.
Besides. I've never failed before. Why would I start now?
Crawford's lips twisted into a frown, which he hid by pressing against her neck.
You are not at all what I expected.
Then, an afterthought:
That was not the sort of plan I would expect from you.
Crawford was thinking on several levels at once, and it made Schuldig wary of how his perspective of her was changing.
Should I be flattered or disgusted?
=======
~later
I'm going to mark this...R-ish for swearing, blowjob talk, and fake smexings.
Enjoy!
=======
She hadn't chosen her working name for herself. Like everything else Rozenkreuz did, it was a command.
"You will be Schuldig now. Guilty."
Of course, she already knew what it meant, fuck you very much. Patriarchal bastards. Couldn't have a name that ascribed to her actual talents, could she? Oh no. For the rest of her team, it was Oracle this and Berserker that. But she…she was just guilty. Guilty of what, she didn't know, although she had a vague thought that it was the whole Christian crock, Eve and the apple and all that shit.
She was so sick of it. For fuck's sake, one of the Big Three was a woman, although people tended to forget it and they just remembered the strengths of the men who flanked her, and none of them were what they seemed. None of them were wrinkly and old where it counted. So why should it be any different for her?
She would have called herself Mastermind.
=======
The first night out on their own, Schuldig started a fight in a bar. And she would have finished it, too, if Crawford hadn't dragged her out before things got really interesting.
Sirens echoed in the distance as she and Crawford had it out in an alley a block away from the bar. She could see the light of a fire she hadn't started, the fire she had planned on starting, could smell the smoke and the fear of the drunks who were trying to get out.
"We're supposed to be inconspicuous," said Crawford.
"I was being inconspicuous!" Schuldig said. "I was gathering the information you wanted, just like a good little worker."
She offered him the truth of her mind and he rejected it without even looking. That stung worse than the bruise rising on her cheek, compliments of the son of the man they were here to kill.
Crawford glared at her, and she glared back. Who said work had to be boring?
"I had made plans, plans I expected you to carry out," he said. "Now I must-"
Schuldig clapped a hand over his mouth. His lips tickled her palms.
“I had plans too, you know,” she said.
Crawford didn’t say anything, didn’t think any clear thoughts, but she could feel the disdain oozing off him.
“Of course, my plans would have been way more fun than yours,” she said. “I still would have burned down the bar, but I would have let Brandt’s son rescue me and then…”
She felt the police start to fan out, searching. Crawford’s fingers wrapped around her wrist and she let him pull her hand away.
“I know what you planned,” said Crawford. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
Smug precognitive bastard.
“I was counting on it,” Schuldig said.
She’d wanted to rub it in his face. Her plan had been great: make nice with Brandt’s son, burn down the bar, let the son ‘rescue’ her, and in the heat of the moment, she’d thank him with a blowjob. Of course, she’d be mining for information that whole time and she’d undoubtedly find out everything there was to know about Brandt from the insider perspective of his in-the-biz son. Then, in the post-orgasmic confusion, she’d fuzz his memory over, leaving the act but not the actor. He wouldn’t remember her, and it would be job well done all around. It would have worked, too, if Crawford hadn’t shown up and dragged her away from her target du jour.
Footsteps, too close. Crawford shielded Schuldig from sight.
“They won’t see me if I don’t want them to,” she said.
Schuldig tapped Crawford’s head.
“Telepath, remember?”
Have it your way, then.
Crawford pushed her further into the shadows of the alley. Schuldig’s jacket scraped along the bricks, no doubt ruining the finish of the leather. It was almost like a porno: dirty alley sex with a one-time hookup. Schuldig laughed and Crawford tried to glare her into silence.
Police, remember?
“Fine then,” said Schuldig. “Let’s give ’em a show.”
What she found the funniest about it was that, while she didn't mind being crushed up against a wall with him, he found it absolutely detestable. While Schuldig was perfectly capable of controlling herself, she was equally blithe in admitting that frottage or whatever with her erstwhile commander would be hot. He fit against her nicely enough.
Crawford wasn't nearly so thrilled about it.
It's the only way we can get a bit of private talking done.
Sure. So what is it now, oh fearless leader?
She smiled up at him, tugging at the lapel of his jacket and walking him a step closer, a step further from the mouth of the alley.
Come on, you bastard. Fake it better or someone's going to notice that all is not well in Denmark.
I had expected…
Crawford shifted against her, simulating friction. Well, sort of simulating. Schuldig felt a flash of heat. There was only so much Crawford could do to stop the laws of physics, there. She toyed with the top button of his trousers and felt his discomfort rise.
Yes?
We can't fail. We have to complete our assignments perfectly.
Schuldig snorted into Crawford's perfectly mussed hair.
Feeling the pressure, are we? Welcome to my world.
She didn't feel sympathy for him.
Besides. I've never failed before. Why would I start now?
Crawford's lips twisted into a frown, which he hid by pressing against her neck.
You are not at all what I expected.
Then, an afterthought:
That was not the sort of plan I would expect from you.
Crawford was thinking on several levels at once, and it made Schuldig wary of how his perspective of her was changing.
Should I be flattered or disgusted?
=======
~later