🌼Astrid's fanfics

[BOOK ONE] ੈ✩‧₊˚

CHAPTER II : BEYOND THE EMERALD CITY.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.

The Emerald city was pure blinding light wherever you looked.

The first thing you noticed were the tall, bright green skyscraper towers, the ornate and maximalist appearance of the architecture, the gold appliances and art decó style decor. But the light that the city emanated was not just brightness, but effortless light; Sun catching silk banners, laughter carried on clean wind, mirrors angled so no shadow lingered too long. The people were beautiful because they were told they were, and they believed it. Everyone dressed in bright expensive greens, the finest clothes you had ever seen, all excessive, just as the city was. One thing that stood out to you was that the city had fewer animal residents than Munchkinland had, but the ones there were dressed just as nicely as the other citizens.

The Wizard stood beside you on the balcony, one hand hovering near your back but never quite touching. “She must never feel pushed,” Morrible had warned him moments before, so he decided to guide with space instead. “My dear Oz,” he announced, voice rolling like velvet, “allow me to introduce what goodness looks like.” Applause bloomed instantly, hundreds of people and animals in green cheering and clapping, chanting and celebrating. You smiled, watching from the balcony in the palace, heart racing not with pride, but in awe.

“They’re so… happy.”

“They are safe,” the Wizard corrected you gently, the ghost of his fingers tickling your naked spine. “Because of you.”

“But I haven’t done anything…” You mumbled in worry, looking up at the wizard biting your lower lip. His eyes stared at the way your teeth left marks on your lip and wished he could lick them with his tongue. He swallowed and smiled at you, his tongue wetting his suddenly dry lips.

“You’ve done lots, sweetheart. You just haven’t noticed yet.” He answered as he guided you inside the room again, the balcony doors closing behind both of you. As soon as they closed, the team the wizard had assigned for your makeup and appearance surrounded you and drove you towards another room, ready for another round of makeup roulette while the Wizard stood there, one hand stupidly raised while the other tapped his lower lip nervously.

“You’re hovering.” Madam Morrible did not look up from her charts as she said it. Her voice was calm, clipped—already annoyed. “Why you want to come with us to the Uplands and Winkie Country is beyond me.”

“I am accompanying her,” the Wizard snapped, chocolate eyes glaring at the woman. “That is entirely appropriate.”

“It is unnecessary,” Morrible replied as the wizard began to pace. “And obvious.”

He stopped pacing.

Obvious was a word he hated.

“She’s new,” he said carefully. “And Oz is… overwhelming. She needs continuity.”

“She needs space,” Morrible countered. “If you suffocate her, she’ll notice.”

The Wizard laughed once, brittle and condescending. “You assume she’s looking for an exit.”

Morrible finally turned, fixing him with a look that could peel paint. “I assume she is human.”

Silence stretched between them and beyond the curtains, Emerald City hummed, gears turning in the clocktower, citizens rehearsing belief. The Wizard clenched his hands behind his back, knuckles white.

“You saw the Uplands roster,” he said. “Young. Beautiful. Ambitious.”

Morrible’s lips twitched in mock. “Oh.”

“And Winkie Country?” he continued, voice tightening, louder, slightly unhinged. “Untamed. Reckless. Princes who think danger is charm.”

“You’re afraid,” Morrible said flatly.

“I am aware,” he corrected, looking at her furiously “of patterns.”

“She fell from the sky,” Morrible said. “That alone guarantees fixation.”

“Not permanence,” he shot back, fixing his coiffed hair back. “Not loyalty.”

Morrible rose slowly from her seat, smoothing her robes as the chart was left on the table beside her. “You are not competing with them.”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Then why does it feel like I am?” He snapped back, taking a deep breath and rolling his shoulders from how tense his body felt.

She stepped closer. “Because you are old,” she said without cruelty. “And men like you confuse relevance with affection.”

The words landed hard as a punch in the gut.

“She looks at me,” he insisted, manic, his movements wild, his fixed hair falling back into his darkened eyes. “She listens.”

“For now,” Morrible said. “Because you are the story. Not because you are you.”

His breath hitched. “She cannot meet them without me,” he said suddenly, his voice caught in his throat. “Not alone.”

Morrible frowned. “That would make you look insecure.”

“I am insecure,” he snapped. “She is young. Kind. Unclaimed. If she meets someone who doesn’t need a curtain and machines—”

“—then she might choose,” Morrible finished for him. They stared at each other in silence, as the wizard tried to calm his nerves. “That,” Morrible added quietly, “is precisely why you must let her go.”

He shook his head with disbelief, even more hair falling wild from the fixed coif. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” she replied. “You don’t want her to love Oz. You want her to love you.”

The Wizard turned away from her piercing look, jaw tight, posture defensive and hair wild. “She will leave,” he whispered heartbroken. “I know how this ends. I’ve seen it before. They thank you. They smile. And then they outgrow the room.”

Morrible’s voice softened, not in sympathy but calculation. “Then we make sure,” she said, “that no room ever feels bigger than the one you give her.”

He looked back at her sharply.

“I’ll allow the visits,” she continued. “But if you go with her. You smile, frame it as protection.”

“And if she falls for som– bonds with someone else?” He asked in a small voice.

Morrible’s eyes gleamed. “Then we remind her who gave her a name.” The Wizard exhaled shakily, his trembling hands trying to brush his hair back in its usual style.“ You must never ask her to stay,” Morrible added. “If she senses need, she will pull away.”

The Wizard nodded unsure, still needing more reassurance.

“But if she believes Oz needs her,” Morrible finished, “she will never leave again.”

He swallowed hard as he nodded, one hand rubbing his chin in nervous habit. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll come.” Morrible hummed, turning back to her charts, already done with him. Behind her, the Wizard stared at the green curtains, at the thin line between illusion and abandonment, and whispered to no one but himself: “I won’t be replaced.”

The next day, the royal committee had made its way into the Uplands. Your head peeked through the windows of the carriage to take in the grandiosity of the Uplands, designed to be admired by all that came into the land. Every street curved just enough to suggest elegance, every building wore its wealth lightly; Columns of white polished but not ostentatious, windows catching the sun at flattering angles. Even the air smelled curated, perfumed with blossoms imported from places poorer and quieter.

You felt it immediately, a chill rolling down your back,  this place watched itself.

“Don’t tense,” the Wizard murmured, slyly shifting closer to the younger girl. “They’re not judging. They’re learning.”

Learning what? you almost asked. Instead, you smiled, waved from the window and when the carriage stopped, you allowed the crowd to lead, followed closely by the wizard and your ape guard led by Chistery. Morrible drifted behind like a shadow that had learned to wear heels.

People bowed, not deeply and definitely not sincerely but enough to be noticed by you. “Good Witch,” they all whispered. “So gentle.” Some said, “So normal.” You stopped from the parade they had pulled you into, to help a woman adjust a dropped parcel and the woman burst into tears. “I touched her!!,” she sobbed.

You froze, befuddled.

The Wizard’s hand hovered near your elbow, the tips of his fingers fluttering in your skin. “You see?” he said softly. “You matter.”

You nodded, heart aching in confused sadness. “But I don’t want them to feel small...”

“They won’t,” Morrible said from behind, smoothingly standing next to you. “They feel chosen.” Before you could answer, a flash of pink surged through the crowd like lightning.

“Oh—oh!”

Galinda crashed into the front row, breathing far too loudly, hair and eyes wide with delight that bordered on predatory hunger. “That’s her,” she breathed, hands on her knees as she tried to school her breath. “That 's her!!”.

You turned towards the commotion, startled, just as Galinda vaulted up towards you without invitation, tossing her hair back twice and fixing her sparkling pink dress. “Hi,” Galinda said brightly, giggly with a soft airy voice as she grabbed your hands as if you were already acquainted, ignoring the threatening apes with weapons that growled at her, surrounding you in a perfect circle.You smiled at Chistery, whose hackles were raised, canines showing threateningly and who had immediately jumped in front of you, hooting angry at the pink threat. With a quiet ‘it’s okay Chistery, I’m alright,’ and a comforting hand on his furry shoulder the ape unwillingly let Galinda come closer, but he stayed next to you, gaze fixed on Galinda.

“I’m Galinda. With a ‘Ga,’ obviously. From the Upper Uplands!  You’re even prettier than the rumors, which is honestly soooo unfair!!!”

You laughed, surprised by the  blonde’s friendly nature. “You’re very kind, Galinda.” 

Galinda leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, “They’re all looking at you like you’re an idol, an idea… But don’t worry—I’m very good at being a person for two.” She winked as something in her smile flickered—possessive, assessing… You couldn’t help but like her immediately.

The Wizard watched, calculating. Makes friends quickly, he thought. Good. Let the blonde think they are equals.

Galinda looped her arm through yours without asking and Chistery looked up between you and the wizard, looking for the smallest sign to push the pink threat away. “We’re going to be best friends,” she declared. “I can feel it. You have that… glow. The kind people follow even when they don’t know why.”

You blinked in surprise. “I don’t want people to follow me.”

Galinda tilted her head, eyes sharp beneath the sparkle, threw her head back and laughed airily then pulled her head back and looked at your eyes with a smirk. “Everyone wants someone to follow them. Even if they pretend not to.”

From the back of the committee, Morrible’s smile sharpened. ‘Interesting’, she thought. ‘Another variable’. Galinda quickly ushered you into an expensive looking terrace café bathed in pale gold light. Laughter rippled across marble floors, glasses chiming like bells and there, waiting like they’d planned for hours were Pfannee, and Shenshen.

Galinda dragged you closer, minding not stepping on the trail of your silver gown, her own dress a riot of pinks and shimmer, a smile already fixed in place as she had trained it to.

“Oh thank Oz,” she exclaimed in a high-pitched scream. “Guys, She’s real.”

Pfannee blinked, uncrossing his arms and fixing his own shimmery clothes. “Of course she’s real.”

“Well you never know with these things,” Galinda replied, already moving you toward her friends. “Sometimes goodness is just good lighting.”

Shenshen tilted her head, eyes narrowed—not unkind, just precise as she looked you up and down. From the headdress sitting on top of your (h/c) hair to your silver-blue gown, to your manicured hands and the tip of your unseen shoes “You don’t look like a symbol.”

“I hope not,” you laughed nervously but relieved. “I’d be terrible at it.”

Pfannee giggled. “Oh, she’s funny.”

Galinda took your hands again, always hands first, you had noticed. “You don’t belong up there on a balcony. You belong here. With people.” The  ‘with me’ went unsaid but hung in the air.

You smiled sweetly at the Uplands trio. “I like people.”

Galinda’s grin sharpened. “Good. Because people are going to like you too much.”

And they pulled you into their table, making you sit next to Galinda with Pfaanee across you and Shenshen across Galinda,talk flowed from fashion, to Upland gossip, to the Wizard’s speeches and even personal gossip. Pfannee and Galinda asked earnest questions about magic, in their hands your training wand as Shenshen watched you like you were a puzzle with edges just beginning to show.

“You don’t act like someone who’s been promised everything,” Shenshen said at last, breaking the raving about the training wand that Pfaanee and Galinda had been on for ten minutes.

“I haven’t been promised anything,” you replied with a small shrug.

Galinda laughed loudly, perhaps too loudly. “Oh sweetheart.”

The Wizard, who had stayed close to you since you departed his city, observed from a polite distance, satisfied. Makes them lean in, he thought. And if she makes friends… She won’t want to leave them behind. And these look easy to manipulate…Perfect.

Sooner than Galinda would have liked, your monkey squad (as Galinda had nicknamed them in her head) came to retrieve you to a meeting with the government officials of the Uplands. You had said goodbye to the trio of friends with the promise of seeing them again to at least have some hot drinks, and now as Galinda sat on her bed, spine straight, hands folded in her lap, replaying the day like a performance she was already analyzing and rewriting.

She’d been right.

(Y/n) Gale, The Good Witch of Oz was not competition.

She was gravity.

People did not want to be you, they wanted to orbit you, which was worse. Because that meant if Galinda drifted too far, she’d be forgotten entirely.

Unless.

“She doesn’t know yet,” Galinda whispered to her reflection in her pink full-length mirror. “That’s the sweetest part.” She smirked. You had laughed easily, had listened to Galinda’s silly ramblings about architecture in the Uplands and even asked her questions!, had touched her hands without calculation nor hidden motif, had not been annoyed by her bubbly rambling–. Galinda pressed her fingers together, remembering the warmth of your hands then brought her hands to her cheeks, cupping them between her hands imagining they were yours. “I can help her,” she continued softly, looking at her reflection. “Show her how to stay loved.” The image of you smiling at others that evening—at Pfannee, at Shenshen, at strangers... It made something twist unpleasantly in her chest. “She’s open and friendly…And that’s dangerous in spaces like the ones she moves in…,” Galinda said, frowning. “She shouldn’t give herself away like that.”

The blonde stood abruptly, pacing in her room. “If I stay close,” she reasoned, “I can protect her. Guide her. Make sure people see her the right way.” She paused. “I can make her shine… And if I can just reflect half of the light she shines… Oz will love me too…” Galinda returned to the mirror, a smile reassembling itself flawlessly over the frown that had marred her face until a few seconds ago. “Best friends,” she said aloud, testing the words. “ (Y/n) Gale and Galinda Upland, the dynamic duo, best friends and most powerful sorceresses in Oz… Yes. That sounds right.” She imagined standing beside you– in her own pink gown that complimented your silvery blue, and even bore some reflections of lavender in your own dress with her pink one, a bit of her reflecting on you–, in every room, every photograph, every story Oz told.

Not above. Not behind.

Beside.

Where no one could take her place.

Galinda smoothed her dress, satisfied in herself. Tomorrow, she will learn everything about you the magazines in Oz could provide her. She’ll analyze your conversation, your body language. She will even buy poppy flowers like the ones in your headdress. She’ll make herself the perfect best friend, the bestest companion, she’ll mold herself to your tastes. Then as you meet in Shiz –Because of course you’ll meet there, you were learning sorcery and Madam Morrible taught her seminar there– you could be roommates, classmates and eventually best friends.

Tomorrow she’ll buy a silvery blue scarf to wear at school, so everyone would know who was closest to you.

Who belonged next to you.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.

A few days of travel later you found yourself staring at a new land.

Winkie Country did not shine like the Uplands or the Emerald City, no. It did not greet the Good Witch either.

It burned and assessed her.

The land was all heat and motion. Gold fields bending under relentless sun, music echoing from nowhere and everywhere at once, fancy organic and natural architecture, flowers and crops for miles, laughter loud enough to dare the sky to answer. Horses stamped and people watched with open curiosity, the kind that made no effort to be polite.

This place had no patience for symbols.

The Emerald City carriage arrived like a foreign object, polished and green and unmistakably elsewhere. The Wizard stepped out first, smiling too carefully. Morrible followed, already displeased.

“This place,” you murmured with a bright smile, stepping down from the carriage, “feels alive.”

The Wizard stiffened almost imperceptibly, his hand that held yours to help you down from the carriage tightened its hold on yours.

“Unruly,” he said lightly, coughing in his other fist as he helped you walk the rocky road. “But charming nonetheless.”

You did not hesitate, moving towards the closest source of music and joined in dancing to the rhythm, laughing merrily with the children and adults dancing there.That was what drew eyes as you did not wait for instruction or applause, just stepped into the earth as if you did not doubt it was solid ground, breathing it in, eyes bright not dazzled, not frightened.

Alive.

The music faltered and conversations paused as Winkie Country leaned forward in interest.

“This one’s different,” someone muttered. “Not a stuck up emerald citizen”

The Wizard felt it immediately, the way attention shifted, the way the crowd bent not toward him, but past him. His hand hovered near your back, not touching, but already possessive. And then his major cause for concern appeared.

Someone younger, fitter, age appropriate, just as charismatic…

Someone just like him.

Fiyero did not arrive so much as interrupt, loud and unabashed as he was. Horse dusted and sunburned, grin lazy and unearned, he dismounted without ceremony, eyes locking onto you like he had found something misplaced in his own land. No bow, no pause, just a lazy grin.“Well,” he said, breaking the silence, as he stared at you with your fancy gown and tiara, “this is new”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, not out of amusement but because the wind tugged at your skirts and they flared upwards wildly and the absurdity of it all struck all at once.

“Is that good or bad?” you had asked the prince, your hands leaving your skirts and coming to pet his blue iridescent horse. “He must be the handsomer of the two of you, what’s your name?” You said with a smirk as you pet the horse.

Fiyero smiled wider.

“My name’s Feldspur, lovely miss. But you could call me yours” The horse responded in an amused way, neighing as Fiyero petted his hair– well, more so messed up his crest.

“Don’t tell him that, it will go to his head” Fiyero joked, smirking at his horse who huffed in response. “And he’s already insufferable!!”

“Talk about insufferable, I’m your only friend, dumbass” Feldspur said, headbutting Fiyero’s shoulder.

“Ow!! Feldspur you’ve hurt my feelings!” The prince pouted in mock sadness, then he shifted his gaze towards you and smirked “Do you know what would cheer me up? If our Good Witch walked with us for a bit, dont’cha think, Feldspur?”. The horse shook his head as you laughed at their dynamic and agreed, much to the Wizard’s chagrin.

“I told you, Don’t hover, Oscar” Madam Morrible whispered in the wizard’s ear, who just smiled weakly at you.

So the Good Witch of Oz and the prince of Winkie country walked.

“What do they call you?” The Winkie prince asked with a charming smile.

You hesitated, just a beat too long. “(Y/n), (Y/n) Gale.” You smiled gently at him.

“I like that,” the blonde smirked. “My name’s Fiyero, and well, you already know Feldspur.” The horse snorted and you whispered a soft ‘Happy to meet you’.

As the three of you walked you couldn’t help but notice everything; The way people leaned closer when you smiled, the way children stared without fear, the way the music changed its rhythm as if trying to keep pace with your breathing.

Music started again, somewhere close, drums, strings, melodic voices all fast, wild and enchanting. 

“Would the Good Witch like a drink with little ol’ me?” Fiyero offered with a flirty smile and you could smell the flirting tactic from as far as Munchkinland.

“Thank you, but No.” You smiled unapologetically at the blond prince, who’s surprised face made you bite your lip to resist the urge to laugh at the cute surprise in his blue eyes. Then he shrugged, grabbing a drink from a table nearby. Taking a sip he leaned closer, lowering his voice. 

“They dress you up yet? Or is this still the part where you get to be real?”

You hesitated. Then, quietly, "Normally I don’t dress like this, back home, if that’s what you’re asking” You answered with a gentle smile, pointing at your sparkling get-up but the Tigelaar prince noticed the concern in your eyes “ and I…I’m trying to stay real.”

Something in Fiyero’s expression shifted, interest sharpening into intent.

“Careful,” Fiyero smirked, already regaining his flirting senses. “Places like this ruin people who try to stay gentle.” he sipped his drink again.

“I’m not afraid,” you replied jokingly, puffing out your chest.

He smiled wider, biting his lip to hold back a chuckle."You will be.” In his words there was no threat, but promise. And as you looked out over the fields, sunlight caught in your hair, you answered, looking back at the prince with a sincere smile. 

“Maybe,” you said. “Or maybe they teach you what gentleness is for.”

From behind, the Wizard watched, jaw tightening. ‘Too fast’, he thought. ‘He sees her. The real her’.

Morrible’s voice slid into his ear. “You can’t control desire.”

“No,” the Wizard murmured between clenched teeth. “But I can decide who it costs.”

So the two of you keep on walking, not formally like Prince and Socialité, although Chistery and his brothers did walk a few steps ahead of the two of you, scaring people into moving from the road. Not properly like the old movies from Kansas portrayed Princes and princesses. Just two people moving through a place that respected neither rules nor titles. The Wizard trailed close behind, irritation sharpening with every step.

“You’re really not afraid,” Fiyero observed from the corner of his eye.

“Oh, I am,” you replied with a smile. “I just don’t think fear should decide who I meet.” Fiyero stared at you for a few seconds too long, the thought of your answer stayed with him ever since. Truly it stayed with everyone who heard it, as Winkie country liked courage that did not announce itself.

But the seething old Wizard behind the pair, did not.

As Fiyero stared at you like he had never seen you before the wizard approached you, all gentle charismatic smiles. “This place is dangerous,” he said lightly as he made his way to your other side, hand finally resting at your elbow. “Unpredictable.” Madam Morrible shook her head as her hand tried to ease the headache between her eyes named Oscar Diggs.

You smiled, looking out over the fields as the wind blew your hair wild. “So am I,” you said, the Winkie golden light reflecting on your (e/c) eyes. You didn’t mean it as defiance but as Fiyero watched the unknown man ( Who was he, anyways? Fiyero wondered, Your father?? A Guard sent by the Wizard?? But then he remembered reading (eww) once that your main defense was the monkey army and they had been glaring holes at his head ever since he dismounted Feldspur.), his smile did not reach his eyes.

“We should return,” the wizard insisted. “This place is… intense.” You looked back at Fiyero, an apologetic smile on your dark painted lips, by the time you were called back to the carriage, the land of Winkie had already chosen not to kneel but to remember the Good Witch of Oz.

And as you stepped away, you turned back once, meeting Fiyero’s blue gaze with a sweet smile and kind eyes. “I’ll see you again,” you said, not a promise nor a plea but a certainty spoken too early into the wind. Then Fiyero saw as the man from earlier helped you up again, smiling far too sweetly and looking at you way too intently for Fiyero’s comfort. As your form disappeared inside the green carriage, the man stared at the prince’s eyes with an unkind threatening glare before joining you and Morrible inside.

The carriage rolled on, green fading into the characteristic gold winkie sunset. But Fiyero remained where he was long after it vanished, dust settling around his boots. Something restless had taken root—something that did not itch for escape, but for return, and behind him Winkie Country resumed its noise, its music, its heat.

But it will not forget you.

And neither will he.

That night, as Fiyero laid in his silk bed, he recalled the day, the way the sun had reflected on your soft skin, how your eyes would twinkle in amusement when he or Feldspur said something stupid, how your laugh still echoes in his brain.

Fiyero's POV

Winkie Country had never bowed to the Wizard of Oz. The land laughs too loud, drinks too much, and dares the sky to do something about it. The fields stretch wide and merciless, gold bending under heat and wind, music pounding until even your bones forget to behave.

That’s why I liked it, why nothing ever surprises me here.

Until the Good Witch came to say hello.

I had seen the characteristic Emerald City carriage before I saw her. It was emerald green, heavily decorated with gold accents and polished beyond usual, so wrong for this place. Too careful, too clean, the kind of thing Winkie Country chews up and spits out for sport, and upon seeing it I was already irritated, but then you stepped down.

Not dressed in greens like a conqueror nor glowing like a lie. Just… standing there, eyes wide, breathing it all in like the dust and noise were a gift.

You hadn’t flinched to Winkie’s untamed nature, but rather joined the music like a calling.

And that had been your first mistake.

Everyone else who comes here braces for impact but you had leaned forward, interested to learn more. So I swung down from Feldspur without thinking, boots hitting dirt hard enough to make a point. If you startled then, I’d laugh and be done with it.

But then you laughed first.

Not at me.

But at the wind.

“Well,” I said, because silence felt like losing ground, “this is new.” You turned toward me, and looked, really looked— at me. No polite skimming, no rehearsed awe.

“Is that good or bad?” you had asked and I forgot to answer you that no, it just depended on how much trouble you planned on causing. That was when I noticed the weird man standing stiff behind you, smile tight as a leash. Who I recognized as Madame Morrible’s eyes flicked between us like she was already counting losses.

Ah, I thought. So that’s what this is.

A presentation.

But you didn’t stand there like a prize, but rather like someone who didn’t know she was being claimed.

“What do they call you?” I asked.

You hesitated for a moment. “(Y/n), (Y/n) Gale.” You smiled at me then, sweet and pure.

Just (Y/n).

Not Good. Not Glorious. Not anything I could use to put distance between us.

Something in my chest went sharp.

“I like that,” I said before introducing myself, and truly I meant that I like that you don’t belong to them yet.

So I invited you to walk with Feldspur and I.

I asked you if you were afraid and you cutely lied and tried to seem tough. We kept our walk, my thoughts swimming all over the place but all about you. No escort, despite the older man’s obvious discomfort and constant trailing and hovering and the monkeys walking ahead as if I didn’t notice.

Winkie Country doesn’t respect men who hover.

People stared, some even bowed mockingly but you didn’t say anything, at first I thought you hadn’t even noticed. Perhaps you didn’t even mind, that made my heart feel light. Others just watched us, curious, hungry and you met their eyes anyway.

“You’re really not afraid,” I said with a smirk.

“Oh, I am,” you replied honestly now, with the sweetest look I had ever seen. “I just don’t think fear should decide who I meet.” I couldn’t help but freeze, because that was worse than bravery. 

Because that meant you could be convinced.

But your words burned my brain as hot iron.

Music started somewhere behind us again; The drums, strings, all fast and wild. I offered you a drink, my usual flirting tactic, but then you declined with a smile that didn’t apologize.

“Careful,” I told you. “Places like this ruin people who try to stay gentle.” I had warned you.

Then you looked out over the fields, sunlight catching in your hair. “Maybe,” you said. “Or maybe they teach you what gentleness is for.”

I didn’t laugh. I just watched the way the light touched you like it had permission.

I felt something old and ugly stir.

She doesn’t belong to the Wizard, nor to the Emerald city, not even to Winkie Country, I thought. Which means she’s mine to keep safe from all of it.

The old man interrupted then– always does when something real threatens to happen between us. He touched your arm, too familiar, too careful. He really must be family if he took such liberties.

“We should return,” he said. “This place is… intense.” Then you looked back at me, apologetic, your pretty eyes saddened.

The sun caressed your profile just the right way, your eyes shimmering and focused on me, dark lipstick that begged to mark my throat, skin and even my whole soul. “I’ll see you again,” You said with a smile, just as the sun reflected an almost angelic golden halo around your figure that left me breathless.

Your words were not a promise nor a question.

It was but a statement, as if you knew it would be so, and deep inside I hoped you were right.

I smiled and bowed, all charm, all ease, all charade. But as the carriage pulled away, I stayed very still, dust settling around my boots, heart beating faster than it ever had for danger.

I didn’t wonder if you’d return. I wondered who I’d have to break when you did.

Because Oz doesn’t deserve people like you and when I realized these feelings I should have left.

That’s the rule. That has always been the rule.

Winkie Country burns fast, and when it starts to feel familiar, you ride until the dust forgets your name. No roots. No echoes. No one is waiting to be disappointed.

But as the sun started to peek from the horizon, I was still there, in my bed. And as I walked outside the castle, the party had thinned, fire burning low, music slowing into something lazy and half-hearted. Someone laughed too close to my ear, someone else tried to pull me toward a tent and I needed to forget.

So I let them, but it didn’t work.

Their hands were warm, mouths eager. Their voices loud enough to drown my thoughts.

Still—you were there.

Standing in the dust like it didn’t own you, looking at the world like it might tell you their secrets if you listened long enough.

I pulled away.

“What’s wrong with you?” someone scoffed.

Nothing, I almost said. But that would have been a hell of a lie, so I walked instead, instinctively tracing the same route we had walked before. Out past the people, past the noise. To where the fields stretched wide and empty, where your figure was burned into my retinas. Where moonlight silvering the gold until it looked like something fragile.

That was new too.

Winkie Country is never fragile.

I sat on the field, elbows on my knees, and tried, like really tried, to think of leaving.

The road north would be good, or perhaps even the coast. Somewhere loud enough to erase memory.

But every direction led back to you.

Just (Y/N).

No title. No crown. No leash.

You’d said my name like it wasn’t already wrapped in expectation, like you hadn’t been warned and that was the part that stayed with me. People usually see me as a door, something exciting you pass through on the way to something else, something better.

But you looked at me like I was that something better, the place people usually want to stay at after using me, and It made my chest hurt like nothing else had.

“This is stupid,” I muttered to the rising sun. Then I stood, pacing. If I left now, this would fade. That’s how it works, desire burns itself out if you starve it, just like fire.

But the thought of you stepping back into the Emerald City, into the Wizard’s hands, into polished rooms and careful lies and all of that made something viciously violent rise in me.

He doesn’t see her, I thought. He’s already decided what she’s for.

And suddenly leaving felt like surrendering. 

As I imagined you looking for me when you returned like you propheticed. Not desperately, nor pleading. Just… checking.

For me.

Like I mattered.

As if me being just Fiyero– with no titles nor responsibilities, was already something worthy.

The image rooted me in place.

I laughed, sharp and humorless while my hands messed up my blonde hair. “So that’s it,” I said. “That’s the trap.”

No magic nor prophecy.

Choice.

I could run away but I just didn’t want to anymore.

Which was way worse, because wanting meant staying. Staying meant caring and caring meant I would hurt someone if it came to it.

I laid back in the grass, staring as the sky turned a pale blue, just like your dress, and for the first time in years I didn’t feel like the stars were calling me away. They felt like witnesses to something bigger than I, bigger than Oz.

“If you come back,” I said softly, not knowing who I was speaking to anymore, “I won’t pretend this is nothing. And I won’t share you with anyone… Not even with Oz.”

The wind moved through the fields, carrying no answer.

But I knew.

When you returned to Winkie Country, I wouldn’t be gone and I wouldn’t let anyone else decide where you belonged.

Not the Wizard. Not Morrible. 

Not even you.

Especially not you.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.

That night, as the Emerald City settled to sleep, you stood on your balcony, getting some fresh air, what felt like standing between worlds  of polished admiration and reckless fascination. Unaware that each step taken was tightening a web already woven around you.

And somewhere far away, the ancient magic surrounding Shiz began to stir.

ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ...

You balked at her.  “Why would we do that!”

“To piss them off. They need to be punished for how they treated you.”

It had been a month since Halloween. A month since you'd gone to your first ever party, when Powder had convinced you to dress as a sexy vampire...When Vi Lanes and Caitlyn Kiramman had cornered you upstairs, seduced you into having sex (your first time!), and then left you the next morning. They'd fucked your brains out, left you unable to remember your own name, and then swaggered out of your room without saying goodbye or checking you were okay. They didn’t even offer you a washcloth or glass of water.

The next time you saw them around campus, they mocked you relentlessly. ‘You actually wore bike shorts under your dress! White underwear, like the virgin you were! Had any luck finding those panties, by the way?’ The facade was over; they'd gotten what they wanted. You were left humiliated, crying in your room as Powder held you tightly, telling you in vivid detail all the ways she'd tear the two of them limb from limb for you.

The weeks passed, and the humiliation eased, with Powder’s help. You were getting over it, slowly. You were starting to feel more like yourself.

Then one day, when you and Powder had been hanging out in your room, she made the absolute mad suggestion: send Caitlyn and Vi nudes from Powder’s phone.

You twisted your mouth. “This feels cruel.”

“Hey, they’re my sister and my sister’s girlfriend; if anyone’s allowed to be cruel to them, it’s me.”

“But you’d really do that?” you asked sceptically, an eyebrow raised.

She nodded emphatically. “Hell yeah, I would!”

You just looked at her, shaking your head a little. “I don't mean be cruel to them. You’re willing to kiss me, be naked with me, put your fingers inside me, your mouth right next to or directly on my vulva just to fake some pics to piss off your sister and her girlfriend because they had sex with me a few weeks ago?”

She chuckled. “Sugar, if it makes you happy and pisses off those two, I’ll eat your ass like ice cream,” she said proudly.

You blushed bright red. “Whoa, Powder…Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Plus, don’t you think it’d be fun? It’d drive them crazy. I know Vi: she gets super jealous and possessive, and Cait's so fucking proud! If they know you're moving on from them – with me! - they'll go nuts.”

You hesitated. It would drive them crazy, which did sound appealing. And, if nothing else, it would be a funny afternoon with Powder, a memory to look back on and laugh. It’s not like she hadn’t seen you naked before.

“Alright,” you nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Her face lit up and she jumped off your bed, pulling you up. “Excellent! Let’s take a shower!”

“Okay, Powder, I need to say this now,” you started, your towel still wrapped around you for your modesty. Even knowing you were about to throw that concept out the window. She looked at you expectantly. “You are a beautiful woman-”

“Thank you, sugar,” she smiled, lounging back on your bed, her towel riding dangerously high up her smooth thighs.

“-And I’m definitely a lesbian. So I want to apologise now if I…Get excited,” you blushed.

Her smile turned into a cocky grin. “You mean if your pussy gets wet?”

“Yes!” you snapped defensively, blushing harder.

“Don't worry, sugar, I'm totally cool if your pussy leaks all over me,” she winked.

You flushed. “I just don’t want to make it weird. If-if you’re not comfortable with any of this-”

She leant forward, taking hold of your hand, and pulling you a little closer. “Tuts,” she said softly, holding eye contact with you, “Nothing about this will make me uncomfortable. But if you get uncomfortable at any point, you need to tell me. Okay?”

You nodded. “I will, I promise.”

“Good girl,” she smiled, not knowing the effect it instantly had on you. “So, how should we start?”

You’d set up your phone on your desk, propped up against some books, set to take a photo every ten seconds. You had Powder’s phone on hand for any close-ups and videos. That way you had twice as many photos, to give the impression you’d had sex several times! Powder’s idea. Genius, in your opinion.

You’d started by lying down together, still in your towels, just getting comfortable with each other. You started gently kissing, only just pressing your lips together, before pulling away and giggling nervously. Powder let you kiss her that way until you were more comfortable, then rolled on top of you.

“Are you okay with this?” she asked, gently tugging on your towel.

You nodded, helping her open your towel, laying under her naked. You waited nervously whilst she looked you up and down.

“Holy shit, tuts…” She breathed out. “You’re gorgeous.”

You blushed. “My phone’s not recording audio.”

“You think I don’t mean that?” she challenged, laying down on top of you again, kissing you deeply.

She slid one hand up your side slowly, teasing you with her fingertips, before cupping your breast.

You moaned gently, then gasped. “Sorry! I’m sorry, that just came out.”

She shook her head with a smile. “Moan all you want, sugar. I don’t mind.”

She kissed down your neck, slowly moving down to your chest. Placing tender kisses to the tops of your breasts, she cupped one in her hand, feeling its weight. Kissing her way over to it, she took your nipple into her mouth.

You moaned again, then bit your lip. Stop making this awkward!, you scolded yourself.

But she just chuckled against your skin. She switched over to the other breast, repeating her treatment of your pebbling flesh.

You felt your pussy growing wetter by the second. You blushed, pulling back a little. “Pow, I’m…”

She lifted her head. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you breathed out, “I’m just…Getting excited,” your cheeks flushed red.

She smiled. “Do you wanna take a break?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m okay to keep going. I just…Wanted to let you know. In case you…”

“Feel your wet pussy?” she winked.

You dropped your head back onto the pillow, laughing in embarrassment. “Yes, okay? In case you felt it.”

She laughed with you. “No worries here, sugar. You wanna go on top for a bit?”

“Are you okay with me inserting my fingers?” you asked as you lay between Powder’s thighs. Both of you had become aroused over the hour, so you made no mind to her leaking pussy.

Lying on her back, breath coming a little faster, Powder nodded. “Go for it, sugar.”

“Okay, I’ll use two, if that’s okay?”

She nodded again, eyes a little heated.

“Okay, here we go.” You gently inserted your first two fingers into her pussy, earning a quiet moan. You’d both been moaning a lot, so you didn’t judge her. You moved your fingers slowly, so you could be sure your phone got a clear photo. You kept going for about a minute, wanting multiple photos. You picked up your phone, recording some clips from different angles, at different speeds.

Powder didn’t hide the soft moans coming from her, as you hadn’t hidden your own moans at various points. “Fuck, that feels good.”

You smiled understandingly at her. “You want me to stop?”

“You either gotta stop or finish the job,” she joked.

You blushed. “Um…Okay, let’s see what else we can do,” you suggested a little awkwardly, pulling your fingers out of her.

You missed her small pout, before she smiled back at you and sat up.

A few hours later, the sun now down, curtains closed, beside lamp on, you browsed some porn sites together with a glass of water, looking for inspiration.

“Oh, wait, I still need to eat your ass,” Powder declared.

Your eyes widened. “Were you serious about that?” you recoiled.

“Yeah, why not?” she grinned.

“Well, it’s…” you grimaced. “I mean, I’ve showered but still…”

“It’s hot, sugar. Come on, let’s see some idea pics.”

You’d put yourself on your front, angling her phone over your shoulder as she knelt between your legs, holding your cheeks open as she moved her tongue over your back hole. You’d tried not to squirm as she did; it felt so wrong, but it was amazing. You groaned softly, making sure to zoom in on her face, getting some clips and photos of Powder’s eyes both closed and open, looking straight into the camera. You’d put her phone down, hiding it under your pillow and making a fucked-out expression for your own phone to take pics.

When she was happy you had enough footage of her eating your ass, she tapped your hip to roll you over. Settling onto your back with her between your legs, she put her mouth on your clit.

You moaned loudly, unable to hold it in. She smirked at you, giving you a playful wink. You let yourself hold her head gently – for the photos, you told yourself – not allowing yourself to enjoy it too much. You didn’t want Powder to think you were taking advantage of her.

“Don’t forget my phone, sugar,” she reminded you gently, sucking your clit into her mouth.

With a dry mouth and soaking pussy, you picked up her phone from under the pillow. Angling it between your legs, you pressed the button. As you recorded, you made sure to moan Powder’s name, gasping and moaning a little louder than normal, but still trying to be convincing. If you went overboard, they would know you were faking it. Powder kept looking at the camera, making sure her tongue was visible touching your pussy as she moved her tongue from side to side.

You nodded your head to her to signal you’d stopped recording. But she continued, her eyes closed as she licked up and down your slit, her hands coming under your hips and holding your thighs open.

You snapped a few more pics. “Okay,” you panted, “Powder, you can stop now.”

She just looked up at you, not moving from where she was. “Do you want me to stop?”

You trembled. “Do you…Do you not want to stop?”

“Do you want me to stop?” she repeated with a daring smile, gently squeezing your thighs as she placed kisses on your inner thigh.

“I…I want you to be comfortable,” you said carefully. But hoping.

She chuckled against you, sending vibrations through your skin. “Then I think,” she pressed her tongue flat to your clit, rubbing it side to side, her eyes locked on you, “that I want to eat this delicious pussy,” she sucked your clit, “until you’re screaming my name for real.”

You whimpered. “God…Yes. Yes, please,” you begged.

She smiled, kissing your clit. “Then lie back, sugar. Let me eat,” she pushed you down onto the bed, doubling her efforts on you pussy.

You flopped back against the bed, your eyes closed as you moaned – for real – your hands settling in her hair. You cursed under your breath and groaned, moving your hips against her mouth. She hummed softly against you, feasting upon you, devouring you.

“God, where’d you learn to do this?” you asked breathlessly.

She chuckled. “Thank you, sugar.” She slid her tongue inside you, earning a jolt of your hips.

Your hips rolled, your back arched, your moans constant until you came with a cry. “Fuck,” you breathed, looking down at her, her eyes smug over your pelvis.

She licked you gently until you stopped shaking, climbing over you. Her mouth and chin were covered in your juices, and you reached up and kissed her passionately, until neither of you could breathe.

Pulling back, she stroked your cheek. “You okay?”

You nodded. “That was fantastic,” you said in awe, kissing her deeply again.

When you broke apart again, she smiled down at you. “I’m gonna take good care of you, tuts.”