#Dorothy Must Die!Scarecrow x Reader Drabble

[slashingdisneypasta]

DMD!Scarecrow (+ Glinda The Good Witch) x Seductress!Fae!Reader || Drabble

Plot: Glinda has you, her favourite spy, attempt to gather intel on the Scarecrow (her other Favourite)... but as it turns out, she doesn't particularly like how well her favourite pets play together. But they endeavour to show her- she doesn't own them.

Warnings: Sexual and dark themes. References to monster fucking (Scarecrow). Unedited.

You left the Scarecrow for last of Dorothy's old friends, per Glinda's request. She said he was crafty, and she suggested you make sure you're truly ready before speaking to him. That all your pretty little thoughts are in order and your pretty little head is straight. After all, even she found him frustrating at times, and it was no secret that she was actually fond of the monster the Scarecrow had become since Dorothy returned. He was a Favourite of Glinda's, in fact- just like you were.

So you assumed him to be tricky, but you didn't anticipate quite how tricky.

For example, you aren't quite sure... how you ended up in his lap.

Or why on earth, you were sitting there and allowing him to tell you about his work. You already knew all of this! Glinda knows about all of this! You want to know about the other stuff- the secret stuff he does when she's not looking at him. Thats what you were assigned to find out, to draw from him with your good looks and some choice words. But he spoke circles around you and made you dizzy, and when he took your hand in his and boldly guided you to take a seat on his lap you just did, stupidly. God, you were supposed to be good at this... you're beautiful, and enchanting, and charming. And you're smart enough to know how to use it. You skills had worked with the Lion and the Tin Man perfectly well after all, the Tin Man is in love with someone else! Why was the Scarecrow so different??

... hmph, you frown (Or pout) when he's not looking. Glinda will not be happy with you (With either of you- but especially you), if you fail... You have to turn this around.

And you know just how to do it. He thinks you're a dumb, silly girl?? You can use that.

"Scare?" You ask gently, melodically, finding a moment when he's not talking, and softly nudging his chin upwards with your pointer finger so he looks at you perched there oh-so-temptingly in his lap. His blue, painted-on eyes look bored for a moment, before the heated look in your eyes registers. Then a slow, wicked smirk spreads across his stitched-on lips. "I know all of this... " You whisper, a mischievous grin tugging at both corners of your pretty, glittery lips. "You know, I know all of this." Fingers gliding down his burlap shoulders to his chest, which is oddly warm, you give a sigh. "... lets just be honest with each other."

"Oh?" This captures his attention, as he straightens up and grins smugly down at you; intrigued. "How honest, little fae?"

"Fully. ... Glinda sent me." You admit to him, getting no responce- because he knew. Of course, he knew. Why wouldn't he? He's the smartest man in all of Oz. Before he can ask any questions, though, you quickly go on; covering your tracks again. "But its not what you think. Or- what you might think. She... she thinks we might get along. You and I. She thinks... "

The Scarecrow's eyes widen, as if his eyebrows that don't exist are shooting up in sincere surprise, and you resist the urge to smirk. Men are too easy. You just need to know... where to cut. And now you do.

"Glinda?? Playing match maker??" Scarecrow blinks, shocked and confused, and you give a dainty shrug.

"I don't blame you for being surprised, if your relationship with her is anything like mine is... " You make your eyes round and meaningful; If she kisses him the way she kisses you. Then sweetly pick a loose strand of hay off his shoulder. "Well. I think she's angling for a group thing... If you know what I mean. We're boring her separately, now, basically."

That snaps Scarecrow out of his baffled reverie, his eyes narrowing. "Boring her??" You can practically see the cogs turning in his saw-dust head; deeply offended and full of spite. How could anyone get tired of him?? He gets bored with everyone else. He is brilliant. As anger builds up in his lanky sack body, his gloved hands tighten on you. "... turn around." He finally mutters, frustration thick in his scratchy voice.

Carefully you turn your body around, wrapping your legs around him and manoeuvring your dress so it doesn't get tangled up. In your head, you hear a sugary yet annoyed voice whisper 'darling... what are you doing??'.

"Did you hear that, too?" Scarecrow asks, and you nod; heat in your eyes that mirrors the burn in his voice. "Good." Then he pulls you by your thighs in closer against his lap, so you're sat spread-out directly atop his bulge. Honestly, you're quite surprised. What's down there!??- "Maybe we're bored of her first, hm?"

... a slow smile spreads across your face at him. He's walking right into your trap; just like you thought. The only problem is that Glinda doesn't sound too happy about it, which is odd.

'... don't sleep with him, Y/N.' She sounds threatening, like she's warning you.

'I'm just looking out for you~... '

'... Hay, everywhere. And I mean everywhere. You don't want that, dear.'

"She seems quite damn insistent that we don't do this, doesn't she?" The Scarecrow says, ripping you from your thoughts and your worries; telling you that she's telling him off, too. He's getting the same thinly veiled, angry messages. His eyes now slip over you and a vulgar smirk spreads across his face- he's not just interested in you out of spite. He wants you. "I think she's being selfish, don't you?"

'This is not what I asked you to do, Y/N. Listen to me- '

"Yes." You whisper, slicing through her presence in your mind and gently dragging your arms over his shoulders; locking them around his neck; drawing your face in so near to his that you smell canvas hay and canvas. Your core is throbbing on top of him, hearing him talk.

Because- to be quite honest, you've grown frustrated by Glinda controlling your whole life. Keeping you for herself while she fucks anyone she wants, does whatever she pleases,.. and it looks like Scarecrow feels similarly; Tired of being manipulated by this glittery witch.

And this.

This seems like the perfect way to get back at her.

Screw your orders, tonight.

When your lips press experimentally against his very rough ones made of paint and embroidery, you feel a terrible flash of anger from Her, but she says nothing else. Before you can pull back again, the Scarecrow kisses you back; parting his lips, and forcing yours open too, and shoving an odd felt tongue into your mouth. Its not entirely pleasant, but not entirely unpleasant. The tongue is warm.

A choked, pleased sound slips out of you when the Scarecrow's gloved hand slips under your dressed and slips against your core, and he pulls away smirking at that pretty noise you made. "Oh... that Bitch has been selfish, indeed."

Wrapping your legs more securely around him and the back of the chair, you cosy yourself up against him. Chest to chest. "Lets teach her a lesson."

"I'm going to make you scream, Y/N. And I hope she hears it."

[slashingdisneypasta]

DMD!Scarecrow x Reader || Drabble

Plot: Dorothy got away from him twice. You're not getting away even once.

Based on This imagine.

Warnings: Possessiveness, entitlement, sexual references.

It was happening to him again. He helped her, he did everything that he could think of to make her happy here and get her what she wanted, and she was leaving again. First it was Dorothy- twice. And now he was having to watch Y/N leave, too.

What was the point of doing good if he was always just lonely for it?

Your hands on either side of his head feel good, and so do his hands on your waist (He doesn't want to let go), and the smell of your hair when the breeze lifts it up and carries it to him makes him feel a little dizzy- and then your lips, on his cheek. That's...

He's been kissed before, but it never felt like that.

"I love you, dear Scare." You whisper, falling down lightly back onto your heels. A smile on your pretty face. "Its been a hell of a few weeks. Thank you for everything." Your hands slips away from him and its like his dusty seams were being ever-so-carefully ripped apart. "I'll miss you forever."

... Oh yeah? A bitter note slips into the Scarecrow's thoughts. Bitter and spiteful and mean. Its, possibly, the first time, that the Scarecrow had allowed himself to feel wholly selfishly. The Winkies and what he did with them... he convinced himself that was just merely curiosity. That was for the Kingdom. That was for Dorothy, that was- that was so old Nick could stop acting so foolishly... But this, how he was feeling about you leaving-- there was no doubt about it. That was selfish.

He wants you to stay because he wants you. He wanted you from the moment he pulled you out of that crashed helicopter (Thats what you said it was called. You told him that ordinarily, it flew. Without magic, even.) and you clung to him in so much fear he could practically see it in your pretty eyes. He wants you to stay, and be with him, and most importantly want him back.

Now that- that, might take some work he thinks.

Work he has no time, now, to put in. Because you're taking the old wizard's hand (That fucking old man) and letting him pull you into another damn hot air balloon.

Before he can control his outburst, he tries one last (admittedly, desperate) attempt to make you stay. He pulls you back, so you fall into him, and holds you up. "Y/N wait."

"-Hm?!" You're frazzled from how he yanked you, eyes wide and heart beating so fast in your chest he can feel it against his, but you feel safe in his arms. He likes to way you relax looking up at him; realising its your friend.

... a friend who suddenly thinks that you would look even prettier, on the ground with your legs apart.

He should've taken you, he thinks, back in the field he found you in. Before you went on your adventures, before you found the wizard. With just the ears of corn to hear and the crows to watch; Then you might've thought twice, before leaving him.

"Stay, Y/N. Come on, admit it- " A smirk spreads across his stitches. "We make a good team, here."

"Oh, Scare, we do!... " Quickly, you right yourself against him and lift your arms to touch his face with your hands, again. And for a split moment, the Scarecrow thinks it worked. How moronic of him. He has the best brains in all of Oz; he should've known better. "... but I cant stay here. I need to go home! There are things I need to fix, there. Things I want, there... You understand don't you?"

When he doesn't respond for a few moments too long, just staring at you as if he were just an empty headed scarecrow, you tilt your head to the side and furrow your brows at him; concerned. "Scare?"

The wizard notices something in him that you don't, and Scarecrow hates him even more for it in that moment, as he leans back out of the balloon and grips your wrist. Urging you to get into the basket. "Come on now, child, I'm cutting the rope."

"Oh- " You let go of Scarecrow so easily, something finally snaps inside him as he watches you turn and reach for the wizards hand again. "I'm coming- "

"Of course your friend understands why you have to go." You're almost inside the basket when the old wizard adds that little comment.

If he hadn't, you might've indeed gotten away. But through painted canvas ears, that simple phrase sounded too much like bait.

"... the HELL, I do."

Screw doing the good thing anymore. The smartest man in the world can have everything he wants- and so he will.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Dorothy Must Die!Scarecrow x Unwell!Reader || Drabble

Plot: When you're sick and weakened you accidentally admit (blurt out) some things to the Scarecrow that make him suddenly very very interested in you.

Warnings: Dark themes.

You felt terrible.

Sick as a dog, with your nose red and stuffed, and your head full of fog, and your mouth dry as the desert. But you had to work- calling in sick wasn't an option when the Scarecrow called.

The moment that you stepped into his dank, untidy, death-riddled chambers though you hear an irritated 'ugh' sound from wherever he was. What?? What was that???

"You're sick. Marvellous." The Scarecrow sounds like he's been deeply inconvenienced, and when you finally find his whereabouts - stood next a bookshelf almost out of the sight, almost dissapeared into the parts of his rooms not touched by light, - you see there's a frustrated frown on his stitched lips. "That just great."

Sniffling, you raise your chin up high. "I can still get you whatever you need, sir."

"Well, I know that." He sighs, pulling a book out of the shelf and opening it up; reading while taking and wandering towards his desk. "It looks like you've only got a commen cold, but that doesn't mean I want you around here coughing and sneezing and possibly contaminating a subject with your... germs."

"I- I-... I'm washing my hands, regularly." You insist; wanting more then anything to be helpful. Both because that's just your nature, but also because if thr Scarecrow is annoyed with you-- the next thing you become is not-quite-human. He experiments on you when you lose your use; turns you into one of the Tin Man's horrifying half man half machine soldier monsters. "And I'll be careful!"

Huffing, the Scarecrow puts his book on the desl and looks up from it; thinking haplessly. "Yes, yes, I'm sure you'll try... Maybe I should call on Astrid." He thinks outloud to himself, causing your heart to seaze.

"No!" The word flies out of you before you can stop it, getting a confused look from him when he looks over his shoulder at you.

"... no?"

"N- no," You repeat. Something about that suggestion he made of replacing you definitely struck a chord. Maybe you shouldn't have been so forward about it, but you're sick, and exhausted from just being on your feet, and the last thing you want is for him to choose another girl. You're scared of him, but working with him here on his gruesome science has been... almost wonderful, to you. It's given you something more in your life then just cleaning the palave, and tending to Dorothy's odd request when her handmaid isnt present. Like you were apart if something more. And, a horrible part of you like that.

"... " For a few moments he just looks at you, thinking. And you feel scrutinised, and increasingly more tired by the second, so after too-long tears start to form horrifyingly in your eyes before you can stop it. He must notice it, but he doesn't move at all.

"I- I- I- I just want to help, Mr Scarecrow." You sniffle, searching your dress for a tissue. "I- I- I believe in your research, and- " When you finally find a tissue you blow your nose making a loud, gross, snotty sound. "It's fas- fasinating. And I would ki- kick myself if I couldn't... couldn't help you."

His dark button eyes are trained on your big tear-filled ones for a few more minutes, but its like he's looking at you differently all of a sudden. Almost... there's almost a small pinprick of respect in his soulless, calculating gaze.

"... I didn't realise you had such a desire to learn, Y/N." He says finally, turning fully and leaning back on his desk; his lanky straw-and-canvas form making everything around him look almost humerously miniature. "Of course, you're barely at the start of your journey in intelligence, you're still pretty, well, dumb... but I know what it's like to crave it."

"Mhm," You nod ernestly, blowing your nose again and feeling your teats dry up; feeling different all of a sudden. He's showing interest in you! Why does that make you feel so good?? "Its- I- "

When you try to talk but you can only cough and cough and cough, thr Scarecrow sighs; pushing himself off his desk. "You can barely speak right now. Come on." Catching your breath carefully, hand held carefully over your mouth, you follow the Scarecrow deeper into his chambers without a second thought. You've been all over these rooms before, performing tasks for him, so it's nothing new. What is new though, is when he leads you into his bedroom and points to his untidy bed; covered in old books, crows feathers, and wrinkled old blankets. "Lay down."

Alarm bells immediately ring in your head. You're surprised, and nervous, at this. Laying down anywhere near the Scarecrow, even sitting, felt dangerous. Eyes wide, you just turn and look at him. "... wh- why?- "

"I can't pick your brain... metaphorically, of course," A creepy grin spreads lazily across his face at that. Luckily though he quickly shakes it off again, returning to that unimpressed look he always wears. "- if you're unwell, can I? So go to sleep. I'll have another servant bring you water and soup, later."

"But- my duties- "

"Forget them. Someone else can fluff pillows and polish Dorothy's shoes, today," He makes you job sound so trivial, with a cruel amused tone in his voice. You suppose it is, you think sadly; thats why you've fallen for all of this. "I need you well, and my needs are of slightly more importance don't you think?"

Slowly you nod your head, and obediently crawl onto his bed while being careful not disrupt any of his books. When he notices that, the Scarecrow sighs heavily and starts gathering them up in his arms; making room for you. He has to get so close to you to get some of them, you hold your breath. "-there. Better?" He asks, annoyed.

"Mhm," You nod, slightly overwhelmed by everything that's happening as you slip your legs under the blankets. "Th- thank you."

"Oh, don't do that." The Scarecrow tells you, a tone of pure malice in his scratchy scarecrow-voice that sends dread curling around your heart. "As soon as you're better I'm going to work you to the bone. Use your little brain and take it as far as it's limited intelligence can go. You've caught my interest, pet, and that's not the smartest thing you could've done. Tut tut." He says that last bit in a careful, obnoxious way that makes you feel like a very dumb toddler. "But alas- you've done it now, haven't you?"

... yes, you have, you resign yourself, laying down carefully onto the pillow and letting out a gentle sigh; that feels so nice on your poor, achy head. Your eyes flutter closed.

"Feel better soon." The Scarecrow leaves his pile of bed-books on the side table and goes to leave- but stops at the door. He turns back, tilting his canvas head to the side and looking at you so peaceful there in his bed. Innocent, and fasinating, and... sweet. Adorable.

The next words that come out of the scarecrow monsters stitched up mouth make your insides feel cold with dread (and your mind light up with something like excitement). "... I think I'm going to truly enjoy our time together, dear. You're not too terrible to look at, at either. Maybe you'll come in handy for a multitude of uses."

[slashingdisneypasta]

Dorothy Must Die!Scarecrow x TinMan'sSecond-In-Command!Fem!Reader || Drabble

Plot: You're in love with the Tin Man, but he's in love with Dorothy. And the Scarecrow???... well... he's mean.

Warnings: Stitches, blood, unrequited love, Possessive behaviour.

This is a version of the The Wizard of Oz's Scarecrow from Danielle Paige's Dorothy Must Die series, in which he becomes a crafty, Frankensteinian mad scientist while the Tin Man is a love sick nightmare and the 'Cowardly' Lion is a blood thirsty monster. I definitely recommend checking it out if you like TWoOz (Including the book and the sequel movie).

Sitting on the Scarecrow's work bench with your wrist in his grasp, trying to ignore the sting that came from stitches (if anyone in Oz new how to sew, it was him), you felt just... the most miserable you've ever felt. Completely hurt. And grim.

"... he's never going to love me back, is he?" You ask rhetorically, for you already know the answer.

The Scarecrow, sitting in a wooden chair focused on your cut forearm (An accident the Tin Man left behind, reacting startled when you attempted to help him up off the ground where Queen Dorothy shoved him. She'd said whoops, but only he believed she didn't actually mean to do it. He was going for her delicate hand, after all), 'tuts'. "No, he he isn't."

You sigh. "I didn't really need an answer."

"Mhm, I know."

Here you look down and settle the glorified canvas bag with a frustrated, annoyed, cross look for his complete lack of empathy, and he just shrugs. Soulless button eyes as black as coal and blank as oblivion looking back at you. "Sorry. Was that rude?"

... he knows perfectly well that he's rude, so you just look away again; showing him a cold shoulder.

All the brains in the world wouldn't get him back what he's lost- his heart. It seemed they all lost something that one of the others coveted when they went to see that wizard. He gained the brain he so desired but he used to be kind, you hear. And now he's not. Contrary-wise, the Tin man got his heart but he seems... to have lost all courage. He's a punching bag for his love. And the Lion?? You hear he's courageous and formidable but is he smart enough to use that for good? You assume the answer to that is a no, considering the state of things here in Oz...

Below you the Scarecrow sighs, and flicks your hand onto your lap; finished. "I hope that's the last slice I stitch up for you this week. Learn to stop reaching for that tin for brains love struck puppy, Y/N. Lose enough blood from those knives he has for fingers these days, and you won't be so easy to fix." As he talks he gets up and shows his back to you, heading to flip through some of his current research (whatever horrible frankensteinian mockery of science his head has been full of recently. You shudder to think what it could be. You noticed syringes lying about... and you'd rather not ask.). Only talking to you absent-mindedly.

... he, of all Oz's people, knows its not that easy. You're in love with the Tin Man, and you'll never stop trying to help him. Ideally you'd make him see that Dorothy just hurts him... but you had to stop, that. It just broke your heart, watching him be so blind. So instead you'll help him up when he falls, you'll carry a can of heavy oil that hurts your hands all day just in case he needs it, you'll repeat his orders to his armies until tour voice goes hoarse-- and as his second in command, you have plenty of oppertunity to do all of this, hence why you're here being attended to by the Scarecrow so often. You don't have a choice in any of it though; you're in love. You suffer through it all, for love.

Even if that love is just a heavy ache in your chest that gets worse whenever you see him with her. You hate her so much; Dorothy. She ruined this land, and she ruined Tin.

And you hate that the Scarecrow always acts like you can just turn all this off. Like you're doing this to yourself on purpose. (Why would you do that??)

Instead of having that fight with him (again) though, you huff and hop off the bench. "Thank you for the stitches- I'm going back to work."

"Mhm, yeah, have fun with that."

With an eye roll, holding your wrist and rolling a thumb over the tight and precise, surgical stitches, you turn to leave the dank rooms that Scarecrow calls his. They're less like bed chambers and more like a basement laboratory, and you rather to spend as little time as possible here.

But before you can get too far, you're surprised to be grabbed by rough feeling gloves and drawn backwards. "Gah!- "

The Scarecrows fingers dig into an older wound, from earlier in the week, but he doesn't seem to care. "Wait a minute."

Didn't he turn away from you?? "No, I'm busy. I have work to do." You snap stubbornly, trying to slip your arm away from him but the Scarecrow is misleadingly strong.

"Don't care. Anyway- " He's tall, though not as tall as the Tin Man and certainly not as tall as he was strung up in the corn fields, but you still have to bend your neck back to see his disconcerting, still face. "Let me give you some advice- after all, I am the smartest being in all of Oz." He's serious, but there's always a twinge of smug pride when he works that into a conversation.

Sighing, you stop fighting him and stand still. Your blood is seeping out from the stitches he sewed into your skin earlier in the week and into his own 'skin', the fabric keeping his stuffings on the inside, but you just Stop. And listen. The sooner he gets done talking, gets finished making whatever point he was set on, the sooner that you can go clean yourself up. "... what?"

"Forget old Tin."

Immediately your jaw drops. "What are you talking about???"

"It's never going to happen with that old watering can. It's illogical for you to harbour feelings for him."

"I know it's not logical, but- "

The Scarecrow is uninterested in your 'but' evidently, because he cuts you off pointedly and goes on. "You need to set your sights on someone more attainable for you." He speaks carefully ans sternly, as if speaking to a very dumb child. "Y/N, you're a very... appealing, young lady. I have the utmost faith that you can find someone willing to have you."

... you do not like the sound of the Scarecrow complimenting you. He sounds sinister; you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up. "-Um, yes, well-- I'll keep that in mind. Thank you- "

He sighs, and you get the feeling by the irritated tone in his voice that if he could- he'd roll his eyes at you. "You're dimmer then a box of broken bulbs." At that you open your mouth immediately in outrage to curse at him- but he raises a cloth finger and silences you before you've even said anything nasty. "What I'm saying, is- maybe you should be setting your sights on someone who sees you. Sees you, and recognises the wonderful fascinating creature that you are. The Woodman, charming as he may be," Something in Scare's tone suggests that he himself doesn't see it, that he rather thinks that Tin is a ridiculous fool, but he's acknowledging Tin's charms for your sake anyway. "... doesn't notice. Will never, notice."

-and there's the Scarecrow's blunt honesty again that you dont particularly like. Your heart plummets, though you know its only the truth."... that sounds good and simple, Scarecrow, but... " Finally, you slip your arm away from him. "I don't know anyone who thinks that of me." You shrug, then walk off again.

...

...

...

Just as you're reaching for the door, you're grabbed and thrust against the nearest smoke damaged wall. The Scarecrow's canvas, stitched face rears in close to yours- the yellow straw hair that sticks out from under his hat almost scratching your forehead. He sighs deeply, feigning a controlled exterior when you can feel how frustrated and angry he is in how tight he has you pinned to the wall. "... me, Y/N. I'm talking about me.

"... Now listen. You're going to forget about dumb old Woody, and focus on me for a change. Do you comprehend that??"

[slashingdisneypasta]

Dorothy Must Die!Lion x Scarecrow'sFemAssistant!Reader || Drabble

Plot: What it's like catching the fearsome Lion's attention, becoming his favourite, but also falling under the protection of his good friend.

Warnings: Threatening confession.

*picture there so y'all can see HOW HUGE THIS FUCKEN LION IS- and I assume this picture is from BEFORE he grew big and terrifying.

"And this... "Your boss, Scarecrow, sounds bored as he waives a gloved and straw-filled hand the animal's way, after introducing the Tin Man. "this is my old friend Lion, of course."

Obviously you knew who both of these men (Creatures??) were; you've been appointed the Scarecrow's research assistant for good reason afterall. You knew everything you could learn, and that certainly involved Oz history- in which your new boss, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly (Or not-so-cowardly, any longer) Lion were main figures.

But you let the Scarecrow tell you anyway. Because you're smart, and you know- a man like that? Needs the validation of sharing information others may not be aware of. And you would rather not get on the viscious scientists bad side boss or not.

You give both the Tin Man and the Lion a solemn, respectful nod. "Illuminating to make your acquaintances. I've heard all about your bravery in killing the Wicked Witch of the West by Queen Dorothy's side."

The Tin Man nods respectfully and sensibly back, and he's about to say something as his old metal mouth squeaks open- but the Lion, who's the same height as his two friends on all-fours, cuts in; approaching you and flashing a huge toothy smile down. "Oh, Scare old friend! Where have you been hiding this one?" The Tin Man promptly closes his mouth, a note or irritation in his metal squeal this time, you think. "She's pretty! You're pretty, young lady."

-immediately you go bug-eyed. What?? WHAT?? You're used to the Scarecrow's sensible, monotonous, borderline rude ways; this straight forward compliment is completely foreign to you. Though, you're sure you shouldn't be surprised by his boldness. The Lion is an animal, and animals don't play with subtlty, or pretending. And he is known for his courage these days, you suppose.

"U- um, I- "

"And she smells delicious."

"Wh- "

The Scarecrow cuts you off, with a sigh. "Leave her be, Lion. You're flustering her and I have no use for an emotional research assistant."

"I'm flustering her?" The Lion asks, looking at you with a stern, puzzled look on his face. With a roll of his giant muscled shoulders, he backs up a step. "My apologies."

"No- I- that's okay." You manage, then take a deep breath. "I... take no offence."

Another broad, leonine grin spreads across the big cats maw again. "Oh." Is there a wild, roguish lilt to his grin? Almost a smirk? "Good." He tells you bluntly in that deep voice sounding something like a roar, tail swishing behind him.

~

A few days later, it's the first time you've been allowed a break from thr Scarecrow's dark room's and the smell of death that fills them other then for meals. The Scarecrow wanted to be left alone, so he sent you to do some reading on cerebrospila fluids, and you chose to do so out in the courtyards. In the bright sun, surrounded by the emerald palaces beautiful gardens.

The Lion seemed to have had the same idea, covering a good portion of cobblestones with his large body sprawled lazily out under the warm ray's; dozing. And you keep sneaking glances at him like some silly girl- allowing your mind to skew from your duties and half admire the monster's muscles as well as half wonder to yourself what he meant by saying that you smell 'delicious'.

Does he want to eat you?? You've heard about his enormous, insatiable hunger, as well as how he enjoys his meals to be alive when he eats them. That doesn't sound particularly good, to you.

But... he also called you pretty. And that's throwing you off.

Before too long, you've only been sitting outside for no longer than 10 minutes, the Lion's deep echoing voice fills your eyes like molasses.

A crackly purr like growling sound escapes from deep in his chest as he stretches a little, muscles rippling under his skin, and his eyes gaze over at you half-lidded. "Nice day, isn't it?"

"Very nice."

"Come over here, pretty assistant."

You don't have a choice, it's the Lion (The King of the Beasts), and besides if you did try to run he could pounce and catch you in no time at all- so you do the smart thing, and close your book and wander over. When the enormous beast just looks at you, his maw pulling wider in a lazy grin, before nodding with his giant head to a spot next to him, you carefully sit down on the cobblestones with him.

After a moment of the Lion just looking at you, either like you're a prime steak or a masterpiece (maybe both), you take a deep breath. "Are you going to eat me??"

"... I want to. I like you quite a bit; you're pretty. If I could I would keep you and nibble off you for as long as I could- days, weeks, months, even years if you were strong enough. And the Scarecrow would just keep replacing your limbs one by one. You could be my favourite." He allows, looking pleased and impressed by your bravery, a roguish and wild lilt to his gorey, sharp smirk. "... but you're my dear old friend's help, and I wouldn't like to put him on the spot like that."

"... oh."

"Scared, little kitten?"

"I- "

"You shouldn't be." He sighs, adjusting his massive paws in front of him and making himself more comfortable. "Trust me, I spent far too long being a coward and fortune favours the brave. I'm King of the Beasts, now."

... "You have a point." You nod, speaking quietly.

"I do."

"Well... I- I should go." You curse yourself for stuttering, for you're still scared, but the Lion looks reproachfully at you. "The Scarecrow will be expecting me- "

Before you can even move, the Lion leans over and drops his heavy head on your lap with a thud; his snout nuzzling into your hip bone. He gives a content yawn, sounding more like a gentle roar thick with sleepiness. "Not yet... "

That makes your eyes widen wide open and heat fill up your chest, and your neck, and your cheeks. "But- I thought- I thought you didn't wish inconvenience the Scarecrow??"

"He can wait for a little while, pretty Y/N. I need you, now."

[slashingdisneypasta]

Dorothy Must Die!Tin Woodman x Fem!Lion'sWarrior!Reader || Drabble

Plot: The Lion 'lends' you to the Tin Woodman for a day after his own second-in-command is forced to go to the Scarecrow for repairs. And you're perceptive, and you're blunt. And you try to tell the Woodman a couple things that he... just doesn't want to hear.

You also may be developing a fondness for him.

Warnings: N/A.

Tagging: @marinerainbow. You havent specifically said to tag you in Tin Woodman stuff but... I assumed... 😅😅😅 I hope that was okay!! XD ^^

The Tin Woodman didn't require a lot of help throughout the day, so you aren't completely sure why your King needed you to accompany him when his actual number 2 was hurt earlier in the day. He makes all orders himself; all he needs from you is to hold his oil can in case of accidents with water (Or crying, the Lion told you. He's an awful cryer. But you haven't seen any sign of the Tin Woodman crying. You couldn't even imagine that. He's so... emotionless).

Though, you do wonder if the man is lonely, and thats why he requires a companion all day... you see the way he looks at Queen Dorothy. You both went into the throne room earlier while Dorothy was 'speaking to' (Sentencing) a poor munchkin woman, and you saw it clear as day; the longing in his metal eyes when she talked. And even more then that, you felt the air shift back to monotonous as soon as he left the room with her in it, again. You hadn't even realised it had lightened in the first place when she was near, but you couldn't miss it now. He was brighter with her, happier. But... it was in a sad sort of way. Because, clearly, she did not know.

In the forest everyone's quite honest with each other. Animals don't pretend to feel a way about each other that they don't- and, having been raised in the forest by tigers, you were just the same. You don't understand why the Tin Woodman wouldn't just... tell her he's in love with her. Lay it all out on the table. Its clearly eating at him, and even if she tells him she's not interested then at least he can begin to move on... find a more suitable mate...

For, at least in your opinion, the Tin Woodman was quite an... agreeable gentleman. Tall, strong, sensible. A little bit too uptight for your tastes, but... you're sure plenty a lovely lady would be happy to be his mate; be that a munchkin, human, beast, metal creature or any other walk of life he may be interested in.

Over lunch, you tell him as such.

~

"What???" The Woodman seemed startled, hearing you say such things so boldly; a confused look on your face at his fluster. "You- what??"

He didn't have to eat, but he acknowledged that you did - as an organic creature,- , so he had stood by the table you were eating your porridge at quite patiently, and calmly... though now his shoulders were hiked up and his eyes were open wide. "I think you're a very handsome tin-man, and quite a gentleman. You should just tell Dorothy how you feel."

"... this is inappropriate. You shouldn't be so forward with me, you know." He tries to act un-bothered by your words, but you just wait a few moments- and he cracks, turning to you fully. "-and how do you know of my feelings or her majesty Dorothy?? Did Lion tell you???"

"No, my King told my nothing. I saw it myself." You admit bluntly, scooping a mouthful of porridge into your gob.

"What do you mean you saw it???" His voice goes slightly higher in horror and mortification, and a little grin spreads across your face despite how you probably shouldn't laugh at him right now. Or at all.

So he's not so completely serious, then. Thats... endearing.

"You're not very good at hiding it."

"Whats- what's with the smiling?? Why are you sm- " Suddenly he remembers himself, and straightens his posture once again. "Never mind. You cant understand the depths of my feelings for the Queen, or hers for me. You're just a merry Ozian." At that, you cringe. He believes she has feelings for him?? Oof, thats... rough... So rough, in fact, that you let that belittling statement of his slide. There was absolutely no love in that girl's eyes. "Or, furthermore, how difficult it would be for us to manage a relationship in this political climate. After all, I am her general."

"Right... " You nod, forcing an agreement and turning your focus fully to your bowl of sloppy porridge. He's more deluded than you thought, so maybe you should just let him go. Breaking a crazy person out of their delusions can be dangerous!

But he hears the disbelieving tone in your voice, and swivels his head around to you again. He cant help himself. "What was that?"

"Absolute nothing, sir, I'm just going to finish my lunch and we can go about your business once again."

"Mmm... " He grumbles to himself, but gives a nod. "Maybe you should."

You manage a few large mouthfuls, almost finishing, before the poor Tin Man cant handle it and actually moves to sit down opposite you; setting you with a stern look and folding his formidable hands carefully on the table before him. Considering his height, you still had to crane your neck to look at him, but you appreciate the gesture he's made, all the same. "I order you to speak. Why did you sound so sarcastic?"

"I didn't- "

"I thought your people didn't lie."

... hmph. "Fine. You're right, and I hated it." After giving it a moments thought, you decide to be frank with him. "I just... don't think the Queen, as deeply as she may care for you which I'm sure she does, thinks... That, of you. You are her old friend, and thats all. And I don't think you should be disappointed, either, sir, because as far as love goes- thats plenty."

The Tin Woodman continues to look sternly at you, so deeply and stonily that you might think that he were made of rock and not tin at all, in fact... and he's so quiet as he thinks that you swear you hear his heart tick-tock-ticking inside his chest... until, finally, the man takes in a deep whistling breath through his pins-and-needles mouth, that you aren't quite sure he actually needs (Being made of tin, and all), and lifts his laser focused eyes off of you. Its a small relief, and you take your own breath as you relax.

"... And how do you suppose to prove these assumptions?"

That gives you pause. Makes you hesitate. Prove??? You're not in a court right now, you're just talking. "I- well-... I guess I cant." Giving a shrug, you put down your spoon; Officially finished with your lunch; Put off it by the Tin Man's way of thinking, which is rather too Official, for your tastes. Too human and pompous, especially for a man made entirely out of tin. Then you add, with certainty and conviction: "I saw it in her eyes."

-immediately the Tin Woodman starts to shake, and you're worried about him, until you realise that he's chuckling. This man is c h u c k l i n g- at you. Baffled, you watch him with frustration, barely noticing the munchkin servants around you flash you both boggled and horrified glances; having never seen the Tin Man laugh. "Oh... " He sighs, using the blunt edge of one of his terrible fingers to scrape a loose tear away from the corner of his eye before it can get into any joints. "Good, because I was quite afraid for a moment, there."

Your jaw drops. "Excuse m- "

"Miss." The Woodman cuts you off, and you immediately - obediently, - shut your mouth. All humour had disappeared from the metal man's visage as quickly as it had appeared, and once again he was as serious as could be. "I suggest you finish your meal, and build up your strength. We have a long day to go, yet, and- "

"I know what I'm talking about, Mr. Dorothy does not love you." You insist, eyes wide and earnest to which he just nods, humming. "She doesn't."

"Mhm." His stubbornness is just as tough as his skin!!

"Mr Woodman- "

"I suppose you're finished." He cuts you off again, picking up your bowl and setting it on the platter that a nearby munchkin is waiting with after getting up from the table. "Off we go." As swiftly as the bulky tin can is able, he turns on his heels and marches off down a hallway; and you have no choice but to follow after him despite your irritation. About halfway down the hall though, he suddenly stops and swivels around again (His upper body turning and leaving his legs facing the way he was going, before bending down at the waist in order to meet your eye), making you stop very suddenly as well as to not run right into him and hurt yourself. "Out of curiosity, if Dorothy and I weren't meant to be, which we are, who in your All Knowing opinion, would I possibly give all this love over to? I asked for a heart from the wizard all those seasons ago for a reason-- it wouldn't do, to let it all go to waste, now would it?"

... at this, you're speechless. Well, anyone, right?? Anyone who wanted it in return. Your lips part, but no words come out at first. What an odd question.

"... suddenly speechless? Nothing to say now all of a sudden, little Ozian?" He asks, and if you didn't know any better- teased. With his head lowered and rearing down so close to yours so the smell of oil fills your head and make you a little bit dizzy, and the playful and challenging tone in his voice, he's Almost... almost... "Colour me shocked." He's... almost...

"Well I'm sure I don't know, specifically." You say, straightening up. "Anyone, I suppose."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Anyone?"

"Yes." ... almost... something... to you...

... slowly a nearly-unseemly smirk spreads across the well-shined underbite of sharp and pointy nightmares he calls a mouth and a flutter erupts in the pit of your belly. You're shocked, and can only stand there with your eyes wide on him and your lips parted. "... well I'll keep that in mind." Then in an instant, the smirk is gone and he turns his back on you again; replacing his Almost-ness with that regular sensible general-sona he wears for Dorothy. But the fluttering inside you doesn't go away with it, eyes on him. "Anyway, lets go. Much work to do for Dorothy!"

He marches off, and you follow him, wondering what on earth this feeling is and how to get rid of it and when you can go back to your King.