ׁ ៹ 𝓐nne ׅ ੭

𝑴𝒀 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑹𝑶  ⦮ ⦯    𓈒 ۫    𓈒    𝗌𝗁𝖾  ⟡   𝖻𝗈𝗒’𝗌  𝗈𝖿  𝗍𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇   𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖺𝗌𝗍  ⟡ 𝖻𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖾𝗌   ⟡   𝗏𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖺’𝗌  𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍   ⟡   𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌   ⟡   𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾𝖽  𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖾   w  𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗀  𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗇   ⟡    𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗌   ⟡    t𝗁𝖾   𝖻𝗈𝗒𝗌 ⟡ zatanna's gf ⟡ lottinat defender ⟡

¢υвιтυм єαмυѕ ?  ݁   𓈒 ‎ ‎ .   ‎ ‎ ──── . 🦊⠀𝑯𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑫𝑵𝑰 !

❝ ɪ ᴏᴡᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴇʏᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴋɪssᴇs ❞

⏾ wolf!reader who... lives in the woods, not far from a farm, where the distant sounds of animals drifting through the trees always seem to soothe them.

⏾ wolf!reader who... owns a German Shepherd named Wolfie, who has a habit of draping his entire body over them whenever he gets the chance.

⏾ wolf!reader who... adopted a habit of restlessly drumming their fingers against tabletops, countertops, and any nearby surface. Later on, finding an outlet for that restless energy in playing the guitar.

⏾ wolf!reader who... finds themselves chewing on the edge of a ring, a necklace chain, or whatever harmless object that happens to be in reach.

⏾ wolf!reader who... has long-sleeved shirts and flannels that often have chewed-up cuffs and frayed edges. Whether it's Wolfie's doing or their own absentminded habit, they don't clarify

⏾ wolf!reader who... is a very light sleeper. Even the faint clicking of Wolfie's nails on the wooden floorboards or the gentle sound of a door shutting is enough to wake them.

❝ ʏᴏᴜʀᴇ sᴏ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜs, sᴏ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ❞

𑣲 bunny!reader who... seems shy and sweet at first but is actually pretty mischievous and incredibly pouty. They're prone to sulking whenever things don't go their way, often crossing their arms, puffing out their cheeks, and throwing the tiniest of tantrums until someone gives them the attention they're demanding.

𑣲 bunny!reader who... is genuinely sweet, caring, and affectionate until they decide they don't like you. All of a sudden, they're rolling their eyes, huffing, and giving short, muttered replies.

𑣲 bunny!reader who... owns a lop bunny called Nimbus, who's just as pouty as they are. Whenever he doesn't get his way, he throws a tiny stomping tantrum. He's also developed a tiny habit of nibbling on important papers. Homework, letters, bills, and sometimes even medical records.

𑣲 bunny!reader who... prefers to chew their food longer than necessary, needing to turn every meal into a lengthy affair.

𑣲 bunny!reader who... has a favorite person and, despite believing they're being subtle about it, makes it painfully obvious to everyone around them. They will always find excuses to be close. Looping their arm through theirs during walks, offering them bites of their food, and curling up beside them whenever the opportunity presents itself.

HIII OMG YES OFC!! I HOPE THIS IS WHAT YOU ASKED FOR <33

“Almost” ˎˊ˗

Synopsis: In the middle of a blood-soaked nightmare, you stay by Deena Johnson’s side, hiding a love she may never return. She’s focused on saving her ex. You’re just trying not to fall apart. Some feelings are too dangerous to speak especially when survival is the only thing that matters.

Pairings: Deena Johnson x fem!awkward reader

warnings: Angst, unrequited love (or so it seems..)

Header made by: @cafekitsune

The blood wouldn’t come off.

You scrubbed your hands raw in the gas station bathroom, pink water circling the drain like some cursed baptism, but the smell lingered. Copper and fear. Death in your teeth.

Outside, the world kept moving like nothing had happened. Like your friends weren’t being hunted. Like you hadn’t seen someone die right in front of you.

Deena’s voice cut through your spiraling.

“Hey. You okay in there?”

You froze. Then turned the water off. Then stared at the cracked mirror and tried to look like someone worth her time.

You opened the door. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Deena gave you a look that said she didn’t buy that for a second.

You gave her one that said, please let me pretend.

She nodded. Said nothing. Walked back toward the van.

It was her and Sam again, talking in hushed voices just outside the sliding doors of the grocery store. The others were gathering supplies, making noise, distracting themselves from the hell that was creeping closer every second.

You just watched. Quiet. Always quiet.

They weren’t together anymore. Not officially. But there was a gravity between them, undeniable. Like two planets still caught in each other’s orbit no matter how many times they crashed.

You swallowed hard. You hated this. You hated how much it hurt when it shouldn’t.

You were just a friend.

Not even a best one.

Definitely not her person.

Just someone who showed up when things went to hell, cracked a few jokes, bled a little, and watched her fall in love with someone else all over again.

You turned away before they saw you staring.

Later, Deena pulled you aside. You were organizing random tools, pretending you knew what you were doing.

“We’re setting the trap soon,” she said. “I need you with me.”

Your heart stuttered. “Why me?”

“Because I trust you.”

You almost flinched.

Not because it was a bad thing. Because it felt worse. Like it meant more to you than it ever would to her.

“I won’t let you down,” you said, voice tight.

Deena tilted her head. “You’re always acting like you already have.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

She stared at you a second longer, then walked off.

You sat there, surrounded by broken flashlights and duct tape, and let yourself feel it. Just for a second.

The ache of loving someone who only looks at you when she needs to breathe. The sharp, suffocating guilt of wishing it was your hand she held when everything started falling apart.

You bit down on your sleeve and breathed until the burn in your throat passed.

That night, when the trap was set and the tension was thick enough to choke on, you found her sitting on the edge of a shelf, staring down at her bloody shoes.

You sat beside her, barely an inch between your knees.

“I meant what I said,” you told her. “Back at the bathroom. I’m fine.”

She didn’t look at you. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You laughed once, dry and bitter. “Yeah. I am.”

She looked at you then. Really looked. Her eyes were red-rimmed, tired, but still sharper than you could ever handle.

“What is it?” she asked, voice softer now.

You froze. The words clawed at your throat.

You could say it. Right now. Before it was too late.

You could tell her how your heart skipped every time she said your name. How you memorized the way she smiled, even when it wasn’t meant for you. How you hated that you’d rather die next to her than live without ever saying how you felt.

But you knew what would happen.

She’d look at you with pity. She’d tell you she was sorry. That she didn’t mean to lead you on. That it wasn’t your fault.

And that would destroy you more than anything else.

So you looked at your hands instead.

“It’s nothing,” you said.

And for once, she didn’t press you.

Then came the blood. The fire. The screaming.

The trap went sideways. Everything did. You ran through that school like hell itself was nipping at your heels. Because it was.

And the whole time, you couldn’t stop looking back to make sure she was still behind you.

She was.

She always was.

Until she wasn’t.

You found her later, kneeling over Sam’s unconscious body, crying like the world had ended.

Your feet stopped moving. Your lungs forgot how to breathe.

She was shaking. Sam was pale.

You didn’t ask what happened.

You already knew.

You backed away before she saw you.

That night, no one slept. You ended up on the floor of her living room, the lights off, the quiet too loud.

She sat beside you, eyes hollow, face streaked with old tears.

“I thought I lost her,” she said.

You nodded. You wanted to say, I know. You wanted to say, you didn’t. You wanted to scream.

But all that came out was, “You didn’t.”

She turned to you.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me how you felt?”

Your heart stopped.

You looked at her, terrified. “What?”

Deena’s voice cracked. “You think I didn’t know?”

You stared at the ceiling.

“Because it wouldn’t have changed anything,” you whispered. “Because you still love her. And I’d rather have this. Your trust, your friendship, anything. Than ruin it by being selfish.”

She was quiet for a long time.

Then she said, “You’re not selfish.”

You laughed without humor. “Sure feels like it.”

She leaned against your shoulder.

“I don’t know what I feel anymore,” she admitted. “But I know I keep looking for you every time the world falls apart.”

You blinked back the sting in your eyes.

“Then why does it always feel like I’m the last one you see?”

That broke something between you. Something fragile, stretched too thin for too long.

She didn’t answer.

And maybe that was the answer.