Wenclair One-Shots

knife to the throat

Summary:

OK. SO. this is (vaguely) based off this one fanart that i saw IDK, THIS IS A MESS, WENCLAIR YEAAAA!!!!!!!!

the fanart in question: https://twitter.com/scribdot/status/1599123382817390592

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Enid laid in her bed, stomach down, typing up something on her phone, while Wednesday sat on the other side of their shared room.

This was a very common sight. Though the two of them could literally not be more different, something (or someone), decided that somehow it would be a good idea to force them to share a room. And while they got along, Wednesday had made it almost painfully clear how much she loves her personal space.

This means no hugging, no hand holding, and no touching. Enid, whose love language is physical touch, was disappointed to say the least when her roommate completely rejected all of her acts of affection. But, over the course of multiple only slightly uncomfortable weeks, they had both learned to more or less tolerate each other. One might even call them friends. Or more, who knows.

"Could you turn that poison in audible form off?", snapped Wednesday. Enid put her phone down and looked up at her. "Yeah? Well, I'd also appreciate it if you weren't typing on that typewriter every single waking moment you're in this dorm. Seriously, I don't think my sanity can handle hearing that for one more second," "I have to write my novel, Enid, you know this,"

Wednesday using Enid's name in a sentence caused the butterflies in her stomach flutter. For some time now, there has been this odd tension in the room when they are alone. And it isn't bad, quite the opposite actually. Like whenever Enid caught Wednesday staring at her for just a moment too long, or when their hands would brush against each other, or even when Wednesday would let Enid paint her nails.

"You know, this would be so much easier if you just got a laptop, instead of using something that looks like it belongs in a museum," Enid turned her attention back to Wednesday, who had now stopped typing and had stood up from her chair. Wednesday began walking closer to Enid's side of the room. "Better than that deafening music you're so obsessed with." She crossed her arms.

The werewolf lifted herself from her bed and walked to face Wednesday. "And what about your cello solos in the middle of the night? Are we going to ignore those?" Wednesday glared at Enid. "There is a difference, and you know it." She took a step closer to Enid, but was quickly taken aback as Enid raised her hands and her claws came out. She made her fangs visible, and stared at Wednesday. "Don't mess with me! This kitty's got claws, and I'm not afraid to use them," she hissed. Wednesday took this opportunity to admire Enid's fangs. She had always had a slight obsession with fangs. They were sharp, obviously, but clearly well kept.

The shorter girl reached to Thing, who handed her a knife from her concerningly large collection. Wednesday abruptly pushed Enid down with her, sort of straddling her and holding a knife behind her head. Enid's left hand fell onto the floor as her protests quickly stopped when she saw how close Wednesday's face was to her own. Enid could make out every single one of her freckles. She gasped as a blush crept onto her face. It was almost overwhelming how close they were. Scanning her face, Wednesday took Enid's hand in her own with her free hand, and glared down at her.

"This feline may have claws, but I have many, many knives that I can use on you. Sharp knives cut through nice and easy. They say that the dull ones cause the most blood loss. Which do you prefer? Your choice." Enid stuttered, trying to find an appropriate response. She bit her bottom lip and looked at Wednesday's. Though Wednesday almost always looked like a dead body, there was a small blush on her face that you could only see if you were as close to her as Enid was in this moment.

A moment of silence fell on them. Enid raised her hand to Wednesday's cheek, her eyes moving from her eyes to her lips. She leaned in, slowly, but froze right before their lips were to touch.

"God, just kiss me already, Enid."

Wednesday dropped her knife as the sensation of Enid's lips washed onto her own. She moved her hand down to Enid's waist and pulled her in slightly. Her breath hitched in her throat as the feeling of Wednesday's hand on her waist sent shivers down her arms.

The werewolf pulled away and smiled, before burying her head in the crook of Wednesday's neck.

And for the first time in possibly forever, Wednesday did not want to have her own space.

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Author- solitvde

https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitvde/pseuds/solitvde