Wenclair One-Shots

baby, you could be the death of me (literally)

Summary:

"Hon hon hon?" Enid spoke like an utter buffoon, makeshift mustache faintly moving up and down with her lip.

Wednesday shifted and then there was a knife at her throat.

"You have five seconds to explain yourself, Enid."

xxxxx

When Enid wakes up before Wednesday one morning, she makes sure to cause as much trouble (for her future self) as possible (by being an absolute simp for her girlfriend and playing around with her hair like a fool). Severe payback ensures.

(EnidStoleMyWig's Comments- This one is dedicated to @AAndrophobia who requested "knife kink." It's mild and not my cup of tea at all but anything for you guys 😭 ITS IMPLIED more than anything and not exactly SMUT SMUT but there is a knife and some blood involved so this is your wanting to skip this one if it's not your cuppa! All props to the author!!!)

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Enid woke up first that morning.

It happened rarely, but was more common when the full moon drew closer and her wolf became more restless inside her.

When she didn't feel the heavy sensation of icy but intense eyes boring into her skin, she was almost overjoyed, because waking up first meant that she got to do something she absolutely loved from the bottom of her heart but didn't usually get to do:

She was able to watch Wednesday sleep.

With an exceptional effort and care put into only shifting her eyes and not her entire body so she wouldn't alert the sleeping girl next to her and draw attention to the fact that she was awake, which would mean immediate game over for what she had planned to do, she stole a glance at the alarm clock on her bedside table and confirmed that she had woken up at least a half an hour before their usual time.

Half an hour before those cold dead eyes would glare at her with a focus that promised deathly precision, determination, and a fierce no-bullshit policy, especially in the morning, that should under no circumstance be violated if she wanted to keep her pelt on her skin and not see it as decoration on their dorm room floor, that is.

Yes, Wednesday was usually a grouch, but even she didn't seem to be able to steer clear of the effects that the curse of being a night owl and not a morning person could have on someone, which made her an even bigger, deadlier grouch in the morning before she's had her usual quad over ice. 

Funny, it almost made her seem human.

What didn't make her seem human though, was the incredible talent and skill she so freely expressed in imitating a fresh corpse, delivered to Enid right from the morgue, when she slept. Which also turned watching her sleep more into an open casket viewing than something... conventionally romantic like you'd read in a romance novel.

At least in Enid's book– she knew that in Wednesday's book the only thing more romantic than seeing the dead corpse of your partner in a casket that she had undoubtedly chosen herself  (or had maybe even hand-made? Addamses loved to do stuff like that) was being able to lie right beside them, even when she wasn't dead herself yet.

So no, Enid didn't love watching Wednesday sleep because it was romantic and Wednesday looked oh so peaceful – because she didn't. Sometimes she managed to wear a 'content' scowl to bed when she induced her sleep with nightmares by recounting extraordinarily gruesome murder cases – which Enid had to be out of the room or blare her music very loudly through her earphones for so she wouldn't be affected by them – and sometimes she even started listing off particularly gory murder fantasies into the night when she was dreaming, or, more unfortunately, right into Enid's ear, which usually sent shivers down her spine even if she knew they weren't meant for her (or so she hoped).