Wenclair One-Shots

A Fiddler's Fiddler (Smut)

Summary:

"E-Enid... This is-" the shorter girl whined.

"Focus, Wednesday. Eyes on the strings."

OR

A musical foreplay of sorts from the balcony of Ophelia Hall.

——————————————————

Enid and Wednesday have been dating for a couple of months and almost everything went smoothly at their own pace. The gothic girl has slowly adapted to her lover's quirks and constant bright disposition. The werewolf girl, on the other hand, has continuously earned her girlfriend's approval for her frequent displays of physical affection. From clutching her arm when they're walking in the halls of Nevermore, to holding her hands in front of other people, as if claiming ownership of Wednesday much to her chagrin.

The next step, however, continuously proves to be their biggest obstacle. While Enid was laid-back and would take anything that was given to her, the other was always multiple steps ahead, concerned with every detail. The physical attraction was evident but Wednesday's tension has been as, if not more, palpable. They were able to hug and make out passionately in the privacy of their bedroom but, almost as soon as they undress, the raven-haired girl would stop and push Enid away. Embarrassed and frustrated, she would apologize and walk out or request for her time alone. The blonde girl was truly patient and understanding. She would suggest ways for her girlfriend to be more comfortable but she would not force the issue. Enid knew that Wednesday's problem was not rooted on her body image and confidence in her abilities. She surmised that it was because Wednesday is a perfectionist and she is her muse. And everything must be set in stone for Wednesday to be satisfied if she were to give the pleasure Enid deserves.

But Enid knew she would need to take some of the edge off of her girlfriend.

One such frustrating night, Wednesday found herself on the balcony of their room. Her cello was set and Thing has prepared Wednesday's songbook to choose from. She looked up at the dark sky with its crescent moon and clarity that no stars could hide their shine, and she sighed in exasperation, lamenting the loss of another perfect evening. But before she could start her requiem, Enid followed her out to the balcony.

"Beautiful night, huh? About to be perfectly capped off with one of your solo concerts."

"Leave, Enid."

"It's not like I can't hear you play from anywhere in Nevermore, you know?" Enid quipped as she skipped her way to her girlfriend. "Might as well have front row seats."

"This is not funny." Wednesday growled.

"But please? I just want to hear my favorite artist, Moody Addams, play her best hits." Enid begged with her puppy dog eyes and damned smile.

"Do not call me silly nicknames. Not right now." Wednesday grumbled.

"If I'm so distracting, fine, I'll go..." Enid pulled a small chair and placed it behind Wednesday's. "... settle in the backstage?"

Wednesday sighed. She just cannot catch a break from Enid right now. "Just be quiet." She started flipping through the pages, looking for a song that would be less macabre and eerie for her lover. Enid silently peeked from behind her and Wednesday did not fail to notice.

"Found anything you like?" Wednesday asked.

"Huh? Me? I hardly recognize any songs outside of this century."

Wednesday rolled her eyes and continued flipping through the pages. Enid, on the other hand, resorted to stargazing instead.

"You know? I read from somewhere that some musicians play their best when they're not restricted by the song's structure. That way they have ownership of the song instead of the other way around. Maybe you could try doing that?"