Wenclair One-Shots

To Be Loved By (And To Love) You.

Summary:

After returning from a senior dance, Wednesday leaves for a shower only to find she'd forgotten her hair ties in the dorm.

Seeing Wednesday like this- vulnerable and open, mixed with a long night of pining and repressed feelings, Enid gives in to her desire.

(Short and Sweet!)

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Actions to Wednesday had always spoken louder than the sugary words and proud proclamations of the normies around her. Mother showed her love and understanding through phantom touches, gifts, and the sharing of knowledge and books. Father through their dance of cashing metal throughout the manor. Pugsley through acts of torture and attempted murder.

Words meant nothing to her.

"You...wow, Willa...You're beautiful."

So why did she feel heat blossom within her chest?

Enid stared down at her, fingers still tangled in her hair. Blue eyes were dark as they scrutinized her. She had never felt so warm in years since Uncle Fester brought her to witness firsthand an active volcano.

Thumbs caressed her cheeks, over her freckles Enid claimed to adore. A breathy sigh left her dark lips. An invisible flinch made her insides squirm but her body become warmer. She can feel water rolling down her skin from her hair, having just left the shower and forgotten her hair ties.

"Thank you...for letting me see you like this..." She trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper. Broken marbles rolled down her throat as she swallowed, cutting her tongue with their jagged edges until she could no longer speak.

They were so close. Enid's breath tickled her wet skin. It was unlike any blizzard she'd ever been in. She shivered and trembled. Warm palms cupped her face. Dilated eyes flicked to the right and her right hand lifted.

A cold sensation ran through her body. Her hair was tucked behind her ear and she couldn't control her body. Like watching a poorly acted movie, her lower lip began to tremble. Through her quiet praises and soft touches, Enid has reduced her into nothing more than a love-sick fool.

"Would it...Can I...Can I kiss you, Wednesday?"

Words meant nothing to her, so often tainted with hidden agendas and thinly veiled insults. The warmth- the security she felt in this moment- held in powerful yet soft hands, pressed against a body so familiar that smelled of forests full of soon-to-be adventures and expensive perfume. Looked at with eyes so open and inviting and yearning...

She willed life into her hands which have been laying dead by her sides for the last ten minutes. Her touches were careful, slowly tracing her fingertips over her paramour's clothed stomach for the first time, then to her sides, up, lifting then falling to her exposed shoulders. Her finger's pressed into the soft skin and she pushed herself closer until their noses were nearly touching.

Their lips connected and Wednesday knew, just as she always had.

Actions spoke louder than words ever could.

And she was loved.

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Author - Copal
https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copal/pseuds/Copal