"I'll be cooking today so set the table," Wednesday points out and Enid stills from her spot, the plates already in her hand.
The werewolf looks at it then looks back to her roommate.
She was already planning too, but alright.
"Kayyy," Enid chirps, boppin to some music as she walked past the kitchen.
When the food is done and Enid washes the dishes, she humms a question when Wednesday pops in next to her in all her dark glory.
"I'll dry the dishes," she says like they haven't done this several times before.
Enid grins in reply, swaying a lil as she soaps another dish. "thank you Weds!"
-
"help me with taxes," Wednesday, the business major that she is, mentions one day.
Enid, a literature student who hasn't touched a lick of math unless needed too; "o okay?"
And so they do taxes together. Enid has never been so lost with such things but hey! her roomie seems to be having fun, if the way she's intently staring said anything.
-
"build a home with me," Wednesday states, leaning on the doorframe.
Enid gives a smile and tilts her head, absolutely confused but this is Wednesday and she doesn't give context.
"okay!" she agrees before continuing her nails with Thing. If the appendage could raise a brow it would.
She's sure she has some property somewhere, maybe she should call dad about that.
-
"goodnight," Wednesday says from beside her.
Enid brushes her lips against the crown of her head in reply, "night,"
It isn't until a few moments in does something click in the werewolf's head, like everything suddenly smacked onto her in full force. Her breath hitches and a realization dawns.
Wait, a moment. Are we dating?
The ring that Wednesday gifted her feels alot more meaningful now.
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Something Worth Striving For
Nemona x Fem! Touched Starved! Reader
You didn’t get much love growing up. Nemona, against all odds, seemed to be in a similar boat with the weight of expectation always looming on her shoulders. Perhaps you were a fool to keep your issues from her for so long.
She was as radiant as the sun, running over your darkening horizon. The way she leaps and bounds over to you, having been “looking all over for you”, reminds you that there is someone in your life who does care, that someone is always looking out for you and lights up upon locking eyes.
You weren’t really a miserable or gloomy person, but standing next to Nemona would make anyone have second thoughts. Her eternal energy is only rivaled by her inability to pick up on basic social cues. It’s easy to feel like your world was darker and crueler when her presence was lacking, that’s all.
You love being her friend, and all, but she makes you feel… conflicted. Nemona is just… affectionate, by nature, very touchy-feely. Whenever she sees you, there’s some kind of contact, from a hand on your shoulder to a hand brushing away a loose strand of hair, from a high-five to a fist bump. If you were lucky, she would take your hand in hers to drag you around.
But the best is when she would lather you in the crown-jewel of affection: a hug. Her grip would be firm and her body warm. She would bury her head in the crux of your shoulder or lay it on top of your head.
It’s not that you disliked the attention, obviously, it just made you feel… weird. It felt so foreign yet so right. Like finding a missing puzzle piece that you didn’t even realize was lost. Sure, your homelife wasn’t the warmest, you knew that much, but… until you met Nemona, you had no idea how much you were missing out on.
But as heavenly as her presence was, all it did was leave you wanting more. You were no moth to a flame, you were an addict drunk on the world’s most potent drug, and you were eager to keep coming back.
The only downfall is, well, actually getting what you want. How do you tell someone that you want them to physically touch you? What if you totally weirded her out, or what if she thought you were just using her? Was it really worth jeopardizing the relationship with your affection supplier just to get a little more out of her?
The question weighed heavily on your mind, pondering it as you bored holes into the ceiling in the middle of the night. It invaded your head when no other thoughts occupied it, unless the thought itself was already about the peppy girl.
Of course, when you actually see her and are with her, you think about her. You like to think you're hiding it well, but it gets harder to ignore the feelings lurking in your chest. Unfortunately, it seems fate has a strong disdain for you.
You were currently sitting in an open grassy field. Nemona was speaking passionately, pacing back and forth, about some “super, duper, cool pokemon that was definitely around here earlier!” She was adorable like this. Her eyes brimmed with excitement to perfectly match her smile. Like she didn’t have a care in the world.
This is Nemona. Nemona isn’t a normal person. She knows, to an extent, that she is not a normal person. So even if it isn’t normal for friends to be affectionate with each other, she probably won’t care.
But maybe she would. And if she did, then she would think you were totally weird and not want to hang out with you, and then you would be forced to live a life, once again, devoid of the affection you never knew you craved.
“At least, that’s what I think it looked like. But it ran away so quickly! I barely even got to look at it…” Nemona flops down next to you, dragging you away from your thoughts and back into the present. She scoots closer to you, sitting shoulder to shoulder.
She really is picture-perfect, isn’t she? …She cares about you, yeah, but would she be able to fully understand where you were coming from? She’s so affectionate, bordering on lovey-dovey (not that you were into each other or anything, totally just really close friends and nothing more haha), so easily friendly and forward with others and bringing their spirits up like it’s nothing at all.
You weren’t sure if you were more jealous of her ability to be touchy with other people or the other people she was touchy with.
“... Hey, are you alright?” She drapes her arm over your shoulder, pulling you into her side. She’s forced your body to be angled towards hers, forced to see the concern written all over her face.
You don’t know when tears started falling from your eyes. Heavy tears cascade down your face, only to be wiped away by Nemona’s thumb. Her soft hand cupped the side of your face, and you can’t help but nuzzle into it as you attempt to muzzle your sobs and hiccups.
You sit there for several minutes, just crying into the open air. In that time, Nemona shifts until you are cradled in her arms, one hand rubbing circles on your back and the other flipping between running through your hair and keeping your head pressed to her chest. She doesn’t speak up until your sobbing seems to slow.
“Do you want to talk about it? I mean, we don’t have to do it here, but I’m here for you! I hope you know that-”
Like your tears, the words start spilling from your mouth. Your voice was nasally and hoarse, but it was far too late to care, you were already telling her everything. About your homelife and your parents and their lacking presence and the void left in their place. About your desperation for being close and the all-encompassing desire for her attention thwarted by overthinking. Your words are quick yet slurred. You aren’t even sure how much she is even able to understand.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Once again, she doesn’t pipe up until your rambling slows down. “It’s gonna be alright. I mean, look at me!” She pauses. “My parents weren’t quiet, uh, like that, but they expected a lot from me, you know? And sometimes they just… weren’t really there? Like they expected so much from me, but they were too busy to actually watch me get better.”
You lean further into her body as she fumbles with her words, afraid that she might be coming off as insensitive. If you could fuse to her skin you would. If you could perpetually be stuck to her side, nuzzled against her at all times, you would stop at nothing to make it happen.
… Maybe your thoughts were weird, actually, but Nemona doesn’t seem to care, so neither should you.
You never thought she had issues even similar to your own. Knowing she does doesn't change what’s happened to you, but it does make you feel a little better. A little more normal. Like she could make everything okay. And as long as you could shake away the stress of the world within her arms, it would be so.
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