Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Enid’s always liked New Years Eve.

The idea of a new start, something fresh. There is of course the wave of melancholy that comes with it, but she’s excited this year. Plus, it’s the first year that she can legally drink for the celebration, not because she’s finally twenty-one, but because she’s in Scotland and nobody bats an eye at a nineteen-year-old in a rowdy pub on a Saturday night.

It’ll be the first year without her family present too, guilt twists in her stomach at how excited the idea makes her feel. Her agent booked her a really good modelling gig, it just happened to be in another country, over New Years. She was in the airport early boxing day morning, nobody had offered to drop her off, not that she was expecting it. Her mom’s proud at least, that’s a first.

Despite the bitter cold and strange array of accents, she’s quite enjoying Scotland right now. She’s tried haggis (yuck) and spent the last few days shopping in the small ski town that she’s staying in. At least she thinks it’s a ski town, she’s yet to actually see anyone with skis. But its rustic and cute and perfect to post on her various social media platforms.

She takes another sip of her Bailey’s, the smooth liquid running down her throat and making her stomach warm. Regardless of the heavy snowfall outside, she feels herself tugging at the neck of her sweater and wiping the back of her hand across her forehead at the sheer heat in this place. It feels as though everybody is shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand. You can’t move without being jostled or someone almost spilling their drink on you. She’s close to slipping outside and trying to catch some fresh air before the countdown begins, but then she sees her.

Oh.

Maybe it’s because she’s tipsy or too warm and flustered, but the world seems to spin for a second when she lays eyes on this woman. Her heart rate grows sluggish, and she feels like her tongue becomes cotton because she’s just laid eyes on the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.

Her drink stays abandoned, and she moves without even realizing what she’s doing and before she knows it, she’s reached the woman’s table. The seat opposite her is vacant, which Enid immediately thinks is odd because every surface in this place has been taken up by someone. Her hand pulls out the chair and she sits down, the woman frowns and looks like she’s about to protest, so Enid speaks first. Her tongue is heavy in her mouth, and she needs to down like three glasses of water to quench her thirst because the woman opposite her is gorgeous. The little tealight weakly flickering in the tiny glass jar in the middle of the table, reflects off of the many silver rings gracing pale hands and Enid can’t even focus. Can’t admire one part without her eyes straying to another, equally mesmerized each time.

Pale skin, not rare among the crowd in the pub tonight, but hers is ghostly. Her entire appearance is almost vampiric, from the shadows under her eyes to the dark black clothing and gothic jewelry. Her adorable and intricate braids, not a hair out of place and the gentle curtain bangs that sit so effortlessly perfectly. Her lips a deep red which looks both seductive and a little too similar to that of blood. Her eyeliner is dark, only adding to the existing shadows of her face and highlighting those dark, ebony eyes.

“Give me thirty seconds and I’ll be gone, I promise,” she breathes out and the other woman’s eyebrow quirks upward. There’s a moment of quiet contemplation in those dark eyes, yet her face remains blank. If anything, she looks somewhat irritated that somebody is speaking to her. But, in a movement so subtle, so small that Enid would probably miss it if she wasn’t observing her so intently, she tips her head, gesturing for Enid to continue.

Oh god.

“Maybe it’s because I’ve had too much wine, but you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I felt as though it would be unfair to you if I didn’t tell you that,” she sucks in a deep breath and rubs her sweaty palms against the fabric of her jeans and continues. “I just-I’ve been watching you from across the bar, which is creepy I know, but I needed to tell you because my god, why would a woman like you ever talk to someone like me.”

Word vomit.

The bombardment of what she hoped was flattering and romantic words, leaves her feeling somewhat ill when she sees the bored expression on the woman’s face. Her chin resting on her fist, if anything she seems a little amused.

Enid glances at her watch and realizes that she’s stayed longer than she promised, muttering a quiet apology and standing far too quickly than what’s appropriate for the amount that she’s drank this evening. Her converse gets a little stuck in the space between the leg of the chair and the table, so she almost falls on her face trying to leave, hoping the ground would just swallow her up and-

“Why not?”

Oh?

Enid, who was previously contemplating throwing herself in the large fireplace across the pub, snaps her head around to look at her, mouth open like a fish. “Huh?” She squeaks, finally freeing her foot from its imprisonment and standing half hunched next to the table.

The woman stares at her intently and sits up a little bit straighter.

“Why not?”

Oh.

Enid slowly, but cautiously, sits back down opposite her. Somewhat taken back by the woman’s American accent, what are the odds huh?

“Well, it’s just-look at you, you’re the most breathtaking person I’ve ever seen in my life and I’m trying to break into the modelling industry so trust me when I say I’ve seen hot people. But I’m witnessing your presence in a random bar-or pub I guess, in Scotland which smells like sweat and cigarettes and I saw three people taking what I think was ketamine in the bathrooms earlier,” she laughs weakly as the woman stares at her wide eyed. “I guess I thought in the two seconds my mind took to process your existence before barreling over here, that I should just shoot my shot. Worst they can say is no, right?”

“But you haven’t even asked me anything yet,” the woman says in a monotone voice, sipping her red wine and Enid watches her lips around the glass. Her stomach swirling at the sight.

“I mean I asked you why a woman like you would ever talk to someone like me. But the nights young, plenty of time for other questions, right? Like your name, maybe we should start there.”

Smooth Enid.

The woman scoffs and glares at a man who bumps into her chair on the way past, before turning her head back towards Enid. “Does this work for you? The thirty seconds where you attempt to impress a stranger and seduce them?” She murmurs, eyes narrowed at Enid, analyzing her every move.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

There’s a moment where the woman’s nostrils flare slightly and she’s thinking. Maybe deciding between telling Enid to fuck off or taking Enid somewhere to fuck. Enid’s not actually sure which one sounds scarier.

“Wednesday.”

“It’s a Saturday-”

“My name, it’s Wednesday.”

“Wednesday’s child is full of woe,” Enid mutters, (mostly to herself) but she almost jumps at the intensity of Wednesday’s stare when she says it. Their eyes are locked in what may be a silent debate, which Enid is losing because she doesn’t even know what it’s about. She can feel herself sinking, drowning in the woman's stare, limbs growing number by the second and she feels pleasantly light.

But Wednesday nods slowly, “that’s correct.”

There’s something stirring inside of her. Something innate, and she somehow knows. Knows that she’s meant to be here right now, that she’s meant to have taken this jump, to sit opposite this woman who looks like she’d rather be standing barefoot in the snow outside, rather than in a rowdy pub on a Saturday night. The most beautiful woman Enid’s ever seen and everyone and everything fades into a blur of nothingness around them. Never in her whole life had she been so sure about something before.

“So, what brings you to…Aviemore, Wednesday?” Enid says the name of the town slowly and unsurely, it clearly comes across because Wednesday rolls her eyes again.

“It’s Aviemore, and I’m here for work. Not pleasure unfortunately. I do enjoy the harshness of the Cairngorms in the winter, though I have had little chance to explore and play the role of tourist during my time here.”

“Oh!” Enid perks up, “I’m here for work too! I’m a model, or trying to be you know? It’s like a super competitive industry and I’m not as tall as some of the other girls, but I’ve been told that I could really go far if I try. But it’s also about knowing the right people, which is hard when you’re new to the industry, but my mom’s pushing me pretty hard and I think she could disown me if I actually fail at this,” she laughs weakly and grimaces a little when she sees Wednesday stare at her with raised eyebrows.

“What are you doing here though? There isn’t much I presume in that line of work unless plan to model ski jackets.”

“So it is a ski town? I haven’t even seen a ski resort or anything.”

“It’s up in the mountains, where people would typically go to ski,” Wednesday says slowly as if she was talking to a child and Enid blushes, wishing she’d taken her drink over with her or bought another one.

She swallows deeply and rolls her shoulders back, “well I’ve been a little distracted since coming here.” It’s a soft murmur as she looks up at Wednesday through her eyelashes and hopes that she’s conveying at least a little portion of what she’s trying to say, without having to say it. “A lot of pretty…things here that’ve caught my attention.”

Her hands are on the table now too. The surface of which is a little bit sticky and small, small enough that Wednesday’s hands are mere inches away from her own. It wouldn’t take much to reach out and brush their hands together. But that seems weird. They’ve only just met and Wednesday seems rather averse to other people, at least from what Enid’s observed so far. But people get picked up at bars all of the time. Her friends have done it, she’s never tried. Never been able to be bold enough to pick someone up on a night out.

Hook up culture is popular among people her age. She doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it of course, she’s just never really participated in it. The thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth because the attention she attracts isn’t wanted and the attention that she actually wants to attract, doesn’t seem all that interested.

Which sucks, to be completely honest.

The pressure to conform is hard when all she wants to do is be comfortable in her own skin. Why do people gloss over her, why is she never the one to stand out in a room. Does she…not look gay enough? Is that even a thing? Or maybe subconsciously she doesn’t even try to attract women. Truth is she’s nervous, she’s never really approached them herself back home.

But she feels brave here, in a new country where nobody knows her. She feels invincible, especially when Wednesday is staring intently at her lips.

She clears her throat and leans forward over the table slightly, noticing Wednesday’s pupils enlarge as she does so, and she drops her voice low. Euphoric, dangerous confidence running through her veins that feels like liquid fire.

Or maybe it was the shot of whisky from earlier.

“I know this is forward but can I-”

“Um Enid? Enid Sinclair, right?”

The fire is extinguished and replaced by ice. A chill runs down her back as she turns in the direction of the timid voice. The soft Scottish accent, which she isn’t really able to differentiate from the others-all she knows is that some are loud, and some are not; sounds unsure. But when Enid turns, the girls eyes light up. They can’t be more than a year apart in age.

“Oh it is you! I follow you on um TikTok and-” Enid finds herself smiling and nodding along, when all she can hear is roaring in her ears. “-picture please?”

Enid stares at her dumbfounded for a moment before wrenching her hands off of the table and away from Wednesday. Standing on shaky legs and enthusiastically taking the girls phone from her hands for a picture. Panic hidden behind a forced smile.

She’s got a decent following. Like 100k currently on TikTok and about 40k on Instagram. Basically, posting about her everyday life, get ready with me’s, or posting about her experience as a beginner in the modelling industry. It turns out that she forgot that those numbers on her phone are real people.

Real people who recognize her.

She stares at the phone in the girl’s hand, a cold sweat on the back of her neck. Did she get a photo or video with her and Wednesday? No she wouldn’t, Enid’s a pretty small creator, why would she?

“Thank you so much! Have a nice night!”

“Yeah, bye,” Enid says faintly, watching her go and suddenly feeling both all too sober and all too drunk to deal with this right now. Her cheeks are pink, no longer flushed with alcohol, but shame. Like an ice bucket of water was just chucked down her back. Why does she feel so embarrassed? She swallows and it’s like she hasn’t drank anything in days because her throat is so dry that it hurts.

Enid turns back to the table and sees Wednesday watching her curiously, head tilted slightly.

“Enid?”

The sound of her name curled around Wednesday’s tongue, can’t be properly appreciated when it feels like her head is being held underwater. Whatever garbles slip past Wednesday’s crimson lips, are lost on Enid. The roaring of imaginary waves somehow manages to drown out the rowdy bar too. She offers an apologetic smile to Wednesday and witnesses more emotion on the girl’s face in these few seconds, than she had during their previous conversation. Worst of all she sees understanding in the girl’s eyes and it makes her feel a little sick.

“I’ve got to go, sorry I-work in the morning,” she laughs weakly, running a shaky hand through short hair. She doesn’t work until the second of January. “Sorry you’re-y’know and shit um, I really have to go now.” She pushes her way through the crowd, ignoring Wednesday’s voice behind her.

She stretches her arm out, pushing the door open and gulping in the fresh night air. Her shoes sink into the snow as she stumbles out onto the pavement. A cold gust of air and spritz of grit hit her body as a truck races past on the road before her. A shuddering breath escapes her as she shakily steps forward, shuffling across the car park, deaf to boisterous shouts coming from the bar behind her.

Arms cross over her chest, teeth chattering from the cold and her mind replaying the last two minutes at 2x speed. Overanalyzing every word, every look, yet it feels like she’s pulling the memories through molasses, sluggishly thinking it all over as the alcohol buzzes beneath her skin.

Enid finds a nearby bush and empties her stomach, clueless to the fireworks erupting in the sky, clueless to the celebratory cheers emanating from the cozy bar behind her and clueless to the woman curiously watching her from a foggy, smeary window in the bar. The brown, white slush will seep into her shoes and the tips of her fingers will grow whiter whilst her nose glows pinker. The taxi she will hail, will laugh at the way she stumbles in, and the driver will offer her a fag. Enid will take great offense until she sees the cigarette waved in her direction, and politely declines, before throwing up again.

And the night will end when she returns to her hotel room and passes out on the bed, barely remembering the night and barely remembering the woman that had Enid grinning like a fool.

But it’s probably for the best that she forgets.

At least she won’t be seeing her again.

xXx

Six years later.

“Oh my god Enid you better not be dead.” The sound of Yoko’s obnoxious voice ringing through her apartment, wasn’t a welcome one first thing in the morning. Especially with a raging headache, no doubt caused by her inevitable hangover. “Why does it smell like-bitch did you have someone over?” Yoko drops her voice to a whisper, “are they still here?”

“Nooo,” Enid groans into her pillow, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as Yoko wrenches her curtains open, letting the stupid sunlight into her bedroom. She frowns when she feels Yoko’s body bounce and sink into the bed next to her, nudging at Enid’s knees under the duvet to make room for her to sit.

“Were you…careful? Did someone see, because I can’t-”

“Nobody saw and I tipped George twice as much as usual.”

George, the buildings doorman.

Yoko sighs and pats Enid’s butt through the duvet and Enid scrunches her nose up at the sensation, looking over her shoulder at her very rude friend who was very rudely barged into her apartment. She’ll admit, the room is a mess. Clothing strewn everywhere, empty bottles laying around, a distinct…smell in the air. Yeah, it’s not her best morning.

Her friend stands and begins picking up Enid’s discarded clothing, tossing it onto the vacant side of the bed and she trips up over a shoe.

“A fucking Louboutin just kicked lazily under your bed? Oh I hate your ass.”

“You wanna pay rise?”

“Yeah.”

“Then get the fuck out of my apartment.”

Yoko whistles lowly and Enid watches blearily as her best friend shakes her head. “I forgot how bitchy you get when you’re hungover. What do you need, coffee, something greasy?”

Enid just grumbles and stretches a hand out from under the duvet and makes a grabbing motion with it. Yoko seems to understand because she rakes through Enid’s drawers before throwing sweatpants and a t-shirt at Enid’s head. She turns her back to Enid, letting her have her privacy. Its not an issue really, within Enid’s job she’s kind of used to people seeing her body in various states of dress. For Enid, showing off her bare torso is the equivalent to a banker handling a calculator. She doesn’t think twice about it, even if she can still hear her mother’s voice echoing in her ear, preaching unhealthy thoughts to Enid early on in her adolescence. She likes her body, or rather, she knows that she has an appealing one.

One that has earnt her the apartment she lives in, and the Louboutin’s she carelessly kicks under the bed in.

Enid combs her wild hair with her hand as she stumbles past Yoko, out her bedroom and into the main living area, hissing at the sunlight shining in through her stupid floor to ceiling windows. She hears Yoko’s hurried walk behind her, heels clacking on the wooden flooring of her apartment, she rushes past Enid and yanks open her fridge.

A sound of disappointment escapes her as she scans the contents of the fridge and pulls out two eggs. She quickly begins punching in the buttons on Enid’s far too complicated and expensive coffee machine, before beginning to fry up the eggs.

“Y’know I’m allowed to be concerned, I’m your best friend, and your agent. Only one of which I’m paid for, so I’m allowed to be hyper concerned about your wellbeing at least 50% of the time.”

Enid sits at one of the barstools and grabs her phone that was laying abandoned on the counter. “So what, when you’re off the clock and only my best friend-”

“I’ll give you like semi-good advice, wanna save the good stuff for when I’m working. Hoping to get a pay rise you know?”

“You should take that up with your boss.”

“I would but she’s a real bitch when she’s hungover.”

Enid rolls her eyes and checks her notifications, her behind the scenes post from her collab with Calvin Klein has racked up three million likes.

Yoko will be pleased.

She massages her temple and jumps when a mug of coffee is dumped before her and a plate of poorly scrambled (not that she can do much better) eggs are slid towards her hunched body. Along with a thick pile of stapled paper.

Obviously she grabs the coffee first, but she keeps her eyes on the paper. Still blinking the foggy morning hue away, she nods towards it.

“What’s that?”

Yoko taps Enid’s plate with her fork.

“Eat and I’ll tell you.”

The eggs are bland and a little watery. The coffee doesn’t have nearly enough milk or sugar and Enid needs to take something for the headache currently raging behind her eyes. But she forces it all down and watches Yoko curiously. The woman seems nervous almost, not just that but fidgety. Her eyes bouncing between the paper and Enid like a yo-yo and her teeth biting into her bottom lip.

Oh, she’s not nervous. She’s excited.

“It’s good Enid, really good,” she begins after Enid’s swallowed her last mouthful of eggs. “But I need you to hear me out ok?”

Enid nods sleepily and takes a large sip of her coffee.

“So its for the lead role in a movie-”

She chokes on the coffee.

“-In a major horror movie franchise-”

Enid thumps her chest.

“-It’s the final movie in the trilogy and-”

Enid gulps in a deep breath, and loudly clears her throat, finally getting rid of the coffee back there and she clumsily sets the mug back down. Yoko pauses her speech and looks at Enid over the rims of her black circled glasses, looking bored and impatient, waiting for Enid to stop dying so that she can continue.

“The Chilling investigations of Viper de la Muerto, or as the movie franchise shortened it to, Viper de la Muerto, is huge. We’re talking multimillion dollar budget and profit. They’re filming the third movie for the trilogy, the third book only came out a few years ago anyway. The main plot point is that Viper was killed off in the beginning of this movie-”

“Spoiler!” Enid complains, and Yoko, though she can’t see it from behind the lenses, rolls her eyes at her.

“Enid the books have been out for years, anyway, the third book had a new protagonist who essentially gets thrown into this world against her will and ends up continuing Vipers work, whilst trying to figure out what happened to her etc etc.” Yoko pauses to take a sip of Enid’s coffee, ignoring her protests. “It’s revealed at the end however that Viper was alive the whole time, she faked her death to go deep undercover as she realized that she needed help to solve the case from someone on the outside, which was big character development by the way. Throughout the book Edin receives letters of aid from an anonymous source, Viper, and kinda falls for the person writing them, and the end of the book hints at a romance between the two. It’s a weird parasocial, borderline obsessive, almost killing eve-esque vibe, but cuter.”

Yoko finishes with a dramatic sigh and lightly smacks her palms against the marble countertop, staring in Enid’s direction for her input. She also drinks more of Enid’s coffee.

“Edin, really?”

Her best friend scoffs and tips her head forward, letting her glasses slide down the bridge of her nose a little, before fixing Enid with a piercing stare. “I didn’t fucking write it ok? You wanted something different and-”

“I meant a small cameo in a show or a movie, not the lead in a multimillion dollar franchise!”

“Trust me ok, read the script, do the audition. They won’t hire you if you’re awful,” Yoko reasons with her, condescendingly tapping the script that sits on the counter, purely to taunt Enid.

She slides off of her barstool and sinks her fingers into her hair. The wooden flooring of her apartment had been one of the selling points for her, its gorgeous, its also fucking cold on her bare feet when she’s just woken up. Enid scrunches her eyes shut and wonders if she squeezes them tight enough that she’ll be able to clock out and go back to sleep.

The New York skyline was also a pretty big selling point. It looks unbelievable with the morning sky behind it. Soft oranges dissolving into happy blues. It’s usually something calming to look at, a reminder that she’s one small person in this massive city. Unsurprisingly, it’s not working this morning.

Enid whips around to look at Yoko, who once again is sporting a look that tells Enid that she’s tired of her shit. “How did you even land a script for this,” she murmurs staring at the title and the company logo along the bottom. “I thought this company was like super tight with what got let out?”

“Well Divina-”

“Your lover.”

“Working on it-she mentioned you for me, to the director, Larissa Weems and she was pretty eager for you to audition.”

Enid rubs at her temple and exhales out through her nose. “Weems, she’s-she’s the one with all the thriller movies, right?”

Yoko nods and places Enid’s mug in the dishwasher. “Plus, one superhero movie that predated the MCU, and looks like a college movie made on a $1000 dollar budget, so nobody acknowledges it. But yeah we’re talking two time Oscar nominee-”

“For the other Viper films?”

“No, they’ve never been nominated for the Oscars, despite being box office hits, extremely popular with both critics and the audience. The movies have pushed the horror and thriller genre into a whole new kind of light, but like always; they’re overlooked when it comes to the awards.”

“Like most horror movies,” Enid nods, frantically searching up Larissa Weems on her phone and trying to keep her eyebrows from soaring past her hairline when her eyes land on the impressive woman.

Yoko hums and taps the script again, itching for Enid to read it.

“When the book came out it was praised for the risks that Addams took, but they’re worried that the movie won’t hold up. With the wider audience, it means that movie fans are far more critical and influential than the og book fans, so they’re being very picky about who plays Edin.” Yoko snatches the script off the counter and waltzes over to where Enid stands in the middle of the apartment, she thrusts it into her hands and then grabs Enid’s shoulders, shaking her a little. “As your friend, I am begging you to give this a shot, because its like this character was fucking made for you Enid. I know you were an avid theatre kid in school-”

“But as my agent?”

Yoko frowns and looks down at her.

“What?”

Enid straightens her back and levels Yoko with her best don’t you fucking dare lie to me because we still have those friendship bracelets from fourth grade, look and repeats her question. “As my agent, what is your opinion.”

There’s a short moment of silence as Yoko contemplates it. Knowing that Enid is asking for her honest and professional opinion.

“If it goes well, best outcome is that by the end of next year you’re an Oscar nominee and your career has been secured for life,” she smiles and squeezes Enid’s shoulders. “If it flops, your acting career is finished before it even started, you’ll have a true crime obsessed fandom coming for your neck and you go back to the toxic fashion shows because you need the work. This will make or break your career.”

Enid gulps.

“Great.”

xXx

The audition happened and it was honestly one of the strangest moments of Enid’s life.

First of all, she was given the location. It was some strange warehouse in Chicago, and Enid had called Yoko out of fear that she was about to be murdered. Yoko told her to stop being dramatic and march her whiney ass in there. Which of course Enid did, after writing in her notes app that Yoko was being excluded from her will, effective immediately, in the instance that someone finds her body and phone dumped in a ditch.

As soon as she walked through the large door with a black cardboard sign on it that said, “Anaconda’s Demise,” (which sounds like a shitty Nicholas Cage movie), she was greeted with a hoard of blonde women sat on metal foldaway chairs, each clutching their own scripts and murmuring to themselves. Enid signed it at a desk by the entryway and was given a slip with her name and a serial number on it, then instructed to sit and wait until she was called.

She gets weird looks, which isn’t unexpected, her face is splashed across billboards in Times Square and in fashion catalogues that collect dust on your mom’s coffee table. Because auditions are so tight, everyone here is preapproved, meaning they were offered a small script and had to send in a tape, if they did well enough, they were given this location and date. Apparently, Enid was one of them.

Drama was something she always loved in school. Drama club was where she really came out of her shell. Romeo and Juliet, Grease, A Midsummers Night Dream, The Wizard of Oz (her role as the cowardly lion was career defining), were all projects that she truly put everything into. But her mother insisted modeling was the way to go. When you’ve got it, flaunt it, that’s what her mother said. Which is odd because if Enid “had it” why was she never pretty enough for her mother’s satisfaction.

Edin was meant to be pretty, not in a movie star way. At first glance she’s a little bit of a girl next door, shorter shabby hair, a bit like Enid’s. Small, almost timid in nature, initially. Enid seemed to fit the description pretty well, Yoko said.

The casting director seemed to think so too.

She messed up a bunch of lines in the audition, the woman reading for Viper took her time to match Vipers speech pattern, which seemed eerily familiar, and Enid spoke over her. She rushed her due to the woman’s long pause and said her line before she needed to.

It was mortifying.

So naturally, Enid had panicked and awkwardly finished the line she had started, laughing weakly as she did so. Somehow, that’s what convinced them that she was right for the part. The call was made one random evening when herself and Yoko were in a Taco Bell parking lot at 2am, obviously against her agency’s wishes, but screw it. She can have a nice body and eat junk food (even though Taco Bell is probably one of the healthier junk food options).

“Your phone’s ringing,” Yoko says through a mouthful of food and Enid swears quietly, fumbling for it and dropping it due to her greasy fingers.

It’s a private number.

“Uh hello?” She says uncertainly into the phone, and she barely gets a chance to breathe before the voice on the other line informs her that she’s got the role. Her heart drops to her stomach and she mumbles, “I’ve what? Oh ok cool, great thank you,” and she hangs up.

Yoko licks her fingers before rustling around looking for a napkin, “who was that?”

“I got it.”

“Hm?”

“The Viper movie, I got the part,” she breathes out and lets her phone drop to her lap. The audition was months ago, and she thought she’d flunked it. Honestly it was a relief that it was over, but she got the part? She actually has to do it. “I got the-holy shit Yoko what do I do?”

Yoko reaches forward to turn down the radio, Party in the USA didn’t really suit the mood. She for one, seemed elated and shakes Enid’s shoulders.

“Dude this is awesome?” Her smile drops when she looks at Enid’s face though, “why do you look like you’re about piss yourself?”

“I don’t know how to act in a horror movie.”

“Well apparently you do, because they cast you. Word is on the street that Florence Pugh auditioned.”

“She’s too old for the character.”

“Literally three years older than you, but ok. Point is, they chose you.”

xXx

Everything after that is a whirlwind.

Phone call after phone call. Zoom call after zoom call. Countless meetings with countless NDA’s and honestly; she’s filming a movie, not being given information about Area 51. The announcement for her casting will be done either after the movie has been filmed or near the end of production, meaning that for the next few months she can’t let anything be leaked.

Apparently the fanbase is as deranged as the author, who Enid is yet to meet. W. Addams is elusive, and very private, not that Enid’s actually googled her. She’s going off what Yoko’s told her. Addams hadn’t been very involved at all during the previous two movies press tours. She doesn’t have social media (that’s one less PR nightmare Enid supposes) and is rarely photographed at events. Hell, Enid will be lucky if she even meets her. Rumor has it that she’s a bit of a diva. She has allotted writing time, no matter where she is. A room can’t be too hot or cold, if someone eats too loud they get reprimanded, if someone is too loud period, she’ll snap. She turns down interviews on major late night shows, invites to award ceremonies and fashion shows, she’s an enigma.

As for the books, it’s kind of expected that she reads them, so she does. They’re definitely…something. Well written, of course. No wonder the series has received numerous awards and is celebrated by the horror community. It’s just that, they’re pretty gory and Enid isn’t a huge fan of that. Oh and they weigh the same as like a bag of freaking sugar.

But she gets it.

The second Viper described to the man tied up in her basement, how she was going to kill him. How she would line his body with thin and precise slashes with her knife, never to strike a major artery, never to give him the quick and easy way out. How she would almost skin him raw, yet he’s still alive, still breathing. His heart still echoing annoyingly loudly in the stone room and his panting pathetic like a thirsty mutt. How Viper explained to him slowly like he was a child how he would survive for hours, maybe days, in agony before dying. How she took pleasure in dousing her blade with alcohol before drawing it slowly through his skin.

Or how drastically different Edin’s perspective is. How her thought process is less precise than Viper’s. It doesn’t hold back and lets multiple thoughts and emotions cloud her judgement. How Edin won’t jump to violence but instead tries to find a peaceful solution. How she spreads positivity instead of extinguishing it. But the usual darkness from the first two books still lingers, how else would Addams stay loyal to her fans? An example being Edin’s first kill, when a man had broken into her home at night to finish her off, because she was close to uncovering something meant to say hidden. How she stabbed him twenty-three times with a steak knife and methodically cleaned her apartment afterwards like nothing had happened.

And Enid finally gets it. The raving reviews, the passionate fans, the freaking movie adaptations. The way that it isn’t just cheap scenes of women getting brutally murdered for shock value with unnecessary amounts of gore, like many horror projects are. There’s an actual story behind it and it’s beautiful. Even if it made Enid a little bit queasy.

Not only however has it provided her with a greater respect for the role, but also a greater fear. The expectation for her to perform this new character, a new lead character, is overwhelming. She stays away from certain corners of the internet. Reddit forums, Twitter hashtags, even more so when she inevitably starts filming.

The culmination of all of this comes to head today though. On a random Thursday afternoon in New York. Spring is usually Enid’s favorite time of year, a rebirth, new beginnings as the flowers bloom and so do opportunities. Nevermore, a film and television production company founded in 2000 by Larissa Weems and her late father, has a building in the city. Or at least three floors of a building. Enid’s been in this meeting with them for three hours, signing more contracts and agreements with Yoko leaning over her shoulder every time she picks up a pen.

Yoko’s there for professional and legal support (she dropped out of law school one year in and completed a business degree instead), but she keeps making coy glances at Divinia across the table. Divinia, who is the personal assistant to one very impressive Larissa Weems and on the other side of her is Bianca Barcley. W. Addams publicist. Addams is nowhere to be seen, however.

Weems with her wide pearly grin, slides another sheet of paper towards Enid. Perfectly manicured nails painted a bright red to match her lips. Enid accepts it with a nervous smile and skims it, knowing that Yoko will be paying more attention to it than herself.

“Profit participation? What does that all entail exactly?”

There we go.

The director hums and nods at the page, “you’ll find in the third paragraph where it states that it for allows actors to receive a percentage of the film's profits, after production costs have been regained. However, a successful opening weekend on box office can do that quickly, ensuring that from there onward, actors receive the earnings they deserve.” Weems finishes with that pleasant smile again and the words blend together on Enid’s page.

Yoko taps the table with her dark purple nails and quirks an eyebrow, “so…royalties.”

“Not quite no, you’ll see that we’ve added the adequate information on your contract along with some possible estimates of numbers.”

Enid nudges Yoko when her friend whistles lowly under her breath at the column of figures at the bottom of the page. The pen they leant her, which probably costs more than her rent, hovers over the dotted line. Her breathing is shaky, to match the tremor in her hands and of course Yoko notices.

She flashes a smile at their company across from them and tilts her head in close towards Enid’s. “You know that you don’t actually have to do this right? Say the word and we leave right now; I’ll even buy you one of those ridiculous croissants that are like the size of your head.” Her voice is low in Enid’s ear, her hand squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

Enid thinks of the slump she’s been in for months. Painfully uninspired and bored, doing her job for a paycheck that she probably doesn’t even need.

Thinks of the ball of excitement at the back of her throat when she entered the audition room and just let herself go or when she sent in the self-audition tape. How it all came back to her so quickly and easily.

Thinks of her mother’s message she received this morning. Apparently, she noticed that Enid’s cheeks looked a little fuller in last night’s family facetime call and wondered if Enid was watching her diet. If Enid was “looking after herself.” If Enid was eating responsibly. If Enid was still the same size in jeans as she was when she last saw her mother. If Enid could send her mother a picture of her scales so she could just have an idea of how much-

Yoko’s sharp inhale is somehow quieter than Enid’s signature across the dotted line, which is quick and a little squiggly, but it gets the job done. She smiles brightly at Weems and slides the sheet back over to her, nerves vanquished and confidence oozing through her veins.

Because she’s excited. She’s found that spark again and nothing can bring her down from it.

Weems is reaching over the table, a happy, “we’re so excited to have you on the team, honestly its like you were made for this part-” falling from her lips as the door to the meeting room is pushed open.

A young man, with a headset and a lanyard and enough bags under his eyes for Enid to know that he’s an underpaid intern or assistant, looks at them all apologetically.

“Oh, um sorry it’s just, Ms. Addams is here now and insisting she came in and-”

Weems’ eye twitches and she laughs falsely, waving him off, “its fine Adam-”

“I’m Derek.”

“Just let her in,” she turns back to Enid and softly rolls her eyes, “sorry about that, Ms. Addams likes to pretend that appointments don’t apply to her.”

Enid smiles back weakly and stands with everyone else in the room, wiping her sweaty hands on her jeans and eyeing the copious bottles of Smart Water on the table, because her throat is insanely dry. She’s about to meet the author, the creator of the character that she’ll be playing. Who wouldn’t be nervous-

“Ah Wednesday, so happy that you’ve decided to join us.”

Long, dark braided pigtails is the first thing Enid sees, then she takes in the pale skin, the freckles, the grown-out fringe, the tiny stature, the glare. The beautiful woman who she hasn’t thought about in years. The woman who she forgot even existed. Who up until now was a blurry memory that a hungover Enid tried to remember after waking up on New year’s day.

Their eyes meet and Enid’s world spirals. So does her stomach.

“So, Enid, this is Wednesday Addams, Wednesday this is Enid Sinclair,” Weems says politely before dropping her voice and whispering through gritted teeth in Wednesday’s direction. “Be nice.”

Those dark eyes haven’t strayed from Enid’s, their intensity making her dizzy. Enid licks her lips and watches the eyes track the movement. Her heart feels like it may erupt out her chest with how fast it’s racing.

“Hi.”

Six years ago

Enid wakes up half naked in her hotel room to five missed calls from her mother and several messages from her friends, including Yoko. As soon as she sits upright an overwhelming wave of nausea washes over her and she trips up over discarded clothes on the way to the en-suite bathroom. She spends the next fifteen minutes hugging the toilet bowl before she can stand on shaky legs and clutch the bathroom sink as she looks in the mirror.

Jesus Christ.

She weakly grabs her toothbrush and probes around her mouth with it, every so often accidentally brushing too far back and her gag reflex has her hunched over the sink with a white knuckled grip on the shiny white porcelain.

Not her proudest moment.

The toothbrush is lazily tossed to the side and Enid is heavily, heavily contemplating going back to bed, when her ringtone suddenly starts playing her favorite Seventeen song at full blast.

“Holy shit,” she breathes out, stumbling back into the bedroom and raking through her twisted sheets looking for the device so she can switch it off because her head is pounding. “Where is it. Where the fuck is it, I swear to God,” she picks it up and swipes her thumb across the screen, “Yoko, what the hell?”

She wretches the phone away from her ear as Yoko yells down the line.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR.”

“Oh my God why are you even awake right now, I’m literally five hours ahead of you.”

Yoko laughs and Enid frowns when she hears a bunch of voices in the background. “Yeah, pulling an all nighter, I’m at some guy’s penthouse. There’s a horse.”

“That’s-that’s great Yoko-”

“So…get up to anything fun. You know they don’t wear anything under their kilts in Scotland-”

Enid blearily looks at the time on her phone and sighs. She really needs to get herself sorted and presentable if she wants to be ok for her show tomorrow. “There were no guys.”

Yoko’s voice is quiet on the other end of the line and Enid hears her careful question of, “girls?”

And something inside of Enid freezes. Her eyebrows pull tightly together, and she replays last night, or what she remembers at least. A woman, a very pretty woman, god what was her name? It’s all very blurry, whether its because of the alcohol or Enid subconsciously choosing to block it out, she isn’t too sure right now.

“No, nobody.”

xXx

Now.

“Everyone leave, I would like to speak with Ms. Sinclair.”

Oh God that voice.

Bianca rolls her eyes but gathers up some loose documents and snaps her binder closed. Weems stands up, towering over them all and if Enid wasn’t intimidated by the powerful woman before, she sure is now. She smiles her wide smile, lips stretched almost painfully across her Hollywood white teeth, and Enid notices some of her cherry red lipstick stained across her two of her top teeth. She can only imagine how Weems would fret once she saw it in the mirror. The woman gives Enid the impression that she needs to appear perfectly put together, to be seen as any less than perfect would tarnish the polished reputation she’s made for herself.

It only puts more pressure on Enid to get this role right.

Bianca’s eyes pass over Enid and a crocodile smile is thrown in her direction. Truthfully there’s no real malice behind it, but there’s something there. Something that’s almost competitive, egging her on. She also mouths “good luck,” before turning to Wednesday Addams, her smile dropping and instead replaced by the eyeroll of an exasperated friend. “Don’t be rude, she was one of the only competent actors auditioning who also wasn’t an obnoxious W. Addams meatrider.”

Yoko snorts loudly from where she now stands behind Enid, and clasps her gently on the shoulder, squeezing twice before following everyone out the room. Enid watches her shyly bump shoulders with Divina.

Then the door shuts and Enid can’t breathe.

She’s just as beautiful as she was six years ago. Enid never fully understood referring to a human as ‘hauntingly beautiful’, that is, until she laid her eyes on Wednesday Addams. Any baby fat that used to be around her cheeks is now gone, her face more angular, jawline sharp enough to cut glass and cheekbones highly defined. Dark eyes, emphasized by the minimal use of mascara, stare at Enid up through thick eyelashes and Enid feels frozen in her spot.

She still has those matching braids and curtain bangs, still has that scowl and murderous glare.

And if they were strangers in a bar again, Enid would walk up to her and ask her the exact same thing as before.

In a moment of sudden realization like, she has to actually move and say something, she rolls her chair back almost aggressively and jumps out of it, knees banging against the table and a couple of glasses shake. She sidesteps out so that the table is no longer between them and sticks her hand out enthusiastically.

“Hi, Enid Sinclair.”

Wednesday looks from her face to her hand and then back up to her face.

“We’ve met.”

Enid feigns confusion for a second and taps her chin, “uh nope, no siree, I do not recall-”

“If this is the best of your acting abilities then we may need to reconsider a few things regarding the movie,” Wednesday says dryly and she watches as Enid’s hand weakly falls back down to her side. “I am of course, willing to ignore our previous introductions if you’d rather, for the sake of professionality and to avoid an uncomfortable phone call from human resources.”

“Ok,” Enid breathes out shakily, she nods her head and smiles weakly. “Yeah, that’d be super. I am so grateful for this opportunity and would like to apologize for you know, that and-and running off like that, you must’ve felt so confused and I-”

“Please do not flatter yourself, I haven’t thought about you for years,” Wednesday mutters, moving to sit in one of the chairs opposite the vacant one Enid sat in not too long ago. “In fact, I’d be more than happy to pretend that this is our first meeting.”

What the fuck is happening.

Enid lowers herself into her chair opposite Wednesday and nods slowly.

“Ok, but absolutely nobody can know, not Weems, not Bianca, not Divina, not Derek-”

“Who the hell is Derek?”

“I’m closeted ok!” Enid says louder than she should have done, considering how big of a secret this is. She immediately winces the second the words leave her mouth and Wednesday’s eyes widen slightly at her random outburst. “I’m, closeted, I’m not out.”

 “Out of what?”

“The closet...?”

Wednesday rolls her eyes, “Sinclair, you’re not making any sense.”

This woman.

Enid squeezes her eyes shut and buries her head in her hands, sighing into them and then sliding her hands through her hair. “People don’t know that I like women, Wednesday, that I’m a- y’know, lesbian.” She mutters, and the word feels weird in her mouth, it’s one she rarely says out loud.

She doesn’t need to look up to see Wednesday’s annoyed face.

“And that…matters?”

Enid’s head snaps up from where she’s had it in buried in her arms, “yes!”

“It’s 2024.”

She splutters out a laugh in disbelief and shakes her head. The woman opposite her is notorious for her secrecy, for her lack of media presence. It wouldn’t be a complete surprise to find out that Wednesday Addams didn’t even own a phone, didn’t even use email. She’s very obviously chronically offline, so much so that she doesn’t realize how big of a deal this is.

“And? I literally attended this fashion event last year that promoted queer models and designers and the comments on Instagram- you’d think this was the 1950’s. I know the good usually outweighs the bad but it’s terrifying, and I’m a public figure so once it’s out, it’s out. My mom doesn’t even know, I can’t even think of how she’d react-”

“I’ll respect your privacy then, though catering to the mob and ignoring your own comfort and freedom can never end well.”

That’s-she’s probably right. Everything comes out eventually, the difference is whether or not Enid has any say in it.

She nods and clears her throat, “and, the thing with you-it’s, I’m over it ok. It was a long time ago and we can forget about it, I was young…and drunk. Water under the bridge.”

There’s a mutual understanding between them. The past is the past, not that there was much that happened anyway, but enough that one slip up, one rumor after the next leads to tabloids claiming that Enid landed her role by sleeping with the author. But nobody else knows, and nobody else ever will. She’s booked, she’s landed this role of the lifetime, she’s comfortable (financially), she’s an influencer adored by millions. Life is good.

So why doesn’t she feel good.

Her eyes meet dark ones, black onyx eyes which reveal no emotions clueing her into what’s going on in Wednesday’s head.

Life is good.

But her stomach feels heavy and achy, and her heart is racing so fast that she thinks Wednesday can hear it.

Her hands squeeze the edge of the table until her knuckles are white and she exhales what feels like unknowingly trapped air. Wednesday’s head tilts slightly, watching her curiously and Enid smiles back in response.

Because everything is fine and it’s all behind them.

Until it’s not.

Chapter Text

Enid rolls her shoulders back and flattens out her Hello Kitty pajamas before pressing record.

“Hey guys! Get ready with me for a mystery project,” she smiles at her phone on her ring light tripod, leaning forward to tap pause and then she skips over to her wardrobe, pulling out some worn jeans, and the presses play again. “My outfit today is pretty casual, I’ve got one of my favorite pairs of jeans, these are Levi 94’s,” she presses pause and quickly changes into the jeans, then slides back to her wardrobe and grabs a hoodie. She clicks play again, “these jeans are like six years old, kinda falling apart not gonna lie, but they’re my comfiest pair. Here I’ve also got my Boygenius hoodie which I bought at one of their concerts I went to a few months ago, it’s so cool, wait till you see the back.”

She presses pause and pulls her pajama top over her head, chucking it behind her and pulling on a sports bra, and then her hoodie. She presses play again and gasps happily, pointing to the jagged white writing on the front and then spinning around. “It’s like one of those biblically accurate angels on the back, isn’t it sick! I won’t lie their music is a little different to what I usually like, but I’m really getting into it!” Clicking pause again she goes and pulls on some shoes before clicking play and stepping backwards, lifting her shoe clumsily up at the camera. “Lastly my blue Adidas Spezial’s, I won’t be telling you what fragrance I’m wearing because I do like so keep some allure,” she winks at the camera before pressing pause and finish. She saves the TikTok to her drafts and then messages Eugene to let him know that it’s done.

Eugene is her editor and kind of help manages her social media. She has full control over what she posts and likes, but he keeps an eye on it. Sorts out trolls, remove weird sex bots in her DMs, edits her videos and a bunch of other stuff which she doesn’t realize. He has access to all her accounts so he can easily slip in and edit her videos and then post them for her. He’s a lifesaver, and honestly one of her best friends.

He’s a bit of a hermit though, rarely leaves the house unless it’s for the occasional coffee with Enid or something else. He even gets his groceries delivered to his door. It’s a nice place he’s got though, an impressive monitor and set up, Enid does pay him well after all.

Their team, consisting mainly of Enid, Eugene and Yoko, has been a strong one for a few years now. Enid never really saw the need for a personal assistant or a permanent security team. She’s not that famous, although Yoko almost had an aneurysm a few months ago when Enid got followed back to her apartment building.

She doesn’t have a permanent driver either, but Yoko always arranges for the same company to pick her up. Which is why she’s caught off guard as soon as she leaves the lobby of her building and sees a very different car parked outside the building instead of the usual black, tinted nondescript SUV.

“Sweet ride, huh?”

Yoko rummages through her handbag, and wordlessly hands Enid a stick of gum. Enid frowns and cups her hand in front pf her mouth, breathing into it.

“I could smell the PB and J you had for breakfast, almost broke out into an allergic reaction the second I laid eyes on you,” she mutters, tipping her dark glasses down her nose to eye the car in front of them. “1950’s Cadillac Hearse, you gonna get in? I mean, your funeral-”

“Ha ha,” Enid bites back, as she eyes the car warily, and the tall man behind the wheel. “Is this for us?”

“Well we’re not outside a funeral home, so I’d assume yes. Besides, that’s Addams personal chauffeur.”

Yoko lets Enid enter first and she slides along the dark leather seats until she sits at the back, in the middle seat, directly staring ahead at the center consol and the dark, tinted windscreen. Yoko sits on one of the seats opposite her, with her back to the front. As soon as the back door slams shut, the driver grunts and floors it. Enid hasn’t even got her belt on yet and her flat shoes slide across the floor, urging her to stay in her seat, Yoko is in a similar predicament except she’s simultaneously wrenching her seatbelt across her chest, and cussing the driver out.

He seems to get her very gentle suggestion to “slow the fuck down,” and he drives at a speed which won’t get them pulled over.

“The fuck happened to discreet,” Enid mumbles, gasping for air and clutching her chest after the brief scare. Yoko rolls her eyes. “With the amount of NDA’s I signed, you’d think they’d want to prevent headlines like Wednesday Addams’ personal driver, wraps car around telephone poll with model Enid Sinclair in the back-”

Yoko snorts, “oh my God Enid, have you taken your meds this morning?”

“You can’t just ask people that!”

“I’m looking out for your wellbeing bitch, have you taken them?”

Enid shifts uncomfortably in her seat and pops the gum in her mouth, “yeah, course, have you removed the stick from your butt?” She receives a kick to the knee, which hurts because Yoko insists on wearing her thick, platformed Dr Martens, despite the gradual seasonal shift from Spring into summer. Enid’s always enjoyed spring. As soon as the sun stays out longer, dragging out the hours of the day and leaving her bathed in a soft orange light despite it being 7pm, her mood changes significantly.

The air smells better. Well, it normally does, it’s a little hard to tell in New York. The overwhelming smell of pizza, wet pennies and pee, usually overpower the fresh spring breeze. But she’s lost count of how many hours she’s spent in Central Park, under the shade of a tree or stretched on a blanket out in the sun. A poetry book in hand and her hot pink headphones over her ears. A brief moment of solace amidst the chaos of her life.

Her friend is the opposite. Yoko is all smokey, underground jazz clubs. Cigarette butts and cold fingertips, on evening walks. Where Enid smiles, Yoko smirks. Every giggle is matched with snark. They couldn’t be more different. Yoko will call her out on her bullshit, she’ll push and push until Enid finally admits defeat, or asks for help. In a world where people have traditionally walked all over Enid or simply used her for their own benefit, it’s refreshing to have someone so unapologetically brazen when showing their care.

When Yoko had been hired officially, she took over from Enid’s mom, in regards to managing her, it hadn’t been obvious to Enid at first just how swiftly she’d pushed Esther out. It maybe wasn’t until Enid was living alone in a different state, eating what she wanted, hanging out with who she wanted; that she realized what had been done.

She’s thankful for Yoko every day.

Except today. Today she is on thin ice.

“What’d you do for Addams to send her personal driver, must’ve made one hell of a first impression?” Yoko wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, picking at her blood red nails.

Enid clears her throat and crosses her legs, shrugging in what she hopes to be a convincingly nonchalant manner. “I don’t know, maybe she does this for the other actors too.”

It’s bullshit. She knows it, Yoko knows it. The creepy driver knows it, based on the way their eyes meet in the rearview mirror. Emotionless dark eyes meet hers for a millisecond before they shift back to the road, but it’s the most acknowledgement he’s given them since they got in the car, and it tells her everything she needs to know.

“Well, I highly doubt that.”

“Hm?”

“The actress playing Viper? Word is Addams and her do not get along.”

Well, that’s news to her.

“I get the impression that Addams doesn’t get along with many people Yoko,” Enid stares at the moving buildings. “But also, considering the fact that she’s literally the creator of all this, if they didn’t get along, I think she would’ve fired her. She seems the type.”

Enid knows the type. She’s worked with them countless times, except Wednesday is quiet, but ruthless author. Enid usually deals with flamboyant fashion designers who clearly haven’t been told no, since they were about ten years old. The creative arts industry is ruthless, and you can be kicked out in the blink of an eye. It wouldn’t be insane to picture Wednesday Addams firing someone she despises. Hell, she’d probably fire someone for looking at her the wrong way.

Nevertheless, Yoko shakes her head.

“Did you not read all of those NDA’s and important documents that you signed? There is a contract, one that is messy to break. They can’t fire whatshername just because she’s stuck up and Addams threw a book at her head once-”

“She what-”

“Because then she’d go to the media about it, fuss up a storm, make the studio look bad and then halt production. But, thankfully, she’s barely in this movie. So hopefully Addams doesn’t commit an actual murder.”

Enid eyes the approaching building warily as the car comes to a quick stop. The chauffeur opens the back door for them and Enid stumbles out, wrangling her tote bag behind her and shuffling nervously into the Nevermore lobby. Yoko hurries in front of her, rapidly typing on her phone and Enid throws a quick “thank you!” over her shoulder to the chauffeur.

They soon find themselves in the elevator, visitor lanyards around their necks and feet tapping to the shitty jazz music emanating from the speakers.

“Vada Alvez.”

Enid looks up from the tiles beneath her feet and frowns at her friend.

“Huh?”

Yoko glances at her, taking a brief break from glaring at her phone screen. “Whatshername, Vada Alvez. AKA Viper De La Muerte. AKA your co-star.” Oh of course. Enid should’ve known that. To be fair, she hasn’t actually watched the movies, only read the books. The name has definitely been brought up though and she thinks its one from one of those weird sci-fi franchises Eugene likes. “Kinda weird you guys never had a chemistry read though.”

“I-” Enid pauses and frowns, the doors opening before them and she swiftly follows Yoko, who seems to have the entire freaking building mapped out already. “That’s…weird. That’s weird right?”

“I mean she’s hardly in the movie, maybe that’s why.”

Enid shakes her head. “But in the books, they do meet, and it’s supposed to be charged, electric. I feel like we should’ve met before now.”

Some random man in a business suit and a watch that probably costs more than the car they were just in, smiles politely at them. He also has a visitor’s lanyard and seems to recognize them, for some reason. Enid smiles back and tries to shake the uneasy feeling in her stomach.

They’re soon approaching a large conference room when something catches Enid’s eye. She pulls on Yoko’s elbow and drops her voice, “I gotta pee, I’ll be back in a minute ok?” She doesn’t wait for her to answer before speeding off towards the restroom. She slams the door open, briefly eyes the woman at the sink, before linking arms and swiftly pulling her into a vacant cubicle.

Enid slides the lock and turns, only to feel herself be slammed into the wall with a fucking knife to her throat.

“What are you doing?” Wednesday asks calmly, like this is an everyday experience for her.

Enid splutters and tries pushing her off, but Wednesday pushes back twice as hard.

“Can you please take the knife away,” she squeaks and is pleasantly surprised when Wednesday does as she’s asked. “Jesus Christ it’s barely 11 o’clock and I’ve already died twice today. Oh sweet ride by the way, I would’ve enjoyed it if the driver wasn’t trying to kill me.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes, “I told Lurch to bring you swiftly, it’s not my fault, nor his, that you cannot stomach that.”

“I could barely stomach my breakfast after that. Also, why did you send your personal car?”

“This meeting required punctuality. That doesn’t seem your strong suit.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I feel that I know enough.”

Enid bites her tongue and doesn’t rise to the challenge burning in Wednesday’s eyes. It turns out that Wednesday Addams is infuriating when Enid is sober. She also appears to be armed, which is highly alarming actually and something that they will most definitely be discussing later.

But not now, now there are more pressing concerns.

“I didn’t have to do a chemistry read, why is that?” She bites the bullet and hopes, prays that she’ll see something flicker across Wednesdays face. She’s met with a stare that would rival the stone statues in the fountain downstairs. “Are you-” Enid looks around and strains her hearing in case anybody else is in the restroom, ignoring Wednesday’s quiet observation of who else could be in the cubicle with us you idiot? Once she decides it’s safe, she continues, “are you giving me special favors or something. Is that why you hired me?”

That does get a reaction.

An unpleasant one.

“Truth be told Sinclair; I was shocked to see your face among the finalist’s audition tapes. It was the face of somebody I hadn’t thought about in a great deal of time. But the decision wasn’t entirely up to me. I’m offended you’d think I’d hand out favors so carelessly in regard to something so cardinal.” Wednesday steps back to put some space between them, her hand on the lock. “I begrudgingly applaud you for your success, though I do not favor you. I am not your friend. It would be wise to remember that.”

With a harsh tug on the lock, the door is pulled open, and she slides out, Enid’s eyes fluttering as she catches the intoxicating, billowy scent of her perfume and it immediately goes straight to her head. It’s a strange, overwhelming aroma of smells, warm, sensuous, spicy and smoky but there’s also something else, something with dulls those smells. Old paper, dark coffee, probably an espresso. But it’s gone, almost as quickly as it arrived and Enid remains standing there with her eyes half shut, like a weirdo.

This is going to be harder than she thought.

xXx

Meeting your co-stars for the first time at a table read is somewhat intimidating. Some of which are seasoned actors, ones she recognizes as side characters from various hit shows, leads from the odd indie movie she saw at Sundance a few years ago. Some she doesn’t recognize, with their vague yet typical Hollywood smile and cheekbones, perfectly coiffed hair, the type of actor who looks similar to about several other ones, either of which Enid could name off the top of her head.

She’s never attended a table read before, her only other acting credits include an extra in a couple of older music videos, early back in her career, a woman in a Hozier music video (much more memorable), a few ads for brands she’d been sponsored by over the years and a very small voiceover cameo in some game that Eugene liked. He more or less begged her to send in a voice tape when he saw they were hiring for some new dlc or something. Including her high school drama club performances, this is a big leap. A laughable one, and all she can do to make herself feel better is know that the casting director chose her for a reason. There were bigger names that auditioned, but they chose her.

For some reason.

She finds herself reaching for a big, sprinkled pink donut at the craft table when she feels someone elbow her.

Yoko.

Enid’s hand freezes over the donut and she hates the instant feeling of guilt, like she’s been caught. Yoko notices, of course she notices and nods.

“Go for it, I had one a few minutes ago,” she says, her voice light and intentionally not bringing up Enid’s reaction. So Enid nods and picks it, takes a bite and wonders if it’d taste better if she couldn’t hear her mother’s voice in her ear, reminding her of how much sugar is in these things. “Ate it when you disappeared to the bathroom, you left so fast I didn’t even get to say go piss girl.”

She winces sympathetically and squeezes Yoko’s arm, “I’m so sorry, I hope you make a swift recovery.”

Yoko shakes her head, “unlikely. But, that’s not why I came over here.” Her glasses slide down her nose a little and Enid follows the direction her head is tilted in, eyes falling on the pretty young woman chatting loudly on her phone. “That’s Vada. Figured you should meet before all the homoerotic tension takes place at the table.”

Enid snorts and takes another bite of the donut, “yeah you’re right, I hope she’s nice!”

Vada had looked her up and down the second Enid stepped into her vicinity. Enid had dressed for comfort today, seeing as they’ll be in the conference room for a few hours. Vada was dressed as though she could leave any moment for a movie premier. Her lips curled a little when Enid offered her hand to shake (she knows it’s dorky, but it’s polite), but she took it with a glint in her eye that made Enid gulp.

Mean girl. Alarm sirens go off in Enid’s head.

“Enid, my boyfriend has a poster of you in his bedroom,” she says slyly, like it’s Enid’s fault. The blonde quickly racks her brain because she is familiar with Vada, even if the name had escaped her until Yoko reminded her this morning. Part of her thinks the boyfriend is an athlete, NFL maybe.

“Oh I uh-”

“Just kidding!” Vada laughs, playfully swatting her arm, “it’s in his garage.”

Well that’s not much better.

When Yoko sends her a questioning look from where she sits with other personal assistants, managers and members of crew, their chairs against the walls, whilst Enid, the cast, writers, directors and producers are around the long table; Enid responds with a wince.

But it goes ok. Better than ok actually. So ok that Weems shakes Enid’s hand not once, not twice, but three times before strutting over to some of the investors and studio executives, who seemed to share her enthusiasm. Although, Enid did see Weems reach into her Prada handbag the second she turned away, to squeeze copious amounts on hand gel onto her hands. But even Bianca offers her a sly smile from where she sits speaking with Yoko, Vada seems to give Enid a begrudgingly friendly shoulder jostle and Wednesday-

Well Wednesday had been silent the entire time, she maintained her rigid posture in the incredibly uncomfortable plastic office chairs for all the hours they’d been in here, the only noticeable movement being her eyes. How they panned to Enid’s at random moments and how they lingered unwaveringly, as if she were intentionally trying to throw her off. But when everyone stands at the end, groaning at their tight muscles, her eyes meet Enid’s in the crowd and Enid remains frozen in her spot. Because she needs to know, as much as she hates it, she needs Wednesdays approval before she can leave the room. Needs to know if it was ok.

Blink, and she would’ve missed it, the subtle rise of her chin, before spinning on her heel towards Weems and Enid lets out a huge sigh of relief.

The table read is important for a number of reasons. It can point out flaws in the script, can highlight flaws in the cast, who needs to go or who doesn’t work well with who? Is the entire thing a shitshow, and should the investors abandon ship before its even sailed? It’s one of the many parts of pre-production that Enid had underappreciated the process of.

Much of pre-production had been complete, casting, location scouting, storyboarding, one of the final elements however is costume.

Which is why Enid finds herself in Nevermore’s impressive costume department at eight am on a Tuesday morning, a little over two weeks since the table read. There’s an entire floor dedicated to it, with the hallways full of large, framed photographs from past movies and large space containing mannequins wearing iconic costumes from some of these movies. There’s also the large room for fabrics, and design, where designers try out a lot of their ideas.

Much of the costumes used in movies are rented, Enid learns, which she supposes makes sense especially for background actors. One of the lead designers explained however that her character required some custom designs.

So she now finds herself in front of a floor to ceiling mirror, with whiteboard full of sketches and storyboards hung up with magnets and loopy, inky writing bullet pointed next to them.

The outfit is…pink. Pinker than anything she’s ever worn before. A dark pink, borderline purple corduroy skirt that stops at her knees, pink tights with small silvery stars that you wouldn’t notice until closer inspection and cherry blossom pink Converse high tops. She has a turtleneck matching in color to the shoes and tights along with a pink sherpa jacket.

It’s really, really warm and she can feel beads of sweat along her hairline.

Ms. Thornhill steps back to examine her work and then glances back at the storyboards, nodding happily to herself.

“I feel like this first one has come along quite well, don’t you think?” Her eyes are wide and earnest behind her thick framed glasses, and although Enid knows that she means well, the woman unnerves her.

“Um, don’t get me wrong, I love pink, but isn’t this kind of excessive?” She spins around and watches herself in the mirror. To be fair Edin was always described as the polar opposite of Viper. She was all pastels and rainbows, whereas Viper was all black and shadows. It was the entire point of the book, however Enid currently feels as though a unicorn has thrown up on her. “I think Penelope Garcia has worn this exact outfit.”

Thornhill hums and steps back to photograph Enid from a few different angles. “I’m not familiar with the name, is that an influencer?”

“In a sense,” Enid mutters, lifting her arms as Thornhill instructs, when another outfit on the rails catch her eye. “Oooh that’s cute!”

She knows that realistically she’s going to be here for a few hours before she has to head down to hair and makeup, and being stuck in this small room wit, alone with the strange woman, doesn’t excite her much. So naturally when she hears the sharp rap of knuckles against the door frame, she’s relieved at the thought of another human being present. That is, until the door opens.

Biance pokes her head around the doorframe, all business and she makes sure that Enid’s decent before swinging the door open and stepping in. She’s in a matching charcoal blazer and pants with a soft looking white blouse underneath, her heels clack sharply against the wooden flooring and her gold hooped earrings catch the glare from the bright white ceiling lights and momentarily blind Enid. As she blinks through her haze, she sees Bianca impatiently gesture and hiss for someone to follow her into the room, and a reluctant Wednesday Addams shuffles in behind her.

Kill me now.

Wednesday’s eyes catch hers and infuriatingly she remains as impartial as ever. Enid’s heart hammers in her chest and she wonders if the other woman can hear, can see the subtle rise of skin on her neck with every throbbing beat. She’s been assured that everything is behind them, told that she needs to forget what little past they have together. It’s almost pathetic how stuck on it she is, considering that up until a few weeks ago she had forgotten about Wednesday entirely. But the events of the night came back to her slowly, murky faces become clearer each day and it’s crazy just how quickly her brain recognized Wednesdays face that day in the conference room.

“Weems thought it’d be beneficial if Wednesday was a little more involved behind the scenes,” Bianca states, rapidly typing something out on her phone-

“I wrote the source material, how could I be more involved,” Wednesday grumbles and scowls, sending her publicist a withering look. “I’d much rather observe Xavier crafting the prosthetics,” she turns to Enid, “for scene 32, where you stab a man in the eye.”

Enid nods slowly, choosing to ignore the slight tremor of excitement in Wednesday’s voice. “Oh, that’s nice, but please don’t feel like you have to stay here, you should go and look at that bloody prosthetic eye!”

She hears Bianca quietly murmur an impressed, “she did her homework,” and waits for the two to leave, but then Thornhill speaks up and Enid jumps because she forgot the woman was even in the room with them. In fact, this is probably the longest she’s gone without talking since Enid met her.

“Well you can’t leave before getting a good look at the outfit,” she beams and Enid refrains from rolling her eyes. Despite Bianca and Wednesday standing off to the side, there is a large mirror in front of her which they can obviously see in. The woman seems as though she needs the validation, and her poking firmly at Enid’s waist for her to turn, proves that.

With a quiet sigh and a fake smile plastered on her face, she shuffles in a circle towards Bianca, who barely looks up from her phone, and Wednesday who…looks vaguely impressed.

Silence falls upon the room and Enid is used to being ogled, to being watched and observed. She gets paid for it and she’s worn more revealing and controversial outfits than this one. Despite the thick wool coat, the tights, the skirt, the jumper, despite the high top shoes, the pink gloves, and knit beanie on her head-she feels more bare then ever before. Wednesday looks up at her, from her shoes to her hat and her head tilts ever so slowly to the side.

“Bring the skirt up a little.”

Bianca raises a brow but doesn’t say anything, Thornhill however does.

“Oh, are you sure?”

Wednesday’s eyes never leave Enid’s.

“Unless Ms Sinclair has any complaints, then take it up an inch or two,” she turns to leave the room with Bianca following closely behind and Enid feels lightheaded watching them go.

“It’s fine,” she replies oddly breathless, “I was actually going to suggest the same thing.” Wednesday looks back at that, her sharp gaze meeting Enid’s vulnerable one and something happens. Something goes unspoken, Enid just doesn’t know what yet. But Wednesday nods and continues to exit out the room with Bianca listing off all the different people and departments that Wednesday needs to consult with that day.

Thornhill mumbles to herself haughtily and makes a note on her chart on the large wooden designers desk. She jerks her head to the changing room, eyes never leaving her papers and the distractedly tells Enid to take off the outfit and try the next one. An assistant hands Enid the garment bag with a smile which she returns before she steps into the room, unzips it and the smile widens.

It takes a few hours but she’s done. She needs to come back at the same time next week to try any changes and alterations that needed to be made, but for the most part she tried on and was photographed in every outfit needed for her character in the movie. Her favorite outfit had a big cat face on the front of the knitted jumper. She had sent a picture of it immediately to Yoko, though now that she thinks about it, it may have been information she legally wasn’t allowed to share yet.

She scrolls through the comments on her recent TikTok that Eugene had uploaded for her a few days ago, her “get ready with me” one. Unsurprisingly it’s racked up a decent amount of views and the likes are a little over 600 thousand, what she didn’t expect was her hoodie to be the topic of discussion in the comments.

Enid Sinclair being a boygenius fan was not on my 2024 bingo card

she listens to boygenius? One of us. One of us. One of us

lmao why are people acting like boygenius is still a niche band, they literally have a grammy

WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THE MYSTERY PROJECT???

The Boygenius comments do make her hands sweat a little as she clutches her phone (a sick One Piece phone case slapped on the back). It’s somewhat common knowledge that Boygenius is a queer band, and up until recently, a large majority of their fans were also queer. Enid knows this, the general population knows this. It’ll never be as identifiable as the era of “do you listen to girl in red” comments, however Enid does acknowledge that it’s veering in a similar direction. Common sense would say that someone’s sexuality obviously isn’t dictated by what music they listen to, so the hoodie in theory shouldn’t mean anything.

However she is super gay.

Occasionally, although she doesn’t feel comfortable coming out of the closet any time soon, sometimes she’ll like or post some things like wearing the hoodie, like watching and reviewing Yellowjackets. Nothing obvious or a concrete confirmation of her sexuality, but small hints. Nothing significant unless you’re tracking her every move. It’s embarrassing to admit but it feels like she’s playing with fire, and it’s almost exciting.

It's the closest she’ll get for a long time to partake in the most minimal way possible, before she can confidently come out. Yoko doesn’t know. She either doesn’t know or she pretends she doesn’t. Eugene does. Well, she’s never told him her true sexuality but he’s always gently informs her if she’s maybe liked something too risqué or obvious. If there’s certain…speculation floating around some random Reddit forum or Twitter thread. He’s never judged her, he’s never associated her rumored sexuality with the negatives, he just lets her know.

He's a good friend.

She can only imagine how hectic his job will be if she ever comes out though. The constant monitoring and filtering of comment sections. Clearing through her inbox, and probably finding the IP address of any weirdos in her DMs. So for now, she’ll stick to occasionally wearing her Boygenius hoodie along with following and frequently liking Chappel Roan’s Instagram posts.

xXx

“Why can’t I just dye my hair?”

Everyone around her erupts into dramatic sighs and hand waving as they all speak over each other. After the uncomfortable silence accompanied by the occasional murmur Thornhill shared with herself, that was the costume department, Enid had been looking forward to hair and makeup. Only, she hadn’t really taken into account how loud it’d be in here.

For the past hour she’d been playing Hay Day on her phone while people moved around her, chatting to each other and flipping through their books filled with sketches and scraps from storyboards. She’d even had her hair pinned tight and flat to her head, to allow them to secure a wig. The wig was more or less the exact color, style and length she has right now, if anything it’s a little longer and it’s dyed at the edges with Edin Angelou’s signature pink and blues. Which are actually pretty cute now that Enid sees the wig on herself, she can picture getting her hair dyed a similar way in the future.

So the question slips out.

And it’s one of those moments where the second it leaves her mouth, she wishes she hadn’t said a thing.

“Too recognizable-”

“-damage your hair.”

“Limits your other projects.”

That last one was Yoko, who stares at Enid through the mirror from where she stands behind her chair. An eyebrow arched in warning, a gentle reminder but it’s not a no.

Truth be told Enid doesn’t have many modelling projects coming up at all, at least not while she’s filming. It’s a result of both Enid not bringing it up, and Yoko similarly not bringing it up, they’ve been dancing around each other, which is unusual for Yoko because usually if she has something to say, she’ll say it to her face. Honestly Enid isn’t eager to do another project any time soon, and it seems as though Yoko has picked up on that.

“I have nothing else coming up,” she counters, and that catches her stylists attention. “I have no prior agreements where my hair color would affect my work, and it’s not like if anybody saw, they’d know exactly what it was for.”

Yoko scoffs, “well you do look identical to the book description, so there’s that.”

“Yeah but realistically, why would Enid Sinclair be playing the main role in a horror movie franchise, with next to no other acting experience, outside of minor side characters. If anything people will more likely compare me to Harley Quinn.”

“You’re missing a few tattoos,” Yoko drawls before her eyes widen and she gently smacks Enid’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare.”

Enid twirls a strange of cotton candy pink hair around her finger and turns her head, admiring the look in the mirror and chews on the inside of her cheek. She turns to the stylist, an older man, probably in his 50s with salt and pepper hair with a beard to match. His ears are littered with piercings and a thin middle patch of hair on the top of his head is dyed a pretty lilac color.

“It’d be pretty good pr for the movie don’t you think, we get closer to the end of filming, I make more public appearances with the hair, the studio teases the new movie, it gets people talking before you finally announce my casting.”

He huffs out a quiet, impressed laugh and shakes his head, coming up behind her and tapping his fingers along the leather back of the chair.

“Honey you do make a convincing argument,” he hums and slowly nods his head. “I’ll send an enquiry up to some people who are a little more important than me, and I’ll let you know what they say.”

Enid beams and she watches Yoko shake her head exasperatedly in the mirror.

They give her the go ahead to dye her hair. Enid bounces into hair and makeup the day that she’s booked in to have it done. They wait until about a week or so before filming begins to have it done. She counts down the days on her calendar, excitement and nervousness brewing a deadly concoction in her stomach.

Her hair looks cute though, it looks really good, and although she had initially found her characters wardrobe to be a little too pink (she didn’t know that was possible), she’s grown to like it. They spent the morning doing final checks, photographing her in every outfit, now with the correct hair to match it. Everyone seems pleased, they all seem excited but also very blasé about it all, but she supposes its because they’re used to it. Hollywood isn’t anything new, it’s their day to day job, and they work for one of the most reputable studios in the industry.

Enid’s been granted a short break, and she takes it on the roof of the building, walking along the trees and flower garden they’ve planted up here to “increase productivity and positivity.” It makes sense, working on gruesome horror movies and thrillers must take a toll on you.

“Do you like the flowers?”

Enid jumps about three feet in the air and shrieks. Wednesday blinks, looking almost caught off guard, but she quickly regains her composure and stares at Enid, waiting for her answer.

“Um yeah, of course,” she says softly, trying to calm her racing heart and pretends like she wasn’t about to keel over and fucking die. “Do you?”

There’s a pause and Enid knows that she’s done it again. She’s asked the question she shouldn’t, opened Pandora’s box and now instead of Wednesday giving her a simple reply of “I enjoy snowdrops,” Enid’s now on the other end of a philosophical rant about beauty and reincarnation or something like that.

“-trees for example, to be stripped bare and dry in the winter, only to bloom with renewed energy and life in the Spring. There’s a large element of death lingering within nature, and even the darkest of minds can appreciate the natural tragedies that occur.”

Enid nods, “I like the colors,” she replies weakly and she can hear Wednesday’s huff as she looks out over the city in front of them.

“I admire the Black Dahlia,” Enid hears Wednesday say begrudgingly and she turns her head in surprise, startled that she managed to get something like that out of her. But she also refrains from smiling at the obvious choice of flower.

“I love purple asters,” she smiles and notices Wednesday begin to slowly walk back to the door. She’s unsure how to respond to her abrupt and admittedly rude exit. But this is Wednesday Addams, and she’s been told on numerous occasions to expect this. “I’ll see you at the cast dinner party tonight, right?”

The woman’s steps falter and Enid feels a flicker of hope.

But then she just keeps walking.

And Enid frowns.

xXx

Wednesday Addams did not believe in fate. She despised the saying “everything happens for a reason,” or “it’s part of God’s plan.” Any suggestion that her life or anybody’s life is somehow predetermined, makes her skin crawl, and not in a pleasant way. Freewill is vanquished in the discussion of fate, in the discussion of soulmates. The very topic is altogether far too deterministic, and she hates it.

However, if you had told her that the woman who had drunkenly flirted with her in a tiny pub in a small town in the Scottish Highlands six years ago, who then had been the inspiration behind a character in Wednesday’s book, would somehow end up playing said character in the live action adaptation-Wednesday would have scoffed and called them an idiot.

She was in a dilemma, a writer’s block. The filming for the first movie was soon beginning, hence her being in the snowy highlands, but readers were still waiting for the third book in the trilogy and her mind was blank. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t put pen to paper and just write. She blames the movie company. Perhaps it was seeing Viper be cast, perhaps it was seeing the live action version and it all just threw her off. Perhaps it was because the second she met the actress, Wednesday realized that clawing her own eyeballs out with a spork, would be more enjoyable than spending another second in a room with that egotistical nepo baby of an actress.

But an agreement was made, papers were signed, and Vada Alvez was Viper De La Muerte for all three movies. So, Wednesday was stuck with her, however, although a third book was promised and inevitably a third movie, she had realized one afternoon, not long after her flirtatious New Years Eve encounter that she had full control over how much Viper and inevitably Vada, were involved in the final installments. Yes, it irritated her to grow somewhat distasteful of a character so close to her, but revenge was sweet.

Enid Sinclair was like a breath of fresh air in a world full of smoke and muck. A vision, a moment of clarity from the moment she sat down opposite Wednesday and suddenly everything made sense. Her writer’s block evaporated and days later she was pages deep into a manuscript, a new character, though a daring decision, she knew it was the right one. Enid Sinclair was her unintentional muse and Wednesday would take that fact to the grave. She was never meant to see her again, their exchange was purely transactional, from her perspective at least.

So imagine her surprise when Weems invites her in to view the audition tapes for the final candidates for Edin’s character, and she sees Enid there. A chill had slowly ran down her spine and in those few seconds she began to regret every single life choice leading up to this moment.

Because now, it’s blatantly obvious. The names, the character description, the personality, the timelines. It’s only a matter of time before someone puts two and two together.

But despite basing her character off of the woman, Wednesday Addams had given Enid Sinclair little thought over the past six years. As truthful and cold as it may be. Enid Sinclair was simply someone she drew inspiration from. That’s it. That’s all it will ever be.

That’s it.

She tells herself as she pushes the door open to the restaurant and is greeted with rowdy cheers from the cast and higher ups. Tells it to herself as she greets them impassively and takes her seat in between Weems and Bianca. Tells it to herself as she sips her whisky and makes direct eye contact with the green-eyed woman across from her.

Tells it to herself again and again and again when she watches Enid’s lips as she sips her wine. It’s nothing, it’s nothing, it’s nothing, it’s everything and she feels her chest collapse in on itself.

She lifts her glass boredly when Weems proposes a toast and twitches when her finger touches Enid’s as their glasses clink together and they both drink in unison, eyes battling in a silent argument, until it’s Wednesday that looks away.

Enid Sinclair will be the death of her.

Chapter Text

There are many things to hate about the summer, Wednesday thinks to herself as she scowls at the ludicrously bright ice cream truck parked outside her home. Its obnoxious jingle ringing through the street, accompanied by the loud gaggle of children lining up in front of it, was enough to ruin a somewhat decent evening. To say she is infuriated would be an understatement. Her eyebrows furrow further and her lip curls in disgust as she sees a disorderly group of prepubescent ankle biters compare ice-creams and who has the most scoops.

Youths.

She sighs and yanks her blackout curtains over, blocking out the sunset but unfortunately not blocking out the noise outside. Would it be too suspicious to get sprinklers for the front of her house, despite the fact that she doesn’t have a front lawn? Perhaps, but it is the more innocent way she can try and solve this problem. Bianca began fining her two years ago for any “unjust” acts of violence and/or rage towards “innocent civilians.” All because of the renewal of her contract and Wednesday didn’t read the fine print (or really read the document at all) before signing, in her defense, prior to this Bianca was about as cunning as the pigeon on the lamppost outside her home, that tries to defecate on her every time she leaves. It will be the last time she underestimates the woman, especially now because at least for another 18 months, she is legally bound to pay Bianca any time she harasses or harms a civilian.

It’s a nuisance, yet she can’t help but feel some respect for the woman. it’s not everyday someone outsmarts her.

Though she’s begun to notice some patterns, signs she may be lacking. It’s unsurprising, in her old age, twenty-six, her will written, her burial plot selected, her enemies still alive (for now, she still has some time before she finds herself incapacitated). She used to have an edge, now she fears she’s soft, blunt.

It’s been on her mind the last few months because of the reappearance of Enid Sinclair in her life.

She feels as though she’s living on borrowed time. She’s dug herself a hole that she fears she won’t get out of on her own. See, Wednesday prides herself on many things-being able to hold her breath for seven minutes underwater, being a skilled fencer, being able to practically write and use her typewriter with her eyes closed. She is a world-renowned author, she knows her creativity is impressive, as is her writing, despite this; calling the character named after Enid, Edin is one of her biggest mistakes yet.

It’s laughable, it’s stupid.

In her defense, nobody would’ve ever put two and two together beforehand, but now that Enid is playing the character? It seems ridiculous, in fact it’s blatantly obvious. Wednesday curses herself for it, for what? Her laziness? Her drawing inspiration from a real person? She didn’t just swap the letters around carelessly though, there is meaning behind the name, meaning that seemed fitting and she was intentional in selecting it. Now, she wishes she’d just slapped Mary or Jo onto the character instead.

She can’t believe her misfortune, can’t believe that she’s gotten herself into this mess. In a rare moment of distress, she finds herself leaning onto the reliant shoulder of her friend red wine, or whiskey on a particularly daring day. Every single moment she spends with Enid, she is simultaneously suffocating.

Her crystal tumbler comes to her office with her and sits nearby as she stares at her typewriter in disdain.

Something.

Anything.

Nothing.

A writer’s block, she hasn’t had one this bad since-well, since before. But she’s learnt her lesson and now drinks from home.

The Viper trilogy, along with various standalone novels, have her set for life. She has no need nor desire to accumulate more wealth or appease the niche selection of individuals who can stomach her work. But writing is something she has fixed in her day-to-day life. She has time allocated for it every day, it’s also effective for channeling some of that pent up energy which Bianca won’t let her release on some poor unsuspecting fool.

But nothing can come to mind.

Perhaps it’s stress, filming begins tomorrow morning, it could be dumpster fire. Funny, how she lies to herself even in her own head. The whiskey doesn’t burn like it should, it removes some of the fun and appeal of the drink. So she downs it and leaves it at that, too much and Bianca would be able to smell it on her the next morning and fine her (also in the fine print, being intoxicated at work, which is fair).

She reaches forward, thumb pressing down on the switch of the tiffany lamp, the deep purple and red stained-glass dims as the light goes out and leaves her in almost complete darkness. It’s early, only just after seven and a miracle that Weems let her leave work before six. The woman has an entire company at her disposal yet refuses to share some of the weight that comes with being CEO. Her desire to strive for perfection is irritating, though admirable. Wednesday cannot help but feel…irked, when the resulting stress is directed at herself.

The movie deal was perhaps a mistake, she realizes many years down the line. Or maybe her involvement was a mistake, maybe she should have just signed over the rights and continued to live in solitude without having to deal with a daily commute in New York traffic. Her living in Brooklyn doesn’t help, however a driver like Lurch manages to half the journey and double the speeding tickets. She has tried the subway but it was too depressing, even for her. The smells, the sounds, the people, when people refer to hell as the “place downstairs,” they actually mean the subway.

The jingle outside her home eventually fades, as does the conversation.

Yet she still feels irritated.

Her landline rings, a plastic device mounted on her wall with a cord, yes, a cord. If she had any say, humans would continue to use birds for mail. They domesticated and failed pigeons, so why not give them their old job title back. She did try it once, her landlord didn’t appreciate the messenger pigeon sat on the windshield of his car.

“How did you get this number?” She says shortly into the device, keeping an eye on the longsword above her bed.

A soft, knowing chuckle on the other end of the line makes her roll her eyes. “My little raven, is that any way to greet your mother?” Wednesday sighs and sits on the chair that she placed next to the phone for this exact reason.

“Mother, forgive me, I forgot old bats came out of hibernation in late spring, do you have any summer plans?”

Not many people laugh around Wednesday. Not that she intends them to, she very rarely attempts a joke and if she does, it’s with her Uncle Fester. Her family laugh in good spirit whenever she spits out an empty threat, her parents in particular. So, the hearty laugh that echoes from her mother isn’t unusual, in fact it’s very familiar.

“You should call more; you know your father and I worry.”

“And how is he? I saw in the family newsletter that he’s been experiencing some night terrors, he must be delighted.”

“Well of course, his frequent screams have helped Pubert sleep better through the night, you must visit soon, he’s almost three now,” she hums thoughtfully, and Wednesday can imagine her in the families New Jersey mansion, stretched out on the dark chaise lounge, a glass of red wine in one hand. “You could also write for the newsletter; we all know you’re more than capable.”

“I fear it’s below me, Pugsley only writes it because he has no social life and hobbies-”

“He misses you-”

“He’s a grown man, yes I admit that my bonding activities with him in our youth may have stunted him emotionally, academically and perhaps physically but-”

There’s a sharp tsk that pings in her ear, and she twitches, biting her tongue. “Just, visit more Wednesday, we always enjoy the company.”

Wednesday clenches her jaw and nods once, even though nobody can see her.

“Goodnight mother, horrible dreams.”

“Wretched ones,” she can hear the smile around the words, “I’ll speak to you soon little one.”

Wednesday puts the phone back on the wall and sits in the dark for another hour, her mind bouncing from one subject to another with a frustrating inability to latch onto one and focus on it. The heat definitely doesn’t help. She despises the summer.

Afterall, the summer brings along the ice cream truck.

“It’s uncanny, isn’t it?” Weems peers at the video assist screen, watching the live feedback from one of the cameras on set, about thirty feet away. Nevermore film studios is one of the largest and most notable in New York, and within the property grounds along with the main building, they have four soundstages on the grounds too. Allowing them to work on multiple projects at once, or if needed, to use multiple soundstages for the same project. All of this of course is surrounded by a sizeable wall.

Like most movie studios, they are incredibly secretive of what goes on within the property. It works in their favor however and gives them the freedom to film on large sets without having to constantly be out in the public eye. Although there will be upcoming scenes shot in New York city suburbs, a pain, but the studio has paid and agreed with the city to have certain parts of the street blocked off, along with police presence.

It’s a nuisance, but it’s also what Wednesday gets for writing majority of the story set in New York.

“It is hardly the first time an actor has perfectly resembled the source material,” she chastised quietly, flipping through the script, sat primly in one of the director’s chairs. “I’d appreciate it if you refrained from ogling at Ms. Sinclair, judging from the way she tripped a total of four times upon entering the soundstage and spilt tea down the front of one of the personal assistants, she’s nervous enough as is.”

“That’s very considerate Wednesday,” Wednesday glances to the side to see Bianca giving her a strange look, one she returns with the quirk of an eyebrow. “But yeah there’s been uncanny castings before. I mean RDJ as Iron Man?”

“I don’t know who that is-”

“Unsurprising.”

Weems sighs and checks her watch, shifting impatiently in her directors’ chair and waving Divina over, rattling over a complicated coffee order for the woman to go and pick up.

Wednesday folds the script on her lap and eyes Enid warily. The woman has been a nervous wreck since she arrived on set this morning. They’ve yet to film a scene and she suspects that Enid is delaying it, if Weems catches on then there’ll be trouble. She eyes Bianca, the woman serves as a publicist, manager and agent, not only because she is capable of all three, but Wednesday wanted as few people on her team as possible. Less idiots to deal with. Technically she doesn’t need to be here right now but claims it’s for everyone’s “safety.”

“Give me a few more minutes.”

Weems does a double take when she sees Wednesday slide out of her chair and approach the set. “I-where are you going? Wednesday, we need to start-”

Clenching her jaw, she turns her head and shoots the woman a dark look, “filming won’t commence until your lead chills the fuck out, Bianca’s words, not mine. So, give me five minutes or wrap this up.”

The older woman levels her with a look that Wednesday can’t quite figure out, annoyingly this happens more than she’d like to admit. Is she impressed or is she upset? But then her shoulders sag a little, and she sinks back into her chair a little more and nods firmly.

“Five minutes.”

xXx

She’s going to throw up.

Holy shit who was she kidding? A movie deal, it’s stupid, it’s complete and utter bullshit that she let Yoko talk her into this and she can’t believe it’s gotten this far. She’s in costume, a dark purple peacoat, unbuttoned and underneath it a thin cream jumper. Her skirt matches the coat, and her tights match the jumper. It’s all very well put together, the complete opposite of how she feels internally.

Any other day she would have squealed over the dark purple Doc Martens she’s in, or the cute purple beret, but her mind has unfortunately been elsewhere this morning. She slept though the alarm she’d set for 4:30am, so instantly her morning didn’t go as planned, she thankfully had a driver to escort her to set though.

Seeing her name on one of those long white trailers was pretty cool, Enid maybe would’ve ogled some more if she wasn’t too busy trying not to throw up. The best part of her morning was the vase of flowers on the table inside, complete without a note, but bursting with color, purple asters, pink zinnias and sedums. They had made her falter and pause, before smiling and rushing forward to smell them.

It was also the makeup trailer, her name sewn in cursive on the back of her dressing gown, her name in block letters on the back of her chair on set. The boxes upon boxes of donuts, the sun beaming down, the open door to the soundstage, the goddamn clapperboard. It was all movie magic, what you inevitably visualize at some point during your childhood and think “I want that,” even if that spark only lasts a week.

It was everything she could’ve imagined, except the nerves.

Because gripping the toilet bowl in her trailer, choking back her breakfast which is really trying it’s hardest to come back up; isn’t something she ever considered when dreaming of being on the silver screen. She’s reached a new low in life when she texts Yoko to come and bust her out of this joint, only to receive a picture of a cat hanging from a tree with its paws, captioned “hang in there!” To which Enid replied with an assortment of “fuck you’s” and Yoko told her to “grow a pair.” So, all in all, Yoko’s fired after this, and Eugene has been bumped up to best friend status.

“So, we’ll just be beginning with you checking the buildings mailboxes and then you start walking up the stairs,” Weems instructs her, the script waving in her hand, as she gestures to the prop staircase across from them. “Then we’ll cut and transition over to here,” she points to the other set room next to the ‘lobby.’ “Here’s the hallway and then you’ll go through the door and continue until we say cut alright? Just like rehearsals.”

Enid nods mutely as she allows the set costumer to adjust her jacket and the stylist to sort her hair. It’s not the first scene chronologically in the movie, but it’s the first filmed mainly for practicality. Movies are rarely filmed in order, especially when the studio has to consider the fact that they’ll be filming a handful of scenes in various locations, some of which are public. The very first scene chronologically is with Viper, and Viper and Edin first “meet” in passing early on in the movie. Initially you’ll see the camera follow Viper and lead up to events leading to her untimely “death.” Then it cuts back to the random perky girl from before and follows her throughout the same day and every day after that since the beloved protagonist is dead in a ditch, as far as the audience is aware.

All the filming however with Viper will take place nearer the end of production, so that Vada can be on set to film all her scenes at once to save costs. Ideally it would’ve been done at the beginning of production but Vada’s doing some filming for like the fifteenth Fast and Furious movie or something.

So, filming begins at what would be around 30 minutes into the movie, and follows Edins very regular, somewhat mundane daily life, before she inevitably stumbles upon something much, much darker.

“I’m going to go to my seat now as you finish getting ready, but I’ll be right over there,” and she points to the directors’ chair behind all the lights and cameras and crew.

She doesn’t get a chance to reply before the woman is gone and Enid watches her sit down and lean over to whisper something to her company. Enid squints her eyes and quickly identifies the company as being one Wednesday Addams. The other woman hadn’t been present on set this morning when Enid had arrived, but now she sits in an oversized black hoodie and straight fit dark jeans and boots. It’s all the more stressful when you actually know some of the people behind the camera.

So, Enid does what she does best, she talks. She talks and she yaps, and she rambles to whoever is around her, making up excuses about her hair not quite sitting right or “jeez is it hot in here? Hope nobody faints!” It’s impressive almost, just how much she delays things by trying to talk to Angela, one of the hair stylists, about how she saw a rat wearing a bottle cap as a hat on the subway. She almost gets away with it too, if it weren’t for some meddling goth who is rapidly approaching her.

Wednesday eyes the crew around her with disdain and subtly jerks her head, somehow, they all take notice and immediately give the two of them some privacy to talk.

“What was that?”

“They respect me, a foreign concept to you, I’m aware but-”

“Shut up,” Enid hisses, “today is literally the worst day for you to be acting like a dick.” She makes a high-pitched noise, a squeak and clenches her hands, moving to hide her face in them before stopping abruptly. Enid can feel the makeup artist’s eyes on them, without even turning around, and no doubt Wednesday can too.

Wednesday stares at her, unimpressed with her outburst and overall looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here. Enid does notice a slight gleam in her eye as she stares at the set and then Enid’s wardrobe. Something too cold to be pride, but close.

She tilts her head and seems to be carefully considering what to say next. This could either be a good thing, or a bad thing. Wednesday Addams doesn’t mince her words, she most definitely doesn’t care for others feelings, so her taking this long could be an attempt at being nice-or she’s definitely cooking up a diabolical insult. In her current state of distress, Enid can’t tell which one it’ll be. She partly hopes that it’s the latter, and that it’ll just push her to get over herself.

Her eyes catch all the crew milling about, the guys with the boom mics, the lighting, the cameras. The insane number of assistants running about making sure that emails are replied to, meetings are set up, coffees are made, and tantrums are avoided. She never really realized how many people were actually involved in it all.

“Weems and I don’t get along particularly well.” Enid’s head snaps back to Wednesday who looks up at her with her expressionless face. “That being said, I find her presence significantly less irritating than most people. People have said we are somewhat alike, how, I’m not too sure. However we both are difficult to please, despite this; hiring you was an effortless decision.” Enid openly gawks at her and struggles to find the right words to reply, and just when she thinks she does Wednesday quickly adds, “so don’t make us regret it.”

Enid watches, dumbfounded, as Wednesday strolls back to the directors chair and sits next to Weems, saying something which relaxes the older woman greatly. She stays rooted in that spot, Wednesday’s words echoing in her ear, until Weems loudly asks if they’re ready to go and Enid says yes, without even registering the words leaving her mouth.

But she does it.

She fucking does it.

They shoot her checking the mail and transitioning up the stairs to the next “floor.” She then puts her key in the lock of an old apartment door and pushes it open, aware of the cameraman waiting for her inside but ignoring him, focusing only on herself. She hums lightly, a K-pop song she likes as she unbuttons her coat and hangs it on one of the hooks by the wall. When she turns, she sees the cameraman approach, keeping low but focusing on filming at a more upward angle, directed towards the envelope on the table in front of Enid. In her peripheral vision she can see the other camera too.

She steps forward and her humming abruptly stops, her smile slips off her face and she steps towards the table. The envelope, black with a red wax seal on the back and she shakes her hands in what she hopes is a convincing manner and picks it up. The cameraman coming up close to her now. The wax seal breaks, and she slides the letter out enough to make out the first line before she drops it with a gasp like she’s been burnt, stumbling back until she feels the apartment door dig into her back. The cameraman turns and focuses on the letter dropped back onto the table, more specifically the first line.

Hello Edin.

The camera approaches her again and her eyes remain wide with fear, closer, closer, closer-

“And cut!”

xXx

Things improve drastically after that, and Enid manages to find a rhythm in the bustling and chaotic environment. She begins to let her shoulders loosen, her smile widens, and her confidence grows. She finds herself skipping some words in the script, improvising and seeing how her changes curl on her tongue. The silly mistakes of tripping up over her lines of looking directly at the camera, lessen and she begins to really watch and take it all in. Weems lets her watch playbacks on the video assist screen and stay behind to watch the crew shoot additional cinematic, environmental scenes which they’ll edit and splice into the previous scenes she’s shot; even though she doesn’t have to, Weems reassures her.

“It’s good to rest dear,” is what she’s told. But she throws herself fully into every project she does, and this one is no exception. Truth be told she’s experiencing the renowned movie magic and oh boy is it fucking magical. She genuinely can’t get enough, once she got over her crippling anxiety. Yoko seems in good spirits too, mainly because on the days she accompanies Enid onto set, she gets to flirt with Divina. She’s also pretty satisfied with the bonus she’ll be getting, due to Enid’s agreed salary for the movie, often walking around the set smiling like the cat that got the cream.

Documenting the whole experience is also something Enid’s began doing, taking her digital and polaroid cameras onto set. Snapping mirror selfies, getting pictures with crew and co-stars, bagging an absolute gem of Wednesday scowling at the camera as she holds her shot of espresso in a death grip.

So, by the end of all this, she’s going to have the best insta dump.

xXx

Enid Sinclair @imthealpha

Me playing live action Spiderverse Gwen Stacy when?

[Image Description: Two photos side by side, one is a mirror selfie of Enid with her new highlights and the one next to her is a picture of Gwen Stacy from the Spider-verse movies]

              -@Enidslosteyelash

                             -THAT’S WHAT WE’VE BEEN SAYING QUEEN

              -@mamaitslipbalm

                             -wait, let her cook

              -@mari0t0rres

                             -NEW HAIR NEW HAIR NEW HAIR

xXx

They’re about a month into production when Wednesday is absent from set for the first time. The first day, Enid doesn’t really notice, she’s only in for the morning and assumes that maybe Wednesday was doing something else. But then she’s gone the second day and Enid knows that she isn’t anywhere on set because the cast and crew are all much brighter and talkative compared to the norm. Day three is when she cracks.

“Where’s Wednesday?” She corners Bianca strategically at the craft table and the woman’s hand pauses and hovers over an apple. The head slowly turns and Enid refuses to wither under her intense and piercing eyes (because seriously whose eyes look like that, it’s like looking at a biblically accurate angel). “She never misses a day of work?”

“Ms. Addams had something personal to attend to, she’ll be back as soon as possible,” Bianca responds diplomatically and returns to eying up the different snacks laid out. “I’m here to make sure things run smoothly in her absence and to relay any updates, ok?”

Enid nods hurriedly and rocks on her heels, “gotcha, awesome! It’s just that Weems said she had an appointment but then Divina said that she just, quote unquote, wasn’t feeling it. But then Adam one of the camera guys said he heard she was in police custody so-”

“Enid-” Bianca’s voice is sharp and Enid winces, taking a tiny step back and watching the poor apple be squeezed in her hands. A few people glance over and Bianca notices, choosing to soften her features and lower her voice. “Ms. Sinclair, respectfully, if Ms. Addams wanted you to know, she’d tell you. But she hasn’t, and I won’t, so please respect that.”

Enid smiles and waves her off. “100%, don’t sweat it-I completely understand-”

She’s so distracted that she fucks up almost every take for this one scene they’re trying to shoot today. The woman’s absence shouldn’t matter, they’re not friends, they’re acquaintances at the most. Hell, technically they’re co-workers although Wednesday is more so her boss than anything else. They barely speak on shoot days, God they don’t even have time for that. But somehow Wednesday being gone, is all she can think about.

It doesn’t go unnoticed either, her poor performance that is. Weems speaks to her through greeted teeth and Enid tries to pretend she doesn’t hear each and every harmonized sigh when she once again mispronounces ‘dactyloscopy.’ Which is a hard word!

They call another break, one Weems isn’t happy about, but everyone needs it regardless. Enid stands outside the soundstage this time, away from the massive warehouse doors and instead basking in the sunlight, hoping to recharge somehow.

Someone sidles up next to her and her nose twitches at the smell of a cigarette being lit. “Wow, you’re really not on you’re a-game today, huh Sinclair?” Bianca, of course. “I understand that Ms. Addams’ absence may throw you off.”

Enid nods and subtly steps to the side, not wanting to smell of smoke.

“Yeah I mean it’s just-this is a super stressful experience and I really got into a good groove, so when there’s a slight change, I guess it did just throw me off. Having someone familiar helps-”

“Familiar how?”

Enid swallows and glances at the other woman who eyes her curiously.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’ve known her as long as Ms. Weems, myself, pretty much everyone else. Why is her presence and or absence any different?” There’s a gleam in her eyes, one that Enid doesn’t like. Her silence likely doesn’t help because Bianca hums thoughtfully and Enid feels the need to hurry and say something. But she doesn’t, because she doesn’t have anything to say. “I can’t blame you; you wouldn’t be the first.”

Enid frowns, “the first what?”

Bianca takes a long drag from the cigarette and smiles knowingly.

“Wednesday draws people in, whether she likes it or not. But, I’m glad she has a friend, I’ve been encouraging her to try and make some.”

“Oh no, we’re not-”

A loud bang elsewhere on set makes her jump and crane her neck, trying to see what all the commotion is about. When she looks back she sees that Bianca’s whipped out her phone and is speedily typing away, before pocketing it.

She drops the cigarette to the ground and crushes it under her boot. “I’ve texted you her address. Don’t tell her I told you, I have this marathon next month and I want both my legs to be working for it. Just please, for the love of God, stop messing up your lines, and stop glancing at the camera like you’re in an episode of the office.”

“I’m actually really enjoying Abbot Elementary recently, so that’s probably more so-”

“Enid.”

“Gotcha.”

xXx

Enid hopped in a cab after filming wrapped up for the day, finishing early, a rarity especially since she basically now lives in her movie trailer. The 12-14 hour work days have definitely taken a slight toll on her, and she’d be lying if she said they weren’t, but Enid does recognized that she’s in a much more privileged position than many others on set. Hell she has her own trailer and a bowl full of only the orange sour patch kids ready for her in there, every morning.

What most people don’t realise is how long everything seems to take when filming. There is so much standing around and waiting. The amount of effort and work that goes into everything on set, is insane and so much more exhaustive than she could’ve ever imagined. To shoot a five-minute scene it can take them hours, and they’re still very much in the early stages of filming, none of the visually impressive or combative scenes have even happened yet. But she’ll cross that bridge when it comes, after all, she’s got something more important to focus on right now.

The google maps link Bianca sends her, leads her to a modest townhouse in Brookly, sandwiched between almost identical ones, the main difference despite the subtle but pretty architecture and staircases leading up to the doors; is that one house looks like it was spat out of a Tim Burton movie.

Black stairs, black railing, dark greys brickwork, not to mention the sliver claw door knocker and the freaking stone gargoyle mounted on the elegantly carved archway above the ink black door.

Oh she’s in the right place for sure.

But before she can even do anything her phone vibrates in her pocket and she fishes it out, seeing Yoko’s face and her grimace. She swipes her thumb across the screen, “hey Yoko what’s up?”

“You not answering your texts is what’s up, Divina said you were kinda shit today.”

Enid gasps, “that gossipy bitch.”

“Hey,” Yoko says in a warning tone, but with little bite to it. “You know she’s too nice for that, she actually said you were having an off day, so I read between the lines. Speaking of lines, apparently you couldn’t remember shit.”

Oh she’s never getting that pay rise.

“I was distracted…” Enid frowns, hearing quiet chatter on the other end of the phone. “Where are you?”

“Oh me and Divina are grabbing an early dinner, y’know, since you guys finished wrapping early. The question I should be asking is where are you? Because bitch your snapmaps says you’re in fucking Brooklyn.”

Enid winces, if it wasn’t snapmaps, Yoko would’ve tracked her on Find My iPhone. Or maybe using the tracker that Enid’s convinced has been planted on her somewhere, maybe in her shoes. Yoko had insisted on adding her to Find My iPhone ever since she discovered Enid’s habit for running when she was drunk. A couple drinks in and she’s running for the hills, her body gets possessed by a deceased track star or something.

“I’m…shopping,” Enid says in a not so convincing manner, knowing that Yoko can see that she’s in a residential area. “It’s uh, a pop up shop.”

“Mhm, right; and what happened to your daily routine of napping and playing Stardew Valley until you fall asleep again, the minute you get home from work.”

Enid gasps, outraged, “I’m on year five now Yoko, and I’m making good profits finally so now I can relax a little and focus some more on the lore.” Just as she’s about to go on a rant about the villager availability and how there’s a very small window for her to actually catch Marnie in her shop and just buy some goddamn livestock, she catches a shadow pass by the window of the house. “I have to go, saw a dog, pink bejewelled collar, you know the drill.”

“Pics or it didn’t happen.”

“Bye!”

She hangs up and pockets her phone, knowing that Yoko will leave her plenty of messages to comb through later. There is a stark difference, she’s aware, between her bright outfit and the overall atmosphere that the house creates. The door knocker, reminiscent of a claw, likely belonging to some kind of feline, is iron and cold under her clammy hands. The house of course is in the shade, so the metal hasn’t been warmed by the sun, similar to the wiry iron railing.

Knock knock knock.

In the centre of the door, a thin piece of wood slides and Enid realises it’s one of those sliding peepholes they have in like mafia movies or at secret hideouts. It’s comical how it’s perfectly at eyelevel with the short girl on the other side, no more than a little over five feet in height. She finds it oddly endearing knowing that Wednesday must have had it custom fitted and made.

Their eyes lock and Enid offers what she hopes to be an encouraging smile. But dark eyes narrow and the peephole is harshly shut. Moments later she hears metal clacking against metal, some clicking and twisting before the door is pulled open a crack, refusing to reveal too much, only a small Wednesday Addams peering at Enid around the door.

“What do you want.”

Enid smiles, “hi to you too.”

Dark eyebrows waver and Wednesday’s eyes narrow.

“Hello, but again, what do you want?”

Good question actually.

“Uh,” her mouth moves but no sound comes out. “You haven’t been on set.”

“Congratulations, you have basic observation skills, akin to that of an infant,” she ignores Enid’s dumbfounded gasp and continues, “why are you here though.”

Why is she here? They’re not officially “friends,” she doesn’t even have Wednesday’s number or email address. She suspects the latter is more likely for Wednesday to hand out. Oh shit, maybe she’s crossed like a major line or something. Maybe this is how she dies.

On a pretty girls doorstep. What a way to go.

“I was worried because you weren’t on set-” Wednesday apparently has heard enough and begins to shut the door when Enid overcome by, something, maybe the Brooklyn air, steps forward and blocks the door with her boot. “Ow.”

Wednesday glowers at her, nothing seems different at first. She’s as broody as ever and annoyed at Enid’s mere existence, she’s going two for two and really there’s no reason for Enid to suspect there being anything wrong. That is however, until she hears it.

A sniffle.

Wednesday freezes, caught, and her grip on the door slackens enough for Enid to push forward inside of the home, and let the door close behind her. They’re both silent for a moment and Enid notices how Wednesday is shorter than usual, she looks to find socked feet instead of thick heeled boots or platform shoes. Somewhat baggy sweatpants a long-sleeved t-shirt are worn too, very casual and very unlike Wednesday.

Enid offers what she hopes is a bright smile, a hopeful one and what she gets in return makes her gulp.

“Bianca told you then?”

“Um-”

The shorter girl tilts her head, a menacing glint in her eyes. “A shame. Well, I hope she becomes proficient in using crutches before her marathon.” Then she turns on her heel and swiftly moves through the house, with Enid following dumbly behind her. They enter a kitchen, all dark tiles and honestly gorgeous dark wood cabinets and furniture. Wednesday retrieves two mugs from her cabinet and removes the kettle from the stove, pouring boiled water in each and adding teabags, letting them steep.

“I’m surprised you’re being so…welcoming,” Enid laughs nervously, eying the thick knife block, inches away from Wednesdays hand.

The rhythmic tapping of the metal spoon against the fine China puts her on edge, but her question makes Wednesday clear her throat, turn her head, blessing Enid with her side profile. So it’s not all that bad.

“My mother always told me that Addams made the best hosts, and that it is customary to offer a warm beverage to a guest. That way if you despise the guest, you can always slip them rat poison.” She turns and offers Enid a cup. “Drink up.”

Enid takes and pretends her heart isn’t slamming in her chest. Wednesday takes a seat opposite her at the table, her own cup sat untouched in front of her. She’s bluffing, there’s no way she’d actually hurt Enid.

“Well Addams,” she picks up the cup and smiles at Wednesday. “If I drink this and nothing happens, then this whole thing is much more compromising for you, than me huh?” So she takes a sip.

Lo and behold, nothing happens. The tea is just darker than she would’ve liked.

Wednesday levels her with what she thinks may be an unimpressed look. “Unfortunately that’s where you are wrong. Bianca knows of your intent to come here and pester me, no doubt Ms. Tanaka does also, therefore there are two credible witnesses that can put you at my residence around the same time as your hypothetical disappearance. It would be glaringly obvious, even if I had perfectly disposed of your body the mess would be difficult to cover up too. Rat poison often leads to bleeding from the gums, nose, skin and even vomiting. That alone would be tiresome to clean up. We must also take into account any hair follicles you could have left. Micro fibres from your clothes that have passed onto mine. Or microfibres from the bottom of your shoes, onto my rug.”

She calmly lifts the cup to her lips, ignoring Enid’s dumbfounded expression.

“To summarise, it would be foolish to kill you in my own home. Though I don’t doubt my skill, I’m afraid I don’t have the time or energy at the moment to deal with your murder.” Her eyes flick to Enid’s cup, untouched since her first sip. “Is something the matter with your drink, we have already covered the lack of rat poison so-”

“I think you’re all talk.”

Wednesday pauses, her mouth still open and Enid watches the subtle clench of the muscles in her jaw. “What?” She says impatiently, eyes boring into her.

Enid sits up straighter and makes a point of taking a long sip from her cup (even though she’s cringing inside because it’s wayyyy to bitter.) “You’re trying to intimidate me, to make me leave you alone because you know how persistent I am. You’re also trying to distract me before I could notice what’s really going on, but it’s too late.”

She feels a small sense of victory at the microscopic twitch above Wednesday’s cheekbone. “Go on,” she says, feigning innocence.

“Antihistamines,” Enid gestures to the colourful box on the kitchen counter which obviously stands out against the black backdrop. “I also saw you sneakily add honey to your tea, which I wouldn’t have thought anything of, but you cleared your throat a few times before and you didn’t add anything to mine, which is so rude by the way because now it tastes like dirt water.” Wednesday is full on glaring at her now and Enid finishes by smiling smugly at her and saying, “plus your sniffle earlier and the tissue poking out of your sleeve. You, Wednesday Addams have hay fever.”

She’s glaring daggers at Enid now.

“Tell anyone and I’ll end your entire bloodline.”

Enid jumps out of her chair pumps her fist in the air. “You’re not the only detective around here Addams.”

“I’ll say it again, basic observational skills Sinclair,” she says through gritted teeth. “You got your answers, please leave.”

Wednesday sniffles and Enid’s heart pangs at how much smaller she looks. She herself has thankfully never had hay fever but a few of her brothers always get it really bad and then make it everyone else’s problem.

“I’ll leave, but I’ll also be back in half an hour and you’re going to let me in.”

Wednesday arches an eyebrow at her, “and why would I do that?”

“Because I’ll tell everyone about the cute little bat socks you’re wearing if you don’t.”

Enid strolls down the street, the air cooler in the early summer evenings. There’s smoke in the air, barbeques no doubt, and the endless trucks of street food she passed, mouth watering after each one. It’s a nice neighbourhood Wednesday lived in. Enid honestly pictured her in a castle or somewhere dodgy, because she likes a challenge.

A few stray leaves are trodden on as she hops up the steps again. The row of trees lining the street dropping them in the gentle breeze. Her fingers reach for the knocker again before the door is wrenched open, sending her stumbling over the threshold, almost dropping her bag of goodies in the process. Wednesday stands there, observing her and now in plain black socks. What really catches her attention however, when she enters the house, closing the door behind her, is the cat that slinks down the wooden stairs. Its paws gently tapping against the deep red rug that is lain in the middle of the staircase.

“Oh my god,” Enid squeals, dropping to her knees and rubbing her fingers together, whilst pursing her lips, coaxing the cat forward. It’s an old thing. Both of its ears have its fair share of scars and rips. There’s a healed scar across its nose and its missing an eye. The fur is thinner in some places and the tale is patchy, revealing skin underneath. “Hi baby,” she coos, running her hand through black fur as it arches into her touch. She looks up at Wednesday, “what’s its name?”

Wednesday frowns slightly at the sight of the cat rolling onto its back.

“His name is Thing.”

Enid’s smile drops.

“Thing, really?” At the sound of his name it pushes back up onto his paws and licks her hand. His tongue rough like damp sandpaper. “What happened, is he ok?”

“A former street cat. I fear a life of luxury has now ruined him. Once a formidable enemy to the streets, now only sleeps on sheets of a high thread count and needs his wet food at 5 am every morning. Pathetic.”

Enid beams down at him, scratching behind his ears and hears Wednesday rustle about in the back she dropped behind her.

“Oh! Um I picked up a nasal spray and eyedrops, along with Vaseline and some better antihistamine tablets than the ones you’ve got.” She glances around the entry way to the house, eyes settling on the grandfather clock at the end of the hallway, next to the doorway to the kitchen. “I thought you’d live in some remote mansion or something; I mean, the movies have done really well, so have your books.”

Wednesday strolls past her and into the kitchen.

“I don’t do this for the money Sinclair. I have no need nor desire to hoard my wealth and further contribute to our capitalist society. My arranged salary is split amongst much of the crew in the studio. You’d be surprised how far you can spread a couple million dollars. Unlike Weems, I don’t need to have a holiday home in every continent.”

“Oh,” Enid breathes out, watching Wednesday unpack the contents of the bag. “That’s, really sweet Wednesday.”

“No it’s not.”

“Ok it’s not.”

Wednesday nods and reads the back of one of the boxes. Enid steps closer and receives a warning side eye.

“Y’know hay fever is common right? Nobody will think any less of you because of it.”

“I’m allergic to the outside, it’s humiliating. Throwing myself out of the attic window would be less excruciating.” She pauses her movements, hands tightening their grip on where they’ve settled, clutching the edge of the counter. “Thank you for the medications, it’d be a shame if I were to accidently overdose or have an unexpected allergic reaction. I look forward to finding out.”

Enid nods and hears the silent que for her to leave.

“What are friends for?”

xXx

The door of Enid’s trailer swings open with Yoko stepping through, handbag hanging in the crook of her elbow, nature valley bar between her teeth and her iPad in hand. She’s here for business. Which is unfortunate because Enid’s been having a pretty chill day so far, shooting some low effort scenes. Mostly cinematic ones with little dialogue. They’ve yet to really break into the exciting stuff.

“Me and Eugene have been talking,” she begins and Enid groans from where she’s sprawled over her coach, her Nintendo Switch falling to her lap.

“I’m literally like one sunflower away from wifing Haley up ok?” She turns the screen to Yoko, showing her the pixilated farm. “It’s important business.”

A hand yanks the Switch from her grip and Enid gasps, reaching for it like it’s her own child. But alas, Yoko places it on the small table behind her, near the door and out of Enid’s reach. Instead her iPad is shoved in front of Enid’s face and it takes a moment for her eyes to focus on the image, but when they do she frowns and looks back up at Yoko.

Her friend nods at the screen. “Ajax Petropolus, thoughts?” Enid looks back to the screen and Yoko gestures for her to swipe. “It’s his insta, don’t like any old posts that you haven’t already liked.”

“I know how to stalk people on Instagram Yoko,” Enid scoffs, shaking her head. This is not her first rodeo by any means. Her and Ajax have crossed paths a few times over the years. He’s a model too, but of the more broody, artsy variety. Not to mention he’s very popular on Tumblr, and for live action fancasts of fantasy books she can’t be bothered to read. “We follow each other, did a few shoots together in the past, why?”

“It’s been a while since you’ve been seen with a man-”

“No.”

“I want to set something up, keep the media off your back a little longer.”

Enid groans and lets her head fall back against the arm rest, and the iPad fall on her chest. Yoko screeches and snatches it off of her, and checking if she’s liked anything or done something stupid. Thankfully, little damage control is required but she’s scolded, nonetheless.

“I haven’t done a pr relationship in like a year, is this really necessary?”

However if Eugene’s also been talking with Yoko about this, then it must be a big enough of a concern.

Yoko sighs, “throw the media a bone and they’ll gnaw on it until they find something newer and flashier to sink their teeth into.” She sits on the couch and swats at Enid to move her legs and make space for her. “You and Ajax, go out shopping together once, hold hands, post an obscure picture of your coffee cups and give it three days. The media will say you’re pregnant and about to join a church in hopes of saving your bastard child.”

“This feels greatly exaggerated and not something I want being spread around.”

Her friend tilts her head, glasses sliding down her nose and fixing Enid with a knowing look.

“Or you could just come out and save me the hassle of finding you fake boyfriends?”

Enid bites her lip and thinks.

“Our son will be called Marcel.”

xXx

“So, Nid, can I call you Nid?”

Enid looks back to her present company. She’d gotten distracted looking out the window, but what’s out there seems more interesting than what’s in here.

“Um, no thank you?”

Ajax nods empathetically, “cool, what about E? Just like the letter?”

“Right, love the vision, Enid is perfectly fine though too, if that’s at all on the table?”

He laughs, even though it wasn’t that funny. But Enid appreciates it. Ajax was always laid back when they were working together, happy to do whatever asked of him, whenever he was asked. A little aloof at times, but not dumb. He oozes a healthy kind of grounded confidence in a way that isn’t egotistical but still makes itself known.

They compliment each other well, that much is obvious just looking at them sitting together. He’d chosen the location, some hipster coffee shop where the average drink is around $7. Which obviously doesn’t hurt Enid’s bank at all, but even her eyes comically widened when she saw the menu.

“I know this kind of thing is annoying, the fake relationships, but it’s always worth it when you can keep your private life private, you know?” He droles, adding another sachet to his drink. “I mean my girlfriend, met her out at a shoot in Italy, super rural village, she doesn’t speak a word or English, but I think she’s like it for me dude. But I don’t wanna like expose her to the paps yet or my fans because, well you know how they get.” He laughs and shakes his hand a little, “I mean I’m sure you’re the same with your boyfriend?”

Yup.

“Boyfriend, yeah,” she mutters, plastering on a polite smile. “Your girlfriends cool with this though? Because Yoko, my manager, kinda encouraged pda.”

Ajax waves her off, “oh yeah, she’s fine with it, or at least I think she is. Google translate only goes so far but we’ve done stuff like this before in shoots. Or like those perfume commercials which are basically like soft porn.”

A surprised laugh escapes her, and Ajax looks pleased with himself.

“So it’s fine, but nothing happens behind closed doors, cool?” His hand reaches across the table, and she smiles, more relaxed than before and grabs his with hers, firmly shaking which makes him wince and gasp exaggeratedly.

“Cool.”

She posts a picture to her story of her takeaway coffee cup on their table, with Ajax’s in the background. His strategically rotated slightly so the name tag only reveals the X, but it’s enough to get the wheel spinning and the rumours spreading. Ajax takes a photo of himself with the coffee shop in the background but Enid nowhere in sight, but it doesn’t take long for people to put two and two together.

The next stop on their itinerary is shopping. Apparently, there was this vintage shop nearby that specialised in vintage comics and figures, which Enid was a sucker for. She’s been trying to improve her manga collection and if she could her hands on an original One-Piece comic, that’d be her dream. They walk together, arms brushing, nothing to showy. But it doesn’t take long for one passerby to notice them, or one of them and snap a discreet picture. Things really escalate when they leave the shop, Ajax offering to carry her bag and they stroll leisurely down the street, Enid talking his ear off about her favourite series, when he ducks his head down, voice in her ear and says-

“Trust me?”

She keeps talking but nods in response, knowing that he must’ve spotted someone with a camera. Then she feels an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in closer as they walk together. It’s nice and she tries really hard to enjoy it, although she shouldn’t because he was a girlfriend and this is fake. She tries really hard to think that it’s nice, that he isn’t too tall or heavy around her. That his cologne doesn’t tickle her nose, or his short stubble didn’t scratch her cheek.

It could be nice, she tells herself.

Maybe I do like this, she reassures herself.

Delusion is a mile away and repeats her thoughts in her head. Maybe if she says it enough, she’ll believe it and she won’t have to pretend. It’d make her life easier after all.

They reach her cab, and he puts the bags in the trunk and opens the door for her to get in. Enid beams at him and speaks in low tones.

“Thank you, I actually had a good time,” and he looks jokingly offended at the implication that she’s surprised.

He pulls her in for a hug, for the camera’s, and whispers in her ear, “I was told to try for a kiss, cheek or lips, your choice.”

Fuck.

Ajax is a handsome guy, really handsome. He’s sweet and he’s funny and also a little bit of an idiot but he likes the same shows as her. She should like him, in an ideal world she does. In an ideal world she shouldn’t be overthinking this, love and relationships should come naturally without a second thought. Without a lingering sense of fear.

Chapped lips press against hers which shine with raspberry lip gloss and her stomach drops when she realises just how wrong it feels. They pull apart quick enough, it was a short peck, blink and you miss it. But effective enough that Eugene will send her a link to an article later on with a blurred picture of the two of them “caught in the act.” Effective enough that Yoko will send her a thumbs up later too.

The leather seats of the car are hot under her bare thighs, likely a result of the sun beating through the window. She rattles off her address to the driver, eager to get home and have an early night because she’s filming again all day tomorrow. Enid frowns and rubs her head, trying to discourage the temperamental headache which is beginning to brew. Pinpricks line the back of her neck and shoulders, and she just can’t shake them, her stomach lurches at every sudden stop or jolt of the car and she needs a tissue to wipe her lips.

She needs a tissue.

She needs-

“Do you have any tissues,” she bursts out to the driver, leaning forward, a firm grip on the seat. He grumbles and tosses back a sealed packet, which she quickly rips open and wipes her lips clean. “Fuck,” she breathes, falling back into her seat.

She really is gay.

Which is-it’s fine. It’s not but it is. She already knew this, but this was just a last half-hearted attempt at trying to prove something to herself. It didn’t work, evidently.

But when she goes to bed that night, skin drawn tight across her face, hands curled into her pillows and exhaustion clinging to her bones, despite the insomnia refusing her relief; she does think of dark eyes. She tosses and turns restlessly thinking of those dark eyes, dark hair and sharp cheekbones.

They’re just not Ajax’s.

xXx

Wednesday thumbs the morning paper as she sits in the backseat of her personal car. Slowly but surely, Lurch navigates the way to the studio despite the horrendous New York traffic. The industrial revolution and it’s consequences, Wednesday despises the shiny silver towers. Plain, covert and entirely unimaginative, the death of architecture began with the construction of skyscrapers, and she truly believes that.

Practicality over beauty and skill.

What a downgrade.

There is little that interests her in the newspaper she stole from her neighbours front step. Corrupt politicians, mediocre restaurant reviews, incessant celebrity gossip and-hold on.

Love Is In The Air

Two of America’s hottest and upcoming models seen openly affectionate, and it has fans wondering.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: The first picture shows a grainy shot of them in the café through the window, the third shows them walking together and the second picture shows them kissing in front of a car]

Enid Sinclair (Aged 25) and Ajax Petropolus (Aged 27) were seen walking around New York arm in arm and even shared a passionate kiss before Sinclair entered her car. The two had sparked dating rumours years ago when they filmed a Hollister ad together, early in their respective careers.

Sinclair and Petropolus both shared discreet photos from their day out and fans are wondering if this is the soft launch they’ve waited years for? The photos don’t lie, so we can assume the relationship is far from platonic.

If the relationship has been ongoing for years, it’s safe to say, we’re all waiting for a sizeable rock to appear on Sinclair’s finger.

“Lurch, my iron stomach isn’t quite up to par this morning, please refer from swerving or performing a hit and run. I fear I may lose my breakfast,” he grunts in confirmation, and she lets her eyes once again rest on the eyesore of an article. They really let anyone become a journalist these days.

In fact, that’s insulting to journalists. Writing a fluff piece using prosaic language that makes watching paint dry seem like an entertaining past time, hardly qualifies you as a journalist in her eyes. Wednesday turns the pages and glances over the cover of the paper again, eyes narrowing when she sees the name of it.

A piece of publication aimed to middle aged woman who thrive off of gossip columns and clickbait articles. Of all the things she could’ve stolen this morning. She folds the paper on her lap, she’ll burn it later.

If asked, she’ll deny how her fingers kept toying with the pages, pulling back the corners until she once again found familiar blonde hair. Her face pulls in disgust voluntarily, who even is this Ajax Petropolus, and why is his face touching Enid’s.

And if she arrives on set later, her mood more sour than usual, she’ll deny that too.

Chapter Text

Nightshade Fashion Magazine

Enid Sinclair on growing up in the industry, body positivity and her career in the future.

“Oh, Maison Margiela maybe,” she says when asked about who she’d like to model for in the future. “I’d also like to maybe model for newer designers with fresh ideas. Sustainable fashion is a big interest of mine, so I’d love to be more involved in that.” Many of her fanbase see her regularly due to her consistent online presence, but some eagle eyed followers have pointed out that Sinclair hasn’t modelled in months.

When asked about possible upcoming projects, Sinclair grows uncharacteristically tight lipped.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to keep you all on your toes,” she says whilst smiling. “It’ll be worth the wait, I promise.”

xXx

The summer rain, wet and thick, soaks her clothes as soon as she exits the car, and it clings to her in a way that makes it claustrophobic. Wednesday pulls off her coat and hands it to someone else to deal with, there’s too much to do today and she doesn’t have time to deal with her coat leaving her office smelling damp. It’s all just another reason to despise this time of year, the soupy air turns her muscles sluggish, and the intense rays of sun threaten to fry her brain and kickstart a never-ending migraine.

She knows that someone will be standing with an umbrella ready for her, for the ridiculously short walk from the main building to the soundstage they’re operating on today. But it’s better than being soaked to the bone she supposes.

Regularly she’d be less susceptible to environmental nuisances such as the rain or the sun. Being back in Scotland during the coldest times of the year, with the sharp wind that nipped against any and all exposed skin. How the cold chilled her to the bone. The delicious, aggravating ache that would stretch through her once she was back in a room with central heating. That was fine, testing her limits was fine, toeing the line between life and death whilst exploring the mountains was enjoyable. She was doing something; she was being active.

Yet having to sit still in a room for hours on end with slightly wet hair makes her want to kill herself.

Something so mundane yet it gets under her skin so easily and quickly. It’s rather irritating. “A personal challenge to strive to overcome”, that’s what Bianca calls it when Wednesday has a “moment.”

Wednesday hates both terms. It makes her sound like a temperamental child, which she most certainly is not.

Like she suspected, there is an intern waiting with an umbrella, a nervous look on his face and he fumbled around trying to open it up. He doesn’t try and make small talk; she appreciates it and leaves him without a word once she reaches the soundstage. Today there isn’t anything of much interest happening on set, a reshoot with Enid, and some additional cinematic shots of the sets. Tomorrow there shall be some filming regarding minor side characters, and a more interesting scene with Enid.

They’ll get to the gory stuff soon.

She hopes.

Xavier had been eager to show off his prosthetics and buckets upon buckets of pigs blood and organs which the crew will use as substitutes for the real human thing, like they have done on previous movies. There’s always a small flicker of amusement within Wednesday when these films are shot. Especially as actors are more likely to act realistically queasy, when handling pig organs. There are however plastic and rubber substitutes also for moral and ethical reasons.

She personally can’t wait for the scene where Edin seduces a man for information, but when things go awry, she ends up tearing his jaw off with a nearby work tool. Or maybe the scene where she narrows avoids getting her face clawed off by a drug induced maniac who works for the movies main antagonist, only to then be left with three deep slashes.

It is fun, she’ll begrudgingly admit, seeing her gruesome horrors be brought to life, especially when-

“Smile!”

There’s a bright flash in her face which unfortunately catches her off guard, a rare feat, and one she’s not very pleased by. Blinking the colourful spots out of her eyes, her hand latches around the wrist carrying the camera and squeezes, hard, until she hears a gasp of pain and a voice she’s been dreading to hear all morning.

“Ow Wednesday,” Enid rubs her wrist once Wednesday releases it, shooting her a wary look. Her costume today is loose, maroon corduroy trousers, the cuffs brushing the tops of her black boots. A black hoodie on top and a matching maroon beanie. One of her characters less colourful outfits. There are patches of what Wednesday assumes to be dust, carefully littered across her, a loose cobweb in her hair and a slight scratch on her chin.

She takes in the camera clutched by nails which are still an unfortunate hot pink.

“I wasn’t aware you were also part of the camera crew.”

Enid rolls her eyes but smiles nonetheless, twirling around and observing the soundstage through the lens of small film camera. Wednesday wonders if she’s practicing for the scene where Edin sneaks into a darkroom, glowing in a murderous red, as she finds what was presumed to be long lost crime scene photos of a person of interest. The following fight is one of Wednesday’s favourites, shooting it should be entertaining. All dark shadows and figures with a red backdrop. Attacks and reactions partially obscured by the hanging photographs.

How difficult it will be to differentiate blood from water.

The dangerous splashing of chemicals as bodies are thrown against trays and sinks.

“I’m taking bts photos!” Enid beams, swinging herself back around to aim the camera on Wednesday. “Fans eat this stuff up.”

“Certainly,” Wednesday says dryly, “don’t ever shove that thing in my face again if you want to live.

Her eyes narrow when she hears a frustrated puff and Enid mimic her voice, high pitched and completely inaccurate. It’s a miracle she was hired for this. She then hears some mention of needing to remove a stick from up her-

“Tell me, do fans enjoy this as much as they enjoy you flaunting your boy toy to the world?” She tilts her head, revelling in Enid’s smile lessening by the second. “I didn’t think you were the type, for obvious reasons.”

Enid’s jaw clenches before she relaxes and shrugs, eyeing the people around her carefully.

“Yeah, me and Ajax are dating now, so what?”

“I thought you were g-”

“Going out with that singer? Nooo, Wends you know you can’t trust everything you see in the tabloids,” her voice is high pitched and she grabs Wednesday by the elbow, pulling her around a corner until they’re less visible to others. Enid glances over her shoulder and then back at Wednesday. “What the hell was that?”

Wednesday looks over Enid’s shoulder, “nobody was listening to us. You’re not that interesting Sinclair, it’d be best to bring the ego down a little.” Enid looks seconds away from strangling her so Wednesday thinks, to hell with it, and decides to stir the pot. “I thought you had no interest in men.”

“Maybe I’m experimenting.”

And maybe Wednesday enjoys summer and is planning a beach trip later.

But she isn’t.

Her face apparently says it all because Enid’s crumbles and Wednesday ends up getting an earful of how Yoko has set up a fake relationship for Enid to both boost both parties image but to also keep the media off their backs and their respective partners, or partner, in this case. Seeing as Enid insists to actually be single and not interested in Ajax at all.

“They’ve already made ship edits of us, which is crazy because the article dropped literally this morning and there’s a total of three pictures of us together.”

“And he’s hot, don’t get me wrong-”

“-I tried, I really did but there’s just…nothing. There’s nothing!”

“Not that I’d try and date him for real, because he has a girlfriend and that’s snakey of me-”

“What if I’m just digging a deeper hole for myself?”

Wednesday holds up a hand which briefly silences Enid, a feat for sure, and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and offering it to the blubbering mess in front of her. Enid blows her nose into it and wipes her eyes, offering it back to Wednesday who shakes her head firmly. Enid nods and keeps it clutched in her hands, breathing deeply, it causes Wednesday to wonder if this is the first time she’s gotten it all off her chest, but if so, why wouldn’t she have spoken to Yoko about this?

“Is he making you feel uncomfortable?” Wednesday thinks back to her collection of medieval torture devices in the attic. “Should I have a word with him?”

He seems infatuated with his hair, perhaps she gives him a trim whilst he sleeps.

Enid’s eyes widen, “oh, no! No he’s great, it’s just me being stupid. People have pr relationships all the time.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Well it works,” Enid sniffles, “I mean, I hope it does.”

Excuse her ignorance but Wednesday’s never fully been able to grasp the wider worlds obsession with “celebrities.” Why should an anonymous name hidden behind a screen, have any say in who dates who. Why the societal pressure to conform, in this day and age. Why would Enid dating a woman potentially end her career. It’s an exhausting ordeal which she fears she’ll never fully be able to grasp, not due to her lack of understanding or intellect, but because the topic itself is pure brain rot.

She was unaware the previous term is popular internet slang, until Bianca heard her say it and had a double take.

Enid however is deeply intertwined with the crossroads and crossed wires of the internet world. She understands how half of the woman’s career relies on the approval and support of faceless minions, and the other half of her career relies on the approval and support of the leeching bourgeois who will ogle her body and the designs she dons. Wednesday couldn’t be more thankful for making the decision early on to keep her private life private.

Although the way things are going, if she allows herself to get too tangled up with Enid Sinclair, she fears that privacy won’t last long.

xXx

Thing slips in through an open window in her office. How he reached the second floor with no fire escape, she isn’t sure. Perhaps he launched himself from a tree outside, or is using up the last of his nine lives to scale the side of the building. Wednesday would respect him more if that were the case, though if he was regularly scraping his claws against brick walls, she suspects they’d be blunt, and not the needle like menaces that he digs into her hair while she sleeps.

“He probably thinks you’re his mother,” Bianca had told her one day when she’d forced herself into Wednesday’s home. Wednesday had eyeballed the rat poison on her shelf longingly as she’d prepared their tea, Bianca often cornered her at her own home to talk business. That way, Wednesday can do little to avoid her. “Cats knead their mothers stomachs like that when they’re kittens right?”

She fears Bianca may be right.

Her eyes glance to the side without lifting her head and sees Thing staring back at her from where he’s perched himself on her desk, quite happy sitting on her fresh sheets of paper. They say you shouldn’t stare at a cat unblinkingly, that it’s a form of intimidation, a threat. Thing doesn’t care, he stares back lazily, lifting a front paw to his mouth and begins to munch on his pink heart shaped pad without breaking eye contact. His single eye, a dull green, his other one likely was lost in a fight. The vet bill had been dearer than she’d thought, then again, she’s never owned a proper pet. Well, not one that can be taken on regular vet visits that is.

They’d met one night when the sky was cloudy and starless. The smell of rain was fresh, as was the blood on her knuckles. Some belligerent moron had tried to mug her, a pale face poorly concealed by his hood, and an old kitchen knife clutched in clammy hands. Wednesday had done him favour and only broke his nose and a rib. When she’d arrived home feeling nothing more than slightly irritated, her night was only worsened by the shabby cat napping on her welcome mat. The welcome mat she didn’t even buy, another interference by Bianca, an attempt to make Wednesday more “welcoming.”

That was when their first staring contest happened. Green eye met brown ones, she tilted her head, he tilted his. She told him to get lost, he hissed and bit her ankle. He’d returned a few days later as she was leaving the house, sunbathing on her front steps and he batted his paws at her laces. Then another time she watched him sniff at her trash bags though the front window, pink tongue pathetically lapping up droplets of water that had gathered in a bottle cap. But it was an accident that night when she left her front window open on the latch, and it was an accident the second time around, and definitely the third time.

A month had passed, and she reluctantly decided that she may as well get a cat bed, and a bowl, perhaps a scratching post for the living room. Not for him, but for her sake, so he didn’t whine at her. The official adoption was also just for convenience.

No other reason.

Wednesday hums thoughtfully and turns back to the task at hand, fingers pushing the keys down on her typewriter. “It seems you haven’t entirely lost your edge, Thing.” Though he sleeps with her every night, paws digging into her skin, loud purrs and the occasional lick, his fur gets everywhere.

She’s currently writing a letter, a correspondence between herself and Bianca which has been ongoing for as long as they’ve known each other. Her refusal to own a cellular device has made business discussions a little more difficult, but how did their ancestors manage? Well, the Addams’ had a flock of highly trained messenger crows that they used until the local town grew concerned with the forever lingering red eyed crows and then accused them of witchcraft and cursing the village, which then led to a few minute group suicides.

A vast overreaction, so the Addams’ switched to telegrams shortly after.

She isn’t sure what the Barclay’s used, but Bianca always has a phone in hand and one of those strange speaker things in her ear.

The phone suddenly rings, the shrill sound being an unpleasant welcome. Things ears twist and she sighs, plucking it off the wall. “Yes?”

“Oh my little Viper, how wonderful to hear your voice.” She can picture him perfectly at this time of night. Stretched out on a velvet chaise lounge, sleeves rolled to the elbows, collar popped, cigar between his fingers, incense burning somewhere behind him. His voice is smooth, sleepy, rich with red wine and she’s sure his second glass is sat on the table to his right, next to the landline. “You haven’t spoken to your father in some time hm?”

Wednesday exhales through her nose, “I’m working, as I’m sure you are aware, Pugsley gave me the front page in this week’s newsletter.”

“Did you like the editing he did to put you next to the Hollywood sign?”

“No, I’ve never been, which makes his work even less credible,” she curls the cord around her finger slowly and mutters, “imbecile.”

Her father chuckles lowly, “well updates may be sparse next week, he’s been otherwise…occupied.”

The word is said strangely in a tone she can’t quite identify. She frowns and stops curling the cord, instead digging black nails into the plastic.

“If you’re trying to insinuate something, spit it out.”

“A woman, our boy has found his amor.”

Well that can’t be right. Pugsley couldn’t speak a coherent sentence to a tree, let alone a woman.

“You’re lying.”

Gomez laughs some more, he’s always been very chipper for an Addams, very…kooky, as some might say. “His ears are red, his smile bashful, your mother saw lipstick on his collar. Our boy, finally has found a companion.”

Interesting.

Wednesday scuffs her boots against the hardwood floor and frowns some more, skin pulled taut across her face. She sometimes forgot that her younger brother had a life outside of the family, though in her defence he’s not very codependent and likely has a brain the size of a nectarine. The day she left New Jersey sticks with her because she’d never seen him look so lost before, not even that time when she was 12 and kidnapped him, blindfolding him, kicking him into the trunk of their car and then taking said car on a joyride to dump him in a forest 10 miles away to find his own way home. She gleefully watched him through her binoculars and took notes in her journal.

It took him four hours, but he was home in time for dinner.

She’s never regarded him as an adult before though.

Wednesday’s eyes settle on the vintage steel shotgun on her wall. “Do you have a name?” She drawls innocently but scowls at her fathers amused chuckle.

“No, my little death trap. He’s a man now, he’ll introduce her when he’s ready.” Mentally she scoffs, if she were at home she would’ve known the woman’s blood type and her mothers maiden name by now. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you’re telling me nobody in that big city has captured your heart?” Stupid, a stupid question that he surely knows the answer to.”

She clenches her jaw tightly, “well they’d need an efficient hunting rifle, preferably with a thermal scope, or if they’re stupid enough, a large net.”

“I don’t think a large net would be necessary,” the teasing lilt in his tone is infuriatingly familiar. One that slips into his speech after a few fingers of whisky. “I also think you’re avoiding the question.”

Rolling her shoulders back and near enough ripping the cord with her nails, she tilts her head and looks at Thing.

“There is someone, actually.”

Perhaps this will rid her father of his incessant questioning. She offers the bait, and waits.

“Oh?”

“He’s…rough around the edges, and dark, brooding.” She pauses, racking her brain. She’s bad at this, shockingly so given her entire career is based off of her skill with words. “Steals all the blankets-”

“Thing doesn’t count.”

Ah.

Gomez laughs, a deep chested one and if she squeezes her eyes tight enough, she can see his head tilting back. His hand rested on his stomach. “Oh Tish, you have to hear this mi amor!”

“I’m hanging up,” she growls down the phone, but it only makes him laugh harder.

She waits a few seconds, holding off on actually putting the phone down and she’s disgusted by how soft she’s become. His chuckles die down and he gasps for air. The joke wasn’t even that funny. “Wednesday, an Addams only exists to love.”

“Rather deterministic, isn’t it?”

She can see him shake his head, a wistful smile on his face.

“You’ll realise it one day, it’ll just hit you in the face. An Addams love, it’s all consuming, it’ll drive you mad. But it’s worth it, oh how nothing else compares.” She’s well aware of the Addams family curse, cursed to love with their entire being. To be enamoured, to become foolish and love sick over some so called ‘soulmate.’ Her parents being a prime example, the way her father sickeningly trails after her mother, fingers tangled with her own as he presses kisses up her arm, on route to whisper his love to her in her ear for the seventh time that day.

Her mother too is enamoured of course, but she married into this. She isn’t an Addams by blood and therefore isn’t cursed by this innate passion and need to find someone. It’s never casual, never a fling, once that initial attachment is made, it stays. No Addams has ever divorced from their lover, but every Addams would set the world aflame before finding themselves heartbroken and alone.

Most would call it an old wives tale, a conspiracy, superstition, but Wednesday’s seen it. She’s seen it and she’s always hoped to be immune.

But she can remain sceptical. She grits her teeth and tips her head back, looking briefly at the ceiling and wondering when she gained such patience. “And how would one know if they’ve found ‘the one.’ I don’t believe in soulmates father; I fear you’re wasting your breath.”

What he says next will haunt her. The simplicity of it all.

“When you know, you know, querida. From that very first look. Trust me.”

She doesn’t sleep that night.

xXx

There’s a strange sensation she’s begun to feel as of late. An unpleasant one, and not in the fun way. Not the unpleasant feeling of something sharp hidden and stuck in a gum, wedged between teeth and that addictive pain that comes with poking it with your tongue and nail. No, this one is sickly, nauseating and if it’s what Wednesday suspects, then she may be in trouble.

Enid is, what some would describe as “larger than life”, a “social butterfly.” A walking magnet that attracts everyone to her. She oozes this charismatic charm that’s not overtly present, it sneaks up on you when you least expect it. A stupid joke slipped into conversation; a casual compliment thrown over her shoulder when she passes you. But it’s to everyone, she sees everyone. Each person she walks by is worth her time and for that brief time she’s with them it’s like the sun is shining on you and you feel warm and good. When the sun inevitably moves on, you’re sad and a little cold but optimistic because you know the sun will always be back.

She’s witnessed the small private smiles people carry when they turn away from Enid, can see the aftermath of the conversation with the spring in their steps. At least that’s what Wednesday’s gathered from various peoples comments and conversations she eavesdrops on when they don’t notice her (which is a lot).

People just stick to her, they want her, in every and any way possible, so it seems. It makes Wednesday feel…odd.

“People here don’t like me,” she says one day out of the blue when a crew member leaves the conversation to carryout the job they should’ve been doing in the first place. They’d barely glanced in her direction the entire conversation, eyes fixated on Enid. Wednesday doesn’t mind, she prefers it that way, she can’t be bothered with small talk or asking about a strangers child who has recently begun potty training.

Why should she care about that?

It’s all only become more obvious due to Enid’s increased presence by her side. Most people have learnt to pass Wednesday, not to bother speaking unless it was urgent, or work orientated. But their need to speak with Enid and be in her space has only highlighted it further.

Enid had frowned and looked down at her, smile fading and Wednesday oddly feels disappointed because she’s the reason behind it.

“That’s not true!” And at Wednesday’s look she laughed nervously and shrugged one shoulder, “ok maybe a little. Does that…bother you?”

Wednesday shook her head, watching crew members carry a stuffed body bag onto set.

“No, it was just a simple observation.” It’s the truth as well, she truly doesn’t care.

The taller girl chewed her lip, “it’s just-they think you’re uptight. Difficult.”

“I have boundaries, it’s a clear difference, why villainise me for that?”

Enid had nodded, “you’re right, people should respect them.” She paused for a moment and Wednesday watched unimpressed as they dropped the body bag for the third time. “You know though, when I’ve heard people complain, I always stick up for you, tell them you’re fun.”

Wednesday slowly turned her head, eyes narrowed. “You do not.”

“I do.”

“I have a reputation to uphold Sinclair.”

There’s that feeling, not the one from before, but a different one, a more sinister one. It’s in her stomach and it’s a strange flutter. The catalyst? Enid’s soft smile sent her way, she never smiles at other people like that.

“Then stop being funny, I keep telling them all that you have a good sense of humour around your friends.”

“We’re not friends.”

“Psht,” an elbow knocked against hers, “keep telling yourself that Addams.”

She’s never had a proper friend. Though she’s smart enough to not tell Enid that, she can only imagine all the fuss thrown her way if she found out. A boy did try to befriend her in kindergarten, he gently pulled one of her braids and asked her to play hopscotch. She broke his nose. Bianca hadn’t tried to move past the professional boundaries she had set, which was fine because Wednesday sees enough of her during the workday, she doesn’t need to see her out of hours too.

But that sun, that warm ray, unfortunately she finds she’s not immune to it. It becomes addictive, so much so that she almost seeks Enid out, how pathetic. But it leads her back to her earlier dilemma, the strange sensation, when that warmth is directed at someone else.

Namely that boy toy she’s begun dragging around, Ajax. A fake relationship apparently, but she brings him to set, hugs his arm, laughs louder with him than anyone else.

Wednesday quickly decides that she hates Ajax.

Enid had introduced them one day, in her costume about to head to hair and makeup. Ajax is about a head taller than her, he wears this stupid beanie which judging by the size, must be hiding an impressive head of hair, and he reeks. An expensive cologne, so expensive that it’s prestigious and a namesake that’ll make you ah and nod your head, complimenting it despite the fact that it’s actively burning the hairs in your nose. That, Wednesday never understood, wearing something so ugly for the sake of a brand name.

“Hey Wednesday dude, Enid’s been telling me all about you,” he offered her a hand which she stared at for a total of three seconds before turning her back on him and walking away.

“I-Wednesday!” Enid had said exasperatedly, and she could imagine her turning to Ajax apologetically as she said, “I’m sorry she’s like that with everyone, trust me.”

Enid welcomes everyone with a warm smile and Wednesday turns them away with a scowl. They couldn’t be more different, which is why their rocky friendship shouldn’t work and why all of these weird sensations keep stirring in her stomach.

She’s been losing sleep over it, and cursing her father silently each time her head hits the pillow.

xXx

“You need to sleep.”

“I do not.”

The coffee served by the craft services leaves much to be desired. It’s worse than the drip they serve at shitty diners in the middle of nowhere. She must remember to speak with Weems, the movie studio can afford to provide all pa’s with fancy, shiny new work phones, but can’t afford decent coffee? It’s just one more thing that makes this place even more miserable.

Wednesday briefly considers abusing her power and sending some scrappy intern who’s a walking bag of nerves and would be willing to do anything for approval, to go and grab her coffee order from an overly expensive spot a couple blocks away.

But she doesn’t.

Besides, it’s always good to strengthen your stomach, she thinks as she sips the drink. When the end of the world inevitably comes and New York turns into a post-apocalyptic wasteland, she can’t be too fussy about her options.

She would usually bring her usual order with her, either from home or a takeaway order, however her mind was elsewhere this morning. Though she would never admit it, she needs to catch up on some sleep.

“Uh yeah, you do,” Enid snarks and tips sachet after sachet of sugar into her cup.

“I get plenty of sleep during the day, at work,” Wednesday pockets an apple and turns on her heel, Enid quick to follow with her monstrosity of a drink.

“I’ve literally never seen that happen.”

Wednesday glances at her with a slightly amused look before looking over the call sheet in her other hand, scanning the sheet quickly for a specific name and number, thankfully she doesn’t see it and relaxes slightly. The day is a busy one, Enid has a more physical shoot today, involving a newly built custom hallway for her to be chased through.

“I have mastered the art of sleeping with my eyes open,” she murmurs, looking closer at the sheet. “You’re due on soundstage B in a few minutes.”

She hears a disturbed noise come from her right and Enid elbows her gently, “that’s so creepy oh my god.” Wednesday rolls her eyes when Enid leans into her space, fruity perfume performing a viscous assault on her nostrils. “I’m pretty sure it was soundstage C, they said.” Pink nails float just over Wednesday’s black ones, moving to skim the page. Enid’s nose is scrunched in concentration and her eyes narrowed. Wednesday considers mentioning that she may need to look into getting glasses.

The movie makeup is minimal. Edin isn’t overly flashy and Enid frustratingly has “perfect skin,” so the makeup department deemed there to be no blemishes, spots, scars or anything really to cover up. Though the makeup is required due to the lighting and cameras used.

Also the fake blood on her face, the fake scratch on her chin, is required for the scene.

Though it is a shame, for the few times Wednesday has had a glance at a fully barefaced Enid, it’s always been a sight that’s left her feeling strange.

“Hey Ms Sinclair, we need you on Soundstage B for section 40 of the script,” someone interrupts, a headset around their neck and a blaring radio on their waist.

“Told you,” Wednesday mutters, stepping away from her while Enid lets out a surprised sound and perks up, chatting about something inconsequential while Wednesday stares at her side profile. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, but Enid is glowing for some reason.            

Enid bids her goodbyes, smile soft and fingers curl as she waves before being led away and Wednesday’s nails pierce the Styrofoam cup, burning her hand whilst she does so. She frowns, not from the possible second degree burn, but because something is going on and she’s not sure what. She subtly rubs her fist against her chest, call sheet crumpled in her hand, as if she were trying to silent her heart which has never beat this fast in her life. Enid smiles at her. All of the time. Big toothy grins and Wednesday has done nothing to deserve it, so why does Enid do it?

Someone does ask if she’s alright, stood in the middle of the fucking craft service, cup destroyed in hand, scalding liquid running down her arm, fist pushing into her chest like a lunatic. She passes the destroyed cup to the concerned crew member and walks off in direction of where she’s meant to be.

Which ideally, would be anywhere but here.

xXx

“Is it just me or is Addams moodier than normal?” Yoko ponders as herself and Divina pick at their poke bowls, whilst Enid has to stand still for the boom operator to attach a hidden lavalier microphone onto her clothes. It’s a fast paced scene with a lot of moving, turns and abrupt stops. So a boom microphone would be able to pick up the general sound, however Enid’s breathing and any other minute sounds are essential for building the anticipation and fear for the scene, hence the smaller mic.

God she’s learning a lot.

“I haven’t noticed anything weird or that different,” Enid frowns, eyeing their bowls. “Pass me a fry,” the nearby makeup artist shakes her head and Enid winces, “ok forget the fry, Divina, you notice anything weird? You’re with her more than us.”

The other girl shakes her head, cheeks bulging with food and Enid feels sorry for her. She’s up at the break of dawn every day and one of the last people to leave set too, she also doubts she gets many opportunities to eat. Divina gulps down some of the food and holds her hand in front of her mouth.

“I’ve learned not to question her at this point, I think she finally tolerates me. She used to call me mouse.”

Yoko chokes on her food and shoots her a rueful grin, “well I think she still hates me, threatened to slash my tires yesterday.”

“You don’t own a car though?”

“Yeah, she saw me looking at them on my phone and whispered it to me over my shoulder while I was sat having lunch,” Yoko shakes her head, “don’t know what I did to piss her off, but I’ve considered investing in pepper spray or something.”

Enid rolls her eyes, “she’s harmless, you know they’re all empty threats, right?”

Yoko shoots her a look which reads ‘bullshit,’ before popping another fry in her mouth and sharing this gooey, flirty look with Divina. Now, don’t get her wrong, Enid is so happy that her best friends love life is blooming. She’s thrilled for her, she’s even dog-sat Yoko’s Great Dane, Milo for her the other night when the two went out for dinner. Though, them drunkenly stumbling back into the apartment, tearing each other’s clothes off, whilst Enid and Milo were on the couch watching Glee, wasn’t appreciated.

But she’s allowed to be a little bitter right? How seamlessly they fit. The lack of an awkward talking stage and abysmal first dates, how they clicked almost instantly and the only reason they hadn’t been dating sooner was because they were engaging in that sickeningly cute dance of “will we or won’t we” when in reality they both knew. It was inevitable they would date; they just enjoyed the flirty back and for. Enid wishes she had that, wishes she had someone she felt comfortable doing that with.

It’s hard to date when you’re famous, it’s even harder when you’re closeted.

She’s led away onto set and stands on her taped marker, Weems making her way over, dressed to the nines and towering over Enid in a way that makes her strangely flustered. The crew has constructed a hallway for Enid to run through while she’s being chased. The structure is fucking massive with plenty of twists and corners, an unrealistic amount for a normal hallway but that’s kind of the point. Whilst the audience is watching her character trying to escape, they’re watching from Edin’s perspective, and the maze of hallways she’s running through is an exaggeration and product of her own mind. To accelerate the stress and to further confuse both the character and the audience, to the extent where even the audience can’t tell what’s real and what’s a possible figment of Edin’s imagination.

The whole thing reminds her of that big wooden structure they made for the IT movie to depict the sewers, though this is significantly smaller and less impressive.

They’re going to start rough, organic; Weems tells her. It’ll be a camera man on foot behind her, the shakiness of the camera adds a realistic element, like the audience is in the room with her. He might get up close, but the main thing is to track her movements and catch that initial hurried panic. Next, they’ll shoot a bunch of shots of her running through the hallways, but this time the camera will be on a dolly and pushed along a track, allowing for smoother, steadier shots. They’ll do that a few times in the different sections of the constructed hallways and do some additional front view shots. It’s likely she’ll be leaving work late tonight and be in early tomorrow for the exact same thing.

Once Weems seems satisfied with Enid’s understanding of the scene she leaves to go back to her chair and Enid glances over to see Wednesday has suddenly appeared. Bianca next to her, whispering something in her ear and Wednesday seemingly snapping back at her. She can sense the tension from where she stands and decides to turn away and mind her own business.

“Just run, don’t sprint, run, try some of the doors, they’re all locked obviously but try them and just go with it for the first few shots,” Weems had said with the first camera man next to her, adjusting the strap on his chest which holds some of the camera’s weight. “Turn if you like, Craig will move around you if needed, we need realism here so there will be no formal directions for the first few takes, ok? Oh and remember, you are being chased by a homicidal maniac.”

“Homicidal maniac,” Enid whispers when she steps into the entryway for the main hallway. “Nutjob, with a chainsaw or something. Just pretend you’re in Until Dawn, just-”

“Sinclair are you ready or..?”

She jumps at the sound of the megaphone but turns around and gives Weems a big thumbs up and shoots Wednesday a bright smile. She receives a blank stare and an awkwardly apologetic smile given by Bianca.

“Alright quiet on set, scene forty, take one and…action.”

“I really need to run more,” Enid pants, accepting the bottle of water that Yoko offers her and downing half of it immediately. “My legs are killing me.” She managed to spot a beanbag in a corner on set and collapses onto it as soon as they called for break.

“You literally walk runways for a living,” Yoko says drily, snapping a picture of an exhausted looking Enid, starfished out on a been bag three times her size.

She snorts when Enid flips her off.

“Yeah, key word being walk.”

Enid groans and stretches her limbs out and closes her eyes, hoping for a brief moment of peace and quiet during this brief pause between shoots. The first few times it’s fun, she’s energised and she’s ready to crush it. But after so many takes of her running down so many different hallways, she’s done. She needs to collapse on her couch with a Dr Pepper and her Nintendo Switch and just not speak to anyone for hours.

It’s not as nerve wracking as she’d initially thought. It’s also not crazily dissimilar to her job before. Well, it is vastly different, but modelling always involved a story or a pose. Depending on the piece or the event, theatrics had always been involved, and she was used to showing herself off, her entire career has been to put on a show for others. Perhaps that’s why she isn’t too shy in front of the camera now.

The real stress comes later when the early reviews and screenings inevitably come in, that’s when she’s really screwed.

“-Enid has a guy for that.”

Enid slowly opens one eye at the sound of her name and scans around until she sees Bianca stood next to Yoko’s beanbag and a displeased Wednesday stood behind her.

“I have a guy for what?”

Bianca sighs and shoots Wednesday a wary glance over her shoulder before turning back to look at Enid. “The studio have been in early talks with me about various promotional aspects, Wednesday has agreed to do more interviews this year, but the execs want her to be more involved um…culturally.”

Enid blinks, “so you want her to have Twitter?”

Bianca nods, “they want her to be present on social media, interacting with the occasional fan, posting about the movie when the time comes, all that stuff.”

Wednesday looks downright murderous and Bianca looks like a parent standing with her scolded child.

“I don’t even own a phone; how do you suggest I navigate social media?”

It hadn’t even occurred to Enid that Wednesday didn’t have a phone, or that she didn’t have her number. Now she wonders how Wednesday communicates at all in the modern world.

“Well step one, get a phone, step two, I know a guy, Eugene, he’ll get you all set up.”

Wednesday’s venomous eyes slide over to hers and Enid barely supresses a gulp.

“And who is Eugene?”

She rolls her eyes and pretends Wednesday isn’t trying to laser a hole through her with the intensity of her stare, and instead scrolls through her phone to Eugene’s number. “Y’know he’s my guy, broski, familia.”

“So… your brother.”

“Not in the traditional sense no,” Enid sighs and swings her phone around to show them his profile picture in her contacts, which is him in his bee costume for Halloween last year. “But all my siblings do also have names beginning with an E.”

“Sounds like a cult.”

“Well my mom’s side is Mormon.”

“Can we please get back on track,” Bianca interrupts, looking like she’s already regretting agreeing to this and Yoko looks like she’s won the fucking lottery. “Wednesday, you’re doing it and girl I swear to god if you get cancelled in the first five minutes you’re on Twitter, we’ll be having words.”

Wednesday stares at her blankly, “I have no idea what that means.”

But Enid nods knowingly, “Eugene can monitor it, same with mine and my other accounts. We can meet somewhere to set them up, I’m assuming Wednesday doesn’t own a computer or anything?” She receives a death stare and a firm no in response to which she nods and taps her lip thoughtfully. She wouldn’t let Eugene be around Wednesday alone, he’d get eaten alive. “How about we do it at my place?”

Yoko snorts and nods, “oh I gotta see this.”

“So you need a handle.”

“A handle?”

“Yeah, you know, an account name.”

Eugene had seemed interested at the idea of having an additional client, though he was warned upfront that the damage control for this one could be serious. When he was then told it was the elusive Wednesday Addams, aka Enid’s boss, aka one of the most respected authors in the world, he’d agreed immediately. Though he couldn’t stomach the books, he was a fan of the movies and the second he came face to face with Wednesday, his stream of words hadn’t stopped. In fact, Enid almost felt bad throwing him in the deep end like this. Yoko and Bianca had stood on the sidelines, tensed and ready for Wednesday to unleash on him, Enid was seconds away from intervening when something unexpected happened.

“You have a yellow hexagonal pattern on temples of your glasses, it is somewhat reminiscent of honeycomb,” Wednesday comments as soon as Eugene had finished his story about how he almost threw up watching the gutting scene in the last movie. It’s said with no malice, no sinister underlining’s and everyone relaxes a little.

“Yup! Bees are my favourite animals, though technically they are an-”

“Insect,” Wednesday finishes quietly, eyeing him curiously. “A formidable predator.”

The two had quickly sprung into conversation about various things from classic horror movies to which insect would be the most dangerous if it came into contact with radioactive substances which made it grow 100 times it’s original size. Enid smiles, a small hidden one, so Wednesday doesn’t scold her and Bianca doesn’t give her another one of those looks like she knows something that Enid doesn’t.

It makes her wonder if Wednesday had told anyone about their first proper meeting. Enid hadn’t, not Yoko not anyone. In all fairness, she was drunk and the details were fuzzy up until a few months ago, also the interaction lasted all of ten minutes. Wednesday wouldn’t have told anyone, after all she’s made it abundantly clear that she’s given Enid very little thought since then. It almost stings how defective she is any time it was brought up, Enid can barely remember shit but she does vaguely remember pouring her heart out to a stranger because she was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen.

Needless to say, if it was the other way around, Enid would’ve remembered, and she would’ve cared.

“-this is Enid’s Twitter, I mean the app is technically called X now but-”

“But we don’t fuck with Musk,” Enid interjects, leaning over their shoulders where Wednesday and Eugene share her desk, her head appearing between theirs as she squints at the computer screen. “Also the handle was a joke.”

@imthealpha

She/her | username is the result of a bet I lost, pls stop sending me red pill content | professional sims player

“Well what should my biography-”

“Bio.”

“Biography,” Wednesday sends her a mildly irritated look, “include? I would assume my profession and intent for the sites usage would be apt.”

Jesus Christ.

Eugene, and Enid has to give him credit for this, just nods slowly and hums. “Yeah um, I’m sure we can fit that in there, Enid’s is a little untraditional, seeing as she’s a public figure. So yours is actually pretty good!” Wednesday being the little shit she is, sends what Enid thinks is a smug look her way, once Eugene’s finishes talking. “But first we do really need a handle, your name is pretty unique and I doubt anyone has the same, so we can just use that, and use it across all platforms to save you the confusion.” His fingers race across the keyboard before he pauses, body freezing as he laughs nervously, “not that I think you’d get confused-”

An intervention is obviously needed so Enid heroically swoops in and sends them back on track. Which then leads to an actually really productive afternoon and they end up with.

@RealWednesdayAddams

She/her

#1 NYT Bestselling Author | Viper de la Muerte series and more |

It’s a little dry, but they can work with it. Now Enid has the joys of watching Eugene explain the process of a reel to Wednesday, who looks like a cat cornered in a room full of people she doesn’t know. She honestly looks like she’s going to do something drastic. It’s unlikely she will have a large social media presence, that much is obvious, many of her promotions and networking will be done by Eugene, but it’s a start.

It doesn’t take long to get her verified and for official book, publishing and renowned literary accounts to follow her. Then the hardcore fans start to quickly roll in because W. Addams is incredibly private, so they seek out any and all new updates that they can, so naturally they’re freaking out right now. Stan Twitter is losing it’s mind, and Enid giggles as she scrolls through it all. Enid follows her too and dms her when Wednesday (Eugene follows her back).

Wednesday looks up from her phone a few days later, as she and Enid are sat shoulder to shoulder on set, wordlessly messaging on their respective devices.

“Enid, what on Earth is oomfie?”

xXx

Enid Sinclair @imtheaplha

one of my favourite authors just joined social media and now she’s oomfie?

[Image Description: A screenshot of Enid’s following list which shows the most recent addition, Wednesday Addams, who additionally follows Enid back]

                     -@Mileniiixx

                                 -GIRL ARE YOU AND AJAX FR???

                     -@Vipersnest

                                 -My worlds are colliding this is crazy

xXx

Enid leaves her trailer this afternoon with a faint smile on her face and a little bounce in her step. More flowers had greeted her when she’d first arrived before the break of dawn, the same purple asters, pink zinnias and sedums. She ought to thank Weems or whoever it is on her management team who must be sending them, because they truly are beautiful.

It’s something consistent in her life right now, each day when she enters her trailer they’re there and it’s just something she looks forward to now. Everything really has seemed brighter than before, people seem happier, the air smells cleaner and she just feels lighter. There’s just, a really strange feeling lingering though, as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But there’s no point dwelling on it, she’d rather live in the moment and enjoy life while it’s good, rather than sit and wait in trepidation for something horrible to come instead.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t looking around for a particularly short, dark-haired goth. Last, she’d seen her was earlier in the day when she’d mysteriously slipped into the prop department, what she was doing in there? Enid had no idea. Truth be told, she speaks to Wednesday every chance she gets. Soaks in every minor interaction, every micro expression, because she’s so unapologetically herself and it’s so refreshing. It’s not just within working hours now though, what with Enid having Wednesdays Instagram, Twitter and personal phone number now, she’s unstoppable. Wednesday would block her, but she hasn’t quite figured out how to now.

She follows someone onto set, standing still as she gets her mic put on, eyes still surveying the land before they locate her target.

“Wends hey!” She waves eagerly, the tech guys around her all tell her to stop moving so she does but beams when Wednesday slowly walks over. She’s wearing a plain black hoodie that’s almost the same size as her and just looks so cute and-

“Sinclair they’re ready for you.”

Oh.

The 1^st assistant director looks at her expectedly as he impatiently fiddles with his lanyard. Wednesday simply turns away before she could reach Enid and moves to her usual spot.

Damn.

Enid strolls past the flurry of people on set, setting up camera’s and shuffling wires out of the way, towards where she needs to stand. This scene isn’t anything special, it’s just another one of Edin receiving letters from her secret confidant and partner (Viper). However this letter is less impersonal than the others, it’s almost as if the two are beginning to exchange banter. The viewer may interpret it as a stretch or parasocial on Edin’s side, but it’s the first time their exchanges border on friendly, perhaps even flirty.

In the scene she reads the letter, laughs to herself and presses a short kiss to the paper. It’s meant to be silly, and light-hearted.

So when they shout action, she does just that.

She smiles, biting her lip as she tears the envelope open, keeping the letter close to her. They’ll get close ups of the letter later and edit it into the scene and between shots as she reads it. She giggles at a certain part when she knows she needs to, knowing which part of the letter will be shown to audiences. Enid clutches the anonymous envelope, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she presses a gentle kiss to it, red lipstick staining the page, as she enunciates a loud “mwah,” but then she freezes.

The smile slips as her nose catches something unexpected, perfume. Her lips part and nobody questions her, the cameras keep rolling and it’s dead quiet. Her heart pounds in her chest, as the scent tingles again.

She didn’t.

Enid recalls how Wednesday lingered in the prop department earlier today as she registers the familiar scent of Wednesday Addams perfume. Unscripted, she lifts the letter up once again, towards her nose, eyes flitting up and instantly meeting that of her voyeur. Wednesday stares back as Enid inhales softly, longingly, breathing in the androgynous scent, the familiar warmth and spices. Eyes fluttering shut as she does so.

She’s aware of how it must look, how the line between platonic and romantic can no longer be questioned with the way she longingly clutches the letter, how she breathes in the scent of her partner in crime. How her cheeks pinken with Wednesday’s dark stare on her.

She can hear the camera man stepping back and somebody yells cut and they’re pleased. They tell her how much better she made the scene, no notes, no retakes, a perfect shot. She’s invited to watch the playback, and something throbs when she sees the desire reflected in her eyes, staring over the top of the camera. Somebody pats her on the back. Weems winks. Enid needs to run to the bathroom, they wave her off and she grabs her phone off of Yoko.

An empty hallway is hard to find here but she does it, miraculously she does it and leans her back against it. Butterflies in her throat which worsen when Wednesday Addams comes storming around the corner and stops just short of her.

“You made an alteration to an otherwise perfect script.”

Enid can barely look at her, chest tight, “improvisation is encouraged.”

Wednesday shifts closer and Enid’s head feels heavy. Why are they so close?

“It was…You did fine, Sinclair.”

That’s new. Enid looks up and all breath leaves her chest in a quick exhale because how is Wednesday’s hoodie brushing Enid’s front and how is Enid’s knuckles skimming the fabric and toying with the drawstring. Wednesday’s eyes, always half shut, are wide, hungry, she reeks of anticipation and that fucking perfume which is beginning to drive Enid up the wall.

“Yeah?”

Her voice is gravelly.

“Yes.”

Wednesday’s is too.

“I think-”

A harsh buzzing accompanied by an obnoxious ringtone come from her pocket and somehow sends Wednesday flying back away from her. The shorter woman barely looks at her before turning on her heel and walking away, turning the corner to leave as quickly as she had when she’d arrived. Enid gasps, finally able to breathe again and wrestles the phone out her pocket, swearing sharply when she sees the caller id. The Twice song seems to taunt her, the longer she lets it play but she just stares at the screen blankly.

There’s a moment where she hesitates. She swipes her thumb.

“Hey Mom.”

Chapter Text

“She’s coming for a visit?”

Enid sits with her head in her hands, groaning lowly and leaning further back into the couch. She can hear Yoko move around, searching for the tv remote to lower the volume because One Piece keeps blaring on in the background, which isn’t helpful for Enid’s crisis.

“Uh huh.”

“And she doesn’t know.”

“She doesn’t know,” Enid confirms, dragging her hands down her face. “I knew it wouldn’t be long before she found out, she’s got like a google alert for my name. Of course she’d notice if I hadn’t been appearing in any events or magazines recently.”

It was stupid of her to think she could keep this up, she knew it felt too good to be true. The other shoe has dropped, it’s dropped hard.

Yoko flops down onto the couch next to her and Enid regards her curiously, “she hadn’t mentioned anything to you?”

“Nah I blocked her last year.”

“Yoko!”

Enid splutters out a laugh and pulls her knees up to her chest. She supposes it would make sense, if her mother still had contact with Yoko, it would be constant and drive the girl to insanity. That, is something Enid would definitely have heard about.

Her best friend turns her head, the rare occasion her glasses are off, and Enid looks at warm, careful dark brown eyes. “You have to tell her,” Yoko smiles sympathetically, “rip off the band-aid.”

“I know.”

“She’ll notice you disappearing every day.”

“I know.”

“And about Ajax.”

Oh shit.

That’s going to be a whole other painful conversation which she’s not ready for. She hasn’t seen her mom in months, she can handle her over the phone or by message, she’s less intimidating that way. Bad connection or a quick “sorry I was out!” is all Enid would need to avoid a conversation. But in person? It’s been a while since she’s dealt with her mom in person.

To be quite frank, she’s a bully.

How pathetic do you need to be to bully your own children, Yoko had muttered after witnessing the trainwreck that was the Sinclair Thanksgiving of 2017.

“Hey uh, what was that earlier, with Addams?”

“Hm?”

Yoko squints her eyes, “you running off of set, Addams chasing after you and coming back looking like she’d seen a ghost. Although I think she’d actually get a kick out of that.”

Shit.

“Um-” her brain draws a blank and the longer she remains staring at the colourful, muted tv screen, the stranger she looks. “She was just checking up on me, we’re friends.”

The other woman scoffs and shakes her head, gesturing between the two of them. “No, we’re friends, you and Addams have something weird going on.”

Something swoops in Enid’s stomach, and she swallows thickly.

“Something weird?”

Yoko leans in and drops her voice low, despite them being the only two people in Enid’s apartment.

“Something gay.”

Kill Bill sirens sound in Enid’s head and she stares wide eyed back at Yoko. A high-pitched squeak escaping the back of her throat. The other girl just raises a killer brow and waits patiently for Enid’s reply, which doesn’t come any time soon.

Enid turns back to look at the screen, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yeah? So no explanation for you guys eye fucking any time you’re in the same room.”

“Yoko!” Enid shrieks, smacking her with a cushion, “I literally don’t know what you’re talking about ok? She’s like my boss or whatever and she’s way out of my league. So it’s nothing, let’s leave it at that.”

She gets a tired look in reply, but Yoko doesn’t say another word about it all evening. Doesn’t comment on how Enid giggled whenever messaging Wednesday back. Doesn’t comment on how Wednesday seems to reply almost instantly after Enid. Doesn’t say a word about how Wednesday offered Enid her personal driver to pick her mom up from the airport.

Doesn’t say a word.

But God does she give Enid the most pointed look she’s ever seen.

Esther Sinclair’s hair is wild and grey. Looking as though a comb hasn’t come near it in days, despite the numerous free beauty kits and freebies Enid gifts her, given by sponsors or brands hoping that she’ll shout them out. Her jewellery, while authentic, looks tacky, clunky around her neck and ears. She looks about 20 years too young to be wearing some of it. The silk grey and black scarf around her neck, the fur coat, all too hot for this weather, yet somehow it doesn’t affect her.

“Because she isn’t human,” Yoko texts her and Enid bites her cheek to hide her smile.

Her smile is tight, formal. Not happy or excited. Though Enid assumes she must mirror it.

At least she puts some effort in.

“Mom!” She wraps her arms around her mom, and feels one around her waist in return. She allows herself a short moment of ignorance to dwell in the memories of her adolescence. The familiar and comforting smell of her moms perfume, how that wave of nostalgia washes over her, because no matter what, it’s her mom. “How was the flight?”

Esther hands her suitcase to her and begins walking, leaving Enid to scrabble after her.

“Oh it was fine dear, I-” She looks over Enid with scrutinising eyes and Enid feels it wash over her like ice cold water. “Have you been eating?”

“Yeah mom, of course I’ve-”

Esther snorts and starts walking again, Enid by her side, “I can tell,” and she pinches Enid’s cheek. “We worked long and hard to get rid of that baby fat, and now look at you. But no bother, we’ll be in the gym bright and early tomorrow hm?”

A wheel of the suitcase catches on Enid’s shoe, she stumbles a little, cheeks pink, and she follows after her mom. She’s beginning to regret not taking up Yoko’s offer to accompany her.

“I haven’t gained any weight,” she mutters, “I don’t think I have anyway, and if I did what’s the issue?”

Esther rolls her eyes and looks at Enid in disbelief, “you don’t think you have? Have you not been checking the scales?”

The scales in her bathroom? Yoko convinced her to chuck them out over a year ago. Thank god she did, because at the end of the day why did she need them there? They did more harm than good, and they were most definitely the most accurate indicator of how healthy someone is, no matter what her mother insists.

“Not really no, I-I’ve gotten a new nutritionist and personal trainer, they advise me not to do so,” she lies through her teeth, something she’s done a million times before, yet her heart still races like it’s her first time.

Esther harrumphs and heads towards the exit of the airport, undoubtedly getting in peoples way and barging past them all.

“Well, at least tell me about this Ajax boy.”

Although disappointed in Enid’s reluctance to tell her, Esther seems pleased about the relationship. Enid didn’t have the heart to tell her it isn’t actually real, for a number of reasons.

“It’s about time you met a man,” she had chuckled, unloading the contents of her suitcase into Enid’s spare room. “Some of the family members were starting to think you were a lesbian,” she whispers the last word as it was forbidden to voice aloud. Enid just smiled weakly and went to show her how the shower in the guest rooms ensuite worked.

The movie though, that was a whole other conversation.

“A movie?” Esther exclaims, her wine threatening to spill over the rim of her glass. “Enid you are not some mediocre singer who becomes a wannabe actor because she’s bored. You are a model, composed and brilliant and mysterious. Oh and you can’t act.” Esther spits out, “what’s your father going to think hm? What if the movie does badly and nobody will hire you anymore. Who is going to want to buy a high-end dress when they saw the woman modelling it get torn up months later in some cheap horror movie.”

Enid waits patiently for her to finish, and nods placatingly as her mother rants.

“Ok so, I don’t die in this movie, and the studio is one of the most respected ones in Hollywood. This will propel me forward mom. It’s also my career, it is up to me and I have made up my mind, end of story.”

Lets just say it wasn’t the end of story and she got a mouthful from her mother until she passed out from the jetlag and red wine, whilst Enid miserably watched an episode of the Big Bang Theory on mute.

xXx

Me

heads up bc my moms on set today

Wends

I see. How has her stay been so far?

Me

istg i cba with her

Wends

Are you having a stroke?

Me

wdym???

Wends

You’d do anything to get out of an early shift I see.

Me

WDYM??

oh

you cant understand abbrievated texts

thsts so cute

Wends

It’s abbreviated, firstly.

Secondly, it is not cute. Stop it.

Me

or what?

youll block me?

Wends

I’m close to figuring it out.

Me

suuuuure Einstein

xXx

They arrive on set around 11 this morning, Weems was strangely very understanding about Enid’s sudden change of plans. Luckily there wasn’t much needed to do today, and her mother should be leaving in two days, if all goes to plan. So until then, Enid just has to convincingly date a boy she has no interest in, get her mom to like him, buy enough NYC souvenirs to send back for her brothers, convince her mom this isn’t a massive mistake and that Enid’s not a complete and total failure who lives in the clouds.

Easy.

Enid smiles politely at people as she leads her mom to her trailer, not wanting to risk stopping and having to expose them all to her. Not wanting to risk her mom crashing in and tearing down any and all friendships she’s made here. It was a common occurrence as a kid, the neighbourhood children whispered about her family, she was too nervous to bring home friends from school, too nervous to entertain the idea of bringing home a boyfriend, now girlfriend.

The only friend she’d allow to be in the same vicinity as Esther for a prolonged period of time, would be Yoko. The only person Enid’s ever met who actually doesn’t take any of her moms bullshit.

“This is it?” Esther perches on the end of the couch inside Enid’s trailer, nose scrunched as she looks around the space with an unimpressed look, as if she were too good to be here. Mind you, they weren’t rich growing up, every shiny thing her mom currently wears, was paid for by Enid. Her fucking debts and mortgage, Enid paid off. Her brothers school tuitions, she paid off.

“I’m one person,” Enid says shortly, hooking her denim jacket up on the rails. “I don’t need a lot of room.”

Her mom hums, “I hope you were careful with all this, you sure they’re not cheating you? Maybe I should look over your documents and pay, I did use to manage you before Yoko came along.”

A sharp knock makes them both turn to look at the door and Yoko’s head pops through as she steps up into the trailer, three coffees in hand and a painfully forced smile on her face.

“Heard my name, all good I hope.” She raises a brow and turns to Enid, her hair curtaining the side of her face from Esther as her smile drops an she whispers, “how’s is going? If you need out I can fake an allergic reaction.”

Enid glances between her mom who is running a hand over the leather couch, and between Yoko who is two seconds away from spilling her coffees.

“But you’re not allergic to anything!” She hisses, taking her coffee and Yoko simply rolls her eyes.

“That’s why I’d fake it genius.”

She hands a cup over to Esther who takes it greedily, and not so subtly looks Yoko up and down. She spends some extra time on her thick boots, the silver accessories on them, her bare arms exposed in the heat, the koi fish tattoo on her forearm and the gothic styled moth on her chest between her breastbones. The antenna coming up just under her collarbones. Numerous silver piercings along her ears, studs, rings, cuffs, a shiny septum she seems to always brush when her lips spread into that predatory smile, fangs on show.

A vampire, if they were real of course. Enid made sure to eat plenty of garlic bread around Yoko very early on in the friendship, just in case.

“Yoko, it’s been a while, you’ve…changed,” it’s the best she’s gonna get and Yoko seems to realise this because she smiles a tight closed lip smile and hums as she sips her coffee. “My, well let’s just say I’m glad my Enid hasn’t been influenced by your body modifications.”

Jesus H Christ.

“Mom.”

Yoko shrugs, “it’s fine, me and your mom both know it’s better for your career this way, right Esther?”

“Of course dear, now I must ask, did you change your number? I’ve been trying to call but I’ve had trouble getting through?”

“Oh really?... That’s strange, must be an issue with the connection.”

Enid had hoped her mom would get bored and leave set early. Complain about the heat, how Enid hadn’t planned a fun enough trip for them (despite the short notice), or perhaps even just ditch her in favour of eating at the several Michelin star restaurants they drove past on the way here and Esther’s not so subtle mentioning of how she’d love to dine there.

Unfortunately, none of the above happens, in fact, her mother seems all too eager to stay on set. Bathe in the Hollywood glamour and take full advantage of the numerous assistants at hand to deal with any of Enid’s needs. She meets Weems, which was unfortunate, and began to lightly grill her about the audition process and “how was my Enid the best choice out of everyone?” The switch from subtle digs to obvious humblebrags is giving her whiplash and the light throbbing behind her right eye is driving Enid up the wall.

This was a bad idea.

As long as her mother doesn’t meet Wednesday then it’s fine.

“Quiet on set.”

The soundstage lights dim a little and the lights pointed at the set are a warmer orange. There are still a few last minute adjustments being made and Enid shuffles on the spot, making small talk with the stunt woman she’s about to throw out a window, when she sees movement in the corner of her eye.

Fuck.

Wednesday has decided to finally grace everyone with her presence and floats over to where her chair sits by Weems’ and the assistant directors except, Esther seems to have sat down in her chair instead, grey eyes narrowed in on Enid.

“Fuck me,” Enid rasps, watching Wednesday glare daggers into the back of her mother’s head. Wednesday takes a step forward, mouth in a fine line, lips separating to speak, likely about to call her mother a serpent or something and ask her to move elsewhere. But then her eyes meet Enid’s wide and pleading ones and she pauses a moment, looking between Enid and the mess of grey hair in front of her. Realisation seems to wash over her, understanding who is sat in the chair and why it would perhaps be wise as to not start something with her right now.

To Enid’s surprise, Wednesday leaves it at that and shrinks back into the shadows. Something silent is exchanged between them and Enid tries not to dwell on it.

They do the scene, and it goes great. Her character has received a tip off from her anonymous partner, unbeknownst to her it is the famed private detective Viper De La Murte, currently presumed dead. She arrives at the house, makes her way upstairs and finds a chilling collage of photos of herself pinned and stuck across the bedroom wall. Grainy snapshots of her in the street, voyeuristic peeks of her through her bedroom window, professional company photos snatched from her workplaces website no doubt, childhood pictures from Facebook. It is in this moment that her character realises just how deep she is in this. It’s no longer a fun, daring secret of hers, a second job after hours given to her by some secret admirer.

It's real, it’s scary, people know her and they’re looking for her.

Hours later, and many takes later she’s free to go and darts towards her mother, hoping to intercept her before she speaks to anyone else, but to her horror and to Yoko’s delight, she finds Esther in conversation with Wednesday.

“-her brothers too, gold medal athletes. Enid is just one of my many successful children,” Esther laughs, hand on her chest, absentmindedly playing with her necklace. “So I must have done something right.”

Wednesday stares at her, eyes slowly moving up and down her body.

“Well I can see where Enid got her audacity from.”

Enid slides in just in time to hear her mothers gasp and quickly links arms with the woman.

“Mom! I see you met Wednesday,” she smiles before turning her head and whispering through clenched teeth, “my boss.”

Esther makes a surprised sound and Enid feels her clawed hands settle and harden over where Enid’s rest in the crook of her elbow. Beady eyes stare down Wednesday who stands there, unwavering and hilariously unintimidated.

“Aren’t you a little young?”

Wednesday looks more bored than anything else and breathes in slowly through her nose before replying, likely to ensure she doesn’t cuss Enid’s mother out right in front of her.

“Mary Shelley finished writing Frankenstein at 19 years of age, solidifying her work as a literary classic and perhaps the first science fiction novel. However some may argue that The Blazing World, by Margaret Cavendish in 1666 was the forerunner of the genre.” Wednesday seems to misinterpret Esther’s confused silence and Enid’s not so subtle heart eyes, for interest in the topic and carries on speaking, “Similarly, Shelley’s husband was an accomplished poet and novelist before his early death, aged 29. To remember him by Shelley-”

“Kept his heart wrapped in some of his poetry,” Enid breathes, hands clasped over her heart as she rocks on her heels, “so romantic!”

Wednesday’s eyes snap over to hers, “indeed,” she murmurs quietly, and Enid thinks she can hear Yoko pointedly cough somewhere behind them.

Oblivious as ever Esther seems to glaze over the sexual tension so thick that you could cut it with a knife. It’s nothing short of a miracle that she never picked up on Enid’s true sexuality. One too many ‘girls kissing girls’ searches did Enid have to hurriedly delete from the family computer as a kid. Her mother’s naivety helped to keep it all under wraps, despite Enid’s childhood bedroom being plastered with posters of Storm from X-Men, San from Princess Mononoke, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Craft, hell she even had a Bend it Like Beckham movie poster, her mom’s gaydar must be non-existent.

“Me and Enid are going for some dinner, girls night, it’s hard when it’s all boys at home. Besides I don’t have many other female friends-”

“Shocking”

Enid shoots her an incredulous look, but Esther doesn’t notice Wednesdays interruption.

“Something small for Enid, she’s been slacking off since her career went askew. Besides, carbs make her bloated-”

“Mom.”

“It’s not like her stomach needs to get any rounder. Goodness you’d be lucky to find more modelling work after all this movie nonsense is done, looking like that.”

You could probably hear a pin drop.

Mortifyingly, Wednesday’s eyes glance down to Enid’s stomach before looking back up at Esther’s face. Heat rises in Enid’s cheeks and she crosses her arms over her stomach subtly, looking anywhere but towards the girl in front of her.

“I suggest you don’t speak to her that way.”

Esther blinks, taken aback and scoffs, “I’m sorry?”

“While you’re at it you may as well bite your tongue before I do something far more sinister. Under this room Ms Sinclair is my employee, so I’d refrain from insulting her. Also don’t come back to my set, you smell weird and have spinach in your teeth.” With that she turns on her heel and strolls off of the soundstage without a care in the world. Enid watches with thinly veiled awe and her heart hammering against her chest.

Oh they’ll definitely be talking about that later.

Her mom huffs, cheeks a little pink and if Enid didn’t know any better, she’d say her mom was embarrassed.

“Well Enid I think it’s about time we leave,” Esther sends a forced smile Yoko’s way and receives one in return, “Yoko, it’s been a pleasure,” and she links arms with Enid and pulls her along and away from lingering cast and crew. Her voice drops to a hushed whisper in Enid’s ear, “honestly it’s such a shame, such a pretty girl but she ruins it with the piercings and tattoos.”

Good God.

The place they’re eating at is nice, fancy but not prestigious. Enid doesn’t have the time or patience for that tonight. Can’t be bothered to get all dressed up to sit in an almost sterile, white restaurant and pretend she understands the elements and story behind each miniscule, mouthful sized dishes on the eight-course menu.

Tonight she just wants a burger.

But her mother of course has other plans. In an unsurprising move, Esther ordered the most expensive item on the menu, a wagyu steak, and she decides to order for Enid too.

“And for Enid… perhaps a salad?” She smiles up at the waiter and nods at Enid.

Enid hums and scans the menu with her finger.

“Hm, perhaps not,” the reference flies over her mother’s head because she’s uncultured, and snaps the menu shut. “I’ll have the buttermilk chicken burger, extra bacon please and a side of the rosemary fries,” she hands the menu back to the waiter with a sweet smile and ignores Esther’s pointed look.

The waiter takes their leave and they’re alone again. The silence is deafening, and Enid considers making a run for it, through the bathroom window. She almost discreetly texts Yoko to break her out of here, fake an emergency. Instead she sits on her hands, because if she doesn’t, she’ll end up chewing her nails and pulling the skin. Her feet swing a little, the chairs are high, almost similar to barstools and although herself and her mother sit at the same height, she feels small.

Feels turned inside out, bare and laid out for her mother under her metaphorical microscope, her scrutinising stare.

She’s been here a million times before, not the restaurant, this scenario. It always ends with an uncomfortable feeling in her gut and chewed on lips, raw fingers, rag nails. Her mom seems like some kind of illness she can’t seem to shake, no matter what.

“I can choose what I eat. I’m not-you can’t be bossing me around,” she murmurs, looking anywhere but her mom.

Esther sighs, “I’m just looking out for you sweetheart, I’m concerned-”

“Don’t be,” Enid bites back and clamps down on her tongue immediately after it slips out, her moms eyes narrowing and Enid’s stomach tightening.

“I’d watch your tone,” Esther’s voice is low, firm, creeping and tickling up Enid’s back. “You wouldn’t want to cause a scene would you? Because I’ll yell, you know I will, and I won’t be embarrassed to do it. Stop acting like a child, you’re a grown woman Enid, for God’s sake.”

“Then treat me like one,” Enid whispers back, hand now smacking down against the wooden surface. “Instead of some employee or project, please just trust me that I know what I’m doing, and I know what’s best for me. You just belittle me and make me feel so small sometimes and-”

“Oh so now I’m the bad guy?”

That’s a little too familiar.

Enid swallows the lump in her throat and frowns, “you’re my mom.”

“And I love you,” Esther reaches across the table, hand covering Enid’s and it’s warm, clammy.

“But you don’t like me, you like the idea of me, the idea of what I can be and provide, but you don’t like me.”

Esther doesn’t reply to that, because she doesn’t know how to and that’s what confirms Enid’s suspicions. Instead she sighs loudly and takes a big sip of her wine, an Italian red. Enid’s body feels like it’s on fire, almost like she’s shivering, teeth chattering and just buzzing with energy to let out.

They don’t speak for the rest of dinner. Esther doesn’t object when Enid covers the whole meal and doesn’t say a word in the uber. They don’t bid each other goodnight when they arrive back at the apartment. Enid doesn’t reply when Esther mentions cutting her trip short, apparently the Sinclair estate is ‘falling apart’ without her back home.

It’s an excuse and they both know it.

Though sometime around five am Enid’s woken up to a gentle hand combing through her hair and lips pressing against her forehead. A goodbye uttered so quietly she wonders if it was intended for her to hear. But she keeps her eyes shut, she doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t say goodbye to her mother or wish her safe travels. Her body remains locked until she hears the click of her front door, and her muscles relax.

She doesn’t get much sleep that night.

And her appetite isn’t great the next day.

xXx

[Correspondence between Edin and Viper, via anonymous chat room]

can’t someone else do this?

You know why that is

Remind me?

I knew I was being followed, that the information I carried on my person was dangerous, so I slipped it in the pocket of a stranger I passed for the time being, fully prepared to lose the person on my tail and circle back to receive my information, however my plans went awry. Then I find out you accessed the data at work.

The second you saw those photos and my research, you became involved.

Whether you like it or not.

This isn’t fair

Life rarely is.

xXx

Enid hadn’t really been properly acquainted with Xavier before. To be fair he was always holed up in his “lair” as Bianca had called it, rolling her eyes when discussing her ex. It’s how they met, she being Wednesday’s manager and Xavier being one of the prop guys on set, though it didn’t end well from what Enid has gathered.

But they’re further into filming now, more fight scenes, more decapitated body parts, more of Xavier and his oddly detailed props. He’d technically not responsible for the props actively on set, that’s someone else’s job, he helps to design and craft them, which is why Enid is confused as to why he’s hanging around right now. However she sees his Chainsaw Man converse, one thing turns into another, and they spend about half an hour discussing their favourite shows. Xavier is a man of taste, of course he is, he’s an artist after all, so naturally he has great recommendations for animated shows and the like. In fact they get so invested in the conversation that Enid forgets why she was originally hanging around out here when she isn’t needed for a scene until 10am.

Wednesday.

They haven’t really had a chance to talk. Enid had been in a shitty mood this morning after the previous day with her mom. The usual flowers in her trailer helped, as did the TikTok she filmed with Yoko in the trailer (Eugene will edit and post it later), the donuts Divina dropped by with, that Enid had hesitantly bitten into but enjoyed nonetheless. Seeing her best friend damn near suck Divina’s face off wasn’t super enjoyable, seeing as she was sat directly across from them and has only been receiving self-inflicted orgasms since like April (it’s literally September now).

But seeing Yoko happy makes her happy.

Mostly.

Even if Enid is somewhat yearning for romance.

“-turns out I can fit thirty grapes in my mouth.”

“No fucking way,” Enid frowns, eyes narrowing as she stares at Xaviers mouth. “You’re lying.”

He snorts, about to voice his rebuttal when his eyes widen and before Enid can ask him what’s up, she hears her.

Wednesday’s dark wire framed glasses slip down her nose slightly as she looks up at the two of them. Enid’s lips involuntarily tug at the sight of her and her stomach flutters at the sight of Wednesday, Things fur lingering on her zip up hoodie, how she subtly tucks her hay fever medication into her pocket upon approaching them, her short, black painted nails.

“Unfortunately it’s the true, I had the extreme displeasure of watching Bianca perform the Heimlich manoeuvre when he inevitably chocked on one.”

“Wednesday!”

“Wednesday.”

Enid’s smile wavers and she turns to look back at Xavier and oh.

His goofy smile mirrors Enid’s, and the way he said Wednesday’s name, the familiarity of it all.

“Wednesday draws people in, whether she likes it or not. But, I’m glad she has a friend, I’ve been encouraging her to try and make some.”

Bianca’s voice seems to ring in her ears as Enid looks between the two, between Xavier’s borderline flirtatious smile and the way Wednesday doesn’t seem to absolutely hate it. Perhaps Enid is paranoid and reading into things.

“Why would that be unfortunate?” She says and gets an ugly feeling in her gut when both of them turn from looking at each other, to her instead, like she’s intruding on something that’s meant to be private.

Wednesday shoots Xavier a side eye before regarding Enid again, “because it means I still see his idiotic face every time I come into work.”

The taller man rolls his eyes and smiles, leaning his shoulder on a stack of crates behind him, “aw man dude, don’t pretend you wouldn’t miss this face if I died.”

“Wishful thinking as always Xavier, thankfully I have to cut this conversation short, I have important matters to discuss with Ms Sinclair.”

His smile drops and curse him and his stupid wide brown puppy dog eyes. “Oh really, I was uh, hoping we could talk?” He scratches his head, fingers running through short hair and Enid realises with sudden clarity that that’s why he’s been hanging around set today. “But uh, no problem, we’ll speak later yeah?”

“I should be so unlucky,” Wednesday mutters, pushing past the both of them and Enid follows without even realising, shooting Xavier an apologetic (and somewhat smug) smile over her shoulder, and skips after Wednesday. Someone hands the girl a shot of espresso, which she sniffs once before blindly handing it back. “This isn’t from Romano’s.”

“I’m so sorry miss they-”

“I only get an espresso from Romano’s,” she says in her monotone voice and blank eyes, yet you’d think from the way the assistants hand shakes, that Wednesday was screaming in her face. “It’s fine, give it to Mr Thorpe, it will likely be up his standard,” her eyes shift over to Xavier standing behind them. “Or lack thereof,” she mutters, picking up the pace again with Enid close on her heel.

They weave in amongst groups and individuals setting up for the scene today, it’s going to be a blood bath, and the pastel pink knit jumper Enid’s wearing is going to get wrecked.

Wednesday steps back as hair, makeup, various electricians and the like, swarm Enid and put their hands on her, doing what they need to do. The stunt coordinator speaking with the guy rigging Enid up into a small, discreet harness which is meant to just yank her back as a small explosion happens (hence the bloodbath). Her eyes meet Wednesdays, who watches her curiously over all the heads surrounding Enid.

“Your mother didn’t accompany you today.”

Not a question, but a statement.

Enid shakes her head.

The shorter girl stares at her for a moment before nodding, “good.”

They don’t get another chance to speak after that, as Enid is whisked off onto set and Wednesday sits rigid and cross legged next to Weems, who’s smile grows bigger and brighter each day. It’s an overall very wet, loud and cold few hours that ensue. Her scene partner pretty much blows up, due to a bomb surgically implanted in his stomach, which sends her flying back into a wall (hence the harness) and she gets covered in his fake blood and guts. Both of which is cold, sticky and smelly.

The explosion itself, the pouring of human remains onto Enid, can only be done in one take, so she tries her absolute best to not shriek and squeal at the sticky red liquid that plasters itself onto her. But the crew and directors seem happy, Enid’s wrapped up in a warm towel and Yoko takes a picture of her stood meekly, dripping wet and wearing the towel like a cape.

She almost fucking chokes however when she sees the look Wednesday gives her. Enid runs a hand through blood caked hair, pushing it off her face and licking her lips (surprisingly it tastes like strawberry jello?), and Wednesday’s lips part briefly but then she disappears off somewhere, before Enid can comment.

They just can’t seem to acknowledge or comment on this thing between them. That’s the problem though, how sure can Enid be that there is a ‘thing’, where does the line between platonic and romantic fall, and how does she know for sure that this isn’t one sided. How does she know she hasn’t just romanticised every interaction between herself and Wednesday, because believe it or not, Wednesday isn’t the easiest woman to read.

Her conversations are sparse, much of their time spent together is in silence. Wednesdays stares lack warmth, her touches; impersonal.

But it’s strange, Enid thinks, how the knotted apprehension in her chest seems to loosen whenever she’s around Wednesday. The thought of the other woman, her mere existence makes Enid feel nervous, and that build up to seeing her always includes that strange flutter in her stomach and ache in her chest. She feels like she’s going crazy and she doesn’t know who to talk to about it. Yoko is an option obviously, she’ll figure somethings up sooner or later, though Enid can only imagine her friends face when she gives her the full story.

Yoko’s always good at clocking Enid’s bullshit, often barging into her room or trailer, to find her wallowing in her troubles.

“Enid you can’t keep lying here, watching wlw couples first kiss compilations.”

“But they JUST got to Carina and Maya though!”

Her best friend is already suspicious of something. She’s noticed a strange vibe, hopefully it stays that way and she doesn’t try and dig deeper, or get too involved. Enid presumes that Wednesday wouldn’t be too impressed with Yoko butting into her personal life either.

“You’re quiet,” Wednesday muses, without glancing up from the menu she holds in her hands and just as Enid is about to respond, she tilts her head to the side, eyes fixed on the wines, “I didn’t say it was a bad thing, please don’t speak on my account.”

Enid scoffs, a smile effortlessly making its way onto her face and the subtle tease.

“Just thinking about how I still haven’t got all that fake blood out,” she flashes her nails at Wednesday, thin lines of red lie under the nail bed and she pouts, “they sure were accurate with their aim, and the guts were super real looking,” she shudders remembering the fake chunks of human flesh flung at her.

A waitress comes by and Wednesday orders for them, a bottle of red wine that Enid hadn’t heard of, for them to share, and a Pepsi for Enid, which warms her heart a little because she hadn’t even mentioned the soda prior (she was definitely going to order it though). Wednesday refused to say the “silly” name and rather pointed at the drink on the menu for the waitress to write down, whilst glaring at Enid over her glasses. The glasses, if Enid were to guess, are 100% to cover up red eyes caused by hay fever. That or Wednesday now takes fashion inspo from Yoko.

They’re sat outside, it’s a nice evening at a restaurant that Enid wasn’t familiar with. Italian, hole in the wall, a family business she thinks. The kind of place you only know about because a friend of a friend recommended it, a hidden gem if you will. With tealights in small mason jars, rickety wooden chairs and old Italian opera music quietly escaping the propped open front door to the restaurant.

It makes Enid feel warm and fuzzy.

“Xavier is very thorough,” Wednesday replies, once the waitress has left. “I recommend the creamy farfalle dish-it’s just, no down one more, yes.”

Enid peers at the menu and nods sagely, “ah the bowtie pasta.”

“Imbecile.”

“You guys close?”

“I’m sorry?”

Enid plays with her cutlery, “you and Xavier. Seemed friendly, wouldn’t have thought-”

“That I willingly speak with morons? I’m here with you, aren’t I?” She dodges the chunk of bread Enid throws at her head from the breadbasket and glances over her shoulder. “Xavier was hired as a prop assistant during the production of the first film. He originally started out doing storyboards, but his talents lead him elsewhere.” She fixes Enid with a firm stare, “why do you ask?”

Enid shrugs, moving up and out of her chair to pick up the bread she threw because she’s not a dick, and chucks it in a nearby trash can. Wednesday follows her movements, sat rigidly in her chair with perfect posture. Enid doesn’t think there is a single relaxed bone in her body.

Sitting back down she slouches back in her chair, one of the legs wobbling and her converse hit Wednesdays.

“Just curious, he’s funny.”

“If you enjoy humour that matches that of a ten-year-old, then yes he is hilarious.”

“Killjoy.”

That earns her a slight smirk and Enid smiles at the waitress who returns with their drinks. She whips out a notepad and Enid’s smile drops when she realised, she was too busy chatting up Wednesday that she forgot to choose something to actually eat. Picking up on her panic Wednesday swoops in and orders for her, rattling off the menu items in perfect Italian, while Enid watches mesmerised. The waitress takes her leave once again and Enid sits forward, hands clasped in front of her on the table.

“Do you like my Adventure time watch?” She flexes her wrist at Wednesday who looks unimpressed.

“I don’t know what that is.”

Enid sighs, “yeah it’d probably make your eyes bleed.” She taps the table animatedly, “I have a She-Ra one too, bit of a collector you know?”

Wednesday raises a single eyebrow, seemingly unsure how to respond, which is fair. Most people would be surprised when finding out that famous model Enid Sinclair collects animated kids show watches, rather than handbags or shoes. Don’t get her wrong, she obviously loves fashion, she kind of has to, but she’s not a snob. She doubts she’ll ever grow out of it, it’s a personal pet peeve when people look down on animated stuff because it’s “for kids.”

“You would fucking love Scooby Doo Mystery Incorporated though,” she gushes, leaning across the table and Wednesday scoffs, a slight smile on her lips.

“I highly doubt that.”

“No for real, it changed the game.”

“I’m sure.”

Enid sighs happily, she thinks there are more freckles on Wednesdays face. Maybe they come out in the sun. She rests her face on her hand and tries to subtly ogle the woman opposite her. Suddenly though she has an urgent question that needs answered. “Oh my God, how’s Thing?”

She watches as Wednesday pulls out her phone, holding it awkwardly and stretched out in front of her. Nails tapping loudly at the screen before she turns it towards Enid and she squeals at the sight of a very blurry picture of Thing being Wednesdays lock screen.

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m not even joking.”

Wednesday suddenly frowns, realising she made a grave mistake and pockets the phone.

“No it isn’t shut up.”

“It is!” Enid laughs, satisfied in the way Wednesday’s ears grow slightly pinker and how her eyes shift to look at the candle, to the tablecloth, to her shoes, to Enid, to the window, to Enid, to the road. Everywhere and nowhere. “I miss him, I’ve gotta visit soon.”

Wednesday shoots her an unimpressed look, sipping her wine.

“You’ve met him once.”

Clearly she underestimates Enid’s attachment to fluffy animals.

Enid smiles, nails tapping on the tablecloth, “I’ll visit soon. Speaking of visits, my mom cut hers short, if you hadn’t already guessed.”

“Ms Tanaka informed me this morning,” Wednesday says carefully, dark eyes analysing Enid’s face. “Your mother is incredibly irritating and not worth your time.”

She chokes on her Pepsi and wipes her chin with her napkin. She splutters a few times into her hand, “you can’t just say that! But…yeah you’re right.” After composing herself and clearing her throat, Enid swallows thickly, keeping her eyes on the quiet traffic passing them. “We had an argument, which is unusual but it just-” she sighs through her nose and bites her lip, catching Wednesdays gaze once again. “This one was different. It was quiet, normally it’s loud with all this yelling and throwing stuff, but she was quiet, and I was too and now I’ve got this weird feeling like I’m on edge and just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

There is this strange feeling, rolling about her stomach, like the tide crashing against the cliff face. A constant feeling of nausea.

Wednesday nods once, “I argue with my family.”

“Yeah but my mom-”

“Is a piece of work, I know.”

“Wednesday!”

The woman looks entirely unapologetic and all to pleased with herself that it makes Enid giggle. Her bluntness and straightforwardness is incredibly refreshing, but she has to wonder if it’s fully intentional or just the way Wednesday is.

“She’s…” It’s hard to think of the right word. She isn’t a good mother, by any means or way of measurement, that much is obvious. Esther definitely stunted Enid’s emotional growth and wellbeing and is an overall poor influence on her, but she’s her mom. At the end of the day it’s her mom and it’s so hard to completely hate her and shut her out, even if it’s what’s best. “Not healthy to be around, but I don’t know how I’d live without her.”

“But you’re not purely dependent on her? You live separate lives, in separate states with separate but stable incomes. You go months without physical contact or face to face meetings, I struggle to see how your ‘co-dependency’ is the issue, when in reality you can survive without her Enid. She is a parasite living off of a host,” Wednesday gestures to Enid, “you can live without her, not necessarily the other way around.”

Enid buries her face in her hands and groans, pushing her hair off of her face.

“That’s the problem, I can’t just cut her off. What about my dad and my brothers and my nieces and nephews? Losing her means losing them and I don’t know-I need family, Wednesday. I’m not like you, I don’t thrive by myself, I need to be surrounded by people, otherwise I’ll just drown in my own loneliness.”

The waitress sets their respective meals down in front of them, Enid’s appetite growing smaller by the minute.

Wednesday reaches for her fork and fixes Enid with a careful look over her glasses before sliding them up her nose once more, hiding away her most expressive feature. “I think you’ll find no problem in being surrounded by family, blood related or not.” Enid watches her softly and imagines brown eyes staring back at her from behind those dark lenses. “Life is too short to surround yourself with people who don’t care about you.”

That’s…good advice. Good, genuine advice and she didn’t even mention disembowelment or death.

How far she’s come.

Enid nods, hiding her smile behind her fork and spooning pasta into her mouth, immediately moaning at the taste and kicking her feet in excitement.

“God, that’s good.”

“You have sauce on your nose.”

“Crap.”

xXx

[Image posted on TikTok by an Enid Sinclair fan account-The image is one of multiple in a slideshow showing pictures taken from afar of Wednesday and Enid at dinner]

Amberrr

Omg enids goth friend makes them look like that couple from those viper books

     -Daisy 🌼

          -Now, I’m going to hold your hand when I say this…

//M1zzy//

IS THAT WEDNESDAY ADDAMS

Enidsinclairplscurbstompme

How tf do they know each other?

LAO

WAIT THE HAIR GUYS-WHAT IF???

       -Enidsinclairplscurbstompme

                      HOLY SHITTTTTTT

xXx

BUZZFEED

Model and influencer Enid Sinclair cosied up with the renowned but notoriously private Wednesday Addams, which could mean nothing.

(But seriously what does it mean?)

Scarlett Jones

13:25PM

Now if I had a nickel for Enid Sinclair being photographed out with broody, dark and mysterious B-lister and making headlines for it, I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird it happened twice. In the same month no less!

The 25 year old had recently made headlines and caused an internet meltdown over her soft launch with dreamy model Ajax Petropolus (causing heartbreaks to 15 year old girls everywhere). Yet, this pairing is more surprising and more exciting for a whole other reason.

Wednesday Addams, better known as W. Addams, is a multi-award-winning author, screenwriter, philanthropist and now movie producer, has always kept very much to herself, with little to no information shared. Believe me, look at her Wikipedia. In fact this is the first time she’s been photographed since the movie premier a few years ago, the sequel in her award-winning trilogy.

This pairing has fans raving and losing their minds, wondering what on Earth they could be meeting about. There couldn’t be two people who were more polar opposite than these two, in fact, it’s kind of giving…

[IMAGE DESCRIPTON: The famous meme of the all black house next to the pink house]

Some eagle-eyed fans were quick to notice Sinclair’s uncanny resemblance to one of the main protagonists in Addams’ book series, noting that the pair looked like the dream casting for a live action version of the characters. However, Sinclair isn’t an actress as we all know, so this is highly unlikely, and her pink tips are likely a coincidence. Some speculate that the influencer may be doing paid promo for the speculated third movie (which has yet to be officially announced or teased).

With Nevermore studios being strangely silent, Wednesday Addams’ new and quite frankly absurd social media presence, and Enid Sinclair teasing upcoming projects in previous articles, are fans correct to wonder if it’s all connected?

xXx

-@Vipersnest

ARE WE ALL CONVENIENTLY FORGETTING THAT THEY FOLLOW EACH OTHER AND SHES ONE OF ENIDS FAVOURITE AUTHORS???

     -@~~Michaela~~

            -IM LOSING MY MIND WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

xXx

“Fuck.”

Ajax snorts and continues to scroll through his phone, occasionally flashing her news articles or videos about the situation. It’s not his first time on set obviously, it’s his first time being this close though, and the amount of NDA’s he had to sign was almost laughable. They’re sat a little further back, on fold out chairs, as the directors and necessary crew watch some playbacks before them, it’s only a matter of time before Enid’s called back in front of the camera to reshoot the same scene for the fifteenth time.

On her left, the devil on her shoulder, Yoko huffs and puffs as she scrolls through her Twitter timeline. Enid had greatly underestimated the sheer size and obsessivity of the Viper De La Muerte fandom, who are collectively losing their minds over this crumb. She can’t blame them, their favourite author is seen in daylight for the first time in years (effectively beating the vampire allegations), and she’s seen with some A-lister who looks very similar to the character description of book threes protagonist. Funnily enough, the two of them look almost exactly like the two characters, which has obviously acted as a catalyst for the flurry of fanart she’s seeing on social media.

“Is this bad?” Enid winces, knees drawn up to her chest and playing with her shoelaces. Weems hadn’t spoken much to her this morning, however various contacts from the company’s promotional and management departments had reached out to her, via Yoko, urgently requesting a zoom meeting this afternoon. “I feel like it’s bad.”

Yoko pats her knee and shoots Ajax a dirty look when he giggles at some TikTok of a Viper fan screaming, whilst the background shows the dinner picture. “You guys got dinner, that’s not breaking any rules. Hell, the fact that movie production has gotten this far without any leaks is a miracle anyway.”

Enid nibbles on her bottom lip, “it’s my fault, my hair is dyed pink at the tips.”

“What? It’s sick man trust-”

“No Ajax,” Enid sighs, playing with a strand of hair, twirling the pink and blonde around her finger. “They wanted to use a wig, I insisted we just dye it. If my hair was fully blonde I doubt-”

The hand on her knee squeezes and Yoko shoots her a sympathetic look. “Babe, pink hair or not, they would’ve still been losing their minds. Besides, the whole point of you keeping the pink hair was for promotional aspects in the future.”

“But it’s too early-”

Ajax sneezes.

“That’s not for you to worry about.”

“But I feel responsible,” she hears her name being called and reluctantly stands, her knees complaining as she does so. It’s all beginning to quicky catch up to her, she thinks, the early mornings and late nights, day after day after day. God, she doesn’t know how people do this all the time. “I’ll speak to you later.”

Ajax sneezes another two times and Yoko wordlessly offers him a tissue.

He groans and blows his nose, sneezing a fourth time.

“I think I’m allergic to the flowers back in your trailer E.” He mumbles while Yoko frowns and mouths ‘E’ to herself. A nearby co-star who also stands to get ready for the scene, quietly complains about not having flowers in his trailer.

Yoko grimaces when he blows his nose again, instead turning her body to face Enid, “do you order the same ones every time?”

Enid backs up a little, accepting the jacket that’s given to her for her scene and turns her head so someone can quickly touch up her makeup.

“No I think Weems organises it.”

“I know nothing about that Ms Sinclair.”

Enid jumps at the voice echoing above her head. A perfectly manicured eyebrow raises in response, and she laughs weakly. “Ms Weems!”

“Larissa, darling,” a pale hand rests on her shoulder and the older woman gives her a once over before nodding to the makeup artist who then takes his leave. “I don’t deal with what actors do or don’t want in their trailer. Any requests made go through someone else. Now, are we ready for you to throw this fine young man in a woodchipper or not?”

Requests?

“I-I never requested the flowers,” Enid mumbles, “there’s fresh ones every day, they’re my favourites.”

“How lovely,” Weems smiles and gently steers Enid in the direction she needs to be, “and I apologise again, this will be the second day in a row you get absolutely doused in fake blood, though the montage in the movie will be hilarious, I’m sure.”

Enid laughs weakly and eyes the fake woodchipper and the various shredded body parts sat next to one of the prop masters. Xavier meets her eyes and grins widely, shaking a rubber, bloodied hand in greeting. She shuffles over to her marker and her co-star moves to stand opposite her, a plastic axe in hand and an evil sneer on his face.

She closes her eyes briefly and breathes in slowly.

Hold for three,

Hold for two,

Hold for one,

“Action.”

xXx

Enid slides the phone over to Wednesday and coos brightly at Thing, who jumps up and settles on her lap, sniffing inquisitively at their takeout. The other girl blinks in annoyance at the brightness of the screen and holds the hold up awkwardly so that it is parallel to her face.

“Pick your favourite Disney movies and we’ll tell you if you’re more Enid Sinclair or Wednesday Addams?”

The girl opens her mouth to comment, but Enid waves a finger and points to the phone.

“Ah ah ah, scroll down one.”

Wednesday’s frown deepens and a pale finger aggressively pokes the screen, the sound of her nail making Things head pivot in her direction.

“Are you a ray of sunshine like Enid Sinclair, or a dark storm cloud like Wednesday Addams, make your dream bagel and we’ll tell you.”

There’s silence in the room as Enid scratches Thing’s head with one hand and spears another bao bun from the carton. She watches Wednesday’s face morph into quite possibly the most expressive face she’s seen from the girl yet, because quite frankly, she looks devastated.

“Who is this Buzzfeed?”

She watches Wednesday reach behind her for the knife block on the counter.

“Put that down-”

xXx

Enid throws her script across the room and slings a flurry of curse words at the ceiling, pushing herself further in the couch and spinning until she’s upside down with her legs stretched up against the wall, Powerpuff Girls socks in all their glory. It’s hot today, hotter than usual and she can’t deal with it. In her cotton shorts and thin zip up hoodie, she’s wearing a tank top underneath but feels too bare in it, even in her own trailer, she’s overheating and her brain is scrambled and the aircon isn’t cold enough and-

“Enid?”

She lets her head hang back further and sees black converse in her doorway, slowly her eyes move up pale legs, black knee length shorts, a black jumper and an unimpressed face, identical twin braids and a carton of apple juice.

Wednesday lets herself in and closes the door shut behind her before Enid can protest, she had kept it propped open in hopes of some fresh air getting in. The very first thing she does upon entering the trailer is go over to Enid’s speaker and mute the Stray Kids song blaring from it (rude) and then she throws the apple juice on Enid’s lap.

Oof

Enid makes a happy noise and pulls the straw off the side and slides it out of its plastic wrapper, popping it into the box and carefully moving it to her mouth.

She can drink upside down right?

Her throat and her nose burns, as she coughs and hauls herself upright, fumbling around to place the juice box somewhere so she can focus on not dying. Wednesday extends a hand and Enid gratefully passes the box back and then thumps her chest. Jesus Christ why did that hurt so bad. Now the back of her throat feels funny and her nose burns.

Wednesday wordlessly straightens out the straw and passes the juice box back to her.

The cool liquid actually goes down the right way this time and actually helps out a little to cool her down. She watches out the corner of her eye as Wednesday stands still and continues to silently watch her.

“Y’know,” she fiddles with the straw, “you’ve gotta lot of free time around here, considering you’re like kinda in charge of this whole thing.”

Wednesday tilts her head slightly, “I have a very busy schedule ahead of me today, this is one of the rare occasions I’ve allowed myself to slack off, as one might say, I can leave if you’d prefer?”

Enid waves her off, reclining back a little on the couch, “nah you’re fine. I’m just flattered you choose to spend your free time with me. Almost like…we’re friends? Maybe even something more."

Something flashes in Wednesday’s eyes and her cheek twitches.

“More?”

Enid stands, stepping closer and nods, hands behind her back, “mhm,” she hums, close enough to smell Wednesday’s cologne. “You’re on your way to being promoted to best friend status!” She bends down and picks up the script she’d thrown earlier, missing the panicked look on Wednesday’s face. She rolls the script in her hand and gently taps in on Wednesday’s chest, “but I don’t think I’ll be great company, I’ve got this scene coming up and I just can’t quite get the hang of it.”

“Which one?”

She unfurls the script and passes it to Wednesday.

Within the next few days she’ll be doing a rehearsal and shoot of the scene. It’s nothing special really, compared to the chase scene, the explosion, woodchipper and the likes. This one is mostly dialogue heavy-well-technically it’s more…physical. Her character ends up at this nightclub or lounge place, she can’t fully remember at this moment, following a lead for Viper and singling out the gentleman who Viper believes to be connected to the murder case. Edin manages to get him alone, and since he works at the place as hired “muscle” he takes her through the back for some privacy. A staff room of sorts, except it’s dark, dimly lit, a dingy couch and an armchair. Lockers line the walls and various tools lay untouched. It’s obvious that Edin’s out of her depth here, that this is dangerous.

She knows she can’t fight him, knows she’s in his territory, and he’s twice her size, so what does she do?

Seduce him.

It goes well enough, she gets some information before he gets too handsy and won’t back off. So her character reaches for whatever is close enough, a claw hammer and hooks the sharp edge inside his mouth and tugs. Edin practically rips the guys cheek open, so he’s thrashing around, the hammer gets knocked out of her hands and smashes this crystal decanter on the table next to them. Edin grabs this huge corner of it and slashes him across the face and hooks it, in his already deformed mouth and tears his jaw off.

That part, Enid is fine doing, it’s the seducing she’s having trouble with.

“I see,” Wednesday murmurs, flicking through the pages, eyes no doubt lighting up when she gets to the gory stuff. “I will run lines with you.”

Uh.

She moves past Enid and settles on the couch, crosses one leg over the other and flips the script to the appropriate page. Enid remains standing there, staring widely at her and gaping like a fish.

“Um Wednesday-”

“I trust you know your lines?”

A weak and breathless laugh escapes her, “yeah but-” Brown eyes bore into green. “Ok, yeah ok fine. Um,” she attempts to sway her body and roll her shoulders.

Wednesday frowns, “are you having a medical emergency?”

Enid buries her face in her hands and quietly groans. “Imtryingtobesexy,” she mumbles and prays to God that the ground opens up and swallows her whole.

“Oh.”

You know it’s bad when Wednesday fucking Addams of all people acts like that.

“I’ll begin with my line, don’t do anything exaggerated, it’s not how I wrote the character. Don’t lie it on too thick, be subtle, teasing your ulterior motives haven’t quite yet been revealed, whether that be your real or fake ones. Approach slowly, act coy, not shy,” Wednesday mutters lowly, eyes tracing over the words on the page. “Understand?”

Not trusting herself to speak, Enid just nods.

And they run through the lines and it’s ok. It could be better but it’s fine, even if Wednesday speaks all her lines in the most monotone voice and it takes everything in Enid not to burst out laughing. It doesn’t last long though, Enid has slowly, subconsciously been drifting closer to where Wednesday sits and reaches a point in the script where she just freezes.

Wednesday barely reacts, and waits for Enid to keep going.

“I’m uh-this is where I’m meant to get on his lap. Like I have to straddle him.”

The goth hums, eyes tracing over the script like she didn’t already fucking know that. Enid’s mouth dries when Wednesday uncrosses her legs and shifts the script to one hand, moving it to the side and beckons her closer.

Enid’s legs are shaky, and her shins hit the edge of the couch, one arm reaches up so it’s past Wednesdays head and rests on the back of the couch. Brown eyes look expectedly up at her, pupils blown, and Enid bites the bullet and moves forward. Knees on each side of Wednesday’s hip, effectively straddling her but she hovers awkwardly, too afraid to sit down, too wary of the fact that this is crossing a major boundary.

Both professional and personal.

Strong hands settle on her waist, and she squeals when Wednesday pulls her down against her, her mouth dropping open at the feeling and how their chests press together. Dark eyes stare at Enid’s bottom lip and a hand on her waist tightens before letting go, Enid already misses her touch. She watches incredulously as Wednesday picks the script up again and continues as she was before.

Voice low, husky in Enid’s ear and of course this is where she reads her lines with some more emotion. When Enid is on her lap, turned on out of her mind.

“You guys meet there often?” She murmurs, tucking loose hair behind Wednesday’s ear. “The docks are so scary at night. But I love the lights along the pier.”

“Only sometimes, when I’m with the boys. It’s business, mostly.”

“Business? You mean you have two jobs?”

“What do you mean sweetheart?”

Enid gulps at the pet name, watching how Wednesday’s eyes rarely stray from the script she holds to the side. But she doesn’t need to look at it, they both know that. Enid shifts on her lap, hoodie gently falling off one shoulder to reveal soft skin. She reaches out and cups Wednesday’s jaw, gently turning her face until their eyes meet and Enid tilts her head.

“You work here don’t you? What business would a security guard have down there?”

“You’d be surprised,” Wednesday breathes out and that hand is back on her hip and Enid wonders if Wednesday can feel her heart racing. Her mothers voice rings like church bells in her head, but Enid can’t find it in her to care. In this moment she doesn’t feel any kind of shame. She doesn’t really feel anything other than desire.

Closer, she needs to be closer and-

A harsh knock on her trailer door cause her to jump and fly off of Wednesday so fast that she doesn’t touch the ground until she pauses to grab the door handle and pull it open. Her cheeks red and her chest flushed, Yoko shoots her a strange look, which widens into a smile when she sees Wednesday in the background.

“What are you guys up to?”

“Running lines,” Enid rushes out, trying to slow her breathing. “Everything ok, you good?”

She’s so screwed.

Yoko smirks, “me and Divina were about to grab something to eat, you two wanna come?”

Enid nods hurriedly, “yup! Awesome, cool, Wednesday come on!” Wednesday stands and calmly exits the trailer and shoots Yoko a glare, the other woman just responds with a shit eating grin. Enid follows them on shaky legs and rubs her clammy hands on her hoodie.

She is so fucked.

xXx

Wednesday Addams likes a routine. No, she loves a routine. It’s one of the few pleasures this loathly world has to offer and one of the few things she would sparingly use the word “love” to describe. Truth be told the highest and most euphoric she ever feels is once typing up the perfect checklist on her typewriter, the fresh ink, perfect pullet points, categorizing her plans for the day.

She starts her mornings at 5am, sharp, greets Thing and discusses their previous evenings with each other. He always seems to have a lot to say, occasionally he leaves her mouse. Unfortunately her responses are lacklustre, she doesn’t dream often and sadly wasn’t flooded by any intrusive night terrors.

Then she showers, ice cold, mint body wash, all natural. Her shampoo a similar scent, she conditions and applies to correct oils before exiting and towelling herself off, slipping into a black silk gown. She braids her hair, lets it air dry, as she applies her skin care.

Her wardrobe offers a vast selection of all black which she struggles to choose from, but once dressed she grabs of seed and exits her home. Thing instantly on her heels, following her like some stray pup along the streets, hissing at any cat or human that comes close. Wednesday feeds the crows, and they flock around her before she even reveals her bag. Thing is on his best behaviour and doesn’t try and nibble on one this time. She gets strange looks, sat on a bench, with crows surrounding her, red beady eyes and omens of death and misfortune.

Eventually the sun gets too high, and she returns home. The kettle boils and her tea is had in front of her typewriter, as she tries to get some writing done early. Often the time is very unproductive, and she glowers in silence before checking the grandfather clock and realising it’s time to leave.

8am, she gets coffee from her favourite place, the only decent place in this city for coffee, and Lurch picks her up.

9am she arrives at work.

Now, if there is one thing to hate about this movie business, it’s the unpredictability of the day’s work ahead. It changes all of the time and she hates to admit it, but it gets under her skin. The changes in location, people, scene. When she’s planned and created a certain idea in her head, it is greatly frustrating for someone to come along and tear it up. She adds routine when she can, she tries to get lunch between 1 and 2, and dinner between 7 and 10.

She often leaves unannounced to “recharge” in her office, situated inside of the company building on the lot. Bianca often barges in, accuses her of hiding and tells her that she’s needed for some “crucial decision making.” It’s idiotic, she wrote the book, everything is there on paper, step by step on what needs to be included. Why does she need to sign off on certain set pieces when she had masterfully already provided a detailed description of what it looks like.

Neanderthals. She’s surrounded by neanderthals.

In the evening, slipping into night, she enjoys walking outside, even if the air stinks and can feel predatory eyes watching her from the shadows. She dares them to try anything.

She’ll have more tea before slipping into her evening gown and cleansing her face, untying and loosening her hair, combing through it gently.

Her bed is black with a dark, laced canopy above it. Detailed, varnished dark wood frames and a blanket at the foot of the bed purely for decoration (and Thing). She’ll cross her arms over her chest and lie still, slipping into an unfulfilling and wasteful rest.

Except, that’s what her daily schedule used to look like.

Now it includes cursing her entire bloodline, in a circle of lit candles and the family grimoire in hand, before she goes to sleep.

Why? Because an awful curse, an illness has befallen on her. Wednesday finds herself subject to all kinds of hallucinations during the day, flashes of blonde when she isn’t there. Feelings of…longing. She pokes at her cheeks in the mirror, pale now, but before? Pinkened, one could perhaps dare to say blushing. It’s entirely uncharacteristic, perhaps she is dying. She entered her various symptoms into the search engine Eugene calls Google, and it concluded that she either has stage 3 brain cancer, or gas.

Neither seem realistic, for she fears in reality it is something much more sinister. What kind of self-respecting, touch adverse individual pulls a woman onto her lap? Wednesday squeezes her eyes shut and grips the sink. She could never have foreseen the consequences of her action, because now Enid has comfortably grown accustomed to touching her, all because of the rehearsal in the trailer. Since then she has watched in despair as the flood escapes the dam. Enid leans her head on Wednesday’s shoulders, links arms with her, drags her about by the cuff of her sleeve.

It's insufferable.

It’s pathetic.

It’s wonderful.

Enid Sinclair of all people. Of any and all specimens on this earth, it’s her that has unlocked the Addams family curse inside Wednesday. Enid who giggles too loudly when she texts. Enid who sheds an abnormal amount, so much so that Wednesday finds blonde hair in her own home, which Enid has only visited a handful of times. Enid who speaks and texts in abbreviated codes that Wednesday doesn’t understand.

But it’s all her fault. She welcomed it, she very much encouraged it to an extent. Wednesday is many things, inquisitive being one of the main ones. As a child she regularly engaged in life threatening experiments with Pugsley, but recently her experiments have lessened in danger (at least physical harm). No, her experiments have had Enid at the centre as Wednesday tries to navigate whatever it is that’s going on.

Now look, she hadn’t intentionally lathered that letter with her perfume, that would be unprofessional. Did she touch it? Yes. Did she perhaps hold it close to her? Yes. However at the end of the day she was merely conversing with Xavier and looking over the props for the day, it was merely a coincidence. Enid’s reaction, however?

Wednesday had never experienced carnal desire before that day. Since then her life has been a mess.

Elevated heart rate, flushed skin, a strange warmth in her belly. If this is what longing feels like, then she hates it and wishes she hadn’t entertained Enid’s attempts at forming a friendship.

She glares at the blonde, over the top of her tinted glasses. Enid, all smiles and bubbly laughter as she mills around the area, speaking with extras and surrounding crew members. She’s infectious, everyone around her catches her smile and sends their own one back, their laughs blend together and Wednesday’s ears ache.

It’s a horribly sunny day, the sun stretched out high in the sky, without a cloud in sight. Irritatingly it’s their first time filming in a public location, and of course it’s a perfect summers day, unlike the ideal cloudy afternoon she had in mind. Much of the filming today is very simple, and just shots of Enid walking down the street, then a costume change will be done along with switching some of the extras and their outfits around and they’ll shoot some more of her going about her business on the same street. This location is what they’re using for the outside of Edin’s apartment building, so they’re finally just filming some of the scenes that are meant to appear earlier in the movie.

Frustratingly, they’ve been here for nearly no time at all and they’ve already been spotted.

The area is blocked off and there’s even a police car at each side of the street, informing the public and advising any pedestrians that live in the area. But there are heads sticking out of the windows above them, phones snapping quick pictures and obnoxious shouts being made.

God she hates this.

Yoko seems to share the same sentiment as she glares at some jeering men standing behind the cordoned off area. She too dons tinted glasses and an all-black outfit, it doesn’t occur to Wednesday that they are a mirror image of each other, not even when Enid had taken one look in their direction, smirked, and took a picture.

The cigarette dangling between Yoko’s lips smells awful. “Those will kill you,” she mutters, observing the rows of windows above them. The apartment buildings are not bigger than four floors, it’s almost exactly what she pictured when writing the book.

Yoko shrugs, taking the cigarette between two fingers, “I’ll die young and hot, I’m ok with that.” Wednesday refrains from telling her how cigarettes yellow teeth and nails. The other woman takes another drag from it, casting her a look out the corner of her eye. “Y’know, Addams. Life is short, if you want something, take it. Indulge in it.”

“If you’re trying to imply something, I’d rather you just spit it out.”

The other woman sighs, “if you want something, take it.”

“Cigarettes aren’t free, that would be stealing. Are you suggesting I commit a crime, Ms Tanaka?”

That response earns her a long groan and she refrains from smirking at the sound.

“You’re an author, aren’t you meant to like understand metaphors or whatever,” Yoko grumbled, “I’m trying to be a good friend.”

That catches Wednesday’s attention, “but we’re not friends.”

Yoko’s jaw clenches and she takes another long drag from her cigarette, grey tendrils swirling into the air around them. “I didn’t mean to you,” Wednesday follows her line of sight and frowns when it lands on Enid. “I know you guys were like seconds away from fucking in that trailer.”

She wishes Bianca still let her carry a heavier assault weapon, but the knife in her coat will do. Her fingers curl around the hilt and she swallows heavily, taking a second to compose herself. “Watch your words very carefully before I do something about that mouth of yours.”

Yoko raises her hands defensively, “I’m looking out for Enid-”

“Enid is a grown woman. You’re not her mother.”

That was a cheap shot.

Yoko scoffs and Wednesday groans internally, already predicting the earful she’s about to get.

“Trust me, I am well aware I am not that woman-”

There’s a sudden tug on Wednesday’s sleeve and a weight on her side. “What woman?” Enid smiles at them both and Wednesday itches to smile softly back at her. “You guys gossiping about me?” At their hesitance to answer, the smile wavers slightly but Yoko jumps in at the last minute.

“Divina, I was telling Wednesday how often I’m staying at her place, I may as well move in.”

“Yoko do not U-Haul, it’s only been a few months.”

“I know but-”

Wednesday drowns them out, speaking over the top of her and she tries to ignore the burning heat of Enid’s hand through the material of her sleeve. Or the sickeningly sweet perfume that tickles her nose, or even the coconut shampoo. The bright enthusiastic green eyes and lopsided smile. A large part of her resents Enid, though she suspects that resent isn’t the right word here.

Her eyes slide from the pair, over to Divina stood with a headset next to one of the trailers parked a little further up the street. Divina’s eyes are on Yoko, even from this distance Wednesday can see the affection spilling out of her. She’s an efficient worker, one of the few that hasn’t fully gotten on Wednesday’s nerves, Divina had worked hard to earn Wednesday’s respect over the years. It’s a shame she lost it all when she began dating Yoko.

The woman is like Bianca if Bianca was an insufferable, hated men, and decided to cosplay as a vampire daily. Bianca and Yoko serve as her antagonists she thinks, Wednesday wonders what she did in a past life to earn double the grief and nagging they give her. Goodness knows why Enid keeps Yoko around, there seems to be some kind of loyalty often linked to kinship. But despite the lack of blood relations, they’re closer than sisters.

The love between them is palpable. As it is between Divina and Yoko. Between Bianca and Xavier, though neither will grow a pair and admit it. Between Weems and everyone who works under her.

Love seems to surround Wednesday nowadays, and she is sick of it.

xXx

@Enidslosteyelash

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: A picture of Enid filming in public, the photo is taken from a distance and is blurry. Enid is in costume and very obviously trying to hide her face]

@Ava <3

-IM LITERALLY TWEAKING TF OUT WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

@Vipersnest

-guys what if its real. what if our fancast is real

@Quenlin

-SHES NOT EVEN AN ACTOR THO

     -@Enidslosteyelash

   -DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A FUCK???

xXx

@Enid Sinclair ✔                

Life recently.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Enid’s Instagram post includes a picture of the front of a script titled ‘Viper De La Muerte III’, a mirror selfie of her in a makeup trailer, getting her tips dyed pink, a picture of Enid drenched in blood and beaming at the camera, a picture of her smiling as she’s stood next to Wednesday Addams who is glowering at whoever is taking the picture. The last photo is a black screen and in white block writing it says “‘Viper De La Muerte III, The Final Chapter, April 2025]

2.3 M Likes

Comments 8503

Yoko_Tanaka

Not a single photo of me in this dump

ViperFanAccount

WHAT THE FUCK

Vada.Alvez

👏🙌

xXx

Despite the rumours circulating the internet for the past few weeks, Weems and production had decided to keep the announcement date the same. As usual Wednesday stayed out of it the best she could, although looking at her phone she had seen that Eugene had logged into her Instagram account and reposted the movie studios post.

She already regrets Enid talking her into this.

PR had more or less demanded that she (Eugene really) had to like and repost the movie studios post, as well as like Enid and Vada’s respective posts. Enid had more pictures to post, purely because she had actually filmed the most. Whereas Vada had barely been on set yet, however they can’t let the audience know that. So Vada strategically posted a picture taken of herself and Enid at the table read, a picture of herself at a costume fitting and a picture of the third Viper De La Muerte book, sta next to her script on a coffee table.

Subtle, yet enough to feed the starving masses for now.

Leeches they all are, Wednesday can’t do anything without seeing it all splashed in her face. The newsstands she walks past, the teaser posters somehow already put up on bus stops, the ominous movie title and release date flashing up on billboards for a total of five seconds before it shifts to some lingerie or KFC ad. It’s awful, though she gains some satisfaction in knowing her readers must be delighted.

It’ll only get worse, the promotion will get bigger, flashier, and worst of all, she’s expected to help out with it this time.

The horrors.

She hears Enid clattering about in her kitchen and tries to not dwell on her failure in distancing herself from the girl. Unfortunately it seems as though Enid is as stubborn as Wednesday, and as bad at picking up on social cues.

Oh well, what can you do?

Wednesday sighs quietly as she signs the cheque, she’ll make sure to drop it off at the florists some morning before work. Who knew floral arrangements could be so costly? The flowers in Enid’s trailer get replaced every three to four days, so she ensures to hand the cheque in at the start of each month to cover it. The next month being October, rolling in in a few days.

Her lips almost twitch at the thought but she frowns and shakes her head, barely able suppress her excitement at the thought of her favourite month rolling in. Cold nights where her toes turn numb and tingly, pitch black nights that smell of smoke, tales of horror and gore. Wednesday takes in a deep breath to compose herself, before continuing writing.

“Whatcha got there?”

Enid places their plates down on the coffee table, again, another bad habit the girl has inflicted on Wednesday, eating in the living room. You’d thing she was an impotent frat boy who owned three pieces of furniture, at least one of which being a beanbag. The girl had shown up uninvited, of course, with a bag of takeout in hand likely from an establishment that hasn’t passed three stars or a hygiene test in over five years.

However Wednesday’s iron stomach can handle it, even if the food itself may look somewhat suspicious.

Wednesday slides the cheque to the side, under one of her coffee table books, an anthropological book about death and burial rights through time. “Nothing that concerns you,” she grabs a fork and her plate, pleased to see that the different foods on her plate aren’t touching, Enid seems to have picked up on her annoyance last time. “You have sauce on your top, and you haven’t even started eating yet. Your childish antics never fail to impress me Sinclair.”

Enid pouts and looks down at her top where there is a distinct dark patch.

“Aww, I’ll have to drop it off at the dry cleaners before work tomorrow,” she sighs, picking up her plate and cutlery. She kicks her feet up to rest on the coffee table but quickly removes them once she sees Wednesday’s fork move to poke her. “Speaking of, that actor’s on set tomorrow for rehearsals.”

Wednesday listens whilst absentmindedly poking at her suspiciously shaped chicken, “what actor?” She mumbles, swapping her plate for her glass and taking a sip of her water.

To be honest she doesn’t fully keep up to date with actor names, half of the time it’s Hollywood nepo babies that have as much talent in them as she does in her pinky finger. A waste of time, yet Weems argues that they always bring in views.

“Umm, God what’s his name? He was in the other movies, recurring character and all that,” Enid mutters, tapping her lip with her fork thoughtfully before her eyes light up. “Oh, Tyler Galpin!”

Wednesday spits out her water.

Chapter Text

“Tomorrow?”

Enid stares at her like she’s crazy, a valid observation, seeing as Wednesday just sprayed her water all over her coffee table, quite possibly ruining their side dishes in the process. It is…highly unusual for her to have that kind of reaction, especially in front of someone else, however the news simply caught her off guard.

A napkin is passed to her, and she frowns as she harshly wipes her chin.

Soft eyes watch her carefully and Enid gently says, “hey, so that was actually insane.” Wednesday glares at her in response, wiping up droplets on her neck. “No, I just mean like, I’ve seen you blink five times in total probably and you just did a spit take. Wednesday Addams did a spit take-”

Wednesday shifts and turns quickly, her fork pointed at Enid’s face which freezes when she realises the position she’s in.

“You will tell no one.”

Enid nods slowly, wrapping warm fingers around Wednesday’s wrist and lowering it. “Sure, but do you maybe wanna explain that.”

This is humiliating.

“He’s a bumbling idiot who has…affections for me,” she mutters, throwing her napkin and fork aggressively onto her coffee table, minimal appetite gone, swallowed by something else inside of her. Something uncomfortable and repulsive.

“Oh.” That response makes Wednesday’s body tighten and she turns to look at Enid, who looks…uncomfortable? She shifts in her seat and avoids Wednesday’s eyes. How very peculiar. But like the flip of a switch, Enid perks up and paints a bright smile onto her face, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Boy trouble huh? Tell me about him, is he cute?”

Well it seems her actions have been drastically misinterpreted.

Wednesday regains her composure previously lost during her childish outburst and reaction. Her shoulders roll back and lock into their stiff and permanent pose, her legs cross over and she turns stares blankly at Enid. “Due to some irritating legalities and contracts, I am forbidden from harming him. Unfortunate for me, because I detest the man. Conversing with a cockroach would be preferable.”

“Oh!” The information seems to interest Enid greatly, a genuine smile now on her face as she leans in closer, “maybe you’ve just got to let him down gently.”

“I told him I’d rather consume wet cement than go out to dinner with him. I fear I cannot stress enough how disinterested I am.” With his wide hopeful eyes and lopsided smile, Wednesday scowls just thinking of him. He looks like an idiot. “He is the living and breathing human embodiment of white bread Enid.”

“Because he’s basic...?”

“Basic, bland, boring, another word beginning with b,” Wednesday utters, watching Thing hop up onto the coffee table and begin sniffing about their food. “Watching paint dry would be preferable to speaking with him.”

Enid snorts, seemingly quite amused by the whole thing. Wednesday can’t help but be slightly envious of her, she’s never had to sit and listen to Tyler try and explain movies to her. Make no mistake, she is certainly unexperienced in pop culture and modern-day media (a noob, Eugene had called her, whatever the hell that’s meant to mean), though she is by no means stupid. She knows cinema, the first moving picture she ever saw, she was three years old and enraptured by the 1922 classic, Nosferatu.

It was the first and only time in her life that she’s ever laughed.

Pugsley cried when he first watched it.

A hand on her knee rips her out of her daydream and she stares at it, wondering when Enid gained the nerve to do such a thing so casually. “Listen,” she starts, and Wednesday does not, too distracted by the loose strand of hair framing Enid’s face. “When we’re on set, I’ll try and not leave you two alone together, besides, most of his scenes are with me anyway.”

Wednesday nods, “I appreciate the sentiment, I will-how do you say it? Throw you under the bus, when I see him.”

“Now hold on a second-”

xXx

Wednesday met Tyler a little over six years ago, a few months before the filming of the first Viper movie.

The first book had been published when she was 16, ten years ago or so now, and whilst she retained her anonymity, the books sold like wildfire. She had never quite expected her novel to grow so popular, though it was secretly thrilling to realise how many likeminded individuals there were out there. Truthfully, she expected the target audience to be small, though she was never in it for the fame or fortune.

The leeches came soon after, in their suits and slick back gelled hair. Their greedy smiles and promises of Hollywood. Of course she slammed the door in their face. However her fathers incessant needling forced her to hear them out. A live action bloodbath, it did sound appealing and with the additional money she could purchase her own Addams mansion, (the book sales helped but not that much) perhaps even complete her medieval weapon collection.

When she signed her name in ink, she hadn’t quite realised how her life would change. How everything got a lot louder. Regret lingers now when she recalls her early decisions, wondering if she’d do the same if she were approached now. The studios got to planning, insistent they could manage without her watching their every move, finally when she was 18, they were ready for filming. Wednesday remembers the day she met Weems, the woman she sold her life’s work to, the woman whose company was funding her vision.

She was double Wednesday’s size.

Truly, an impressive woman who could hold her own against the misogynistic pigs who tried to tell her how to direct her own movie.

One thing Wednesday learnt very early on is that everything moves very quickly in the film industry and if you don’t keep up, you’ll get left behind. It should have been daunting, an 18-year-old girl who had previously never even left New Jersey, traipsing across America, and then Europe.

Tyler Galpin was 20 years old, a television actor from one of those popular teen shows which she knew nothing about. The kind that would label any mediocre white boy a heartthrob and launch his career forward despite being nothing more than a pretty face. And he was, a pretty face. Objectively she could recognise that, could perhaps see why his fanbase fell in love with his wide clueless eyes and curly hair.

Though she never saw the appeal, she made that very clear.

He was cast as a side character, the owner of a small coffee shop, coincidentally, Vipers residence is located above the shop. He exists purely for the comedic interactions between the two, his cheerful smiles and greetings, met with Vipers death stare. You could perhaps call them friends, he patched her up in the first book, she rescued him from kidnappers in the second and threatened him slightly less than she did in the first installation. Though it is purely platonic. Romantic entanglements hadn’t even crossed her mind when writing it, until she realised how some fans speculated a possible romance.

Disgusting.

Though she can’t be blamed for society’s heteronormative views and how a man and woman can’t be companions without romance involved. The dating allegations between Tyler and Vada during the press tour for the second movie didn’t help either.

Wednesday first met Tyler in New York on her first day on set. He was already in costume and chatting animatedly with whoever would listen to his rambles. Then someone tapped his shoulder, informed him that Ms Addams was here and he spun around, wide, welcoming smile dropping at the sight of her.

Good. He should be intimated, she had thought.

But no, the breathless, wide-eyed look meant something else entirely. As did his frequent hellos and flowers and cards. An admirer, Wednesday was more irritated than flattered, she didn’t have time for boys and their silly games. The worst part was Tylers inability to take a hint. Filming the second movie was the exact same, though she was eternally thankful she didn’t have a cell phone or social media at that time.

His infatuation would be 100 times worse in that case.

But in between movies she can once again drop off the face of the Earth and return to her secluded homestead in New Jersey. That was, until she made the move to New York, now her privacy is stretched thin, the chances of bumping into Tyler outside of work are higher than before.

New York was rude and mean, it was dark and smells foul, a typical big city. Misery incarnate, how woefully wonderful indeed. The move was a strategic one, mostly work driven, though her home in New Jersey sits untouched and hopefully undusted too. If she’s lucky it’ll be gloomier than before and have twice as many spider webs and nests.

Wednesday despised the city, the people, everything it stood for and represented. The city of dreams, the land of opportunity; except today alone she saw two rats fight over a half-eaten hot dog, and old man in a G-string hump a lamppost and a Viagra ad on a billboard. You’d have to be very lucky to make it in New York, and when you do make it, it’s hell.  She spotted her face and name everywhere this morning, her stupid device kept pinging with news alerts.

Me

This device keeps making noises.

It is deeply irritating.

Eugene Ottinger

Your notifications???

I’ll disable them for your social media

That way you wont get notified for every mention and stuff

Later we can look into your phones settings and sort your general notifications out too

This is so cool

Im literally giving advice to THE W. Addams

She grimaces lightly before holding the button at the side of the device and shutting it down, pocketing it and hoping to forget it’s existence for the next few hours. The meeting that she’s been stuck in for forty-five minutes has been so mind numbingly boring that she’s close to just standing up and leaving. Though she senses it may be coming to a close, they’re on slide 37 of 40 and everyone is poorly concealing yawns behind their hands.

Financing, box office, profits, numbers upon numbers, multi-coloured pie chart after multi-coloured pie chart. She would be lying if she said she was paying attention, her presence technically isn’t even required though having the “boss” in the room just checks another box. They all look to her at the end of the meeting and once she offers her usual, single nod of approval, everyone lets out the breath they’ve been holding. She tries not to show her annoyance when their chairs all screech as they hurry to leave the meeting as soon as possible.

Just one of many sounds in this place that get on her nerves. Her personal hell, she hadn’t realised how suffocating New York would be until she first moved here. It’s never quiet, she’s never fully alone. It’s like she willingly put on a straitjacket and highly underestimated the consequences of her actions, now she’s stuck, slowly driving herself mad because she loves to torture herself.

She always said once the last movie was done, she’d move back.

A man chews gum too loudly in the elevator next to her, too many people walk aimlessly in her path on her way to soundstage C. It’s one minor incident after another, slowly but surely, it’s all getting to her, bubbling to the surface.

Security nods to her as she passes by and steps into the large warehouse. It’s quieter today, although today is only a rehearsal. Naturally she gravitates towards the familiar musical giggle that floats through the air, though she stops suddenly at a peculiar sight. She shuffles behind a tech trolley, keeping a disturbed eye on her target.

Wednesday feels someone creep up next to her, the sharp smell of spearmint tells her that it’s Yoko.

“What are you glaring at?” She chuckles, looking over Wednesday’s head and then nodding thoughtfully, “ah, Ken and Barbie.”

Tyler and Enid chuckle quietly amongst themselves, their laughs each light and musical, happy. Wednesday’s eyes narrow at the sight. They each hold their scripts loosely at their sides, forgotten, important, something tells her that they’re not currently rehearsing. No, they just happen to be enjoying each other’s company.

How disgusting.

Yoko snorts and nods knowingly, “yeah, they look like Netflix’s wet dream, I can only imagine the number of shitty shows they’d love to slap their faces on. Hell if that doesn’t work, a joint Hollister campaign is calling their names.”

Perturbed, Wednesday reluctantly draws her eyes away from pink and blonde hair, to instead look up at Yoko.

“I didn’t understand half of what you just said.” Most pop culture references are wasted on her, at this point she wonders why people even bother to try and discuss them with her. She holds no desire nor willingness to learn or divulge in her companions idiotic conversations. Every day she engages with them she worries she can feel her brain beginning to rot away. “You may want to rescue her,” Wednesday mutters, watching as Tyler retrieves his phone from his pocket. “It’s a trap.”

Yoko looks between herself and the pair, brows knitted in confusion.

“What?”

Enid looks over at Tylers screen, the two of them huddled close together and he launches into a story.

“Ah too late,” Wednesday tsks quietly, “She’ll be stuck for twenty minutes, forced to stare at a multitude of variations of the same picture of Galpin’s crusty mutt. He loves to tell people how he rescued it from the pound.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

“It’s why I’m now a cat person.”

Yoko’s bark of laughter is unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. She usually only receives that response from Eugene or Enid. Perhaps also her father, but he usually laughs at her expense. Wednesday glowers at the feeling of Yoko’s bony elbow hitting her arm, though there is an unexpected warmth in her chest which she can’t quite identify yet.

How very peculiar.

And despite her deep hatred of the man and his stupidly curled hair, the soft smile Enid shoots her way whilst he continues to discuss his dog, almost makes it all worthwhile.

Inevitably Tyler had found her, semi-formal greetings and exhausting “how are you’s” were exchanged and she had to pretend as though his cologne wasn’t making her want to claw her eyes out. In fact it made her sneeze. Twice. Enid had squealed upon hearing it, going on about how Wednesday sneezes like a kitten.

What a poor day.

However rehearsal kept everyone busy and Wednesday left early as to avoid Tyler. Unprofessional, yes, however a necessary precaution. She doesn’t hear him; in fact she enjoys every time she gets to reject his advances and compliments. But it gets tiring, this whole ordeal already drains her enough, she doesn’t need to add any excess stress to her days. It’s interesting how her body just seems to slow down when she gets back on the filming schedule. Those months of uninterrupted solitude, only to be thrown back into the bright flashing lights of New York. If asked she would always deny how quickly it gets to her, how overwhelming the change is.

She watches Tyler and Enid now, four days in, filming a mere few feet away from her. She stands stiffly with her arms crossed, watching Tyler jog after Enid up the street, his apron flapping as he does so, and Wednesday glowers at the technician who breathes too loudly next to her.

Everything in this city is too loud.

She can’t wait until this is done, to sell her townhouse and move back to her isolated holiday home. Thing would like it better there full time she thinks, less rats but more mice perhaps. The air is clearer, you can see the stars at night, and the occasional black bear strolling by.

Enid spins on her heel and thumps Tyler on the chest, their words lost in the busy New York air, but it doesn’t matter. Wednesday knows them all off by heart, she wrote them, she subtly moves her lips in time with Enid’s, watching awestruck as her work seems to play out perfectly before her. Despite all her grievances about this whole thing, the smidgeon of satisfaction she feels when she witnesses an accurate page to screen scene of what she wrote, makes it almost worth it.

Even if Tyler is an absolute pain, his casting was also more than adequate.

His role in this movie is smaller than the previous ones. In the first movie he is an acquaintance, the second, a loyal ally, the third, well due to the significant lack of Viper his role was made smaller. Though of course the character connects the dots that Edin’s character may be connected to Viper, who mysteriously vanished months before.

Their meeting is later on in the book/movie, a little into the third quarter. They clash, despite their obvious similarities and happy go lucky personas, they can’t stand each other. Wednesday is aware that fans speculate it is because they’re in a love triangle with Viper, each fighting for her attention. The theory is stupid obviously, as Edin doesn’t even know who Viper is at this point, even though she has perhaps grown fond of her secret admirer/partner.

Nevertheless, Wednesday supposes she can see where the fans are coming from.

She watches as Enid bares her teeth at Tyler, and hisses something at him before turning and marching off, body swarmed and lost amongst the crowd of extras bustling about the streets. Someone yells cut and the crowd disperses, the garbled voice through the megaphone is lost on Wednesday and she pays him no mind, instead glaring at the small crowd stood about thirty feet back, pressed up against crowd control barrier. A few officers lined up before them and she twitches when some cameras flash in her direction.

The filming in public locations shouldn’t last long. Vada will be on set tomorrow to shoot her outdoor scenes as well so they can get it all over with, before continuing filming at the studio. She can barely supress a shudder at the thought of having to deal with both Vada and Tyler on set again at the same time.

“Wednesday, hey!”

Tyler, for reasons unknown, seems oddly breathless from his short jog over and is giving her an eerie smile. She doesn’t return it, instead her arms remain folded and her expression neutral.

“Your shoelace is untied Galpin,” it isn’t, but she does take the brief distraction of him looking down at his feet, for her to walk off in another direction. Of course, he hurries after her and a hand on her elbow makes her spin around, eyes flaming with murderous intent.

He laughs weakly and let’s go, wiping his hands on his jeans. “So, I’m only here for like a few more days-”

“Pity.”

“But I was thinking we could grab dinner tonight? Just the two of us, I know the wrap up dinner is at the end of the month but-”

A different hand slips into the crook of her elbow and familiar fruity perfume hits her nose and she’ll be damned if she admits that her eyes fluttered shut slightly at the smell. Enid’s hold is strong, affirming, grounding, but somehow all around gentler than Tylers. Her body leans into Wednesday’s, hair tickling her cheek.

“Oh man,” Enid says with her saccharine smile and without an ounce of sympathy. “I’m sorry Tyler, me and Wends have something on tonight. Bummer, anyway great scene! See you tomorrow,” she waves with a smile and tugs Wednesday along with her, the latter following like a lost puppy.

Pathetic.

People smile politely at them in passing as Enid leads them to the small foldaway craft table and snags herself an apple juice, humming happily as she sips.

Wednesday takes a single green grape and begins to slowly peel it.

“We don’t have any plans later, in fact you told me you were going to crush the mines tonight, whatever that means.”

“Got that Stardew Valley grind on y’know?”

Wednesday finishes peeling the grape and passes it to Enid who gasps happily and pops it in her mouth. She often complains how the grape skin can appear a strange texture or become hard to chew on when the juiciest part of the grape has already been swallowed.

She bites the inside of her cheek and subtly nods at the girl, “very cunning Sinclair, I underestimated you.”

The smile she receives in return keeps her up all night.

Tomorrow, she feels sicker than before.

xXx

The phone rings a few times before it is finally picked up. It was unsurprising to find out her brother owned a phone, similarly it was unsurprising how eager her parents were to share his number when requested.

“Um hello?”

“Do us all a favour and grow a pair Pugsley, your intimidation needs work. Imagine your mortal enemy was on the other end and you answered the phone with, um.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Wednesday?” He says through a yawn and she sighs impatiently, he should be more than awake at this time of day.

The car jerks a little as Lurch goes over a pothole or a person, and he shoots her an apologetic glance through the mirror.

Wednesday tsks, looking out the tinted windows, “must you say everything like it’s a question? It’s a wonder you are betrothed to an actual human woman.”

“This isn’t your landline; do you have a cell phone?”

“Yes, please keep up, now answer the question.”

Another moments silence, followed by some rustling. She hears him mutter something and his footsteps, heavy and clumsy as he must be leaving the room.

Finally, the moving stops and he breathlessly replies, “I’m not betrothed to anyone, we’ve been going out a few months, that’s all.”

Wednesday inspects her nails, Thing chipped one this morning with his tooth during their playfight.

“There is a woman, willingly in your bed,” she drawls, “I apologise for any assumptions, but an Addams does not date casually Pugsley. You and I both know better than that.” It’s true after all, just look at her parents and every other couple on her family tree.

Soulmates, supposedly.

Pugsley is quiet on his end, so Wednesday fills the silence.

She always was a good sister.

“What’s her blood type?”

“O-negative.”

“Zodiac?”

“Since when did you believe in-”

“Pugsley.”

“Capricorn.”

“Address?”

“Wednesday,” and curse him, he’s laughing at her. How dare he? After all she’s doing for him. The phone remains balanced on her shoulder, between that and her ear. The pen she holds is halted in the middle of writing on her notepad. She’s not even a quarter of the way through her questions. “You can meet her when I decide it’s the right time, ok?”

She can’t remember when her little brother finally grew up. Maybe she missed it. Perhaps she was too preoccupied with her own life and missed his in the blink of an eye.

The cap of the pen is slid back on, and she places the notepad on the seat next to her, grabbing the phone with her hand once more.

“I’ll find it all out myself anyway, I just wanted to give you the opportunity.”

“That’s very generous,” he says sincerely, though she suspects a hint of sarcasm, she can’t be sure. Nevertheless she hums in agreement, watching through the windows as Lurch pulls up to the studio. The security officer checking his ID before waving them in. “Hey, Wednesday, you’re good yeah?”

“Ask me more coherently and I might actually answer.”

Pugsley sighs, “mom and dad are worried. You barely call, barely write, and I saw the news about the movie, which is great and all, but you’re taking care of yourself right?”

She can hear muffled noises on the phone, speaking perhaps and Pugsley’s quiet murmur in response. It’s a tone she hasn’t heard her brother use before, then she suddenly realises that it isn’t for her to here. But rather a much more private voice for beau.

“I have to go Pugsley.”

“Wednesday.”

Lurch opens the door for her, and she steps out, an umbrella already held over her head as the October rain decides to wish her a good morning.

“I’ll speak to you later, get back to your amore,” she says softly before hanging up and pocketing the phone. She pays no mind to Pugsley’s feeble and weak protests, he’s too emotional for his own good, too involved, too kind.

“Wednesday!”

Speaking of-

Enid stood amongst a large chattering crowd, Tyler and Vada stood next to her as an assistant takes photos of the three of them together. Her three main characters stood before her very eyes, yet all she can focus on is how quickly she can make her way out of this room and to her office. This must be Vada’s first day on set, she was surely told at some point but likely wasn’t listening.

Tyler alone is a pain to talk to, but Vada?

She’s considering going out the door she came in and ditching her entire workday.

However she’s not quick enough. An arm is linked around hers and she sees a reflection of herself and Vada’s face on the phone screen held uncomfortably close to her face. She glowers at the camera and barely can hide her wince as the flash goes off. Vada is speaking a million miles per hour, gum clacking and squelching too loudly in her mouth and her perfume is far too pungent and something feels wrong and-

Another arm links around her free one and tugs her away in the other direction. She glares at the people she passes and uncharacteristically allows herself to be dragged into a nearby bathroom. She doesn’t spare Enid a glance before making a beeline to the sink and splashing cold water onto her face.

Her hands are shaking.

She’d like it if they didn’t.

“Wednesday?” There’s that name again, her name, but the way Enid’s says it, it may as well be her own. May as well belong to her. “Wends you don’t look too good, maybe you should head home?”

She shakes her head because she isn’t sick. Not the traditional kind at least. Though her stomach has been churning endlessly for months.

“Allergies, Sinclair. Don’t be daft.”

Enid shifts closer and Wednesday becomes very aware of their contrast in the mirror. Her pale, gaunt face, damp bangs and soulless eyes. Enid, well-Enid looks like a typical Hollywood darling. Her blonde hair perfectly curled and bouncy, her eyes wide and soft and wonderful. They don’t match. It’s a painfully obvious fact.

She rests her hand on the countertop, pinky finger close to where Wednesday’s left hand grips the edge of the sink. Wednesday moves her hand away.

“It’s October, Wends,” Enid frowns and hesitantly raises a hand to rest on her shoulder, Wednesday shrugs it off like she’s been burnt, a curse word on the tip of her tongue however everything stops and turns white when Enid’s hands cup her cheeks. She stands wide eyed as Enid looks over her, the back of her hand on her forehead. “You don’t feel hot, but I still think you should go home.”

Her hands are warm, soft, the hand still cupping her jaw ever so gently, runs it’s thumb up and down. She doubts Enid is even aware of the movement, but it catches her lips, it tickles. Her stomach twists even more and she hates herself for how her eyes flutter shut for a moment, a brief moment, but Enid notices.

Of course she does. Her eyes are soft and she makes a quiet, sympathetic noise, her voice barely a whisper when she says-

“Baby you need to go home.”

Wednesday jerks back and swallows roughly, Enid staring back at her wide eyed but not entirely regretful.

“Don’t call me that,” she spits out, trying to ignore how cold her face now feels without Enid’s touch. “I’m fine and you need to go back out there and do something, do anything. Because some of us have work to do and can’t just be hiding in the bathrooms and-” she trails off when she sees Enid whip out her phone. Fingers dancing across the screen in a flurry before she pockets it and looks at Wednesday with fresh determination in her eyes. “What did you just do.”

“Texted someone,” she chirps, slipping an arm around Wednesdays and pulling her away again, back out of the bathroom and past the group of people who are still as irritating as they were before. She pushes the door open and thrusts them both out into the fresh air. “Told em I’ve got an errand to run but I’ll be back by like twelve at least.”

Wednesday frowns at Lurch still being parked outside and how he opens the car doors at Enid’s command. She lets herself be guided into the back and tries not to shudder at Enid’s close proximity.

“Twelve?” She mutters as Lurch begins to drive, swatting Enid’s hands away as they try to help with her seatbelt.

Enid nods, “New York traffic y’know, and because you live ridiculously far from the studio.”

“You feel quite comfortable bossing people around now, don’t you. Quite unlike the meek figure you were at the start,” she mumbles before slowly turning her head to Enid, “what does my home have anything to do with this?”

And why is she leaning into Enid’s warmth?

“Because I’m taking you home silly, and tucking you into bed. I hope you have cute plushies in your room or else I’m buying some,” she giggles. “But relax, there’s no filming today and with Vada keeping everyone busy with stories about her boyfriend or fifth international kidnapping, they’ll barely notice I’m gone.”

The kidnappings were excessive.

“And what if I refuse?”

“Aw Wends, it’s so cute you think you have a choice.”

Enid doesn’t tuck her into bed, thankfully. But she does bring her tea and dumps Thing on her lap, who immediately starts doing biscuits on Wednesday’s stomach.

“I’m fine.”

“Shut up.”

She leaves shortly after, hesitating like she wants to say something else, but ultimately decides against it.

Wednesday doesn’t know if she’s thankful or rueful of the fact.

Gomez picks up the phone, groggy, still half asleep, “Wednesday?”

“Something has happened.”

“What is wrong my little Viper?”

“Call grandmamma, tell her I require an exorcism, urgently.”

There’s a short pause.

“My dear, please, not that I don’t enjoy your theatrics, but elaborate.”

xXx

Enid ducks under the hammer that comes swinging at her face and grabs her assailant by the shoulders, shoving him into the wall behind them. Her knee comes up sharply but comes just short of touching his stomach, he grunts and drops the hammer, which she then picks up, turning it in her hands and-

“CUT.”

There’s something wrong with the angle and camera operator, so she sits off to the side, playing with her shoelaces and trying to ignore the eyes burning into the back of her head. Wednesday’s been off recently. Well, she’s always a little off, but she’s been really weird this time. Enid can’t help but feel slightly hurt at how hot and cold she is with her.

Much like a cigarette, Wednesday Addams is a forbidden indulgence. Addictive and Enid can’t help but go back in for more, even if it hurts her more and more each time she does it. There’s this deep ache inside of her, somewhere between her organs, a deep crevice and it feels tight, it hurts. And there’s this pressure, this never-ending pressure on her chest that threatens to cave it in, whenever she catches a glimpse of a smile on Wednesday’s lips. How her hands begin to sweat the second she catches sight of the other woman. It hurts, hurts knowing that it’s off limits. Hurts knowing that she quit Wednesday before she even tried her, but remains addicted to the thought of her.

She’s haunting her.

Someone jogs over to her to go over the scene and some slight changes. Her eyes stay on their Reeboks as she nods, not really hearing a word at all. She stands, ready to go again and ignores the dark eyes watching her from afar.

Fuck this.

“So like me and Vlad were asked to go to this Hollywood swingers party, oh by the way you’re gonna have to sign an NDA when I’m done with this because I have some crazy things to say about-”

Enid frowns, “Vlad? I thought you were dating that footballer, Jake something.”

Her co-star scoffs and shakes her head, despite the stylists hands trying to shape it and add more hairspray. Vada shrugs the woman off, “oh no Jake cheated on me with four Swiss models, during a skiing trip. So I go to Romania and meet Vlad, he’s a professional chef at a three star Michelin restaurant, which is so cute and humble,” she waves boredly. “But yeah anyway, it’s so good we’ve been able to shoot together the past week!”

A loud voice echoes through the soundstage and they step apart, making their way to their respective spots.

It’s been a jampacked week with little sleep and little break between scenes. They’re in the final stretch now for filming, all public and outdoor scenes have been shot and wrapped up, now she’s in the process of filming the ending of the movie (some of which had been shot last month, movies are confusing like that), much of which includes filming with Vada. The other woman had been filming her own solo shoots this week, as well as herself and Enid’s first scene in the movie together, where they bump into each other in the streets, literally five minutes into the film.

It's funny how that was one of the last scenes to shoot.

But she also filmed her “death” scene, and is now filming her “resurrection” scenes, where the viewers will see her stumble into the room and from behind, slit the throat of the man choking out Edin. It is the first time both the viewers and Edin will see and realise that Viper is alive. In fact she has been in hiding, nursing herself back to health whilst orchestrating her plan and recruiting Edin into helping her before it was too late.

But of course Edin will recognise the woman almost instantly as Viper De La Muerte, the famed private investigator who had been killed months before and she will simultaneously realise who she’s been communicating with all these months.

Her neck, red with scarlet blood, eyes wild and she will look nothing less but ravishing to Viper, who stares at her with wide eyes and laces their hands together, pulling them out of the room and through the maze of hallways in the large house.

“You’re-”

“Yes.”

“But you’re-”

“Yes.”

“How-”

“Later,” Viper shoves her into a bathroom and slips in after her, bolting the door shut and then turning to lean her back against it, panting heavily and clutching her side. “That’s a nice colour on you.”

Edin will blink slowly before looking in the mirror and pulling a face, grasping at the taps to splash water on her neck. Pink trails whirl around the sink as she haunches over it, chest heaving from their haste getaway.

“You couldn’t have told me your name.”

“I always appreciated the element of surprise.”

They’ll get into more trouble within the house, it’s all led up to this after all. Taking down the people who Viper was investigating all those months before, the people that tore her up, leaving her for dead in some ditch.

That was their worst mistake, not checking the pulse. Not realising that the body never went cold.

But then Edin’s turn will come around, with Viper pinned down, her stitches in her side torn, the mans knees on her arms, his knife raised up and BANG. He slides off of her, his head now a red and pink mess on the floorboards, his neck now a fleshy stump and Viper now as bloodied as Edin.

And Edin, stood with a shotgun loose in her hands, gawks at the corpse before her. Viper rises to her feet and takes the shotgun from her, hand hesitating before coming up to wipe some blood off of her face, thumb brushing the scars on her cheek.

It’s strange, she’s filmed scenes where she shoots, guts and slashes people, but she’s never done one that feels so intimate. Hell she straddled that guy and somehow this is worse.

She blinks, wide eyed and stares at the other woman, who’s still wiping blood off of her cheek, scolding her for shooting a shotgun of all things so close to her face, how she was lucky she only took one head off instead of two. Enid allows her eyes to flutter shut slightly, tipping forward ever so gently like it says in the script.

Big brown eyes look up at her, a spattering of freckles and blood across tanned cheeks. Dark, tangled and blood-soaked hair.

“Wednesday,” she whispers, lips inches away from the shorter woman, and it only registers when Vada pulls back slightly, confusion in her eyes and there’s an awkward cough somewhere behind the camera. Enid’s body freezes. “Viper! I meant Viper um-”

“Cut!” She doesn’t have to look at Weems, she can only imagine the woman’s face. “Let’s go from that line again please.”

She can hear her blood rushing in her ears and feels her cheeks darken.

“I-it’s just,” she gulps, “you guys look alike,” she laughs weakly and Vada nods with an amused expression on her face. Enid risks a glance to the crew and her smile falls when her eyes meet Wednesday’s intense, piercing look.

“Alright guys from the top!”

“Fuck me.”

“It’s not that bad,” Yoko reasons gently. “You could’ve been filming a sex scene, imagine saying the wrong name there.”

She sits with her knees drawn up to her chest, a bowl of nachos sat untouched in front of her. This is the worst thing that’s maybe happened to her. A shoe kicks her harshly from under the table and she jumps, glaring at Yoko before realising why she was kicked in the first place.

Oh fuck off.

“Wednesday!” She squeaks, “I’m so sorry I hope I didn’t make anything weird, y’know you’re like my best friend.”

Yoko kicks her more harshly.

The short girl stares at her, unimpressed, “mistakes happen Sinclair, it won’t be your last.”

Ominous much?

She tries for a smile (it’s more of a grimace) and says, “yeah well you didn’t make it easy. The main characters looking like me and you, weird right?”

Something strange passes over Wednesday’s face, blink and you might miss it. But she recovers herself and remains as composed as ever.

“A coincidence, perhaps?”

Enid tilts her head, “thought you didn’t believe in coincidences?”

Addams also tilts her head, eyes narrowing before shaking her head and gesturing towards the building behind them. “I have work I must get to, I suggest you do the same.” In typical Wednesday fashion she rudely leaves without another word, but Enid loves to watch her go. She shakes her head and sighs, turning back to her food.

Another kick to her shin.

Ouch.

Yoko is giving her a pointed look.

“The fuck is going on with you guys?”

xXx

Me

hwy

hey*

atop ignoring me

jfc, stop*

buzzfeed made another quiz about you

I can send the link

OMG OR WE COULD DO IT TOGETHER AT WORK

Wends

Enid, though Halloween is fast approaching, I fear your grammar is the scariest thing I’ve seen this month.

And no, I’d rather eat my own hair.

Me

u could’ve just said no thanks

xXx

Enid smells the flowers in her trailer for what may be the last time. The bouquet looking lovelier than ever and she has to wonder if these flowers are even still in season, and if not, then how the hell does the studio keep getting them for her? Especially since the company card indicates that it’s from a small business.

It’s her last day filming.

A pretty big fucking deal, considering it only felt like she was hired yesterday.

Times funny like that.

Hired in Spring and wrapped up in fall. Well, almost winter, considering November is just sometime next week. She honestly thought the whole process would be quicker, but considering she was one of the last to be cast and the movie was already written and storyboarded, it was all rolled out pretty fast. Besides, the editing team will be busy over the next few months, polishing it all up for its April release.

 It's also a kind of small production, besides the excessive gore, there isn’t loads of major scenes that require mass amounts of CGI or the construction of large props.

Originally the first Viper movie kind of had a reputation as more of a small, indie horror, some A24 kind of shit. The book fans loved it of course, but during its promotion there wasn’t much buzz worldwide. Upon its release though? That’s a different question entirely. It blew up, like big time.

That then caused book sales to increase again, the series skyrocketing back to a number 1 bestseller and the movie being a box office hit, exceeding it’s budget by a very nice amount. It’s been dubbed a cult classic, something they’ll study in film school and something that years from now, people will rave how it was robbed of the Oscars. Which is all very funny because before she was involved, Enid just thought it was another stereotypical slasher franchise.

But she understands it now.

People love it, they live for it.

Which makes the movies release all the more intimidating.

But when the director yells cut and everyone erupts into a loud applause and Weems embraces her, smiling like a proud mother, she forgets all of that. Forgets it because she sniffles when someone hands her a bouquet and pictures are taken and she looks at the set for the last time. Not so much due to her missing it, no.

Because she’s proud she did it.

Despite her mothers words, despite certain media outlets doubting her abilities, despite her own negative voice in her head.

Yoko squeezes her shoulder and gives her a big kiss on the cheek, Divina shoots her a small, soft smile too, hidden behind her bosses and the many people coming and going.

And Wednesday? Well, she hangs back obviously, she doesn’t like crowds of people, or people period. But after Enid’s cheeks ache from smiling so much and after she’s shook hands with what feels like fifty people, she squeezes through a gap in the crowd to reach her. The shorter girl looks unimpressed, raising a brow at how Enid stops right before her, breathless and beaming, almost rocking forward on her feet.

“I did it.”

But despite how impassive she looks, her eyes are soft, her lips curl slightly at the edges. She rolls her eyes but it’s fond, it’s-something, there’s something else there and Enid wonders if they’ll ever talk about it.

“You did,” she nods and looks as though she’s about to say something else before she stops herself and considers her words. Enid feels like she can’t breathe whilst their eyes remain locked on each other. Wednesday raises her chin slightly, “I had no doubt in your abilities.”

And that’s just-

Enid smiles, “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You say that, every week it seems. It’s become platitudinous.”

“Means you gotta stop sweet talking me then Addams,” and it’s that again. That small tease, that small acknowledgement of whatever the hell it is that they have going on. Although Enid says it, she feels the air sucked out of her when the words hit her ears.

Wednesday tilts her head, aware of the many eyes and ears around them, of the many camera’s flashing at them. She forgoes any words, anymore compliments and instead sticks out a hand, formal, yet informal for anybody that knows her. Such a gesture could be comparable to hug, when we’re talking about Wednesday Addams.

It hangs there between them and Enid looks at her softly, affection bubbling in her chest as she gnaws on her bottom lip. She clasps the hand and tugs her closer.

“I’m gonna hug you now Addams, ok?”

She does wait to see Wednesdays face and when she sees the girl roll her eyes, Enid giggles and pulls her into a tight hug. The shorter girl stands stiffly as Enid wraps her arms around her, finally, finally holding her close. When a few moments pass without reciprocation, Enid begins to pull back and sees Wednesday starting at her with a bewildered expression on her face, before harshly pulling her back in and burying her face in Enid’s neck.

The noise of the world around her is drowned out as she too closes her eyes and buries her nose in dark hair, just wanting to enjoy it while it lasts.

She already regrets all the drinks she’s had. It’s a bad habit at this point. She promised herself she’d never be a heavy drinker.

Her mothers whiskey tainted breath.

The stained red wine on the white rug in their living room, thrown across the room after another one of Esther’s tantrums.

The crunch of beer cans, and the foul smell clinging to her brothers after every family reunion.

Enid promised herself she wouldn’t fall into that trap. That she wouldn’t use it to drown her sorrows or to distract herself. But she seems immune to restraint, and succumbs to the temptation every single time. She never stops at one, doesn’t stop until she’s too dizzy to walk. Friends in the past have found it funny, they’ve giggled and laughed with her.

She doesn’t think anyone maybe began to notice the pattern.

But tonight’s a night to celebrate. The wrap up party. The whole cast and crew on this rooftop bar and she doesn’t know the time or how much she’s had, but she feels light and giggles into Yoko’s shoulder.

“Want to try some water?” Yoko coaxes gently, trying to straighten her up and Enid shakes her head waggling her finger.

“Don’t be a buzzkill, I’m fine.”

Her best friend sighs quietly and Enid hates the look she shares with Divina. Like they’re in on something she isn’t. But it’s been like that ever since they’ve got together, and Enid isn’t jealous. She isn’t. Divina is lovely and Enid is so happy they’ve moved in together, positively thrilled and definitely doesn’t stare longingly at them from a distance.

Because she wants that.

Wants someone and the longing feels like it might kill her.

But she isn’t the only one.

Tyler and Xavier are talking, it looked polite at first but now she sees both of their eyes glued to the back of Wednesday’s head. Few words passed between them. Unfortunately she doesn’t think they realise how Wednesday couldn’t be any less into them.

But Bianca’s words from all those months ring in her head.

You wouldn’t be the first.

Enid’s drunkenness is what introduced them in the first place. Maybe this could be a full circle moment.

Her legs move without her permission as she slips off of her stool, ignoring Yoko’s questioning look and carefully moving through the groups of people, occasionally stopping and making polite conversation when it’s required.

Wednesday stands with her back to her, a fleece lined leather jacket on her back as she leans against the railing, looking out at the city beneath them. Enid feels cold in her dress and pulls the dark shawl closer around her shoulders, as she sidles up to Wednesday.

New York sure is pretty at night.

“I am sorry, for running off all those years ago. It was weird, a pretty out of body experience, from what I can remember anyway. I panicked when that girl saw me, saw us. I thought-I felt embarrassed and-”

Wednesday glares at her sharply out the corner of her eye and mutters, “Sinclair, I don’t care as much as you seem to think. In fact I’m concerned about how many times I’ll have to repeat myself when I say this.”

Enid gulps and twists one of the rings on her middle finger.

“Do you ever think about it though?”

“About what?”

She pauses and sniffs, squinting at the lights below them.

“If I stayed.”

If she stayed and got Wednesday’s contact details. If they kissed, if they dated. How would they be when they were younger compared to now. Six years can change people.

She leans in a bit more, about to speak more before a white flash in the corner of her eye makes her pause. Right, cameras. That claustrophobic feeling rises again in her chest and her mouth waters dangerously. Wednesday doesn’t answer, she doesn’t even look at her and Enid is terrified of what happens now.

Without seeing each other on set every day.

When they inevitably drift apart and stop talking.

Will another six years pass?

“How much have you had to drink?” Wednesdays voice is soft, but she still won’t look at her.

Enid shrugs, “I stopped counting after the seventh shot.”

She did, truly. The great thing though about being greatly admired among the people you are with, is that everybody just wants to keep buying you drinks. Who is she to refuse? Vada had basically cornered her earlier with another cocktail and Weems insisted on getting her another martini.

God tomorrow's going to be rough.

She runs her hands over the railing and grips it tightly, admiring Wednesday’s side profile. Enid’s built a career where she is surrounded by gorgeous people for a living.

None of them come close to Wednesday.

Her wide, yet half-lidded dark eyes, freckles smattered across tan cheeks, full lips and sharp cheekbones. Enid and all of the others would be out of a career if Wednesday ever took up modelling.

The alcohol in her system makes her sway, her shoulder brushing Wednesday’s and her head dips, staring at Wednesday’s lips. God, the longing, the yearning, the way her stomach turns, and she feels like she might be sick. The way her whole body aches and craves her, it’s not just a mental thing, but a physical obsession as well. It feels like it’s taking over her whole fucking life and she doesn’t know what to do.

Doesn’t know what she’ll do without seeing her every day.

But she can’t do anything, won’t make a move. Not with all these people around and those cameras and her mom-

Enid breathes shakily and stares at her, tongue feeling too big for her mouth.

“I wish you were a boy.”

Wednesday finally turns her head and looks at her with something strange in her eyes, sympathy? Maybe pity, perhaps disappointment. She takes one look at Enid before gently pulling her away from the railing and pulling a sealed water bottle from somewhere and unscrews it, passing it to Enid and grabbing Enid’s single index finger to lead her through the crowd.

“Lurch will take you home.”

Enid groans and shakes her head, “I’m fine, why does everyone think I’m-” She pauses, feeling her mouth water up again and her vision blur.

Oh fuck off-

xXx

Me

bro im so hungover

also saw your note

thx for getting me home

hope I didnt do anything too weird

Wends

You don’t remember anything?

Me

other than me trying Xaviers cotton candy vape?

Nah

Why?

Wends

Never mind.

Me

u sure?

girl ik u didnt just leave me on read

Wednesday Addams

Ugh fine

Be weird

xXx

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Photos taken of Wednesday and Enid together at a fashion show. Wednesday is seen in all black, Thom Brown with thick shades on, and her signature scowl. Enid is smiling brightly and sporting a grey and whit Thom Brown dress with a white bow around her neck. One photo details Enid leaning down to whisper into Wednesday’s ear, the latter smirking slightly]

-@AdamAndEveNotAdamAndSteve

  -mothered so hard she caused a magnitude 5 cuntquake

-@Alanna

  -gay people can never just say you look nice huh

xXx

Enid Sinclair and Ajax Petropolus seen at charity event.

Top models Enid Sinclair and Ajax Petropolus' secret marriage? More inside.

Enid Sinclair seen beaming with boyfriend Ajax Petropolus, fans are curious.

xXx

“You feeling any better?”

Wednesday glances up briefly from the newspaper in her grasp, though not towards Enid, who asked her the question, but instead into the rearview mirror to meet Lurches stare. She nods shortly and the car pulls out, smoothly swerving onto the road and back into ongoing traffic. Enid swears under her breath and wrestles to pull her seatbelt on.

Her attention goes back to the paper in front of her, she does the crossword mentally, as an extra challenge, as to try and retain the answers already gathered whilst simultaneously trying to figure the rest out.

Ink nor lead isn’t needed.

A finger pokes her arm through her jumper, and she looks out the corner of her eye.

Enid has rosy cheeks and a runny nose.

She offers her a tissue and turns back to her puzzle, “why is my health any concern to you? If anything I should be asking of your liver.”

It’s a cheap shot, she knows.

Enid knows too because she stares at her dumbfounded before scoffing and wriggling around in her seat to get comfortable. “Y’know what I mean. You’ve had this weird on and off cold for over a month now, right? Is it still there? Are you sleeping?”

No, technically yes, and no.

One, it’s not a cold. Wednesday doesn’t get sick. Her immune system is phenomenal and as a child she willingly sat closest to the grotty children during flu season, to build it up. It paid off of course, except her seasonal allergies cannot be helped. However she does feel as though her body is shutting down.

That is a result of her godawful family curse. Not a cold, an important difference.

Two, her joints ache and her chest has sharp stabbing pains shooting through it when Enid so much as glances in her direction.

Three, she achieved four hours last night, before waking up to feed Thing his breakfast and choosing to stay up with him. He was very pleased with this.

“I’m fine Sinclair.”

“You’re obviously not.”

A muscle in her cheek twitches as Wednesday fights to keep composure. “I fail to see how it is any of your concern.”

Enid stares at the side of her face incredulously, though realising that it’s a lost cause and that Wednesday wouldn’t turn to look at her, she flops back in her seat, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Because we’re friends.”

“Oh is that what we are?”

Wednesday freezes the second it comes out her mouth, fingers creating tight indents in the paper and her jaw clenched so hard that it pops. She hadn’t meant to say it, god she wishes she hadn’t, especially with the look Enid is giving her. The look Wednesday knows she’s giving her, without having to even turn her head and witness it.

God, she hopes Lurch crashes the car.

Enid clears her throat and shakily asks, “what do you mean?” When Wednesday doesn’t answer, instead trying to focus on five across, Enid questions her again. “Wednesday. What are you-”

“How is Ajax?”

Enid frowns, “he’s fine but-that’s not real, you know that. What is up with you?”

Her stomach in knots and the back of her neck is uncharacteristically clammy.

“My apologies, Sinclair, I lied before. I’ve been experiencing a rather tough migraine. Usually the pain is a tasteful distraction from the woes of everyday life, however today it just won’t settle.”

Lies, Lies, Lies.

She glances out the tinted window, they’re close now to their destination. A gentle hand on her arm makes her turn her head towards her guest, Enid looks at her softly, carefully. How awful. How revolting.

Why does her chest hurt again.

In her guilty efforts to grow closer to Enid she has simultaneously begun to despise herself for it. The tight, aching sensation in her throat, how it swells up and she can’t get the words out. The tightness of her chest, the horrific breathlessness of it all.

 “Wednesday,” curse the way Enid’s lips move when they murmur her name, “I’m sorry, you don’t have to come today, hell you didn’t even need to give me a lift. It’s mostly me and Vada they’ll be asking questions to anyway.”

Her voice is so soft, gentle, quiet enough that she doubts Lurch can even hear it.

It makes Wednesday’s eyes droop, makes her want to lean it.

The car stops with a jolt, and she straightens up, neatly folding the newspaper on her lap and placing it to rest on the vacant seat between them. She slides her dark circular glasses on and turns to glance out the window, much to her dismay, there camera people there.

“How did they-” Enid trails off, looking confused at all the fanfare outside of the vehicle. It is only a short distance between the car and the door of the building, plus Wednesday is carrying at least three concealed weapons. “There’s no way they could’ve known we’d be here.”

Lurch leaves the car first and for that fraction of a second the door is open for, the noise is near deafening. He approaches her door, the one facing the sidewalk and small crowd and she subtly shakes her head once, catching onto what she’s saying, he moves around to the other side of the car and opens Enid’s door first. A few moments later he opens Wednesday’s, and she wants to throw up.

There are white flashes and yelling and Enid grabs her hand.

Oh.

Enid’s holding her hand.

She gently helps her out the car and Lurch walks them to the door, his wide frame and long arms blocking any unwanted touch from the strangers. Enid links their hands together and ducks her head, keeping Wednesday close, shielding her from some of the cameras.

Before she knows it, Wednesday is inside the building with Enid and their respective staff and team is there to meet them. Enid handles the greetings and Wednesday rubs her ears and winces when the door swings open again, and the roar of shutters and yells make its way to her again.

But Enid turns, smile morphing into a concerned look and she gently links arms with her, pulling her away from the doors.

It’s pathetic.

She’s so screwed.

xXx

-@Viperisgayaf

-ARE THEY HOLDING HANDS????

xXx

@Enid Sinclair ✔                 

- : )

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: A 0.5 selfie of Enid holding a large poster with concealed questions, likely from a “most googled” interview]

                        -@RealWednesdayAddams ✔ 

                          -I’m literally shaking someone buy her brown contacts please

                        -@Enid Sinclair ✔ 

                          -NO FUCKING WAY

                        -@AjaxP

                          -DID WEDNESDAY JUST MEME???

                        -@Yoko_Tanaka

                          -I’m taking a screenshot and framing it above my bed

                              -@itsDivina

                                -no you’re not

                                   -@Yoko_Tanaka

                                     -sorry babe

xXx

Thing’s purrs vibrate strongly against her chest and in a rare display of affection, Wednesday holds him tight to her, enjoying the sharp sting of his claws through her jumper as he kneads into her.

She spent the first part of her Halloween evening terrorising young children in the street, but that only lasted so long since they go to bed so early. Then she chased some youths who tried to egg her windows, and punched a man in the throat when he complimented her costume.

She was simply wearing her casual evening wear. A black gown and shawl. Granted she was carrying an axe from her chase.

Now she sits on the edge of her bed, glaring at the vibrating phone on her dresser. She must meet up with Eugene soon so she can effectively figure out how to shut it up. He silenced her social media, but her regular messages still come through very loud.

To be completely honest, she’s sat a safe distance away because she remains haunted by the massage Enid sent her a few hours ago in her costume. A tight cat suit, with childlike whiskers painted on and fluffy ears on a headband. She looked ridiculous. Wednesday had told her so. Choosing not to mention how the suit perfectly hugged her curves.

That was at 9pm.

It is now after 12 and her phone won’t stop.

Sighing, Wednesday picks Thing up and gently places him on the bed beside her. She grabs the phone, cursing under her breath as she unlocks it, honestly, she doesn’t know what could be so important for Enid to be messaging her this much and-

Her mouth dries up.

Enid

Wensday

miss u

wish u were here

what cosume would u wear?

wends

ajaxs here

i had to kiss him i dint like it

fuck

ur so pretty

wsh I kissed u

wends

want u

Chapter Text

Enid pockets her phone and harshly shoves it in her jacket pocket. Her mother had begun to message her again. She had about a months bliss without messages, now Esther is just trying to speak to her like nothing’s happened. But it’s typical of her, to never acknowledge her wrongdoings, to gloss over any previous conflict with that insincere, saccharine smile.

It’s incredibly tiring.

She had wanted to know if Ajax would be attending Thanksgiving or Christmas, to which Enid had swiftly replied, no. If her memory serves her right, their contract should be ending soon enough. Her contract to ensure that the public retains their heteronormative assumptions about her life, and leave her alone.

What a fucking joke.

But her mom wasn’t the only person whose presence is haunting her phone.

God she’s got to stop drinking.

Wednesday’s front door never looked this intimidating before, right? Why does it look taller? Why does the door knocker suddenly look so heavy and clunky? Why did she do a keg stand last night? Why is she such an idiot?

Ok this is fine. It’s just Wednesday.

She raises her fist to knock but before she can, the door swings open with such a force that a gust of wind hits her and she stands poised, jaw dropped, fist in the air and standing before someone who is not Wednesday.

Well, maybe Wednesday is she was a milf.

“Hello dear, can I help you at all?” The woman’s voice is like smooth velvet to Enid’s ears, sultry and light. Her bright red lips pulled up into an almost menacingly sweet smile, eyes dark, half-lidded. Enid stares dumbfounded at her, at the skintight black dress that’s so long it pools around her on the floor. Jagged tendrils hang from her sleeves and her hair is silky black that hangs straight over one shoulder.

Holy mother of-

“Wednesday!” Enid squeaks out and the woman somehow smiles even wider. “I’m looking for Wednesday, if she’s um in.”

Looking like the cat that got the cream, the woman leans back a little, craning her head and calling for Wednesday. She turns back to look at Enid, a knowing look in her eyes as she looks her up and down.

Black nails tap the doorframe. “So, are you friends with my Wednesday?”

Her Wednesday?

A small black frame appears behind the tall woman and Enid can see Wednesday go up on her tiptoes to look over the woman’s shoulder, unusually wide eyes meeting Enid’s. The polite smile slips from her face when their eyes meet, blood rushing to her cheeks as memories from the night before seem to take over.

“Mother, it’s incredibly rude to answer the door when you are a guest in my home,” Wednesday mutters, not taking her eyes off of Enid. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Nonsense,” the woman smiles, beckoning Enid in and offering a pale hand, “I’m Morticia Addams, any friend of Wednesday’s-well, she’s never had one, so I must insist we get to know each other.”

Enid laughs weakly and sends a panicked look over to Wednesday, who stares at her with wild eyes. Wednesday had met her mom, so she supposes this is only fair.

She shakes the pale hand awkwardly, though the way its posed towards her, she wonders if a kiss on the back of it would’ve been more appropriate. Morticia smiles at her, half lidded eyes and oh, that’s where Wednesday gets it from, her hand retracts and it gently cups Enid’s elbow, leading her inside and she follows in a trance, missing the unimpressed look that Wednesday sends her way.

Cinnamon, orange and cloves, Morticia smells like fucking Christmas, mulled wine and all.

Wednesday’s home is unusually warm too, the fireplace in her living room is lit and roaring, the lights all burning low, casting amber shadows over her dark furnishings. Thing curled up before the fire, and an unfamiliar man with a baby sat back on the couch.

She’s painfully aware of Wednesdays presence behind her. The eyes burning holes into her back. The painfully large elephant in the room.

“Gomez,” Morticia purrs, her hand now on the small of Enid’s back, “Wednesday’s friend has joined us.”

The man, Gomez, gasps, his free hand moving to cover his heart dramatically, the other securing the hold on the child. “My little Viper, you failed to mention a friend last we spoke.”

Somewhere behind her, she hears Wednesday curse in a way that would make a sailor blush.

Morticia smiles at her, eyes twinkling, “I’ll go make some tea, please, make yourself comfortable.”

Though stated as a question, it feels more like a demand and Enid sinks down onto the couch without a second thought, and smiles nervously at the man and his large toothy grin. Morticia glides out the room with such elegance that Enid wonders if she were actually floating.

Wednesday shuffles into the room, staring at Enid out the corner of her eye and then perching on the edge of the armchair, looking like she’s ready to bolt if need be.

A quiet coo grabs her attention, and Enid turns her head back to the others on the couch. The baby has thick dark hair like the others, and what looks like a pencil moustache, but she’s sure it’s just a shadow.

“Who’s this little guy,” she whispers, sticking a finger out for him to grab.

Gomez puffs his chest out, beaming proudly as he says, “Pubert Addams, the most recent addition to the family.”

“And hopefully the last,” Wednesday grumbles to Enid’s right.

Her stomach flips at the other girls voice, suddenly remembering her presence, remembering why she’s here in the first place. She turns her head, thick curled hair blocking her peripheral vision as she tucks it back behind her ears.

After filming had ceased, she’d immediately gone to the salon and had it chopped shorter again. Her characters hair brushes her shoulder and was less thick, the curls were a little more subtle and long. Enid’s currently now sits a few inches off of her shoulder, ticker with gentle waves and no pink and blue dye.

She looks like herself again. Too bad she still doesn’t feel like it.

“You never said you had a brother,” her voice comes out steadier than she thought it would. Oddly breathless as she stares at Wednesday and Wednesday stares back at her, trying to silently communicate something, maybe she’s trying to tell Enid to get the fuck out of her house.

Gomez chuckles, “oh she has two, Pugsley couldn’t make the trip, what with work and his-”

“his beau. Pray tell father, has he let you meet the dull idiot who feel for his bumbling persona?” Wednesday interrupts, eyes shifting across to look at Gomez. “He withheld details from me during our last call.”

“He’s a secretive man Wednesday, all Addams are. You of all people cannot be surprised at this.”

Wednesday stares harder, “I’m incredibly transparent with you all. So much so I’ve been told to ‘tone it down’ or ‘get a diary’”.

Enid scoffs, “well you never mentioned any brothers.”

“And you never mentioned a partner,” Gomez continues, gesturing a large hand towards Wednesday, who’s hands curl into the arms of the chair she sits ramrod in.

Oh.

Pubert giggles and pink floods Enid’s cheeks whilst all colour drains from Wednesdays.

“I believe Ms Sinclair was introduced as a friend father, perhaps a hearing test is due,” she replies cooly, rising up from her chair and ignoring the way Thing curls around her legs. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have business to discuss,” that last part is directed at Enid, and she nods her head before leaving the room.

Legs like jelly, Enid stands up, smiling weakly at Gomez, waggling her fingers at Pubert, and follows the woman out of the room. The hallway is unusually warm but she has goosebumps nonetheless as Wednesday turns down the hall and opens the door to the downstairs bathroom and shoves her in it.

The air’s thicker here. No mediators, no middle ground.

The door locks, Wednesday’s back falls against it, dark eyes on Enid, spiteful and warm.

God Enid will never get over her.

“I’m so sorry,” Enid breathes out, “the Halloween party was, fuck there was jello shots and you know I love jello and Troy Sivan was there.” The back of her legs hit the toilet seat, it’s really tight in here, little to no space between herself and Wednesday.

“I was-”

“Intoxicated.”

“-Drunk, yes,” Enid rubs her eyes, headache a gentle reminder of the night before. “But Wednesday I’m-”

The other woman shakes her head, “Intoxicated, I understand but I’m sure there were other people you could pester in your free time. I’m not willing to partake in your childish games Sinclair.”

Enid’s hands sink into her hair and squeeze, tight.

“You’re not getting it,” she says through gritted teeth, the knots in her stomach tightening, the rope being tugged every time she breathes. “It’s- God I don’t know how to say it-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Wednesday’s voice is sharp, “I don’t know what fantasy world you’re living in Sinclair, but I’m not interested. You were drunk, let us leave it at that.”

I’m not interested.

All air feels like it’s been punched out of her lungs, and she sits on the closed lid of the toilet.

She pulls her hands down her face and stares at her shoes, “things are just weird now and I wish it’d all just go back to the way it was before.”

Wednesday scoffs, “and what was that, what is before?”

“Just before! Before things got weird and complicated and I screwed up and embarrassed myself,” her voice wobbles and she feels her throat closing up. Enid doesn’t have to look up to see Wednesdays look of disdain.

“Right, well when I think of before, I think of that awful pub in that awful country-”

“Hey my uncle’s Scottish!”

“-And you came up to me. That, is before End. I’m not sure if you’re aware but it’s been “weird” since the start,” Wednesday hisses, “and for some unknown reason I’ve aided and allowed your fantasies without firmly drawing the line. You call us friends, that is fine, but don’t ever insinuate it could be anything more when you can only tell me it when you’re drunk.”

Their eyes now meet, cold brown ones and watery blue ones.

Enid swallows thickly, “then I don’t know what to do.”

“Then maybe it is best that we don’t speak.”

“That can’t be the best solution.”

Wednesday’s eyes, cold and hard, narrow and she straightens up and turns her back to Enid, hand on the door handle. “It’s the only one I’m offering.”

She stands without realising it and steps closer, “Wends,” she whispers, hand coming up to graze the small of Wednesday’s back. The back stiffens before relaxing into her touch and Enid takes it as an invitation to step closer, hands on either side, slowly sliding around her waist and wrapping around Wednesday’s stomach.

A small thud echoes in the room as Wednesday’s head drops forward to rest on the door. Enid lets herself fully press into Wednesday’s back, flush against her, lips brushing the hair at the top of her head.

“I’m a shitty friend, and I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. If you wanna forget it, I won’t bring it up again.”

A moment passes.

Then two.

Then-

“My mother will insist on you having tea, we should return before she gets nosy.”

“Ok,” Enid whispers into her hair, arms tightening around her.

Another moment, she holds her breath.

“Perhaps she can wait another minute.

xXx

“Have I told you how shitty you look recently.”

Yoko greets her with a hug and concerned smile.

“You try attending an AA meeting first thing in the morning,” Enid grumbles, returning the hug. “Do I really look that bad?”

Her friend shakes her head, linking arms with her and begins walking.

“Nah, nothing makeup can’t fix. Besides, your girlfriend’s waiting for you,” she teases, teeth gleaming, fangs pointed, and Enid once again reconsiders the possibility that her friend is a vampire. “Been real tetchy this morning.”

She had told Yoko about the conversation with Wednesday. Mainly because Yoko had been there when Enid sent the texts, her friend equally intoxicated, had been hyping her up as her tired thumbs dragged across the phone screen.

It had been a week since seeing Wednesday. Since they agreed to go back to normal, to forget Enid’s proposition. Besides, Wednesday doesn’t even want her, why would she? Wednesday doesn’t even have the capacity for those feelings, Yoko had told her, no way in hell that girl dreams and kicks her feet about another human being.

She’s probably right.

It just kind of sucks, going over to a girls house to confess your feelings and being shot down before you can get to the point. Whilst simultaneously meeting said girls family.

The doors to the wide-open space are pushed open and there’s a quiet bustle of people moving around and talking, staff hurrying about to set stuff up and Wednesday stood in a faraway corner, watching them all with very wary eyes. Bianca stands beside her, looking as though she’s trying to coax her out, like Wednesday were a stray cat.

“Hi,” Enid murmurs with a soft smile as she’s greeted by someone with a clipboard who begins to give her a brief rundown about what’s going to happen. Two chairs are set up, for herself and Vada, who isn’t anywhere to be found at the moment, and a cycle of interviewers will come through separately for a short five-minute interview. It seems as though Wednesday will be sat on her own for the occasional interview too. A large difference to the press junket last movie when she was hardly seen outside of her home.

The doors swing open again as Vada and her entourage pile in, loudly speaking on her phone and barely acknowledging the staff that try and grab her attention.

“And she’s not my girlfriend.”

Yoko glances back to her, “what?”

Sighing, Enid nods in Wednesday’s direction, for some reason uncaring of the people around them. Not that bothered at the implication that she has a girlfriend. Maybe it’s personal growth, or sleep deprivation. “Not my girlfriend.”

“I have high hopes for you two,” Yoko smiles reassuringly, “trust me ok.”

Yeah right.

In a million years.

xXx

Wednesday stares silently ahead of her, watching the busy New York traffic at night. Lurch almost ran over a cyclist, other than that, the evening has been very dull.

Well, besides the elephant in the room, or car she supposes.

Enid hums quietly to the radio, the radio which prior to their meeting, had never been used in the car. But upon her insistence, Wednesday allowed it to be played at a very low volume, it was still awful nonetheless and she things her brain may be rotting.

A charity event, and an award show wrapped in one. One of those flashy events that award random celebrities on their “philanthropic pursuits” or something similar. Bianca had requested Wednesday’s presence; she’d also mentioned Enid would be going.

It was only beneficial to offer her a lift, after all, they are going to the same event.

The air was stiff though, the atmosphere cold, not entirely due to the winter weather though. She never was that affected by the cold, her goosebumps must be a result of something else. They’d barely spoken since Enid had gotten in the car, and Wednesday knows that the other girl is just waiting for her to ask about the wrapped package on her lap, but Wednesday won’t play into her games.

Another fifteen minutes pass before Enid explodes.

“Oh my god why won’t you ask about it!” She turns in her seat, wrapped package falling from her lap to the middle seat between them.

Wednesday slowly drags her eyes from Enid’s face to the package before her.

“Oh this?” She says dryly, “well I don’t like to pry.”

Enid rolls her eyes and picks it back up, giving Wednesday a long stare before holding it out to her. Reluctantly, Wednesday takes it from her and when Enid nods encouragingly, begins to peel back the wrapping at a painstakingly slow pace.

Just to irritate the woman slightly.

It reveals a plain box.

She stares at it, “you shouldn’t have,” she says deadpans.

The blonde woman weakly shoves her shoulder and hisses for her to open the box and when she does, in wrapped paper lies a pair of plain black headphones.

“You hate the paparazzi,” Enid says quietly as Wednesday stares at the gift. “They’re not like music ones, just for noise. I’ve noticed you sometimes get…I just thought you’d like to be able to dampen everyone out sometimes.”

Ah.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nods and lifts them out of the box, sliding them around her neck and finding that she enjoys the gentle weight of them on her shoulders. She passes the box back to Enid and risks a glance at her.

She’s smiling, big and wide.

Beautiful.

Wednesday looks out of the window at the passing buildings, “too bad for you Sinclair, now I don’t have to listen to your incessant chatter.”

“You love it Addams.”

She does.

But it’ll never come to anything.

xXx

And despite the lingering awkwardness, the unspoken “what if’s,” they make it work. They continue to live and work in each other presence, each in denial, each ignoring the elephant in the room, the elephant which is so big and has been there for so long, it may have to start paying rent.

Wednesday attends mind-numbing social event after mind-numbing social event. She gets her account locked-on Twitter several times for “not abiding by community guidelines,” whoever wrote those guidelines can suck it, as Enid would say. It’s not uncommon for her to get into endless arguments on the app with poorly educated incels who likely still live in their mothers basement and haven’t seen the light of day (or a touch of soap) in over a week. She complies and sits in on a few interviews, each question thrown her way, the same as the last, and Bianca chastises her for making one interviewer cry.

Life progresses, inevitably it does. The days somehow feel longer than before, and her yearning is more painful today than yesterday. There are several missed calls from Pugsley on her phone and despite the graphic scenes she writes in her ongoing novel, Enid’s smile is what haunts her in the dead of night.

Enid who likes her but doesn’t. Wants her but doesn’t. Perhaps Wednesday would’ve received a straight answer, had she let Enid talk, had she not shut her down.

Somehow living in the dark, without confirmation, feels better than finding out the truth and being potentially devasted by it.

She’s protecting her peace, what little there is.

Even though her body craves Enid’s. She feels it mostly in the night, where she can’t sleep. Where the bed is too big to lie in herself, too cold and barren. She hears her laughter echo in the empty hallways of her home. She misses someone who was never truly there, someone she never truly had and she doesn’t know how to stop it.

Wednesday doesn’t believe in fate. She doesn’t believe in soulmates or this red string theory that Enid always goes on about. Yet, when their eyes first met in the bar that night, something deep inside of her relaxed. There you are, it seemed to say. Like she had been waiting for her, her entire life and hadn’t even realised it.

xXx

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Enid loosely holding hands with Wednesday as they enter an event together. Wednesday has headphones over her ears and glares at the camera]

-@ thisistheskinofakiller

        -the hand holding, someone kill me now

-@Viperisgayaf

       -oh im losing it

-@wandaswife

     -the headphones? Just like me fr

-@AJ_bb7

     -idk guys this feels like queerbaiting

          -@Enidsinclairplscurbstompme

               -BOOOOO

          -@mamaitslipbalm

               -touch grass PLEASE

xXx

“So how did you guys meet?” Enid asks, trying to hide her wince behind her mug. The tea was black and far too bitter. But it only made sense that Wednesday got it from her parents. She wonders what other quirks and habits the Adams family passed down to her.

She hasn’t looked in Wednesday’s direction since their return rom the bathroom. Though somehow Gomez’s hidden smile and Morticia’s knowing eyes are just as bad as Wednesday’s blank stare. At least she has Pubert, the little guy keeps burping and is just happy to be here. There is not a single thought behind his eyes.

A lot was said, similarly nothing was said at all. They covered the bases yet somehow glossed over everything. Wednesday shut her down, shut it down and she has to respect that. It was stupid of her to think it could’ve been anything more.

A low sound rumbles in Gomez’s chest, like a big cats purr as he takes his wife’s knuckles to his lips.

He smiles wistfully, “high school sweethearts, she was the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. I was stumbling over myself, could barely get the words out.” Morticia coos and he smiles at her like she hung the moon in the sky. “It’s the Addams family curse, when you meet your love, it’s like the whole world stops and you’d do anything to keep it still, to make your time together last longer.”

They laugh, Enid thinks, but she doesn’t hear it. There’s a roaring in her ears and she stares at a spot on the carpet, cheeks burning as she remembers.

“Maybe it’s because I’ve had too much wine, but you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I felt as though it would be unfair to you if I didn’t tell you that,” she sucks in a deep breath and rubs her sweaty palms against the fabric of her jeans and continues. “I just-I’ve been watching you from across the bar, which is creepy I know, but I needed to tell you because my god, why would a woman like you ever talk to someone like me.”

“Well, it’s just-look at you, you’re the most breathtaking person I’ve ever seen in my life and I’m trying to break into the modelling industry so trust me when I say I’ve seen hot people. But I’m witnessing your presence in a random bar-or pub I guess, in Scotland which smells like sweat and cigarettes and I saw three people taking what I think was ketamine in the bathrooms earlier,” she laughs weakly as the woman stares at her wide eyed. “I guess I thought in the two seconds my mind took to process your existence before barreling over here, that I should just shoot my shot. Worst they can say is no, right?”

“But you haven’t even asked me anything yet,” the woman says in a monotone voice, sipping her red wine and Enid watches her lips around the glass. Her stomach swirling at the sight.

“I mean I asked you why a woman like you would ever talk to someone like me. But the nights young, plenty of time for other questions, right? Like your name, maybe we should start there.”

Enid swallows thickly, hands clenched around the mug so tightly she was sure it was shatter, boiling hot tea spilling all over herself and the carpet.

I was stumbling over myself, could barely get the words out.

She glances at Wednesday and finds the woman purposefully avoiding her gaze.

“Oh.”

xXx

Underneath sequined smiles and champagne drenched skin, the Hollywood glamour isn’t all it’s made out to be. There seems to be this pedestal, this expectation that celebrities are above you and henceforth above silly little day to day things. For some reason celebrities, in the public’s eye, become exempt to it all.

If the world could only see Enid this past week.

The pr for the movie meant long days with (sometimes) fake smiles on her face with countless interviews and takeout after takeout. She can’t remember the last time she had a home cooked meal, the last time she ate a meal and felt fully satisfied and good afterwards.

Her mother keeps calling, leaving voicemails, telling Enid how concerned she is about her public image. Of the rumours being spread about her. Esther hissing down the phone that some people think she is in a secret relationship with Wednesday Addams, but “but ridiculous,” her mom laughed, “I’d know if my daughter was like that.” Enid had bit her tongue, simply humming in agreement and trying to ignore the overwhelming urge to just blurt it out.

Maybe she’ll wait until Thanksgiving.

Make dinner really awkward.

Nobody would ever guess that she cried for twenty minutes yesterday because she accidently burned down her house in Minecraft.

They’d never even consider that she’s close to getting her thirty-day sobriety chip. Even though her alcohol consumption wasn’t frequent and something she found herself relying on, it always got out of hand when she came into contact with it. It’s better to quit now, than to allow it to get worse. She feels better for it, mostly. Except when she’s out with friends and there’s this niggling voice in the back of her head telling her “just one is fine.”

That’s when the willpower she never really knew she had kicks in.

But she’s working on it, it’s just-it’s been a week. But it leads her to this. The biggest moment of her career, something she’s worked towards for years, something only the best of the best has the honour of doing.

The Buzzfeed puppy interview.

She literally sent Yoko and everyone else involved in setting it up, a gift basket to show her gratitude. The one issue, Vada hasn’t shown up. Staff had been whispering about themselves, checking their phones for the better part of thirty minutes

Some others from the cast are in the next room, finishing up another Buzzfeed interview, and if Vada doesn’t show they may have to grab one of them instead.

Yoko shuffles up to her, giving the others a sideways glance before crouching down in front of Enid.

“Hey so, Vada is a no show.”

She wishes she could act surprised.

“So what are they going to do? Because Yoko I was promised puppies, and I’d really like to see them.”

Yoko smirks and shrugs, “I dunno, Vada’s apparently eloped with this German Soccer player or something or it was something about a pig farm-”

“Those are two wildly different situations; how could they be mixed up-”

“My point is, they don’t know if they want to try and reschedule or just do it with you.”

Enid frowns, “just grab someone else from the cast, or oh! Wednesday’s here!”

Someone cackles behind them and Bianca strolls up behind Yoko, an incredulous look on her face.

“You want Wednesday Addams to play with puppies and answer interview questions? Fat chance-”

Wednesday sits next to her with her legs stretched out and her hands folded on her lap. Enid is squirming next to her, hardly able to contain her excitement. Wednesday looks around them with disdain on her face and at the bright paper they sit on, she shoots Enid a dark look and mutters low under her breath-

“You owe me, big time.”

xXx

In amongst it all, her contract with Ajax ran out. Neither of them posts a statement on social media because they had never actually confirmed the status of the relationship. It was done so meticulously and carefully that the life of the relationship ran purely on fan speculation. The subtlety was key, Ajax in background bts pictures from set, the occasional spotting of them together on an outing, fun and borderline flirty comments on each other’s pages, the one blurry photographed kiss from months ago.

Some may consider it a fling, others thought they were serious, considering getting married.

Others called it for what it was, from the very beginning.

A lie.

Why? Maybe to help boost their respective careers, to distract the public from Enid’s secret movie role, instead encouraging them to focus on her smoking hot new boytoy. Perhaps it was promotion for a secret, upcoming modelling project that they’re both featured on.

Nobody ever guesses it’s actually because Enid Sinclair is a lesbian and doesn’t want the world to know.

The circle of those who know is small, Yoko, Wednesday, Ajax (a dumbass but was sweet about it), and Eugene. The decision to tell Eugene was one she went over with in extensive detail to Yoko, who had printed out the papers for him to sign, to ensure he kept his mouth shut. It was decided around a month ago, Enid becoming paranoid after seeing a few fan edits of herself and Wednesday after their occasional dinner not-dates, were photographed.

She just wanted him to keep an eye on things, to let her know how deep it all went.

Eugene for some reason never tells her about the Wenclair hashtag, and Enid still lives unknowing of its existence.

But it was Yoko who told him in person, Enid couldn’t find it in herself to do it. Ajax was hard enough but he just gave her a soft look, called her bro and pulled her into a one-armed hug. She ended up sobbing into his shoulder as he rubbed her back and whispered, “it’s chill, I like chicks too.”

Idiot.

But she’s grown to love him (platonically of course).

Eugene was always maybe a little aware, it was an unspoken thing between them. Sometimes she liked a post, and he’d message her later saying he removed the like, and that fans may read into it too much if they saw that Enid Sinclair liked a meme about strap-ons.

Which makes sense.

But he’s like a little brother to her, and officially coming out to your little brother in person seemed too hard for her to do. Especially because he’d give her those big wide eyes and toothy grin and she’d end up crying again.

So Yoko told him, had him sign the papers as a precaution, and Enid got a text the same night.

Hiveman

I’m proud of you, you know that right?

It doesn’t change anything, but I’m glad you told me

Technically

Ig Yoko told me

He was raised by two moms, so Enid knew she had nothing to worry about.

For some reason the idea of coming out to someone in person, one on one, seems more intimidating than letting the whole world know. It seems more personal, more intimate. The very thought puts a lump in her throat.

She stands in front of her body length mirror and stares. Wondering how many hours of her life she has wasted staring and scrutinising herself in front of it. The amount of time spent hating instead of loving.

But for once she doesn’t stand with her hand on her stomach, pinching at the fat of her lower belly or checking her thigh gap or popping that one pesky pimple that keeps popping up somewhere on her shoulder blades.

Instead she stands with her head tilted, does she look gay?

Enid has no tattoos, minimal piercings, she feels like she doesn’t give off the “vibe”. But there isn’t one way to look gay, she supposes. In fact she’s spent so long worrying that people could tell, now she feels like she’s missed out on something. The exploration people experience in their teenage years, shifting into their twenties. Not that 26 is old by any means, but she feels so far behind.

Her hair, that must be the biggest indicator she thinks, but other than that-she wouldn’t look twice at herself in a bar.

She wonders what she would do if she had complete freedom to do so, without her career spiralling and the publics watchful, judgemental eyes.

A tattoo, a few tattoos actually. She traces a finger up and along her ribs, blunt nail leaving goosebumps in its tracks. Would she get a septum piercing? Maybe. Would she shave as often? Honestly, she loves the feeling of smooth skin under her bed sheets, but the upkeep can be so annoying. Obviously, she gets waxed also but it’s a bothersome thing.

Maybe she would dress slightly differently.

The possibilities are endless.

She’s also been reading more, some books, some blogs which Yoko had recommended and doing some self-reflection. She almost agreed to seeing a therapist. Yoko had insisted it’d be good to talk to a professional about this, this secret she’s been harbouring for so long, but Enid couldn’t find it in herself to agree. LGBTQ+ friendly spaces, very private. It all looked good on paper but the thought of talking to a stranger about something so intimate makes her skin crawl.

Maybe one day.

It’s been quite the journey, she thinks. She never could have imagined that it would lead her to where she is now.

Sat between Wednesday and Vada on high stools, the interviewer across from them. It’s all pre-recorded and won’t be seen for months to come, but the energy, the excitement is still there.

“And Wednesday, fans are desperate to know if you’re currently working on any new projects?” She leans forward slightly in her seat, an eager expression on her face.

Wednesday stares back.

“How desperate?”

“Oh um-”

Vada smirks and Enid bites her cheek to prevent the wide smile from spreading across her face.

“Well I can understand that you like to keep things close to your chest, speaking of, Enid how difficult was it to keep this under wraps? I mean this is huge and nothing like you’ve ever done before.”

She shuffles a little in her chair, Vada catches her eye and gives her a slight smile and nod. Despite their differences and her reservations about the woman, she always offered Enid good advice before interviews or press.

The camera’s in front and behind her feel oddly threatening when she doesn’t know who’s behind them, but she smiles and nods.

“It was kind of insane actually, I had to refrain myself from telling people all the time. I actually almost spilled it all to my Uber eats driver, only a few weeks after booking it,” she giggles, “but no it’s been a wild experience, one that I’m super grateful to be a part of.”

The interviewer smiles wider, and taps her thigh with her notepad.

“Of course, and although nothing has been released other than a two second clip of Vada’s character, the lead Viper, fans and critics alike have been raving about your casting, saying that it’s like the role was written for you.”

Vada laughs politely and Enid smiles, glancing at Wednesday who uncharacteristically is staring down at her shoes. With the slight nudge of her elbow, subtle enough that the cameras won’t pick up on it, Wednesday looks at her, a blank expression on her face and Enid reads her for any signs of distress, she finds none. She finds nothing but there’s something off and she knows it.

She just can’t put her finger on it.

The interviewer waits patiently and Enid hums, turning back to face her with an apologetic smile on her face. “Yeah, I mean, it’s all down to the casting directors and there were a lot of girls up for the role, a lot that looked like me actually, so it was kind of freaky, I probably had a second cousin or something in there,” she laughs, “but um-yeah some things are just meant to be I suppose.”

She says the last part quietly and feels Wednesday stiffen next to her.

“And Vada, what was it like having to step back almost, to allow a new partner into the franchise. Book fans obviously know, but to movie fans this is quite the shock.”

Vada takes her time to answer, her professionalism, while questionable at times, always manages to impress Enid. When she shows up, she really shows up. She for sure has been through media and pr training extensively in her career so far.

The interviewer asks a few more questions, variations of ones Enid has already been asked about three times today, before reaching behind her and pulling out the trilogy of books. She blushes as she explains that she’s a long-term fan and wondered if they could perhaps sign them.

Enid does so happily, signing the first and second, passing them to Wednesday. Vada passes her the third one and Enid flips it open, pen dancing across the page and she goes to pass it to Wednesday, but the interviewer asks her, “and Wednesday, what solidified your decision to switch things up so drastically?”

Wednesday sighs quietly and repeats the same rehearsed monotone answer that she’s given a hundred times in interviews over the past few weeks. Enid sits there with the book in her hand and waits patiently. She absentmindedly flips through the first few pages and lands on the copyright page, boring stuff really, until her eyes stop on one part.

Published March 2019.

That’s five years ago.

She never knew when the book was published, never bothered to check, but she knew it was written around the same time the first movie was filming.

“-your time in Europe perhaps hatched some inspiration, where was the first movie filmed again? Italy, Scotland-”

Scotland.

Enid freezes, muscles locking and her mouth dries as the world becomes silent around her, a faint ringing in her ears as she stares at the date. She can feel her entire pulsing with nervous energy, hands growing clammy and staining the pages with sweat.

Published March 2019.

That’s only months after she and Wednesday met.

“-Rather quick turnaround, the editors were unhappy at the time with my decision,” Wednesday says next her, though she founds like she’s speaking underwater. “But I write at a proficient pace, and my first draft was my final one.”

“Really?”

“I strive for perfectionism.”

Enid swallows, her left eye twitches and the ink fades in and out of her vision.

“we’re so excited to have you on the team, honestly it’s like you were made for this part-”

“Enid?”

She jerks her head up to see Wednesday reach out expectantly for the book. Enid stares at her and Wednesday frowns slightly before glancing down at the page where Enid’s thumb has made a sizeable dent, and her jaw clenches slightly, before relaxing.

The book is passed along and Wednesday signs her name with its large, looped letters and dramatic flair, before passing it back to the interviewer, who beams at them all, thanking them profusely. They shake hands and leave the interview, it’s the last one she has today, thank God.

“You left your sweater at my home a few days ago,” Wednesday’s voice breaks through Enid’s trance. “Would you like to collect it?”

She nods, not trusting her voice and doesn’t speak on the ride home either, too wrapped up in her thoughts. Wednesday keeps sending her curious looks, Lurch even turns the radio on, but Enid doesn’t so much as move a muscle.

Thing greets her when they enter the cold home, and she leans down to pet him absentmindedly. The sweater is folded neatly on the couch, she goes to grab it when Wednesday murmurs, “I’ll put the kettle on.” And without Enid’s response, moves past her into the kitchen.

Finally Enid can breathe, and she whips out her phone, shaky thumbs tapping rapidly at the Google icon.

“What does the name Edin mean?”

(Scottish origin meaning fierce/little fire)

“What does the name Angelou mean?”

(Greek origin meaning angel)

“There’s no way,” she whispers under her breath, rapidly googling anything she can about the publication of the third book. Words like “delayed” pop up, articles talking about Addams hiatus, how the third book took longer to publish than the first two. How Addams had “been inspired” down a new road.

Her heart races in her chest, so fast that it hurts.

“You don’t know me.”

“I feel that I know enough.”

Enid bites her tongue and doesn’t rise to the challenge burning in Wednesday’s eyes.

Teaspoons clatter in the next room as Enid gravitates towards the bookshelf, fingers scanning the spines.

She tries for a smile (it’s more of a grimace) and says, “yeah well you didn’t make it easy. The main characters looking like me and you, weird right?”

Something strange passes over Wednesday’s face, blink and you might miss it. But she recovers herself and remains as composed as ever.

“A coincidence, perhaps?”

Wednesday enters the room behind her and Enid can hear her place the cups on the coffee table and then stop. Silence isn’t unfamiliar with them, in fact Enid never really learnt how to find comfort in silence until she met Wednesday. She always was trying to fill the space with needless chatter, it’s only been within the past few months that she learned how to appreciate the intimacy of silence in another’s company.

They’ve spent hours together in silence, Wednesday reading and Enid doing literally anything else. Every now and again communicating with silent looks and slight nudges, the odd word of affirmation or question. The key thing here being that even in the silence, they were together, and when together they never ignored each other

The silence isn’t new, it’s not uncomfortable. But Enid ignoring Wednesday, is.

A moment passes before an unsure, “Enid?” Reaches her ears.

Enid lets out a broken laugh, glad to not be facing the other woman. “So you think I’m pretty?”

“I can acknowledge that you are conventionally attractive according to current societal standards, yes,” Wednesday says without missing a beat and Enid can imagine the slightly tilt of her chin. “Why does this matter?”

Enid sucks in a deep, shaky breath, “fluffy blonde hair and a smile that could mean nothing but mischief. Eyes that one couldn’t help but feel drawn to, eager to fall into them, into her. A rare beauty among sheep, adamant against conformity. Needless to say it would only take one interaction with her, to become infatuated.”

Silence.

“…That’s-a line from my book.”

Enid finally turns around and holds it up, Wednesday pales, if that was possible. A strange noise escapes her, like all the air was just punched out her lungs. The third book, in all its 325-page glory, hanging limp in Enid’s hand because fuck it’s heavy.

She scoffs, “page 12, it would’ve been laughably obvious if I knew the dates sooner. If I’d seen it all together.”

Wednesday’s jaw clenches, her hands folded behind her back, chin tilted upwards. Her eyes defensive and sharp.

“And what is, it?”

Chucking the book down on the coffee table, a loud thud echoes through the house and Wednesday barely winces at the sound.

Rubbing her hands down her face she chuckles weakly.

“Come on Wednesday. I’m not an idiot, the dates, the description, hell-fucking Edin? Did you even try to-”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about Enid, are you feeling well?”

“Am I feeling well-” Enid whispers in disbelief, staring at the face that’s lied to her, to everyone, for months. “Every time someone says, oh it’s just like you wrote her, such amazing casting, you stood there with that smug little look on your face. The fact that I even got cast, was it really my talent, or did you see the audition tape and just couldn’t help yourself.” She waves a hand in the air, “oh how perfect, the woman I wrote the entire fucking character after, wants to play her. This will go down as the best casting decision in history!”

Her head throbs as she runs a hand through her hair, massaging her scalp.

“Did I even rightfully deserve the part? Did you even-”

Wednesday steps forward, jabbing a finger in the air at her, “I had no intention of seeing you again. You were a stranger in another country. I was in a writing block, you provided inspiration. Do not mistake this as some kind of romantic interpretation where you exist as my muse. If anything I used your likeliness without your consent, I used you for work, that is all. Don’t make this into something it isn’t.”

“And that’s all this was? Work?”

“What else would it be?”

“Bullshit,” Enid whispers and Wednesday’s frown deepens.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say Enid.”

They’re so close now, so close that Enid can feel Wednesday’s breath on her face and can almost feel the rise and fall of her chest. She gulps and sniffles, “you could’ve told me. If it didn’t mean anything, why wouldn’t you tell me?”

And that-that’s what makes Wednesday freeze.

“You create this new character, this entirely new storyline after meeting me. But it doesn’t mean anything, right?”

Enid pushes closer and Wednesday lets her.

“Right?” She says through gritted teeth and Wednesday watches the motion with narrowed eyes.

Don’t.

Please don’t.

Wednesday nods and steps back.

“Right.”

Enid squeezes her eyes shut. She steps back too and grabs her sweater, ignoring that it smells of Wednesday, ignoring that the other girl likely washed it for her. Her legs feel heavy as she walks to the door, passing Thing on her way, not stopping to pet him this time.

Her hand is on the door handle when Wednesday says-

“I do apologise, that you found out this way. Also how this could be seen as an insult to your intelligence, it was never-” she breaks off with a sigh, uncharacteristic for her. “I’m sorry.”

Enid hates the affect Wednesday has on her. Hates how that makes her want to turn and run back into the other girls arms.

But she doesn’t.

She has too much self-respect for that.

xXx

It’s Divina who answers the door, with a happy smile which drops once she sees the look on Enid’s face.

She ushers her inside without another word and sits her down on the couch. Enid hadn’t been round her since Divina moved in, it’s brighter, looks a little less like a vampires lair. The couch is still a deep purple, the rug in front of it black, though white hairs run through it, Divina’s rabbit must be hiding somewhere around here.

The couch sinks, as someone sits next to her and there’s a hand on her shoulder, gently jostling her.

Yoko.

The jingling of keys.

“Divina’s gone out to the store, ok? It’s just us.”

Enid leans her elbows on her knees and buries her face in her hands.

“Enid,” she says slowly, rubbing her back with slow circles and places her other hand on Enid’s knee, fingers brushing Enid’s elbow. “What happened? Whatever it is, we can fix it.”

Here goes nothing.

“I’ve been keeping something from you, Yoko, something kinda big.”

“Oh my God you killed someone.”

Enid snorts and shakes her head, messing up her hair.

Her vision blurs, the rug beneath her feet now a black blob.

“No I-I’ve met Wednesday before.”

Her friend swears under her breath. “Shit. How drunk are you, of course you’ve met her before?” She sounds so disappointed in her, but Enid’s not drunk. She came here because she didn’t want to get drunk.

“I’m not, I swear,” she sniffles, “years ago, we met at a bar and it didn’t come to anything but I-do you believe in love at first sight Yoko?”

Enid does, did. Always the romantic, dreaming how one day she’d meet her perfect prince, and he’d sweep her off her feet. Until one day she realised that it wasn’t a prince she was after, and maybe she wanted to do the sweeping.

Yoko taps her back, “what do you mean?”

“We met before the last book was written, the timelines add up and-” her voice catches and she swallows thickly. “It’s for me, Yoko, the character is me, but she won’t admit the significance of it all and now we’ve been dancing around each other and-”

Yoko pulls Enid into her arms as she begins to sob, shushing her quickly.

“I hate this,” she cries into Yoko’s shoulder, “why doesn’t she want me. Why won’t she let me-”

“Some people,” Yoko says firmly, “are too blinded by their self-deprecation or pride, to understand and appreciate what’s right in front of them. Give her time, but give yourself time too.”

That’s the irony of it all. How much time have they already had, and how much more they need.

xXx

Yoko

I’d be real careful about what you do moving forward Addams

Wednesday

How did you get this number.

Yoko

Doesn’t fucking matter

Don’t try shit with her ok?

I mean it.

xXx

Enid did a shoot for a fashion magazine, the first in awhile and it goes well. It’s nothing new or groundbreaking, but she enjoys it. Though it’s strange being in front of the camera again and not having to do anything but stay still and smile (or not, depending on the vibe).

It’s second nature but she won’t pretend that it didn’t take a few takes before she was fully comfortable in her body again. 

When the magazine comes out, and the photos get posted online, she inevitably gets the call. Two hours after it was posted is a new record though, her mom must be feeling patient today. Or has somehow found something more fulfilling in her life and worthy of her time, than criticising her only daughter.

“The hair was a choice,” she says, voice high and Enid can hear the uncertainty and disgust curling over her lips. “A bit…boyish, don’t you think. I mean yours is already short enough.”

The shoot for one section had Enid’s hair gelled and coifed close to her head, her makeup light except for around her eyes.

In one portion she’s in long wide leg pants and a matching vest top with nothing underneath, reclined back in a leather chair. There were various outfits and themed centred around the new movie, this was one of them, in stark contrast to other outfits where she was dressed in her usual bright colours.

She hops up onto one of her counters and sighs, “it’s androgynous mother, and besides, hair of all things doesn’t equate to gender.”

Damn her pop-tart is taking AGES today.

Her mother scoffs, “you’re starting to sound like those people online, with all your silly ideologies. When I was younger a girl was a girl and a boy was a boy, now you have to be so careful with what you say or else-”

“Is there something you wanted to tell me, or speak to me about, because if not then I can just go,” Enid bites back, something she’s started doing more often, her patience slipping around her mother.

A part of her feels guilty about it.

The other part feels giddy.

“I’m looking out for your image, and the families. You look like a lesbian Enid.”

She says the word like it’s a slur.

The toaster pops and Enid slowly slides off of the counter towards it, hand clammy where it holds the phone.

“Would that be a bad thing?”

“What?”

“If me, or Toby or Michael,” she won’t name all of her brothers, otherwise she’d be here for a week. “Were…like that. Gay. What would you do?”

Esther is quiet on the other end.

“Well I think I’d need some time to think about it, good thing neither of you are though,” she says it so quickly, with a sense of finality like she’s scared of what Enid could say or interject with. Like she’s trying to swiftly move the conversation forward to avoid discussing an inevitable topic.

Her answer was expected, if anything kinder than what Enid had in mind, which is sad.

The words are on the tip of her tongue, teasing, taunting.

Say it.

Just say it.

Just-

“I have to go mom,” she squeezes her eyes shut, fingers burning as she tries to fish the pop-tart out of the toaster. “Speak to you later, ok?”

“Hm, alright then, bye dear.”

Beep.

Suddenly she's overcome with the urge to call her, Wednesday. To vent or ask for advice, to just sit together in silence but then she remembers. They haven't spoken in over a week, it's maybe been the longest week of her life but she just doesn't know how to move past this. She's also tired of downplaying this thing between them, she wants it and she maybe thought Wednesday did too, hell writing a character like that based on Enid seems pretty forward if you ask her. 

But maybe Yoko's right, Wendesday's never shown any kind of desire for a relationship, maybe Enid had simply exaggerated it all in her head. Either way crushes on girls sucked, they had no right to be so excruciating.

Speaking of excruciating

She jerks her hand when she realises that she’s been holding it for too long, fingers scorching, and the pop-tart goes flying across her kitchen.

“Motherfu-”

“This is so stupid,” Yoko giggles, lifting up the necklace that depicts two scissors scissoring each other on the front of the chain.

They have a rare day off, one where Yoko doesn’t already have plans with her girlfriend and Enid doesn’t have a show to binge or a game that she’s glued too. Or the other totally important stuff she does on her days off.

It’s a small store with an assortment of pride themed items, along with other stuff, but that seemed to be the main theme of the shop. They’d both snorted over the large Cate Blanchett tapestry at the back of the shop and Enid made a mental note to buy it for Yoko for Christmas (she knows Divina is also a fan).

Both picked up pronoun badges because it can be handy in their line of work with meeting so many new people, but Enid also wanted to buy at least one thing before leaving. She hates going into small businesses and leaving without buying something, it feels so awkward. But they pass a stand on the way to the checkout and Enid stops, staring at the various pride flags, biting her cheek.

Yoko slows next to her too, looking at them in an overtly obvious manner, which Enid knows she’s doing to move the attention from Enid to herself. No doubt the shopkeeper didn’t know who she was when she came in, the wide smile and awed look said it all. As thankful as Enid is for Yoko’s help, she doesn’t need it.

She raises a hand out and feels Yoko elbow her gently.

“You sure?” She breathes, eyes wide over the lens of her glasses, glancing from Enid to the shopkeeper.

Enid sucks in a deep breathe, reaches for the small lesbian flag and goes straight to the tills. The woman behind them seems to lose her breath for a second, staring wide eyed at Enid and then the flag she hands over to buy.

It feels both terrifying and amazing at the same time.

“Are you paying cash or card?” Is what the woman says, though her smile is obvious, and her eyes look at Enid knowingly.

With relief, Enid lets out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

“Card, please.”

A few days pass and there’s nothing.

Me

You’re sure?

Theres nothing?

Hiveman

Nothing.

If this woman has posted anything its somewhere I can’t find it

Which would be impressive.

Dw, I’ll keep an eye out

Me

no

its fine

u don’t need to look out for that anymore

Hiveman

Wait what?

Are you sure?

Omg no way

Enid are you SURE

xXx

@Enid Sinclair ✔                

Since we’re on the topic of surprises

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Enid taking the picture lying down, nose scrunched and waving the lesbian flag next to her face]

Chapter Text

Wednesday throws up.

She hasn’t been sick like this since she was a child, pale and sweating. The porcelain of the toilet is cool under her clammy hands, the only thing offering her some comfort in these trying times. She dry heaves, her stomach lurching before she spits out spitefully, flopping back and coming to rest against the wall.

Death would be preferable.

A crush.

How juvenile.

She came so close to having it, her, and she threw it all away.

“I’m not interested.”

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she mumbles, standing shakily to her feet and shuffling out of the bathroom. Her own pride and denial got in the way, she was so close to touching heaven, and she more or less told her to take a hike.

She didn’t care if Enid was in or out of this metaphorical closet, she kept going on about. She does care whether or not Enid however has experienced the self-actualisation, has come to terms with it for herself.  Regardless if she ever does or doesn’t, it wouldn’t make a difference. Enid is…painfully wonderful and Wednesday could never match that.

She would set the world alight for her and still feel as though she hasn’t done enough.

Her phone pings in the next room and she scowls darkly, speaking of things to burn...Thing skips past her, his body low and close to the floor. He no doubt has picked up on her attitude these past few months, the shift in personality. Cats are intuitive things, partly the reason why Wednesday respects them.

It’s likely that he also misses Enid, she spoiled him. Bringing treats and toys over almost every time. His love can be bought it seems.

“Fool,” Wednesday mutters, glaring at how he scratches up her doorframe, knowing he has a perfectly good scratching post downstairs. She shakes her head and picks up the buzzing device, brows furrowing as she reads the top message.

Bianca

Have you seen Enid’s new post?

xXx

@Enid Sinclair ✔                

Since we’re on the topic of surprises

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Enid taking the picture lying down, nose scrunched and waving the lesbian flag next to her face]

@Enidslosteyelash

A WIN FOR THE GIRLS

@Vipersnest

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG

@Justine493_290

My young girls were big fans, this is disappointing. Unfollowed!

-@mamaitslipbalm

. -Bye bitch

@mamaitslipbalm

GOD BLESS

@iluvmilfs

Wenclair confirmed???

xXx

Enid Sinclair comes out as a lesbian, and it has fans wondering.

Buzzfeed-(03/12/24)

America’s it girl just came out, much to the surprise of…nobody? Well it depends on who you talk to. Eagle eyed fans have been commenting on the model-turned actresses following list and likes for a few years now, though no conclusive proof was ever found that Enid Sinclair did in fact, play for the other team.

Now this isn’t the first big surprise Sinclair has shared with us this year (reference to the caption of her post), not only did she confirm she landed a leading role in one of the highest rated horror franchises of all time, she also semi-soft launched a relationship with Ajax Petropolus, hard launched her unusual friendship with the notoriously private W. Addams, she’s now also come out!

Though fans speculate two big things.

1. Was her relationship pr? Or do we have Ajax Petropolus to thank for Enid’s sudden coming out?
2. What the heck is up with Wenclair?

Now guys, you know I love a conspiracy as much as the next person, but how much evidence do we actually have here?

Dinner dates, holding hands, funny interactions in comment sections. Well, by lesbian standards, they’re probably already married.

xXx

[Video description: Enid and Wednesday doing the Buzzfeed puppy interview]

“Oh my God Wends look at him!”

Enid picks up the small beagle and smooshes her cheek against his. He wriggles before she sets him down and her scrambles over her lap. Wednesday sits very still, cautiously raising her hand to pat the puppy nearest to her, once, twice, three times on the top of his head, before extracting it.

“-wait what was the question again?” Enid giggles as one licks her cheek. “Oh! Um I think, shoot sorry,” she coos at the puppy who’s nosing at her knees and picks it up, kissing it on the nose. “I think I might cry, isn’t this great Wends?”

Wednesday turns her head to pointedly stare at the puppy behind them who is squatted and peeing on the coloured paper, before staring straight into the camera.

“I prefer cats.”

@kaitkat

Lmaooo

@Enidslosteyelash

#Wenclair

@Mileniiixx

Not her staring at us like it’s our fault

@Vichokeme

Guys why am I getting a vibe?

@Dian_051

Oh they’re fucking

            -@Enidss_x

                   -girl

xXx

Yoko

I’m handling it

Don’t do anything stupid ok

Me

Me?

Me do something stupid?

Bitch pls

Jk sorry for ciming out

Without telling u

Yoko

No listen, I love you

Even if you are a pr nightmare

But this was a personal decision

I’m happy for you

Even if I have a million people calling me rn

Me

Yeah…sorry about that

How about a raise

2%

Yoko

You’re making Hollywood bucks babe

I’m gonna need to see more than 2%

Me

Hm I shall think about it

Enid sighs and closes her phone, chucking it to the other side of the couch. Similarly, her phone has been blowing up all day. Eugene has been managing her socials, blocking people and deleting weird comments. He begged her to just leave it to him and to not say anything else. Apparently, her coming out is a huge deal.

She knew people would care, knew there would be people praying for her “salvation” in the comments or “cursing the woke mob!” But it wasn’t all bad.

Eugene told her that the sapphic side of Twitter was losing their minds right now. So there’s that.

Her biggest worry though, her mom. Seven missed calls and eighteen messages, none of which she has bothered to read. She knows what she’ll find and hear, but she’s feeling too good right now to try and dampen it. Ride her high, that’s what Eugene said. Log off from the rest of the world, don’t look at anything and self-reflect.

But she’s itching to look. Any time she tries to, she snaps the rubber band on her wrist, howls and falls off the couch in pain.

Works like a charm.

Her doorbell goes and she frowns, she’s not expecting anyone. Opening the door reveals staff from the building, his arms overflowing with flowers, mumbling something about a delivery and how they’ve been paid for. Bewildered, Enid thanks him and takes them out of his hands, kicking the door behind her and placing the massive basket down on the table by the entryway, next to her key bowl.

Purple asters, pink zinnias and sedums.

Her favourites, and also the exact same as the ones n her trailer every morning.

However there’s a slight difference, there’s a note this time. She plucks it up, its black, ominous and there’s a creeping, dreading sensation crawling up the back of her neck, as she suspects who sent them.

Sinclair

Enid

I offer my congratulations on your recent announcement; I understand this must have taken great consideration and I admire your bravery on the decision. If anybody gives you any trouble, send them my way. I recently acquired an 18^th century cavalry sword, which I am eager to try out.

Though I understand I have no right to ask this of you. I betrayed your trust; I was also less than sympathetic to you before. I am not known for my open mind, but rather my stubbornness, something I saw as a strength until late.

We likely won’t see much of each other in the upcoming months, for that I am sure you are glad. I will respect your space, though should you require my assistance, you know where I reside.

Yours

Sincerely

Wednesday.

Enid lets out a shaky breath, rereading the letter several times before she puts it down. Wednesday Addams never did things by halves huh? She picks up the basket and carries it further into her apartment, sniffing the flowers as she does so, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes.

“I admire the Black Dahlia,” Enid hears Wednesday say begrudgingly and she turns her head in surprise, startled that she managed to get something like that out of her. But she also refrains from smiling at the obvious choice of flower.

“I love purple asters,” she smiles.

Her eyes snap open.

Wednesday had bought the flowers for her trailer every morning. How could she have forgotten their conversation before. The better question was how did Wednesday remember the specific flowers, considering they showed up weeks after that conversation.

Enid’s eyes stray to her phone.

Don’t call her.

Her fingers find the rubber band and pull it tightly away from the skin and let go.

“HOLY-”

xXx

[Video description: Enid Sinclair on one of the late night talk shows]

The audiences applause dies down as Enid takes her seat, smiling brightly at them and waving.

“Hey welcome back,” he greets her, “it’s been uh, two, three years?”

“Two years,” she nods.

He leans back in his chair a little and raises his hands, “wow, and clearly so much has happened, should we maybe address the elephant in the room first?”

Enid laughs nervously and the audience laughs with her.

“Um so, I came out.”

The audience applauses loudly and she smiles awkwardly and nods at them.

The presenter smiles, “you did! Congratulations, do you maybe wanna share a little about why you chose to do that now, or is this something you’ve had figured out for a long time?”

“Um well, I’ve known for a long time, years actually-”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, and it just, it got so tiring keeping it a secret and I found that it ended up impacting some people close to me, so I just decided to do it. Better do it on my own terms than have some random person spot me and out me y’know?”

He nods and the audience applauds again.

“Well, you must know how many of your fans are thrilled by this, and we, us-” he gestures awkwardly to the audience, “everyone’s happy for you. But now I think we should talk about the real reason that you’re here.”

He reaches behind him and lifts a square picture, it’s a screenshot from Enid’s Instagram where she’s posed with one of the props from the movie, a bloody severed hand.

“Wanna tell us some more about this?”

@enidslosteyelash

Ugh I love her

@WednesdayAddamsfootstool

Still in disbelief that shes for the girls

xXx

Enid sits next to Vada on her respective stool as Vada introduces them to the camera.

“Hey I’m Vada Alvez,”

“And I’m Enid Sinclair,”

“And we’re reading your thirst tweets,” they say together.

Vada reaches into the bowl in front of her, rustling around until she settles on a piece of paper. She opens it up and smiles, “I just want to spend the whole day with Vada Alvez bc she honestly is so pretty and seems super fun.”  She shrugs and crumples it up, “that was a nice one!”

Enid lets out a relived sigh as she retrieves hers, “oh good maybe they won’t be that bad then.” She opens up hers and her smile drops.

“I need Enid Sinclair to break my back, spit on me, run me over, curbstomp me and then kiss my forehead.”

There’s silence other than a few people laughing off camera. Enid stares blankly forward while Vada gawks at the camera.

Vada reads her next one, “Vada Alvez is sooo sexy I want to her to ruin my f****** life, pls mommy.”

“Oh, hot.”

Enid gives the camera a dirty look before opening her next one. “I just know Enid Sinclair’s strap game would be CRAZY.”

“Woah,” Enid’s cheeks pinken and Vada giggles.

“Well is it?”

Enid squawks and smacks Vada’s arm as they dissolve into laughter.

xXx

@ViperDeLaMuertesupremacy

Forever thinking of this clip from Enid’s thirst tweets video

[Image description: A screenshot taken of Enid with her eyebrows raised and biting her lower lip. The text on the screen reads, “I just know that Enid talks you through it.”

@thisistheskinofakiller

Oh look at her face she defo does

xXx

The rain pattered down gently against the windshield of the car, streaks of water sliding down as the windscreen wipers slide back and for uselessly. The stark contrast between New York and San Francisco was rough, from a winter wonderland to grey skies and forecasted heavy showers for the entire week. This wasn’t something she missed much about home.

White Christmas her ass.

Miraculously, she’d managed to avoid travelling home for Thanksgiving, selling her mother a cheap story about contracts and interviews and how the flights were too inconvenient. Thankfully she didn’t put up much of a fight. Christmas however, she couldn’t avoid, even if her mother was trying to avoid her. The missed calls and messages after her announcement had piled up, voicemails of her mothers voice hissing down the line.

Her dad had called her, telling Enid that her mother did want her home for the holidays (how else would they do the Sinclair photoshoot for next year’s calendar?), she just wanted to gloss over the “thing.”

Not even he would say it.

And she wants to see her brothers and nieces and nephews, but she doesn’t believe for one second that her mother will go the entire trip without bringing it up. She gives it ten minutes from the moment that she walks through the door, she’ll barely get to show off her ugly Christmas jumper and coo at her newborn niece, before her mother drags her out the room for “girl talk.”

Esther will be allowed to have a pass at Enid or anyone else, but Enid knows the dirty looks she’ll get at the dinner table if she tries to respond with the same energy.

Hypocrites.

All of them.

It’s Christmas Eve and she’s got a hotel because she knows that she’ll pull out her own hair if she stays the week in her childhood home. The hotel's staff will no doubt give her a warmer welcome than her own mother will right now.

The hire car smells too strongly of air freshener, pine needle, funnily enough.

Her legs are stiff as they walk to the front door, like her body is screaming at her not to bother, to just turn around and leave. How she wishes she could, she wishes she could just cut them all off and go without worrying about them or what they think. How pathetic of her to still stick around people who obviously don’t care for her.

She doesn’t bother knocking, it’s her family home, so she steps inside and kicks off her boots, immediately to be bombarded with her whirlwind of a niece who throws herself in Enid’s arms, forcing her to drop the heavy giftbags she’s hauled in. this is good, Lila’s good, nobody will be mean to her with a kid in her arms.

To their credit, they do all cheer when she enters the room, but it’s half-hearted and forced. Nobody had called her when she came out, nobody acknowledged it, and she isn’t sure where half of them stand.

A hand on her hip makes her turn and she smiles in relief.

“Dad,” she breathes, leaning into his one-armed hug.

His lips graze her ear, “Just give her time.”

Shit.

Enid gulps and nods, turning back to the room and exchanging greetings with her family, some stand to hug her, others just tip their beer in her direction. A few years ago she would’ve gotten a hug, a hug and a smile.

The weight of expectation has always held her down in this house, now the weight of disappointment threatens to bury her completely.

Her mom is hidden in the kitchen, has been ever since Enid arrived two hours ago. Maybe that’s for the best.

She plays with her nieces and nephews and makes small talk with her brothers, Jeremy nudges her, “I like women too, don’t worry,” his eyes crinkle with amusement and she snorts, nudging him and he almost spills his beer. He’s an asshole most of the time, but he’s also her older brother and can evidently read the tension in the room.

Her brothers wives seem to be friendlier and more accepting of it all, though even then they tiptoe around the topic and the elephant in the room grows bigger by the minute. Like it’s on steroids or something.

Eventually she decides to face the ticking time bomb face on and enters the kitchen, the heat blasting her face and all the familiar smells from childhood Christmases hit her nose. It’s bittersweet. Her mom is bent over, looking in the oven and doesn’t even notice her arrival.

“Hey Mom,” she says tentatively, “Merry Christmas.”

The older woman stills, and Enid feels fear crawling up her back when those judgemental eyes turn to face her.

“Merry Christmas,” she says flatly, “Surprised you came home.”

Enid shrugs, “Well it’s the holidays, right? Best spent with family,” her smile is weak, her composure crumbling by the second.

“Families don’t tend to keep secrets from each other.”

Oh they’re doing this now then.

Enid plucks a chocolate from a box on the counter and begins to peel the foil, feeling somewhat invincible against her mothers stare. She pops it in her mouth and feels no guilt about it.

“That’s fair,” she says amicably, figuring it may be the easier way to approach this. “I understand it’s a big surprise.”

“You realise what you’ve done right?” She points the turkey baster at Enid, juices flying against the tiles next to her head. “Your career-”

“Is fine.”

“You never used to be,” Esther shakes her head and shuffles about the kitchen. “I raised you normal, I don’t know what changed but it’s not my fault.”

Enid clenches her teeth to stop herself from saying something she may regret.

“No, it’s not,” she says slowly, “But it’s also not mine. Nothing has changed, I’ve known this for quite some time and-”

“And you kept it from me?”

“Not everything is about you.”

Esther drops the turkey baster on the countertop and plants her hands on her hips. It’s nothing new, even when she was younger Enid was faced with the same cold, hard stare. Except now she’s older, now she isn’t afraid of her.

“Our reputation.”

“Oh I’m sorry our?”

“Yes Enid, our. You, me, the whole family, now I have people asking me questions and pestering me,” she shouts back to her. “It’s a lonely life Enid, the one you’re choosing, I don’t want that for my daughter.”

Don’t.

“You see people isolated, alone.”

Don’t.

“It’s just not natural and I don’t know why people choose it.”

“It’s only lonely because of people like you,” Enid says through gritted teeth. “Maybe if you were kinder. Curious instead of judgemental then the world would be a nicer place, but it’s not because of people like you,” she pants, years, and years of built-up angst, finally coming out. “Not once did you ask how I was feeling, you just told me how you felt and that’s your problem, you only care about yourself and what other people think of you.”

She exhales and lets herself lean back against the counter.

Wow that felt good.

Esther blinks, her mouth open but unmoving and before she can say anything else, Enid beats her to it.

“And you don’t have to worry about me, after today I’m done, we don’t have to see each other,” she shoulders her way through the kitchen door, back into the living room and everyone jumps and moves to act like they weren’t just eavesdropping on the entire conversation.

She breathes, trying to cool down and get rid of her rosy cheeks.

God she wishes she hadn’t come home.

xXx

The Addams family do not celebrate Christmas the same as their neighbours, well, most of their neighbours. The Adlers next door were Jewish, though earlier in the month they had dropped off freshly baked rugelach to the house. Pugsley devoured them in one go and her mother had since then been baking them along with an assortment of other holiday treats.

Now the house smells of sugar and chocolate.

Wednesday glares at the Adlers house through the large living room window of the Addams family mansion. Similarly, she sends a dirty look to the Robinson’s down the road, they dropped off a pecan pie the other day, much to her brothers delight.

Christmas is just a bedazzled, stolen version of the Pagan holiday, Yule, a holiday she much prefers. The music is less irritating, and the decorations are much more up her alley. The house is dark, as always, though they’ve decorated with holly and ivy, an assortment of wreaths and candles. It’s much more preferable to the alternative options. Across the road has lit up plastic reindeers on their lawn, how very peculiar.

She isn’t sure what the correlation between the birth of Christ and Santa Claus is, but she doesn’t have it in her to care. So long as she doesn’t see man in a red suit pass her house on one of those Christmas parades, she’ll be fine.

December 24^th is a quiet affair for the Addams’. Much of the family arrives on the 25^th for celebrations, a large ball which begins at dusk. Copious amounts of wine will be drunk, and the pale skin of the family will sport a rare blush, as they dance into the night. Gifts will be exchanged, Wednesday wrapped hers in plain brown parcel paper, none of the gaudy, tacky red and gold sparkled wrappings that retail stores convince you to buy. Though she detests gift buying, she is unfortunately very talented at it, and expects extreme gratitude from her recipients.

Despite outsider claims that her family are a dull, abysmal lot, the walls of the house threaten to burst with the love that swells through it on the holidays. No matter the décor, or dark clothing or sharp, gleaming weapons, the Addams family is cursed to love with their entire being. The manor will be a joyous place. This is however a slight problem for Wednesday because laughter makes her want to plug candlewax in her ears.

Nevertheless, she persists.

An excuse will be made, yes, she will perhaps convince mother that she needs to visit the bats in the attic, greet the ghost up there too. Or pretend she spilt on her clothes, excuse herself upstairs, shove a chair against her bedroom door and hide out there until the festivities die down.

She’ll find a way.

“You look weird.”

Wednesday doesn’t turn away from the window to acknowledge Pugsley’s presence. He speaks through a mouthful of food, something sugary by the smell.

“Is that how you greet me after all this time?” She murmurs, her nail digging into the wooden crevices of the windowsill. “You always lacked bite.”

He scoffs and shuffles closer.

“Nah you’re different, off. Paler than usual somehow. I hear you tossing and turning in bed through the nights, even across the hall, usually you just lay down and sleep like the dead.”

Drats.

She forgot how nosy her brother could be.

“I’m very sick, three months to live,” she turns to look at him, grimacing at the fat droplet of chocolate on his chin. “My dying wish is for you to gain the respect of your peers, remove that godawful moustache and-”

She stumbles to the side and gawks at him. He pushed her with his elbow. Pugsley pushed her. How dare he? He’s never tried something like that before. Wednesday clenches her jaw and straightens up, reaching to grab the vase from the windowsill to throw at his head when he says something that knocks the breath out of her.

“It’s Enid, right? Enid Sinclair, the girl from the movie. Mom and dad said you guys were friends or something,” his voice is gentle, because he knows he’s on thin ice. “You don’t have a lot of friends Wednesday.”

She hates the sad look on his face. The sympathetic raise of his eyebrows, the pity. Her heart clenches nonetheless and pounds in her ears.

“People don’t tend to like me.”

“But she does.”

Oh he has no idea.

Wednesday turns and faces the window again. It’s a nice night, clean skies and bright stars. The moon is white and wide, it’s melancholy presence and shine isn’t helping her at all. The moon is quiet, subtle in it’s existence, if she could choose, the moon would be in the sky all of the time. However the moon never exists on its own, its counterpart, bright and obnoxious. The sun can chase after the moon all it likes though it will never catch it.

They can’t exist at the same time. They can’t shine at the same time. Though, they can’t work without each other.

“We’re not currently on speaking terms,” she says through gritted teeth, and he rolls his eyes.

Rolls his eyes.

What has this new girlfriend of his done to him?

He finally wipes his chin with his hand, eyes on the moon and stars too and says, “I think that’s silly, not currently being on speaking terms. It kinda implies that you still plan on being in each other’s lives, you’re just ignoring each other.”

“Unfortunately I think she’ll always be in my life,” Wednesday muses, watching the beginning of snowfall. “What with the press tour and-”

“Wednesday.”

She spares him a glance and he looks soft.

It’s ridiculous and it makes her angry.

“I lied to her about something and she’s mad. However before that she acted…oddly with me. I have trouble with people, and she knows that but it’s all just a mess.” Perhaps it’ll be a proper ‘White Christmas’ after all. She can throw snowballs at the neighbours children until her fingertips are red and numb. “I don’t enjoy messes.”

He nods and puts a warm hand on her shoulder.

She shrugs it off and shoves him to the side.

Snowflakes land on the windowpanes and melt before she can get close enough to look.

“Will your lover be here tomorrow?” Wednesday asks, to try and steer the conversation away from here. “I brought my best interrogation tools.”

It’s a joke.

Mostly.

Pugsley chuckles quietly, “Yeah, but I promised her that I wouldn’t leave her alone with you, so don’t get any ideas.” She huffs and folds her arms, and sees him grin. He’s grown up a lot, she’s almost sad to have missed much of it.

“Will you bring Enid next year?”

Wednesday does throw the vase this time.

Unfortunately Pugsley was right. She is restless when she tries to sleep. Though she feels no sympathy if his rest had been disturbed by her rolling about. He snores like he’s trying to blow the house down, and he’s lucky she hasn’t broken into his room at night to stuff a sock in his mouth.

The sheets are too thin, they wrap around her legs too easily and she gets stuck in it as she moves. The pillows are too soft, her head sinks into them as she rests it and there is a single lump somewhere in the mattress. Realistically, she knows nothing has changed about her childhood bedroom, the issue is her.

It’s earlier than she would usually go to sleep, though she thought she’d try and get a head start due to the issues she’s been having.

Heartache is an incurable thing.

She thinks it may kill her, slowly but surely.

There’s a buzzing in her room. Dull and muted. Once, twice, thrice-oh it’s still going. Wednesday swings her legs over the side of her bed and flicks her lamp on, socked feet padding across the room as she makes her way to her chest of drawers. The buzzing continues and she slides it open, her phone stares back at her, as does the name.

Enid Sinclair.

Wednesday slams the drawers shut and slips back into bed, holding the too thin sheets close to her chest, as if restraining herself and holding herself down. The buzzing stops but the roaring in her ears doesn’t.

It’s a mistake. She probably didn’t mean to dial her, or she’s drunk, or-

Buzzzz.

She flies across the room and wretches the drawer open, clasping the phone and she’s too tired to gain any self-respect. Her thumb slides across the screen to accept the call and she holds it up to her ear.

Nothing.

And then-

“Wednesday?”

She lets out a shaky exhale at the sound of her name on Enid’s lips. Her hand runs through her hair and her nails dig into the skin of her scalp. The mirror is to her right and she looks pathetic, how desperate is she?

“Sinclair, it’s late,” it’s not, it’s barely after eleven in fact.

There’s a lot of background noise on Enid’s end. Laughter and music, she must be at a party of some sort.

Enid makes a quiet noise, “You’re right, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have called I just-”

“Have you been drinking?”

“No, no I haven’t in months, I’m um, at my moms and dads in San Francisco.”

Wednesday sits on the edge of her bed and draws her knees up to her chest. Enid hadn’t spoken favourably about her family; last Wednesday had heard she hadn’t made up her mind about travelling home. Tensions were high enough; she can only imagine what it must be like with Enid’s recent coming out.

She stares at the snowfall, “How is your mother? Still the devil incarnate?”

Enid giggles but it sounds flat, “She’s um, not happy with me. I feel like a stranger in my own home, and everyone knows but it’s like half of them are just ignoring it, ignoring me.”

They haven’t spoken in weeks, but it feels like years. Whilst Wednesday is soaking in every word uttered from Enid’s mouth, the wavering words and shaky breathes make her stomach churn. She would kill Esther Sinclair if she could.

“I feel like, have you ever been in a room with people and somehow knew that nobody wanted you there,” she whispers, the Christmas music playing almost tauntingly in the background. “It feels like that. Like I’ve suddenly become this burden, like I’m a taboo topic and for what? Existing?”

She sniffles and Wednesday watches the snow through her big window from the spot on her bed. Enid would like the snow she bets.

“I’m in the hallway, managed to sneak out for a break,” she exhales shakily and Wednesday can almost picture her perfectly. Crouched in the hall in her Christmas jumper, hand pinching her nose. “But-shit I’m sorry I shouldn’t have called. Yoko’s with Divina’s family for their first Christmas and I didn’t know who else and-”

“Take a breath Sinclair,” Wednesday says sternly, playing with the hem of her bottoms.

It’s a deep breath, overly exaggerated in nature but a deep breath, nonetheless.

“I feel like I’m always coming back to you.”

“Sinclair.”

“Sorry,” she whispers but she doesn’t sound it. Not one bit.

Wednesday’s eyes flutter shut as she listens to Enid’s breathing. She can only wonder when it all changed, when her world flipped upside down. It’s hard to pinpoint a specific day, if she had to choose, she’d choose the day they first met years ago. But Enid’s hold on her has grown drastically in mere months. How could Wednesday have gone her whole life, content with being alone, to now craving the attention and company of another?

“How are your folks?” Enid asks instead and Wednesday bites back a scoff.

“Fine, happy I’m home.”

“I bet.”

Silence settles once again and Wednesday wonders if this is just it now, this is their relationship for the foreseeable future. Awkward silences and stilted conversation.

Enid hums absentmindedly to the new song that comes on, Wednesday doesn’t even find herself irritated by it.

“I got you a Christmas present you know.”

Wednesday frowns, “Unfortunately I didn’t get you anything Enid.” The other girl lets out a sudden laugh, a giggle that Wednesday hasn’t really heard in weeks. Though she doesn’t know why Enid laughs at her response, she’s telling the truth.  “I’m being serious, I didn’t get you a gift.”

“I know Wends, I didn’t expect you to,” she can almost hear the smile around Enid’s words. “It’s just-I like how honest you are, it’s refreshing.”

Wednesday nods to herself.

“What did you get me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Typical.

Enid’s name is called in the background of their call by a voice that Wednesday unfortunately recognises. Esther Sinclair. Enid swears quietly, and Wednesday hears her breathing pick up.

“I have to go, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have called,” she mumbles, and Wednesday wants to protest, want to speak up but she can’t. “Merry Christmas Wednesday.”

Blip.

She tosses the phone onto the other side of the bed and sits there, mulling in her thoughts. A headache starts brewing and her entire body feels both tense and loose. The back of her neck aches from the tension but she knows her limbs feel like jelly. Heart racing in her chest and blood rushing in her ears.

Another restless night of tossing and turning and she wakes up on Christmas morning with a dreadful sense of longing weighing her down.

xXx

-@RealWednesdayAddams ✔ 

-Please refrain from calling me “mother” in comment sections. I am not a mother. I have never given birth nor adopted. Call me mother one more time and see what happens.

-@Wendyw00

-damn bros pissed

-@Kirammilf

-LMAOOO

-@Jax59_w1

-what if I called you daddy instead?

    -@RealWednesdayAddams ✔ 

         -Once I learn how to block people, there will be consequences.

-@W3nclairn1

     -THIS IS KILLING ME

xXx

Reddit post via Wenclairtruther09

Now listen, I don’t want to sound like those conspiracy nuts who have this weird parasocial relationship with celebrities, but I have good reason to believe that Enid Sinclair and Wednesday Addams are dating, and have been for years.

First of all, lets go way, way back.

7 years ago, Scotland.

In the documentary made for the first Viper De La Muerte movie a few years ago, they mention the various filming locations used in the movie, one of which being Scotland. A quick google would also prove this. At 24:09 in the documentary one of the producers can be quoted saying, “Yeah we pretty much flew everyone out here when the 27^th hit, and they spent the New Year with the Scots as we were in the middle of filming.”

So we now know that production took place from the end of December to presumably the middle of January, in Scotland.

Why is this relevant, you may ask?

Enid Sinclair was also in Scotland during this period, and I have reason to believe they were in the very same area. Enid Sinclair was modelling for Alexander McQueen, the show that famously granted her, her big break (see here). The show took place at a private residence in the Cairngorms (in a castle of sorts bc they’re in Scotland so ofc they had a castle available). Similarly Wednesday Addams was filming in the Cairngorms.

Now I know it’s farfetched, the Scottish Highlands is a big place, the chances of their paths crossing are very thin.

But let’s look further at the timelines.

The book was published March 2019, after a quick turnaround according to the publishers and insider sources reveal that Addams had a “Sudden 360,” in regard to the plot. The sudden 360 being the introduction of a new character, Edin Angelou. The character as we know is now being played by Enid Sinclair who not only shares a very similar name, but uncannily similar characteristics and a physical description. What are the odds that the character was written AFTER Wednesday met Enid at some point over their shared time in the Highlands?

You’ve got to admit it’s weird right? The coincidence is crazy.

“Oh but there’s no proof they even met.”

Boom.

Exhibit A.

A picture posted on Twitter on January the 3^rd, seven years ago, of a fan with a very young Enid Sinclair at a New Years Eve party it looks like. This photo went under the radar, what with it being taken before Enid’s career took off, and because the account that posted it only has 17 followers (the account user IS Scottish though and based in the Highlands!) Now look closely in the background of the picture, you can just see a small sliver behind their heads, but there’s a shoulder and a black braid.

COINCIDENCE I THINK NOT

Now seven years go by, and we have nothing. No links, no correlation. Until Enid posts this.

[Image description: A screenshot of Enid’s Twitter account]

Enid Sinclair @imtheaplha

one of my favourite authors just joined social media and now she’s oomfie?

[Image Description: A screenshot of Enid’s following list which shows the most recent addition, Wednesday Addams, who additionally follows Enid back]

Then they’re spotted having dinner together, at this point Enid’s hair has been dyed the colours belonging to her character. From then onward there’s quite a few sightings of them. In some Enid has her arm linked with Wednesday’s, in others they’re holding hands.

In this picture from her Instagram post, take a look at the sweater Enid is wearing. Now look at this picture snapped of Wednesday a few months prior. Same sweater?

However Enid has a “boyfriend” during all of this. Ajax Petropolus. The two post each other in a way that screams pr relationship. Months later Ajax is seen with someone else, and Enid makes an Instagram post coming out.

In this interview on a talk show, Enid describes herself as “knowing she’s been a lesbian for a while now.” Which more or less confirms the so-called relationship with Ajax to be fake, and we can assume her other ones with men in the past were too (unless they were from before she realised this about herself).

What if she and Wednesday met all those years ago and this character is about her, what if the entire book is like this love letter to Enid and they’ve been together this whole time?

Here’s some links to more pictures which I think prove they’re together.

Photo 1

Photo 2

Photo 3

Photo 4

Photo 4

Getjinxxxed

“I don’t want to sound like those conspiracy nuts who have this weird parasocial relationship with celebrities” and then you proceeded to write this?

Kyle-rykar9

mf do Enid and Wednesday know about this?

V1ip3rb1t3

Wait you might be onto something, it’s either crack or an insane conspiracy, but it’s something

Gamergab

Tf did I just read

xXx

She sees Enid everywhere she goes.

On the billboards, the bus stops, the subway tunnels. On the side of cabs and buses. Face plastered across the magazine stand, sneaking her way into the morning paper, flaunting herself in Wednesday’s face. On the television, on social media, on peoples phones.

Sees her in the bouquets of flowers she walks past every morning. In the warm hug of the sun and the kind smile of a stranger.

She sees Enid everywhere she goes and it’s like she’s tormenting her. When her coffee order is done wrong, and a wave of sweetness hits her tongue instead of the usual bitter granules. When the birdsong outside her window in the morning is especially loud and musical. Remnants of the other woman can be found around every street corner, every park, every shop. It’s so overwhelming to have your thoughts clouded, so obsessed with a person that everything somehow finds a way to remind you of them.

It should lessen in their moments of conflict. After their argument Wednesday should’ve felt bitter towards her, should have thought “good riddance,” when she sees the reflection of a rainbow in a puddle, but all she can do is stop and stare.

December bled into January and January into February, with little to no contact with Enid. Majority of Wednesday’s press junket had been completed, it often is months before the film is actually released, however Enid isn’t quite off the hook, what with her being the star and all. Wednesday opens her phone one night, Thing curled on her lap purring away, to a message and link from Pugsley. A link to one of Enid’s most recent interviews.

Wednesday doesn’t reply to him, though she clicks on the link almost instantly and hits full screen on the video.

She swallows thickly upon reading the title of the video, “Enid Sinclair gushes over Wednesday Addams.” The interviewer is young, and the set up looks similar to a radio station of sorts. Seconds in and Wednesday recognises it as an English radio station, she rolls her eyes at the accents and wonders when Enid was in England. It dawns on her that they’re really not as close as they once were, and she barely knows what the woman is up to.

“No she’s like,” Enid laughs awkwardly and makes a motion with her hands. “She has such a beautiful mind, if that makes sense?”

The interviewer glances at the camera and leans towards his microphone, “Aw that’s lovely.”

“No it’s not, I mean, I could never really describe her in a way that does her justice you know? Wednesday’s probably the smartest person I’ve ever met, and anyone who’s read her work will know what I’m talking about.”

Wednesday clenches her jaw so tight her teeth begin to grind.

“So you get on ok, because I’ve honestly heard she’s not super…personable.”

Enid shakes her head with a smile.

“Yeah she’s not, I mean I think she’s awesome and not enough people try to see that side of her. She’s sweet, without realising it, but at the same time she can be a dick-oh my god can I swear on here?”

Wednesday clicks off of the interview, ignoring the fact that the video still has over a minute left. Over a minute of Enid singing her praises despite the fact that they haven’t spoken since Christmas Eve.

Oh and Wednesday did receive her Christmas present as it was sent in the mail. A necklace, silver with a small oval containing a metal black dahlia flower. She’d dropped it like it had burnt her, left it lying on her coffee table for days before one day she caved in and greedily scooped it back up in her hands and put it on. She’d stared at herself in the mirror, the cool metal adorning pale skin, Enid’s gift settling proudly on her chest.

She stared herself down in the mirror at the item, feeling the ghost of Enid’s fingers on the back of her neck.

Wednesday stares at her phone and fiddles with the necklace. Burning hot desire and achingly sweet yearning wash over her in a wave so strong she feels lightheaded. She lifts Thing from her lap and walks to her office, sitting down in her chair, ignoring the squeak of the wheels (she must oil them soon) and settling her hands on her typewriter.

When in doubt she does the thing she knows best.

She writes.

xXx

March.

Enid’s busy, she’s been busy ever since her holiday ended and she was thrown back into the whirlpool of Hollywood. Shoot after shoot, Vogue, 1883 Magazine, GQ and she’s shooting for Cosmopolitan next week. All companies she’s worked with before, and enjoys working for without her mother’s incessant voice whispering in her ear.

Yoko managed to get her a small cameo as the English Dub for a very minor character in an episode of one of her favourite anime’s, which was awesome. It was only two lines, but definitely now a highlight in her career.

Her evenings are now sacred, the quiet moments in her day, as the morning is always a hectic rush to get out the house and do everything she needs to for the day. Much of her evenings are spent in the private gym in her building, like right now she’s cooling down and walking a somewhat steep incline on the treadmill, eyes glued to the episode of the Simpsons which someone put on one of the tv’s earlier.

Working out is now for staying in shape and feeling good about herself. She’s no longer counting calories like her life depended on it, and glaring at her body in the floor to ceiling gym windows, there’s an expectation which she’s lifted off of her own shoulder and instead kicked it to the curb.

Her head hangs low as she walks, focusing on her breathing. She watches her trainers as she walks and in her peripheral vision sees a pair of stilettos step onto the treadmill next to her and start walking slowly.

Enid frowns and looks up, facing going slack at who she sees next to her.

Bianca is as stoic as ever, facing straight ahead and strutting on the damn treadmill in her heels.

“How did you get in here? Enid pants, wiping the sweat from her upper lip. “There’s security-”

“Yoko let me in.”

Enid whips her head around to look at the door. “Yoko’s here?” She can’t see her.

“No.”

“Then how-”

Bianca waves her off and looks Enid up and down slowly. The woman’s stare is lethal and Enid feels like she curls into herself under Bianca’s gaze.

“I’ve got to know what happened between you and Wednesday.”

Enid almost slides off of the treadmill.

Her foot slips and she stumbles forward, arms stretched out to grab the railings and sha hauls herself back up. Bianca doesn’t slow her pace or show any motion to help.

“Nothing,” she squeaks, smoothing out her shirt. “Nothing at all, why?”

“She’s writing again.”

Enid glances at her and laughs incredulously, the ridiculousness of it all quickly catching up on her. “She’s an author, I feel like that’s a given.” Bianca sighs at her response and stubbornly shakes her head.

“No, she’s writing, and she won’t leave her house,” she says quietly between them, despite the fact that they’re the only two people in the gym. “She missed a book signing; I had to get groceries delivered to her house because she wouldn’t. I stopped by two days later and the bags were still on her front steps.”

“Nobody stole them?”

“That’s what you took away from this?”

Enid presses a button on the treadmill, and it slows. She allows herself to move backwards on it and hops off as it slows to a complete stop, she drains the rest of her water bottle and grabs a towel she’d left on a nearby bench.

If what Bianca says is true (she’d have no reason to lie in the first place), then yes, it is concerning, and Enid is worried. Does she have any right to be worried? Is it even her place to know this? Their already rocky friendship pretty much died out when Wednesday rejected her before she could even properly confess her feelings, and then Enid’s whole world is rocked when she finds out that Wednesday had been hiding a massive secret for the entirety of their friendship and longer.

Then Christmas Eve, when Enid was so lonely she had nobody else to call. Even if she did, she only really needed to hear Wednesday’s voice. She embarrassed herself further, Wednesday also didn’t even message her to let her know she got her gift. Probably hates it, probably feels too awkward to message Enid about it.

So yeah, they haven’t spoken in months. Enid is sober, healthy, her career is successful, and she added two more pigs to her Stardew Valley farm and it’s all fine! She’s estranged from her family and maybe hopelessly, head over heels in love with someone that wants nothing to do with her and she’s absolutely alright with that.

“What do you want me to do Bianca?” Enid watches the other woman also stop her machine and instead her hip against the railing, intimidating dark eyes narrowing suspiciously at Enid. “She doesn’t talk to me anymore.”

“She barely spoke to you to begin with, you put in the work, you charmed your way in and miraculously she actually tolerated your presence,” Bianca bites back. “So something happened, and you gave up on her, I’d like to know. why”

Enid almost tells her.

Almost tells her about the book, the character, her feelings and the feelings she thought were maybe reciprocated. It’s on the tip of her tongue, she smirks and rolls her shoulders back, ready to let it all come out.

“Friends drift apart,” she says instead, smiling sadly and picking up her belongings. “I’ll do my best ok, let me know by tomorrow afternoon if she’s still a hermit,” and with that she leaves the gym before she says something she shouldn’t.

Because despite the hurt, the anger and embarrassment; it’s not her secret to tell.

xXx

She heads straight there, sweaty and tired from the gym. A sweater is thrown over her tank top and she tells her driver the address and promises to tip him if he gets her there as fast as he can. Even whilst maybe breaking a few speed limits, it takes her quite some time and it’s after one in the morning when she arrives.

Enid hops out and notices immediately the yellow glow through the windows. The lights are still on, so someone is still awake. Much to her surprise, the door isn’t locked so she enters straightaway and shuts it behind her. A stripe of black darts out from the living area and winds its way around her legs, Enid reaches down and strokes the patchy back of Thing. His purrs tickle against her leg, but he’s happy to see her at least.

That makes one of them.

“What are you doing here?”

Halfway down the stairs, gripping the banister with tight white knuckles, Enid hadn’t even heard her coming. God, she wishes she had so she had even a second to prepare herself. Wednesday is in a long, oversized sweater and baggy pyjama bottoms with little white skulls on them and thick black grippy socks, Enid can hear the squeak of rubber as she shifts on the wooden steps.

She wants to hug her.

Enid approaches like Wednesday is a feral cat and forces a polite smile onto her face. The other woman is pale, she doesn’t look right, not like her Wednesday.

“Thought you could use some help tidying up,” she grins and moves into the kitchen, eyes widening at the stack of dishes (especially mugs) piled up in the sink. Slipping on some bright yellow washing up gloves, she flicks the hot tap on and grabs some dish soap. Wednesday warily follows her and watches her. “I know Bianca said you were locked in but really Addams. What do you need a maid or something? I mean, I could wear a maid costume,” it’s a weak joke, but she wiggles her eyebrows at Wednesday and just receives a blank stare in return.

“Bianca sent you?”

“More like interrogated me at my home and insinuating that I’m to blame for you becoming a recluse.”

She hears shuffling behind her and Wednesday sidles up next to her with a dish cloth and begins drying the bowl Enid had just washed.

“My apologies, she’s a pest,” is murmured so quietly that Enid barely hears it. “Will you leave once you’ve done this?”

She says it almost breathlessly, like she’s hopeful of the idea of Enid leaving.

Enid sniffs and shrugs, “I dunno, will you go to bed if I do?”

“What.”

“To sleep,” Enid says brightly, handing her a mug. “Y’know, lie down, close your eyes, enter slumber and whatnot.”

Wednesday shrugs and that’s about all Enid will probably get out of her. They finish the dishes in silence and top up Things food bowl. Enid then makes her way upstairs with Wednesday on her heel, she glances around and sees thick layers of dust on the surfaces.

Nobodies cleaned anything in a while.

The door to the office is half open and a light is on, that’s all she sees because Wednesday slips in front of her, grabs the handle and slams the door shut, leaning her back against it. Bianca said she’d been obsessed.

“Whatcha working on?”

Wednesday avoids her gaze.

Shakily exhaling, Enid steps forward and watches Wednesday’s throat bob.

“Wednesday,” she whispers and soft, yet guarded eyes flick up to meet her own. “Bianca’s worried you’re not taking care of yourself.”

The dark-haired woman tenses her jaw, “I’m fine. Perfectly adequate, in fact I’d be even better if you left.”

Enid rolls her eyes, “That’s not what Bianca implied,” she mutters haughtily, and Wednesday’s eyes widen a fraction. She pushes off the door and moves forward until they’re toe to toe, almost nose to nose, if Enid weren’t that little bit taller. It’s the closest they’ve been in months; it takes everything in her to not reach for Wednesday.

She smells the same and the nostalgia hits Enid like a punch to the gut.

“What did you just say?”

It’s said through gritted teeth and Enid warily eyes the clenched fists.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Wednesday glowers at her, her stare nearly venomous and once upon a time Enid would’ve cowered under it. Not tonight. Enid swallows and stares her down. “No, actually you know what, I’m still mad at you,” she hisses, finger prodding Wednesday’s shoulder and she pulls it away before Wednesday can break it. “I’m pissed. You don’t want me here, you don’t want to see me, but I came anyway because I care. You need to look after yourself, or at least let others help Wednesday. Stop being so goddamn stubborn.”

It comes out sharply and she can tell she’s pulling a cruel face, one she’d never normally direct to Wednesday.

And Wednesday, well somehow her eyes both harden and soften at the same time. She’s uniquely expressive like that. A ripple of emotions crosses her face and Enid can barely follow them.

“I’ll go to bed if you leave.”

Enid sticks out her pinky and Wednesday wraps her own around it.

Satisfied, Enid nods and pulls away, nodding towards the bedroom before making her way down the stairs. Things passes her and looks like he’s actually judging her. In a perfect world, she drags Wednesday to bed with her fingers linked together, flopping backwards onto the thick pillows and giggling as she tugs Wednesday closer.

In an ideal world they’d still be talking every day, and it would be acceptable for Enid to hold Wednesday as they slept. She bets Wednesday would be the little spoon.

But it’s not an ideal world. In fact, it’s far from it.

“You looked nice.”

Enid stops in her tracks and cranes her head up.

Looking everywhere but Enid’s face, Wednesday continues, “The magazine last week, with the lace dress-”

“Harper’s BAZAAR,” Enid breathes out slowly.

Wednesday fiddles with her hands from where she stands at the top of the stairs.

“I think you looked quite beautiful.”

Enid’s nails dig into the railing, there’s a ball in her throat and she struggles to find the words to reply. What do you say to that? When they’d been arguing moments prior.

“Well, goodnight, please do not return without informing me at least an hour beforehand,” Wednesday says before slipping away and disappearing out of sight, leaving Enid battling with her own sanity in the middle of her staircase.

“What the fuck?”

Enid looks at Thing.

Thing meows at her

xXx

With April and the blossoming of the flowers, comes the movie premier.

The days leading up to it were hectic to say the very least. Enid’s dress fittings where hours long, with designers mulling over sketches, pulling and tightening the fabric around her until they got what they desired. Yoko was there, Weems too. There was a specific aesthetic they wanted her to go for with the premier.

It was at night, so it would late, seeing as it takes longer for it get dark in the Spring. Enid’s character isn’t as dark as Vada’s, so Enid’s not wearing a dress similar to her co-star. Instead it’s an off the shoulder, bodycon dress, classy, a rich, dark red with matching lipstick. There’s a subtle black lace design around her cleavage, and her earrings are black onyx. Her hair has been trimmed a little once more so that it’s bouncy.

“Old Hollywood,” the man had said as he held it from behind her. “Nobody will be able to take their eyes off of you.”

Enid was no stranger to the obnoxious yelling and flashing lights of the paparazzi, but tonight is different. The air is electric with anticipation, everything changes tonight for better or worse. This is her movie, her premier and she feels a little sickly. The test screenings came back good, really good in fact and Weems seemed pretty confident in the speculated box office numbers. The movie roughly cost about 20 million dollars to make, Weems waved off any concerns about not making any profit.

Though, the amount of money the movie makes isn’t where Enid’s worries lie. It’s the thought of millions of people watching her performance. It’s not her proper acting debut, but it is in a leading role. She’s never had to say more than a few lines, and now she’s leading a movie and what if she’s awful in it? What if it flops and she becomes a joke.

“You need to chill,” Yoko places a gentle hand on her arm. “What’s the worst they can do? Throw popcorn at your head?”

“At least it won’t be tomatoes,” Divina chirps from her seat beside Yoko. It had been a no brainer to invite them to arrive at the premier with them in her limo. Obviously, they won’t walk the red carpet, but Enid wanted them to travel with her.

Besides, Yoko had practically drooled over the candy and alcohol provided in the back of the limo. She and Divina linked arms and did shots whilst Enid bitterly watched and was reminded how single she was.

Yoko turns and smacks her lips against Divina’s, “I love you,” she sighs happily and Enid grumbles under her breath at the display. “And you,” she elbows Enid, “Will be fine, trust me.”

She appreciates the sentiment. Even if it does nothing to calm her nerves.

The limo pulls to a stop and Enid’s stomach lurches alongside it. She doesn’t even have a date; she’s walking the carpet alone until they want cast photos. Yoko’s hand squeezes her elbow and Enid nods to herself. She’s got this, she’s got this, she’s-

It’s deafening when she steps out the limo, the security guard guides her to where she needs to go, keeping his back to the barricades of screaming fans. Her heel touches the red carpet and it’s like she has tunnel vision. Somehow, by some miracle, she walks out and despite her shaky legs, it’s all familiar territory for her in a sense. She’s walked runways for a living. She rolls her shoulders back and makes sure not to walk too fast.

Casual, confident and cool.

She stops where she needs to and turns, her eyes immediately being blinded by the white lights.

“Enid over here!”

“Here!”

“Smile for me please Enid!”

“Turn!”

“Look like you actually want to be here!”

“This way beautiful!”

Enid plasters on a smile and turns for them, making sure they get their money’s worth. A minute passes and then there’s even more yelling and she sees Vada further down the carpet posing for photos too. They’re told to pose together, and they do, Vada in a dark gown with a deep dip showing off her cleavage. She looks beautiful, Enid tells her as much.

The butterflies in her stomach are soaring, but there’s not long until she can go inside and-

“Wednesday!”

Enid’s head snaps around and it’s like the whole world stands still.

Beautiful doesn’t even come close to how Wednesday looks right now.

Her cheekbones seem more pronounced than usual, the same with her eyes, the dark makeup making them pop. A long black dress with lace and ruffles, showing a modest amount of cleavage along with a slit up her right leg. The veil on her head is also black lace and covers her face, though Enid can still clearly see her.

She looks like a gothic bride.

Dark eyes rove over Enid’s body when they reach her and Wednesday inclines her head slightly towards her in greeting. Her mouth drops slightly when she sees the necklace she gifted Wednesday sitting prettily on her collarbones. Enid smiles shakily, whispers her hello and there’s a moment, a brief second where they just stand and stare in each other’s eyes, silently saying what words couldn’t, before Enid clears her throat and smiles back at the cameras.

They don’t realise it yet, but the photo will go viral in the morning.

They don’t know just yet but soon Enid will change her phone wallpaper to it.

The whole cast and directors gather for a group photo, with Enid, Vada and Wednesday front and centre. Weems’ comforting hand squeezes Enid’s shoulder. It’s funny, despite their differences and ongoing issues, how at ease Enid feels next to Wednesday, the skin of their shoulders brushing. They all smile, bar Wednesday, the nerves in Enid’s stomach lessening slightly.

And the flashing lights of the paparazzi are blinding, aggressive, she knows that their faces will be splashed across the internet within the next day with each outlet’s own spin. Their own story and opinion. But nobody can see Enid’s hand resting on the small of her back and nobody can see Wednesday lean into it.

Nobody knows the true story, that Wednesday Addams wouldn’t mind being in love with a girl, if it didn’t mean being in love with Enid Sinclair. And Enid Sinclair wouldn’t mind being in love with Wednesday Addams, if it didn’t mean being in love with a girl.

xXx

Viper De La Muerte III debuts with an astonishing $30.4 million in it’s opening weekend, exceeding the films budget and it’s only the start…Read More-

Enid Sinclair stuns at the premiere of Viper De La Muerte III

Rotten Tomatoes: Viper De La Muerte grabs 94% on the tomatometer and a 98% on audience scores making it certified fresh!

Fans new and old praise the new Wednesday Addams flick and are begging for the author to make another adaptation.

Our favourite looks from the Viper De La Muerte premier

xXx

-@Enidslosteyelash

-ARE YALL SEEING THIS?

[Image description: attached is a photo from the premier of Enid smiling down at Wednesday]

-@Viperisgayaf

-ITS HAPPENING PEOPLE EVERYBODY STAY CALM

xXx

The chaos from the premier and the movies success doesn’t even have a chance to properly sink in before Enid is preparing for the Met Gala.

A mere two weeks later and Enid is about to attend her third Met Gala, this one’s theme being Karl Lagerfeld: A Line of Beauty. Now, Enid didn’t like the man personally, despite his impact on the fashion industry, there isn’t much she can compliment him on as a person.

Thom Browne had designed her gown, an off the shoulder black-and-white silk and tweed camellia flower dress. But one of the flowers is light pink, designed to look like a pink, violet flower. Karl Lagerfeld hated pink, and Enid hates Karl Lagerfeld so she’s doing this to spite him, silently hoping he’s rolling in his grave at the sight. Moreso, it has a more personal meaning, the colour and the violet being known as the “sapphic” flower, something precious to her in regards to her coming out a few months ago.

Life had been good, the fans had been even better actually.

There were obviously a lot of idiots, and she still gets comments on her posts saying, “We lost a good one boys,” or “wasted potential.” But Eugene keeps an eye on it and takes great pleasure in blocking people.

She was still no contact with her mother since Christmas. Her dad had reached out to congratulate her on the movie, and one of her brothers, but other than that it was radio silence.

The movies success however was a whole other discussion. So far it has taken around 80 million domestically, and it’s projected to take in around 200 million worldwide by the end of it’s run. Not only that but the reviews are good, 4 star average, critically acclaimed and most importantly, the fans like it.

No, they loved it.

Yoko’s been dealing with companies trying to book Enid for roles or cameos, which she’s happy to do of course, but God does she need a break.

All the other celebrities styled by Thom Brown got ready in the same apartment space, including one Wednesday Addams. They’ve spoken more, both timid with each other, but Enid feels so much lighter in the other woman’s presence, and she thinks Wednesday feels the same.

Wednesday is a vision.

She wears white sheer bow tied blouse beneath a black corset dress alongside a black chiffon tweed cropped jacket and platform oxford heels. Her makeup is subtle, as always and her hair isn’t in braids for once (Enid has no idea how they managed to make her agree to that). Hell, Enid doesn’t even know how they managed to convince her to come to the Met Gala anyway.

Enid watches her with awe filled eyes, from the wings, ascending the steps and scowling at the cameras. She’s magnificent, although Enid can tell that she hates every moment of this. In fact once all obligatory events have been completed, Enid knows that Wednesday will take Thing and retreat back to her home in New Jersey, away from the New York air that smells like hotdog water and rain.

Once upon a time, Enid would’ve felt intimidated by Wednesday.

If she had encountered her early on in her career on the runway, Enid would’ve feared for her job security, as would anyone else. Wednesday Addams has lethal cheekbones, and half-lidded doe eyes that would make people go crazy, if she were taller, she’d have a lot of success in modelling. But she’d hate it. Enid knows that she hates this, how superficial it all seems, and it makes her wonder how on Earth Weems made her come here, what kind of dirt did she have on Wednesday.

Enid steps out onto the white floor and poses for the cameras at the bottom, smiling brightly at them but unable to take her eyes off of Wednesday.

She ascends the stairs, stopping at appropriate moments for photographs and is beckoned to the side to speak briefly with an interviewer, an actress she recognises but can’t place. They exchange pleasantries back and forth, speak about her outfit and the met gala theme, before drifting over to the inevitable.

“It must be overwhelming to receive so much feedback and love from the fans since the movie’s release?”

The microphone is close to her face so she doesn’t really need to lean forward as she says, “Yeah it’s been awesome, really good, I’m just happy people like it,” she smiles, playing with the sides of her gown. “Especially for the queer fans,” she blurts out before she can stop herself. “I’m glad to be a part of positive representation and bringing that to the screen.”

“Of course, did it come easy to you? You’ve mentioned before how similar you find the character to yourself, did that help with the portrayal?”

“I-” Enid looks to the side and the air rushes out her body when she sees Wednesday only a few feet away, stare right back at her. “Um, yeah, yeah it did actually, but there were differences I think.”

“In what sense? Fighting and chasing murderers?” The interviewer laughs and Enid does too, though hers is significantly more breathless.

More like going after what she wants.

“And it must feel nice, I mean people love the character, it’s like she was made for you.”

Right.

Enid had reread the book the other month with a whole new lens. The love and care Wednesday put into writing Edin, it was also astonishing in a way how accurate her mannerisms were in comparison to Enid, despite the fact herself and Wednesday had only known each other for five minutes. She thinks maybe it should be alarming, how easily Wednesday read her, but she can’t help but feel flattered that someone met her and thought she was so interesting that they wrote an entire character after her.

A character who’s so full of love and hope.

And Wednesday wrote that.

“Yeah, yeah she was, wasn’t she?” Enid smiles at the interviewer, but she’s not talking to her. “Sorry I think I’ve gotta,” she gestures awkwardly to one of the attendings who’s wanting her to move on.  She says her goodbyes and steps forward, closer and closer.

Wednesday turns and meets her gaze, and Enid is eye level with her hand. She stares at it dumbly and then back at Wednesday who simply raises a brow in question. Heart in her throat, Enid takes the hand and ducks her head, hoping none of the cameras capture her smile. She finishes walking up the steps until she’s at the same level as Wednesday and the photographers practically bark at them to post together.

Enid, almost all in white, and Wednesday almost all in black.

“It looks like we’re getting married,” she says lowly in Wednesday’s ear, as they stand side by side.

Wednesday simply glances up at her, “Funny that,” she says in her dull, monotone voice. But Enid doesn’t miss how her hand tightens slightly around Enid’s.

The camera’s definitely pick up Enid’s rosy cheeks.

They’re seated together, along with an assortment of other people, some of which Enid knows. Wednesday speaks in quiet tones to Weems, but looks bored the entire time. The dinner is fine, it’s never anything spectacular but the musical performances are actually wonderful.

But Enid can’t focus on any of that.

Not with Wednesday sat so close.

Enid stands abruptly, and grabs her purse, “Ladies room,” she smiles apologetically at the table before leaning down, her lips brushing Wednesday’s ear as she says, “We need to talk.”

She steps away without looking back and continues down one of the hallways. It’s quiet and far away from anyone else, as they are all too preoccupied with dinner and the show. She stops by one of the pillars and leans her weight gently on it, finally getting the chance to breathe.

The quiet clack of heels makes her look up, gulping when she sees Wednesday approach. The woman tilts her chin up and regards Enid curiously.

“Yes?”

Fuck she has no idea what she wants to say. She smooths out her dress with sweaty palms and ignores the clenching in her stomach.

“Well I-” She cuts herself off when she sees someone in the distance, his head whipping around, obviously looking for someone or something. “Who is that?”

Wednesday turns her head and swears, moving closer to Enid, so that she’s hidden by her and the pillar.

“Tyler,” she frowns, and Enid totally forgot he was even attending tonight. “He’s been eyeing me up all night, usually I’d confront him, but this is a big event and Bianca said that I’m one strike away from being forced into a PR stunt. She might make me visit sick children in hospital,” she shudders. “I need to think of something.”

Enid sees him get closer and considers pulling Wednesday along the hall to actually find the bathroom.

Wednesday curses and steps closer, unaware of the effect she’s having on Enid.

“I’ll pretend I’m helping you with a wardrobe malfunction,” she whispers, a hand reaching out to tentatively touch one of the flowers on Enid’s gown.

The clack of shoes grows louder, as does the pulse in Enid’s ears.

Enid stares at her, chest heaving, the intoxicating smell of Wednesday’s cologne hits her instantly and she tingles all over, watching Wednesday play with the dress. Those dark eyes flick up to look at her and only inches separate them.

She reaches out and places a hand on Wednesday’s waist, pulling her closer so that their fronts brush, despite the extravagant details of their outfits. Wednesday watches her with wide eyes.

“What are-”

Soft lips cut her off.

Enid circles her arm around Wednesday’s waist and pulls her closer, their lips crashing against each other slowly and shyly at first, before hunger consumes them. It’s insane and Enid feels more drunk from the way Wednesday’s mouth presses against hers, than she ever has from any drop of alcohol.

She breaks for some air before diving back in, Wednesday meeting her halfway, her hands awkwardly held in the air before she relaxes and rests one on Enid’s sternum, the other cupping the back of her neck.

Enid opens one eye and sees Tyler retreat; he awkwardly shoots her a thumbs up before leaving and she lets out a relieved breath. It’s dark, and empty so nobody else pays them any attention.

The hand on her neck pulls her back in and Enid gasps against Wednesday’s lips.

“He’s gone,” Enid says breathlessly, her arm around Wednesday loosening.

Wednesday pecks her lips softly, “I know,” and she once again pulls Enid back in.

Their lips separate with a pop and Enid stares at her incredulously. Their heaving chests brush against each other with every breath in a way that drives her mad. Wednesday stares at her lips, and her own are pink, smeared with some of Enid’s dark lipstick.

What was meant to be a distraction has suddenly revealed itself as something more.

“Was that, ok?” She whispers, arm loose on Wednesday's hip.

“It was…adequate.”

Enid’s smile drops and she dodges Wednesday when she leans back in. The woman frowns and looks confused at Enid’s gesture.

“What?”

Wednesday shrugs, “Well, what else is there to say? I was adequate, it was fine, let’s do it again,” and she leans back in, only for Enid to push her back gently.

Of course.

Of course, she would try and dismiss it, try to downplay it.

“You always do this, you like people to think that you’re all dark and twisty, that you’re full of resentment. It wouldn’t hurt you to care, to show some love sometimes. It does exist and it’s wonderful,” she says frustratedly her hand waving as she speaks and Wednesday catches it and brings it to her lips.

“I know love exists because I have been full of it ever since I met you,” her lips graze Enid’s knuckles.

Enid stops breathing and Wednesday pulls her close again, daringly brushing her lips along Enid’s jaw.

“You reduce me to a pathetic mess of a woman Enid, and I can never seem to find the right words to describe the inferno that you have released inside of me.”

“Those-Those words are pretty good,” Enid squeaks and she dives back in, gasping against Wednesday’s lips.

They moan quietly into each other’s mouths, hot, and warm, moving so quick like they won’t get another chance like this ever again.

Wednesday sighs against her, kissing her bottom lip, “I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I kept leading you on when I wasn’t able to commit myself fully to you, I’m sorry for any second you experienced feeling like I didn’t care for you when I did-mph” Enid smashes their lips together again, unable to control herself and the overwhelming love she has inside of her. “My skin burns for you, it has for years,” her lips are searing against Enid’s.

They kiss slowly once more, savouring it, exploring each other.

“I’m sorry too,” Enid whispers between them, pecking Wednesday quickly. “I shouldn’t have been so mad at you for rejecting me when I’d also been leading you on. I was scared and I let it get the better of me and then with the whole book thing I just-” and Wednesday is looking up at her with those wide, soft eyes and Enid can’t help but grab her cheeks and pull her back in. “Shit you’re so cute.”

Wednesday grumbles something in between their kisses but Enid can feel her smile, can feel her teeth against Enid’s lips.

“I like you, I’m serious it wasn’t just-mph- a drunk text, and I tried to tell you that before, but you were too stubborn-”

“I’m an idiot,” Wednesday nods, surging back towards her and Enid giggles at her obvious disdain for Enid talking when they could instead be doing this.

God, she wishes they weren’t here.

Her tongue gently licks its way into Wednesday’s mouth and Wednesday groans quietly at the sensation. She feels unsure in her movements, although her obvious passion makes up for it, and it makes Enid wonder how many people Wednesday had actually kissed before her.

They kiss leisurely, unsure how much time has actually passed, but Enid doesn’t care, screw the rest of them. She’s wanted to kiss Wednesday Addams ever since they met in that bar seven years ago. Except tonight she is sober, and she is unafraid and so confidently in love.

“Ms Sinclair?”

Their lips separate with a quiet pop and Enid stares wide eyed whilst Wednesday glares at the assistant.

There are documents they sign, so Enid’s not too worried about this getting out.

“Um, yes?” She says as nonchalantly as she can, wiping the lipstick she’s aggressively smeared across Wednesday’s face, without taking her eyes off of the woman.

“Oh well er-Ms Wintour is requesting she speak with you.”

Anna Wintour.

Enid squeaks.

Wednesday squeezes her waist.

“Ok, one minute,” she holds up a finger to the woman, who thankfully gets the message and decides to back up, giving them some privacy. She looks back to Wednesday and cups her cheek, “I’ll find you afterwards?”

“Enid we can’t.”

Her heart drops to her stomach.

“What?” She breathes, there’s no way she’s being rejected after they literally had that whole conversation.

Wednesday shifts on her feet, “I have to leave tonight to catch a flight for my promotional tour overseas,” she grimaces. “Weems and I have to leave soon, didn’t you know?”

No, she did not know, and even if she did, it’s not like she planned for tonight of all nights to be when she confessed her feelings.

Oh God, this sucks.

“Ms Sinclair we really should-”

“Ok!” Enid nods hurriedly to herself. “Right, ok, I’ll call you, we’ll see each other soon and we’ll talk.”

Wednesday stares at her regretfully and Enid can’t help but kiss her softly once more, revelling in how the other woman gasps at the touch. Enid pulls away, her head tipped against Wednesday’s and then she steps away which is maybe the hardest thing she’s ever had to do.

She follows the assistant, smoothing out her dress and her hair.

The feeling of eyes on her back is strong enough to make her look over her shoulder. Wednesday stares at her and Enid waves goodbye.

The giddy smile on her face remains for the entire evening.

Chapter Text

“Wait, hold it up, yeah, a little to the left and-oh geez.”

Enid leans closer to her phone to stare at the screen. Wednesday holds up the doll for her, standing far enough away from the camera of her phone so that Enid can see the full thing. Convincing Wednesday to facetime her had been a struggle to say the least.

She hums thoughtfully, choosing not to comment on how cute Wednesday looks, standing further away from the camera than necessary, her arms outstretched in front of her, holding the doll. She’s in her black sweatpants and sweatshirt, she would’ve changed into her comfortable clothes immediately after returning to her hotel room.

Gnawing on a Red Vine, Enid squints, “Is it a voodoo doll of you?”

Wednesday scoffs and lowers her arms, “Not a very good one,” and she tosses it out of frame.

“Wednesday! A fan gave that to you,” Enid admonishes, and Wednesday scowls at her through the screen, hands awkwardly fumbling with the phone to hold it up to her face. “I hope you said thank you.”

“The purpose of a voodoo doll is to act as a symbolic representation of a chosen individual, and to then thrust pins and alike into it to cause harm. I have no need for my own doll, I’d rather they kept it and tormented me instead,” she glares through the screen and narrows her eyes. “Enid, why do you have dog ears?”

“It’s a filter! You should try it.”

“Absolutely not.”

The screen goes blurry for a second and freezes, the unpleasant sound of static crackling through the speakers before it clears again, and Enid can see that Wednesday is sitting with her back to the headboard, staring at something on the screen which isn’t the camera or Enid’s face.

A moment of silence passes, and Enid waves enthusiastically.

Wednesday waves back, only the top half of her face showing up on screen.

Squealing quietly, Enid rolls onto her back, one of her stuffed animals flying off the bed as she kicks her feet.

“God, you’re so cute,” she gushes and giggles when she hears Wednesday’s noise of disapproval. “You are, and I can say that now.”

It had been two weeks since their kiss at the Met Gala of all places. Two weeks of phone calls, texting and facetimes when all Enid really wanted was to be there with Wednesday in person. Although there is a part of her that’s scared for it, what if she’s awkward or a really bad kisser and Wednesday didn’t have the heart to tell her. Or worse! She’s a good kisser but by the time they see each other again she’ll have forgotten how to do it. It’s easy to text brazenly, you’re not face to face, you don’t have to worry about seeing the person the next day. Enid’s just worried that when they meet up again, it’ll be awkward.

“I’d rather you didn’t, I have a reputation I must uphold, Sinclair.”

Enid raises a single brow, “Yeah, you’re so tough and scary, I saw those photos posted the other day of you with sick children in the hospital, you soulless monster,” she teases and takes great delight in the way the tips of Wednesday’s ears redden.

There’s a deep inhale, so Enid knows she’s about to get an earful.

“Ok, first of all, it was one child, who is ill and is a fan of the series. She gifted me her manuscript to read.”

“Oh, how is it?”

“Awful, it’s grammatical error after grammatical error, but the passion is there.”

Enid sighs, rolling onto her stomach and propping her chin up on her hand.

“You looked so adorable in the pictures, Wends,” she smiles dreamily. Wednesday hadn’t posted it to her account, but rather the official Viper De La Muerte social media accounts posted it, captioning it as “Wednesday with a young fan.” No doubt Weems had organised it, but Enid is most surprised that Wednesday actually agreed to go.

Wednesday wasn’t smiling in the image, but she was perched precariously on the edge of the hospital bed. The fan wasn’t smiling either, a thirteen-year-old girl who’s sat with perfect posture like Wednesday and holding up a signed book to the camera.

In Wednesday’s hands is a bundle of papers which Enid believes to be the manuscript Wednesday was referring to.

It’s so damn cute.

“Yes well, it was a one-time ordeal,” she mutters, “I do not have the time for such endeavours in the future.”

“Mhm,” she hums into the heel of her hand, the press of her teeth is almost uncomfortable against her skin, but she hasn’t been able to stop smiling these past few weeks.

For no particular reason of course.

“And how’s Thing?” As soon as she asks, Wednesday’s camera goes blurry and all Enid can hear is shuffling, the swish of fabric and some light swearing, before the camera focuses on Thing perched on the window ledge, looking through the glass. Enid gasps happily and coos at him, watching as one of his ears twitch and his head turns lazily to regard her, though she doubts he can recognise her on the phone screen. “Y’know, I could’ve looked after him, you didn’t need to take him on your trip.”

“You would have fattened him up, I know it.”

Enid laughs at the accusatory glare on her face and shrugs.

“He could use a little more meat on him.”

She’s met with a playful roll of the eyes.

It doesn’t annoy her though or infuriate her like it maybe used to. It just creates this bittersweet feeling that washes over her and clings tight, almost suffocatingly to her skin, settling heavy on her chest and squeezing her throat. Something so achingly familiar, so very Wednesday, and Enid misses her more than ever.

They went months without talking before, this should be lightwork.

But Enid hadn’t kissed her before, hadn’t been wooed and held as Wednesday basically professed her love to her against a marble column in the damn Met. Enid misses her, and they speak so often yet still somehow dance around speaking about it. Defining what “it” is. They flirt (or Enid flirts and Wednesday blushes and tries to deny any effect it has on her), speak almost every day, speak more openly than ever before.

However their relationship status is still one big question mark.

Mainly because Enid cares for Wednesday a lot and she is very aware that Wednesday is…Wednesday and the conversation ideally should be had in person, not over the phone with shitty service.

“So when do you get back?” Enid asks conversationally, kicking her feet.

“The first week of June I presume, unless Barclay and Weems find something else detestable for me to do.”

June.

A few weeks away.

Enid can manage that.

xXx

-@ViperDeLaMuertesupremacy

-free her omg

[Video description: A clip of Wednesday Addams on a late-night show]

[The host leans forward across his desk to speak to Wednesday, who sits rigidly still in her seat. She stares at him out of the corner of her eye.

“So, Wednesday, I hear this is your first late-night show,” he smiles, and the audience begins to applaud. “How are you feeling? A lot of emotions, I’m sure?”

Wednesday’s eyes slide from him to look directly in the camera before going back to the host.

“No.”

The audience laughs, and the host awkwardly joins in and nods.

“Yeah, I was maybe told to expect that kind of answer to my question.”

“Then why ask it?” Wednesday responds coldly, and he trips over his words.

There’s an awkward silence where the audience can’t tell whether they should laugh or not, and the host glances off camera. Wednesday watches him with calculating eyes. He clears his throat and flashes her a too-white smile.

“Alrighty then, how about you tell us a little bit about your movie?”

Wednesday nods and turns her body to look directly into the camera.

“Viper De La Muerte III is now available in the closest theatre to you-”

“Wait no that’s not-” ]

-@Vipersnest

-oh she can’t stand his ass

-@jackietaylorsear

-im crying who made her do this

-@kim_029_spl

-She seems so rude!

          -@ViperDeLaMuertesupremacy

          -you don’t get it

xXx

Me

did you at least try?

Wends

Weems wrote me cue cards to memorise.

I suppose I became flustered once on camera.

Me

aw Wends you could’ve called me before

Wends

I was being sarcastic, could you not tell?

An attempt at a joke.

I threw the cue cards out.

Me

your such a little shit omg

and no I cant tell

are you forgetting who im talking to?

Wends

Hard not to, seeing as it is I, Enid.

Me

oh my god

xXx

If Enid thought the pining had been bad before, good god, it was nothing compared to this. Now she knows how Wednesday Addams lips feel against hers, the quiet little sighs she makes as they kiss, how desperately she holds onto Enid, like she may vanish forever. Enid knows what her smile looks like, as rare as it is. She knows that Wednesday reciprocates her feelings, that it’s not one-sided and that she’s not crazy and delusional.

The useless pining and crush seems like a luxury now that she technically has Wednesday but can’t touch her. They’re across the world from each other when they finally feel as though they’re on the same page about their relationship.

Regardless of the distance and how annoying it is, Enid hasn’t been this happy in a long time. They call every day (unless Wednesday has forgotten to charge her phone) and text sporadically. Wednesday surprisingly initiates conversations, sending Enid pictures of things she’s seen, or an angry ramble of a message complaining about the stupidity of the general population. She’s rarely as sappy as Enid is, she doesn’t engage in pet names or flirt as openly in conversation. But then, randomly, she’ll say the most romantic sentence Enid has ever heard.

It's tempting to rush into it all, dive in headfirst and let herself float in the ecstasy-filled dream cloud of new love. How long they’ve both waited, whether they knew it or not. The painstaking, slow burn of their relationship, how for a long time it felt like throwing pebbles at a brick wall. Enid wants it all, it’s hard not to, but she’s also scared of coming off too strong. Especially since this isn’t a “normal relationship.” This is Wednesday Addams, a woman who tames bats, collects ancient weaponry, owns clothes in two colours and would kill someone over the wrong coffee order. She’s not “normal,” but then again, Enid has always found normal to be quite boring. Besides her eccentricities, Enid isn’t ignorant to how Wednesday behaves differently to literally every other person Enid has ever met. She shows affection sparsely, despises pet names (Enid will persuade her on this one), and as far as Enid is aware, has never been in a romantic relationship before.

She just doesn’t want to overwhelm her.

Even if all she wants is to call and text her all day, learn everything there is to know about her. But God, she would kill to know what is going on inside of Wednesday’s head right now. She catches glimpses here and there and it’s reassuring because she knows that Wednesday is doing more than just tolerating her right now.

Enid just wishes they could talk in the same room, without shitty cell service or a million people bustling around either of them. Without prying eyes and keeping ears open. To be able to hold her hand.

She rolls over on her bed and groans into a pillow.

Being a lesbian sucks (it doesn’t), gay pining sucks (it does), and she’s hungry (but she’s meeting with Yoko and some Producers for dinner).

She’s hot news because of the movie and now Yoko’s being flooded with offers for Enid (she will be getting a pay raise). Honestly, Enid isn’t fussed whether she does them or not. She’s not compelled to work for the sake of it, to make more money despite the fact that she currently has more than she’ll ever need, and to increase the fame she barely tolerates. Any decision would be because it sounds fun and excites her, no one else.

The phone by her side buzzes and she picks it up, eyes squinting to read the text from Yoko.

Yoko

Dinner’s at 7, that snobby sushi place we went to once, where you knocked over the dragon ice sculpture.

Enid drops her head back down into the pillow and just groans louder.

xXx

@caitvisusedhexstrap

Omg guys I met Wednesday Addams!

[Image description: The above user is posing next to Wednesday Addams who is sat at her book signing table. The fan is clutching a signed movie poster and awkwardly balancing the Viper De La Muerte trilogy in her other hand. Wednesday sits with her hands clasped, staring at the camera.]

     @visforviper

         -OOMFIE WHAT WAS SHE LIKE??

     @w3ncla1r

         -wait she doesn’t look that pissed off for once

      @Vipersnest

          -NO WAY

          -why is nobody talking about the username

xXx

Wednesday isn’t asleep.

Should an intruder break into her room, cautiously approach her bedside and look down upon her, yes, she understands that it may appear the opposite. She lies on her back, straight, arms flat against her sides, her face, feet and everything else is perfectly symmetrical. The sheet is pulled so tight around her, you would believe that she had someone tuck her in with the intent of keeping her captive. However she did it herself, an art she has perfected over the years. The almost suffocating feeling brings her great comfort, as everything feels tight around her, so that she is entirely held together.

It also dissuades her from the useless tossing and turning around in her bed. A habit she broke out of, due to some intense and disciplined training when she was six.

Her insomnia, if that’s what you want to call it, has improved slightly over the past few weeks. However she thought she would be seeing more impressive result by now. Wednesday barely slept much as it was, but the past year as been full of long, sleepless nights, knots in her stomach, a stutter in her heart and a lump in her throat. Her skin too hot or too cold, feverish, and her bones felt heavy, she carried her limbs as though they were weighed down by bricks. The Addams family curse hadn’t skipped her it seems, much to her disdain.

Though the resolution would be to confess her love to Enid Sinclair, the now Hollywood darling, who could have any one in the entire world but for some reason she is equally infatuated with Wednesday as Wednesday is with her.

They kissed.

Wednesday had never done that before, and it wasn’t unpleasant.

She enjoyed it, in fact; she now craved it.

Her insomnia has shifted. She is no longer kept awake due to her incessant pining and longing. Her heartache wasn’t the issue anymore. Because now Wednesday is kept up by something else entirely, something so much worse, something lethal.

Hunger.

She thinks, she longs, she remembers how Enid’s lips felt against hers. How Enid smiled into Wednesday’s mouth and giggled. Sweet, and lovely. Wednesday’s hands clench tightly in the fabric of her pyjama pants. The press of Enid’s body against hers, ridiculous dresses aside. How she’s never wanted to touch someone the way she wishes to touch Enid.

A fire burns inside of her, and she can’t keep stoking it. She feels like she’s slowly going insane, and she has nobody to speak to about this, not Enid.

Especially not Enid.

She would never hear the end of it.

But she writes for the time being. Puts every insane thought and want into that damn notebook she’s started to carry around. Initially, it was to help with a potential future book, any time something sparked an idea she had to scribble it down immediately. Now the pages are full of her careless scrawls and Enid’s name is scribbled into the pages like it was her birthright. Every thought, every line, she equates back to her. She consumes Wednesday’s mind, blocking her from achieving any other work and Wednesday in turn can only devote pages to her, hoping and frustratingly trying to wrestle with the English language in order to try and translate her feelings to paper.

No word seems strong enough, delicate enough.

She’s obsessed, addicted. The Addams family curse is more dreadful than she could have ever imagined.

And she can’t believe she’s saying this, but she’s maybe beginning to understand why her parents can never take their hands off of each other. Her worst fear is coming true; she’s turning into her father.

Oh the horror.

Wednesday’s eyes snap open at the buzz to her right. Ah, her cellular device is communicating once again, the stupid thing. Although is her suspicions are correct, there is only one person who could be calling her at this time. She slides her arm out from its cocoon and grabs the device, swallowing once she sees Enid’s name on the screen and presses the green dot.

Her heart is in her throat as she waits trepidatiously.

And then-

“Wends? Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Wednesday holds the phone away from her face, eyes fluttering shut and sighing at the sound of her voice.

“No, I was awake.”

Enid’s voice is quiet, and there’s a quiet bustling noise in the background. A flush, chatter, laughter, and clattering of cutlery. She’s likely out at a restaurant.

“Oh good, what time is it there?”

Her eyes, still adjusting to the bright screen in the otherwise dark room, confirm that it’s late.

“2:48 am.”

Enid gasps quietly, “Wednesday, you should be asleep! Oh my god, I didn’t realise the time difference would be that bad. Wait, why aren’t you asleep if I didn’t wake you up? I mean I know you’re kinda nocturnal and all, but you’ve got a book signing in the morning and-”

“Enid.”

“Yeah?”

“Slower, please.”

Her-something (Wednesday isn’t too sure yet), her Enid, chuckles sheepishly.

“Right, sorry I forgot,” she murmurs. “Do you want me to go, let you sleep?”

Wednesday shakes her head before she realises that Enid can’t see it. Her eyes close again, body relaxing at the sound of Enid’s voice, the quite hum of nightlife around her. For the first night in weeks, Wednesday actually feels like she could fall asleep without doing some ridiculous routine to tire herself out, or to force herself to stay awake until she was on the brink of exhaustion.

“No, you called for a reason, is something wrong?”

“I mean kinda, but I really feel like you should sleep. I’m stuck at this fancy dinner, and I want nothing more than to be curled up on my couch,” she chuckles, pausing allowing for a moment to pass before she adds on, “preferably with you.”

Physical touch has never been something Wednesday had craved. Even as a child. Her mother often recounts having trouble breastfeeding and the menacing look in Wednesday’s eyes when the feeding began. As a child she learnt very early on that humans loved to touch each other, and many did so without stopping to question whether or not the urge to touch was reciprocated. Wednesday recalls this in school, when other children would grab her arm, tug her braids, or for adults to pat her head. She never particularly enjoyed physical touch, the thought often made her skin crawl, and she can think of few people who are allowed a pass.

Enid being one of them.

“That sounds nice.”

Enid gasps playfully, “Who are you and what have you done with Wednesday Addams? Because the Wednesday I know would never admit to wanting to snuggle.”

“Previously, there was no mention of the word snuggle,” Wednesday muttered, shuffling her head on her pillow. “Though, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

A quiet sigh escapes Enid.

“I miss you so much.”

Wednesday shares the sentiment, though she doesn’t voice it. She doesn’t need to, Enid knows, better yet, she understands.

“Why aren’t you enjoying the dinner?”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Enid shoots back and Wednesday, despite her eyes being closed, still rolls them.

She frowns, “I asked you first.”

“Sinclair.”

“Addams,” Enid mocks her. “C’mon, are we really back to the last name basis? Listen, I don’t have long, I’m hiding out in the bathroom and-Wait! Maybe I can pretend that I got food poisoning.”

Wednesday’s lips tug slightly. “One leading role and you think you’re hot stuff.”

“Oh you got jokes now Addams?” Enid teases and there’s a flush in the background. “You’re way too cocky and I know it’s because you’re in France, the second we’re back in the same room-”

“Times ticking Sinclair, it would be rude to keep your dinner guests waiting.” It’s not that Wednesday wants her to hang up necessarily. The sound of Enid’s voice, low and melodic in her ears brings Wednesday a great deal of peace, like calmness washing over her body. Content, bone-deep, and her limbs are finally heavy, her eyes drooping and she feels warm.

It’s not entirely unpleasant.

But if they stay on the phone any longer then she puts Enid in a compromising position. Even worse, Enid will press her for details on why she isn’t asleep and why she’s struggling to rest. If she’s anything, she’s persistent; a quality of hers that Wednesday both admires and detests. Well no that’s a lie; she doesn’t think there’s a single thing she detests about Enid.

She hums, as though she’s deep in thought before going silent.

“I’m leaving.”

One of Wednesdays eyes snap open.

“Enid what-”

“Hold on baby-” There’s a loud clicking sound and the sound of heels on tiled floor, followed by a quiet groan, perhaps a door, and suddenly the background noise of dinner conversation increases. “Give me two minutes, ok?”

And that wretched pet name sends a rush through her, something indescribable.

She tries to listen in as Enid speaks in a hushed tone to whoever she’s having dinner with, but the woman must have the phone too far away from here face. Wednesday waits patiently as a few minutes pass, occasionally wincing as a sudden noise would come through the phone, the loud screech of cutlery dragging across plates, raucous laughter and the sort.

It’s officially three minutes later when Enid speaks again, slightly out of breath and now Wednesday can tell that she’s outside. The way Enid’s voice is louder, and the accompanying sound of traffic.

“Sorry, took me a minute to get out of there, so what’s up?”

That little-

“You left your dinner just to ask me how I was?”

Enid giggles, “No silly, you’re struggling to sleep so obviously something's up. Besides, the business side of the dinner was basically done, it has just moved onto small talk.” She hums a song absentmindedly under her breath, “So are you gonna tell me Addams? Or will I need to use my newly found investigative skills?”

Now Wednesday may be progressing in the way of emotional intelligence and communicating her feelings, but she’s rather throw herself off of her hotel balcony than tell Enid the reason why she can’t sleep.

“Too much caffeine,” she lies through her teeth. “It-well, I won’t lie, it is nice to hear your voice Enid, a welcome disturbance in my otherwise abysmally uninteresting evening.”

A pause.

“So what I’m hearing is that you missed my voice?”

Regret.

“Because we only called a few days ago Addams.”

Agony.

“You want me to talk to you on my walk home? Help you fall asleep?”

Pain-Wait what?

Wednesday frowns, noticing the sound of traffic remains in the background. Enid surely should’ve been in a cab by now. “Why are you walking back? It’s late.”

“Nice night.” And yes, call her a hypocrite because Wednesday is often outside more often in pitch darkness than she is in direct sunlight, but Enid is a notable celebrity whose self defence knowledge is limited to some dastardly game she calls ‘Street Fighter.’ “C’mon, it’s ten minutes from my place.”

Well if she’s going to be stubborn, Wednesday makes a conscious effort to not drift off until she has confirmation that Enid is home safe.

“Alright, you still have-”

“The pepper spray and very pointy metal nail file? Yes of course,” Enid beats her to it and Wednesday can somehow hear her pleased smirk. “How about I talk to you until you drift off?”

It’s irritable that the first time they’ve spoken in days is during such an inconvenient hour. Wednesday would talk for hours with her, or sit and listen to Enid talk for hours about her day, but she has that book signing early tomorrow morning. Usually, she can function significantly more efficiently than the average human on very few hours of sleep. However, she won’t just be having to endure a mundane book signing, but a mundane book signing with the French.

The only good thing they ever did was their revolution. Wednesday hopes to visit some museums and see real-life, full-sized guillotines.

 “I suppose that sounds alright,” she mutters, her wrist aching from holding it up against her ear, despite her arms best efforts to fall and drop the phone to the bed. “What was the purpose of your dinner?”

She hears Enid say something quietly to someone in passing, before answering her.

“Well Yoko had messaged, and wait are you comfortable? All tucked in?” Enid teases, and with her eyes shut Wednesday can visualise her, though it doesn’t to justice to the real thing. “Am I on speakerphone?”

It takes Wednesday a moment to understand the term. Upon her understanding she confirms that she is not on speakerphone, to which Enid says, “Press speaker, yeah the one with the little circle the lines and-”

“I have it.”

She may be technologically adverse but she’s not totally helpless.

“Good job, put the phone next to your head for me baby.”

Warmth, like boiling hot water trapped and bubbling under her skin. She imagines the welts and blistering of her skin, the shiny red and pinks, her flesh raw and hot, peeling and pulsing. Hot, the heat of Enid’s words set Wednesday alight.

The opposite of what she needs to be feeling in order to fall asleep.

Enid goes on a speal about the dinner, some producers wanted her to appear in a miniseries. Not as a primary protagonist or antagonist, but a small recurring guest role. They’re not the first and they won’t be the last, Enid is incredibly talented after all, more so than her mother could ever fathom. The past few weeks she’s been busy with various interviews, cover shoots, some meetings and auditions for other projects. She had been particularly excited about a voice over role, Wednesday recalls.

The sushi was good, but overpriced. Enid tried wasabi again; despite knowing she already hated it and almost had a medical emergency in the middle of the restaurant. Yoko got snake bite piercings had to keep deflecting one of the producers poor attempts at making a pass at her during the dinner. Someone else in the restaurant knocked over the ice dragon sculpture and Enid is very relieved it wasn’t her this time.

She speaks about everything and nothing.

Wednesday had been fighting off sleep until she heard Enid confirm she was in her apartment; only then did she allow herself to bleed into the mattress. The soft voice lulling her closer and closer to sleep.

It’s annoying because Wednesday doesn’t want to miss a thing she’s saying.

But eventually she drifts off without even realising it and is harshly awoken mere hours later by her alarm. She stretches and notices her phone next to her, how the call is no longer ongoing and she checks it to see a few messages from Enid.

Enid

only hung up when I was 100% sure you were asleep

stayed on the phone for an extra hour

just in case yk

but then you started snoring

not loud

but those cute little snores like kittens make

sleep well!

Wednesday

My snores are not cute.

But thank you.

She hesitates, her thumb hovering over the black heart on the keyboard before backing out and sending the simple reply instead.

Not yet.

xXx

-@RealWednesdayAddams ✔ 

Paris, France

[Image description: A black and white photo in which a very solemn Wednesday Addams and Marissa Weems, stand with the Eiffel Tower in the background]

@Enid Sinclair ✔                

Im great at cooking and cleaning in case u were wondering

     @Enid Sinclair ✔     

      Pls

         @mamaitslipbalm

                gayass

xXx

Enid sits still as the makeup team moves in a flurry around her.

She’s appearing as a guest on one of those YouTube shows, thankfully not one where she’s being interviewed while stuffing her face (because that’s definitely one way to ruin her image). But it is one she’s been a fan of for a while so she’s looking forward to it.

The movie has exceeded expectations, for everyone involved. A box office hit, easily making back how much they spent producing the movie within the first few days. It’s been one of the highest-grossing horror films in the last few years, and it’s been a little over a month since its release now. The book fans loved it, the movie fans loved it, the critics loved it, and angry conservative red pill content creators accused it of pushing the homosexual agenda.

So it’s obviously a success.

And while it’s technically not her acting debut (due to one or two television cameos in the past), everyone is praising her and her performance in the film. There had been a lot of trepidation initially, which makes sense; a well-respected horror franchise casts a random top model as their lead in the franchises newest movie. Of course people were sceptical. Like they are any other time, a model, singer, athlete, you name it, decides they want to throw their hat in the ring and try out acting.

In the end it all worked out, which is what matters the most.

She’s at the height of her career, she’s healthy, cut off her mom (finally), has a girlfriend (probably) and is out of the closet at last. Everything just feels a little too good to be true, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it’s maybe because she isn’t used to feeling so content and happy; like she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

“You and the others are booked in for a panel at a comic con in June, the 6^th I think,” Yoko mumbles from where she sits to the side, scrolling on her phone. “Just more press for the movie and stuff, except you can actually answer fan questions now that it’s out.”

Enid hums thoughtfully, allowing the makeup artist to tilt her chin up and she casts her eyes to the side, eying the packet of sweets on Yoko’s lap.

“Where is it?”

“Seattle, I’m pretty sure, then you guys have got San Diego in July.”

Cool cool.

Enid loves comic cons anyway, but she usually dresses up, which probably won’t fly this time if she’s promoting her own movie. But she will definitely make sure to find the time to still shop. She wonders what Wednesday would think of the ordeal, if she could make it.

“Wait what date?” Enid frowns but immediately relaxes when the makeup artist scolds her. Yoko reconfirms that it’s the sixth and if Enid remembers correctly, that’s the day Wednesday is due back. “Will um- Will Wednesday be there? Do you know?”

Yoko clicks her tongue, “Yeah I think Bianca said they’re flying into Seattle and heading straight to the Con and then Addams is hopping on a flight to New York the second it’s done.”

“Oh so I can just catch the same flight back?”

She makes a grabby motion with her hands for the sweets. Yoko ignores her.

“Hm, no because you are hopping on a jet straight to Italy for the Vogue Italia shoot, as per the special request of one Anna Wintour,” Yoko pauses and looks up from here phone to Enid. “You can’t seriously tell me that you forgot about that.”

She had.

Well technically she didn’t but she did get the dates horrendously mixed up. That means there will only be a few hour-long layover with her and Wednesday when they get to see each other again, before Enid is whisked off to another country for a week? Even worse, they’ll be reunited but only in an extremely public spot where their relationship is still a secret.

This has got to be a joke.

The universe hates her.

Punishing her because she’s gay or something.

Maybe that’s too dramatic.

Yoko must see the look on her face because she sits up and places her phone to the side, twisting her body to the makeup artist and asking, “Riley, I’m so sorry but can me and Enid have the room for a minute?”

Enid watches the reflection of Riley in the mirror before her. Their hands pause as they look between the two and then glance at the clock (they are tight for time before the interview). Pursing their lips, Riley nods and leaves the room, kindly closing the door behind them.

“You good?

Chewing her bottom lip, Enid contemplates for a second before slowly turning to face her best friend.

“Promise you won’t be mad at me.”

Yoko slides her glasses off her face and fixes Enid with a serious look.

“Girl hit me with it, don’t worry.”

Enid nods, her hands pulling at her tights. “Ok so, I kind of kissed Wednesday. Well; kissed is kind of a light way of saying we heavily made out and like kind of confessed our feelings for each other and I’m realising now from the look on your face that you’re pissed I didn’t tell you right away.”

Pushing her luck, Enid slowly extends her hand out for a sweet again.

“How long ago was this, because Wednesday Addams is currently in Europe and hasn’t been in the same city as you in weeks.”

Yoko stares at her incredulously and makes no move to share her candy.

“The Met Gala.”

“Enid!” Yoko stands, her jaw practically on the floor, along with the bag of candy which Enid is never going to be able to taste. She makes her way around until she stands directly in front of the chair Enid is sat in and leans her weight onto the counter behind her. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, in fact how did you keep that a secret for this long?”

Enid sags backwards into the chair and exhales loudly, “I literally have no idea I felt like I was going to burst. But we haven’t-ugh me and Wednesday haven’t even discussed boundaries or like how we’d define it yet, because she’s been out of the country.”

She receives a very unimpressed and scolding look in return.

“Listen I’m sorry, ok, I don’t even know if she’d want us to be telling people so early on. I thought we’d reunite at Comic Con and then fly back to New York, figure our shit out, kiss a little-”

“Gross.”

“-and just be together but now I have to go to stupid Italy with stupid Anna Wintour-”

Yoko sucks air in through her teeth, “Oh that’s not-”

Clasping her hands over her mouth in horror, Enid glances around the room to see if anyone overheard, despite the fact that they’re the only two here.

“That felt sacrilegious, I was joking,” she squeaks. Her best friend smirks and stifles a laugh at the look of panic on Enid’s face. “I’m just frustrated.”

“Sexually, or…”

Enid kicks her leg.

“Shut up, I guess I’m just nervous. What if she changes her mind, or things just get awkward, or the spark dies and-”

Yoko kicks her this time. But she’s wearing thick leather boots, so it hurts a lot more. She fixes Enid with a look, one she imagines an older sister would give her and sighs, “Listen to me. There is no point dwelling on ifs, buts and maybes. You guys met years ago in another country and somehow fate brought you back together, like that invisible string theory. You’ll find your way back to each other and trust me, the wait will have been worth it.”

And damn maybe she’s right. They’ve waited this long, whether they were aware of it or not. Through ups and downs they always find themselves crawling back to each other, because something just fits.

“Yeah, it will.”

xXx

Wednesday has never had the displeasure of attending a “Comic Con” before.

Perhaps displeasure is too strong a word, however, the ever-present stench of bodily odour is too strong a smell for her to overcome any reservations she had. A part of her respects it, dedicating so much time to craft something of merit, to display your love for a specific piece of media. The other part of her can’t stand the entitlement of the people here, one glimpse of her walking down a corridor, and they start screaming for her attention.

She never should’ve signed that damn contract.

Being back in the states is nice, or as nice as the states can be perceived. Europe is always enjoyable for travel though, despite their tour being targeted towards major cities, it was a nice change of pace from New York. The cities were smaller, the skyline no longer hidden by smog and ugly towers of steel and glass.

However she would be lying if she said she hadn’t found herself drained from the excessive human interactions. Book signing after book signing, answering the same questions again and again; it was tiring to say the least. Today will be her last required public outing, at least for a month. It will also be the first time she’s seen Enid since they shared their kiss. Her stomach has been fluttering all morning, with what she believes could be nerves. Or the food she ate on the plane hasn’t agreed with her.

Nerves.

Wednesday Addams didn’t get nervous.

She also didn’t think she would ever share romantic feelings for an individual. Especially not one that was so…pink.

Enid had called a few nights ago, clarifying that their reunion would be cut short, because this time she was the one having to depart across the world. Typical. Although frustrated, Wednesday understood, despite how agonising it was tasting something so intoxicating for the first time and having it ripped away the second you became addicted.

She follows the security team down one of the quiet hallways, some of the cast members chattering amongst one another and Weems marching upfront with Bianca. Enid wasn’t here yet, but it’s getting rather tight for time. They’re being led backstage and have around fifteen minutes before the panel, the hall is packed from what she was being told, people damn near fighting each other in the queues to get in.

Scowling, she shoves her hands deeper in her pockets, and is thankfully oblivious to the noise all around her. The headphones Enid had bought her months ago, sit comfortably on her head, Wednesday doesn’t go anywhere without them. They’re wonderful for blocking out the world, allowing her to get on with her day without sudden loud or distracting sounds. Also it dissuades people from speaking with her. Tyler had tried, he now walks with his arm linked with Vada, the two of them speaking amicably and thankfully not with Wednesday.

They all walk through large double doors to the backstage area, where technicians and the like are bustling around, ensuring everything will run as smoothly as possible. Being this close to the stage means that noise begins to seep through the barrier of her headphones and Wednesday can barely stomach a glance at the large crowd, from the sidelines making sure to keep herself hidden. She doesn’t have social anxiety; she just prefers to not be the centre of attention to that many people.

She backs away, ignoring Bianca’s encouraging smile and stands with her arms crossed, eyes glued to her shoes. The watch on her wrist says they go on in three minutes.

Three minutes and then she’ll be subjected to an hour of questions that she and the cast members will have already answered several times before. Perhaps she could just leave, or fake a brutal injury or-

Suddenly she feels hands gently squeeze her elbow and before she can retaliate and harshly jab at them, she turns her head to see Enid. Wednesday stares dumbfounded at her, and can’t hear what she’s saying but can see the smile breaking out across her face. She lets Enid push the headphones down, to sit around her neck, and refrains from wincing at the sudden onslaught of sound, hundreds of people talking and yelling, but it doesn’t matter.

She can’t seem to tear her eyes away from her.

“We’re on in like two minutes so I’m going to hug you now if that’s ok?” Enid says softly and at Wednesday’s nod, she used the hand on her elbow to pull her in close, wrapping her arms tightly around Wednesday and squeezing. Wednesday stands still for a moment, uncaring about the curious look Weems shoots her, or Bianca’s infuriatingly smug smirk, and then she wraps her arms around Enid and buries her face in her neck.

Sweet, fruity, hairspray and the lingering smell of travel which you cannot cover up no matter how hard you try to freshen up, that’s what Enid smells like.

The hug doesn’t last nearly long enough and Wednesday almost makes a noise of complaint when Enid pulls back. Her eyes, wide and searching, linger on Wednesday’s face, a hand coming up to gently whisper against her jaw.

“You look tired,” she pouts, no doubt spotting the dark rings under Wednesdays eyes.

Nodding to the producer behind them, Wednesday remarks, “Weems, has me working like a dog. While I do pride myself in my above average physique, I fear my wrist has suffered permanent damage from all that signing.”

Seeing right through her bullshit, Enid rolls her eyes playfully, lifting Wednesday’s wrist up into the space between them.

“Oh, should I kiss it better then?”

“Don’t you dare,” She gets cut off by one of the assistants waving them over, as everybody else lines up in order by the entrance, and her annoyance grows when she realises that she’s meant to go on last. Meaning this whole ordeal will be even more drawn out than necessary.

Weems is first, the Vada, Tyler, a few other actors playing new characters in the movie, then Enid is meant to go second to last and finally Wednesday. They begin to call everybody’s names and one by one they go out, like it’s some theatrical show. This is exactly why Wednesday preferred to stay behind the scenes during the production of the last two projects, she simply cannot be bothered with being shown off and awed at for simply existing.

What an abysmal existence.

She stares at the back of Enid’s head and looks down when she feels her reach back to quickly squeeze Wednesday’s hand before her name is called out and she steps on the stage. The roar of the crowd is thunderous, and any disdain Wednesday previously held is somewhat lessened by the pride she feels watching Enid step out with a beaming grin.

When her name is called, the panel moderator and host draws it out, elongating the vowels and consonants, hollering her name like those announcers at wrestling matches. She goes straight to her seat, doesn’t milk it, doesn’t turn and wave. Her eye twitches at the flashes of light in her peripheral and the screeching like banshees that assaults her ears. She’s sat between Enid and Weems and stares at the rows of hundreds of people.

When the horde is finally calmed down, the moderator begins with some simple questions, some of which are directly solely at her so unfortunately, she must answer. Do not be mistaken, Wednesday does enjoy discussions about her novels, however when you have been asked the same stupid, simple-minded, lacklustre question several times beforehand; then you begin to lose your patience. Especially when someone somewhere feels the need to whoop every time she so much as opens her mouth.

Enid is incomparable to her though.

She answers every question with ease, smiling through it all, with her right hand gently resting on Wednesday’s leg for the entire panel. Which has no effect on her whatsoever because she is a mature adult.

“-what did it feel like, meeting the perfect match?”

What a loaded question, so much so that the entire room wouldn’t know the significance of it, except for herself and Enid.

“Well I hate to quote cliches, but the role was made for Enid,” and she keeps her eyes straight ahead, determined not to look into the blue ones boring into the side of her face. “Even then, she brought new life to the character, something I didn’t think was possible.”

Enid giggles, “Oh because you wrote her so well?”

The room laughs while Wednesday turns her face slightly to her.

“Well yes, she was otherwise perfect and somehow you did…something, something I never quite could.”

The noise around them fades as she watches the subtle emotions play across Enid’s face, how her teasing smile softens into something else. Narrowed, humorous eyes widen, laugh lines soften and the sincerity almost takes Wednesday’s breath away.

She wants to kiss her. She wants to love her.

Wednesday rigidly turns her body back to the audience, oblivious to the gleeful smiles on their faces and curses her father and his entire bloodline for allowing her to inherit the damn Addams family curse. Turning her into a lovesick fool, because her body hums, pulsates and throbs but she cannot do anything about it in front of 700 people, so instead she has to bite the inside of her cheek and wait for sweet, sweet salvation.

Surprisingly the rest of the panel flies by with little mishaps, apart from one fan question where the individual speaking was obviously nervous and stuttered her way through the first half of the question only for some audience members to snicker. Wednesday’s glare shut them up though, and she gave the girl a curt nod, aware of Enid doing the same, and feeling emboldened, the girl finished speaking with only a slight waver in her voice.

When they all stand to leave, she immediately misses the warmth of Enid’s hand on her thigh, and walks after her in a trance. It’s loud, annoyingly so, backstage and front, the cast chattering amongst themselves and Wednesday is barely stood still for a second before being whisked away by Enid to a quieter corner.

“Hi,” Enid breathes out, nervously wrangling her hands together.

Wednesday tilts her head curiously.

“Hello.”

A quiet giggle escapes her, “I mean this is technically also a goodbye because I gotta catch a flight, crazy timing am I right? It’s like the universe hates us, or we’re the characters in a stupid romcom,” she says with a pained smile. “If we got a flight any later it would mean I miss the get together which is mandatory and-”

“Enid.”

She pauses and perks up at the sound of her name.

“It’s one more week, what could happen that would change any of this?”

Enid hums and pretends to think, “What if a hot Italian model sweeps me off my feet?”

Wednesday’s eyes narrow.

“Did they write an award-winning piece of fiction about you? If so, then that’s quite the coincidence.”

She takes quiet delight in the way that Enid’s eyes flash and she steps closer.

“Wednesday Addams you smug little shit, where did all this bravado come from?”

Their shoes touch, noses inches apart, Wednesday cocks one brow, “Apologies for any unwanted assumptions Sinclair, but I’d say you quite enjoy it,” she murmurs, eyes on pink lips.

A soft noise escapes Enid, making Wednesday’s eyes jump from her lips to the half-lidded eyes staring back at her. She watches as Enid glances at everyone around them and chews her lip.

“God, I wish we could-”

She’s tragically cut off by a buzzing coming from her pocket, sighing, she fishes her phone out and pulls a face.

“That’s my team, I’ve got to get going,” she mutters, pocketing her phone and staring longingly at Wednesday. “I’ll see you when I get back?”

It goes unspoken what they both want.

Wednesday nods, “Of course,” she murmurs softly, almost wincing at the sudden loss of contact when Enid steps back, an apologetic look on her face. It’s for the best though, after all Enid is a very affectionate person, if she lingered any longer, she would do something they’d later regret.

Looking as though someone kicked her dog, Enid slowly walks away, pausing to briefly smile and hug her co-stars before meeting with her security detail at the door. Just as she’s about to step through she looks back to Wednesday and smiles.

The expression never stood out to Wednesday growing up, it did not spark any emotion within her, other than irritation. She herself, very rarely smiled. But Enid smiles and the constantly spinning, screaming world comes to a silent halt and Wednesday begins to wonder if she was perhaps too harsh in how she perceived the expression.

One week.

They can manage one more week.

xXx

@ViperDeLaMuerteUpdates

Wednesday Addams and the cast of Viper De La Muerte III at Seattle Comic Con

[Image Description: A photo of the Viper De La Muerte III panel]

@Lenor_21

Omg tyler is so fine guys

    -@bi_c_up

       -Wednesday, Enid, Vada all up there and you’re talking about a man

@Wenclairisrealtrust

the way wenclair kept glancing at each other #nooticing

@Enidslosteyelash

Enids right hand stayed under the table the whole time btw

And Wednesday glanced down a few times

#nooticing

@Elliestwofingers

WHEN THEY STARED INTO EACH OTHERS EYES

AND WEDNESDAY ADDAMS WAS NICE ON PURPOSE??

#nooticing

@Wednesdayscalpme

WHATS THIS ABOUT A HAND ON A LEG???

      -@ENIDSLOSTEYELASH

          -LMAOOOO

@Lilasbored

Guys what is #nooticing

xXx

Eugene

Btw there’s a lot of buzz about you and Wednesday

After comic con

You’re trending!

Enid

yeah I saw

not on purpose

I keep getting fan edits on my fyp

Will the creator know if ive liked and saved them?

Eugene

Yes.

Enid

crap

I cant remember which account I used

my main or private

Eugene

I’ll log into your main account

Check out your likes and sort it out

Enid

THANK YOUUU

you’re a lifesaver

Eugene

Np!!

Any reason you’re saving ship edits?

Enid

Pfft no!

forget I said anything

Eugene

Idk sounds kind of gay

Enid

that is so homophobic

Eugene

I literally have two moms

Enid

AND LOOK AT THE MONSTER THEY RAISED

wanna play Minecraft later

i brought my switch

Eugene

Sure!

xXx

This may just be the longest week of Enid’s life.

Italy is lovely this time of year, don’t get her wrong, and she’s surrounded by people whose work she admires and has always wanted a collaboration with. The sun is out, her bare shoulders are often risking a burn (despite the copious amount of sunscreen she’s slathered on), and she’s had an espresso (because you’ve got to once you’re in Italy, right?).

But she’s miserable.

Ok, miserable is a little dramatic, but there are just places she’d much rather be right now. The universe seems to love to reward her and then quickly punish her, as if it were providing a reminder that you can’t bake your cake and eat it. Truth be told Enid would trade any recent work-related projects and events for 24 hours alone with Wednesday, in a heartbeat.

She doesn’t know if it’s affecting her so strongly because she’s never been in love like this before, or maybe because it’s just Wednesday. Perhaps it could be associated with the fact that for the first time in her life, she doesn’t feel guilty about it, doesn’t feel the need to hide it and most definitely doesn’t feel the entire weight of the world resting on her shoulders because of one dirty little secret. Whoever said being in love was the best feeling in the world was a fucking liar.

It’s excruciating.

Every thought traces back to her.

Enid doesn’t even like espresso’s, but Wednesday does and the smell reminds Enid of her. The taste too.

The hotel’s dining room opens up to the outside, and it’s a cool night, the sun resting low on the horizon, the sky a blend of pink and orange. As the warmth of the day bleeds away, the gentle chill of the night creeps in. The candle flickers in the glass mason jar on her table, the wick dying out and her espresso she can’t finish has gone cold.

Someone is playing something akin to an accordion, another a guitar and the third a trumpet (she thinks?). The guitarist croons softly, swaying with the breeze and the gentle tune. Enid watches as an elderly couple dance together. Their skin old and leathery, tanned and freckled, but their smiles are ageless, and Enid definitely doesn’t stare enviously at them. She says something and he laughs, he replies, and she rolls her eyes, pinching his side and he cackles in response.

60s or 70s? Enid isn’t sure, but the air of familiarity about them tells her that they’ve spent a good portion of their lives together. What a privilege it must be to be able to love someone for that long.

A buzz tears her out of her thoughts, and she smiles when she sees the name light up on her phone. She stands, smooths out her dress and walks further outside, along stone path and holds the phone up to her ear.

“Funny, I was just thinking about you? Are you a psychic?”

Wednesday takes a moment to reply.

“Perhaps in another life, cara mia.”

Her steps slow and Enid spins, an excited grin stretching across her face. Did Wednesday just give her a nickname? Wednesday Addams who supposedly hates them?

“And what does that mean?” She teases, grin spreading wider when she hears Wednesday’s frustrated sigh. Oh she definitely let that one slip by accident. “Thought you hated nicknames?”

“Apologies, I do not know what has come over me this afternoon,” she mutters and Enid giggles in response. “It is Italian, I thought it would be fitting I suppose.”

Italian.

Well there’s a ton of Italians all around her, so Enid figures she’ll find out what it means rather quickly.

“Wait until your return, then I can tell you in person.”

Enid pouts, “But Wends-Ugh ok fine,” she relents, kicking a small rock with her shoe. “Are you ok? You never normally call me first.”

Although she knows that Wednesday enjoys their calls, she very rarely picks up the phone to call Enid first. So this is rather peculiar.

“I spent my morning with my hands glued to the typewriter. My local theatre had a David Lynch movie marathon on, I missed out on Inland Empire and Eraserhead because I simply could not stop writing,” Wednesday muses, not sounding particularly out of sorts. “However, the most peculiar thing turned out that I was not writing for the intent of publication, because my mind has been consumed by you, as shown by the words on the paper on my desk. Curiously, I was aware of this, yet allowed myself to continue, writing passages reminiscent to that of a teenage girl's diary, much to my horror.”

Enid fully stops walking now, an uneasy feeling sitting low in her stomach.

“What are you saying, Wednesday?”

Another quiet sigh.

“With my mind being so occupied, I realised it would be wise to finally discuss the inevitable; how you would define the relationship between us, and any expectations.”

Enid laughs breathlessly, though her stomach still in knots.

“Listen, there doesn’t have to be any expectations, we’ll ease ourselves into it- take it easy,” she reassures her, not wanting to put too much pressure on Wednesday, especially since this is her first relationship.

Silence.

And then-

“I’m afraid you misunderstand.”

Enid frowns, “What?”

“An Addams love is to the death, we don’t do casual Enid,” she murmurs, her tone is one which Enid has never heard before. Something reverent and impassioned. “My hands were made to hold yours, my body made to warm yours. My entire existence has led to meeting you, I hadn’t even started living until I met you. An Addams’ love is all-consuming Enid. My dying breath will be your name.”

Oh.

Oh.

Enid tries to swallow around the lump in her throat, exhales shakily and tries to form a coherent thought to respond with. She isn’t rushed, isn’t pressured, and Wednesday waits for her with no complaint. Something they’re both very familiar with at this point.

“Kind of annoying that you say all that when I’m not there to kiss ya, Addams,” she breathes out, a weak laugh escaping past her lips.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

That smug little shit.

Enid scoffs and rubs her eyes, “You know I’m gonna kiss you stupid when I see you next, you know that right?”

“Perhaps I’ll look forward to it.”

“Addams, you flirt.”

The crush she harboured for Wednesday was bad enough before, but now Wednesday is dangerously confident and knows exactly what buttons to push, almost sending Enid into cardiac arrest. Though, Enid supposes that too is the one downside of dating an author, the poetry they’ll come out with at random, sweeping you off of your feet.

And to know that it is Wednesday Addams of all people saying this.

Nobody sees this side of her, nobody but Enid, and nobody other than Enid ever will.

“You will have an early morning I presume. Perhaps you should turn in, we all know what you’re like on little sleep.”

Aaaaand she’s back.

Enid snorts, “Yeah, no, sorry I’m still recovering from that,” she smiles, trying to imagine what Wednesday is doing right now, where she is, how she looks. “You have such a crush on me.”

“Tell anyone and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

“What are you gonna do? Smother me with kisses?”

“I’m hanging up.”

She begins to walk back towards the restaurant, the Italian music humming in the distance, the bushes rustling in the wind. Wednesday’s family is Italian she thinks, or part Italian at least? Maybe one day they could come here together.

Does Wednesday know how to dance.

Who’s she kidding? Of course she will.

“I don’t know if I can call tomorrow,” Enid warns, sandals padding softly in the worn marble floor. “Busy shoot day, then I fly back to New York on Saturday, won’t get in until later so I’ll come by and see you on Sunday.”

Wednesday hums, “Yes, that all sounds well,” she trials off, and Enid can hear the slight hesitation in her voice. “Did I-was before alright? I unfortunately take after my father, a lovesick fool if you ask me, and-”

“Wednesday.”

“Yes?”

Enid’s smile threatens to split her face, and her cheeks are a rosy red, “You’re more than fine, if anything, I’m a little jealous that I can’t come up with the same words you do.”

“You’re very presence is all I need Enid, you needn’t worry about anything else.”

“You can’t say that,” Enid groans, throwing her head back. “I’m hanging up before you say anything else, and I jump on the next plane to New York.”

And she would. Any other time, perhaps a little while down the road, she wonders if she will still be so insatiable. Logistically speaking it’s the pining, of just needing to be with her, to properly indulge and take her time, however Enid hasn’t had the chance to do that yet. Once she has, maybe then she’ll be able to do a week long work trip without moping the entire time because she’s only kissed her girlfriend once.

Is Wednesday her girlfriend?

“Very well,” Wednesday replies, a slight smugness in her voice that makes Enid shake her head in exasperation. “Rest well and I forgot to say but during my time in France I paid a visit to the Catacombs, when you get back I will be sure to show you the pictures I took.”

Of course she was in the most romantic and one of the prettiest cities in the world and spent her free time in the catacombs.

“Looking forward to it,” she lies through her teeth, though excited and warmed at the thought of Wednesday being eager to share something with her. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Without a doubt.”

xXx

Wednesday is very careful when handling her latest auction purchase. Her time in Europe had proven useful for playing the part of a typical tourist, however it also lent her plenty of time for some shopping. By shopping, she of course means for ancient weaponry. America is near useless when it comes to collecting, the country is not old enough to qualify for “ancient” artifacts; however of course there is an abundance of Native American weaponry, though she does not collect those as it feels it would be in poor taste. The local communities should rather have possession over them.

Britian however she was more than happy to browse, the Celts offer a rich history, which led to her purchase of a Celtic, Iron Age sword, almost the length of her arm. It has by no means been preserved as well as some other items in her collection, but it caught her eye, and she bought it.

It was a pain getting through airport security though.

It would have been used in the time Celts spent in battle with the Romans, and now it sits on a shelf in her study, next to a throwing star.

Thing nuzzles around her legs, ever the saboteur, he likes to test her patience when handling sharp or precious objects. He has been insatiable as of late, sleeping directly on her neck in bed (trying to kill her no doubt, a spike of pride shoots through her at the thought), sitting on the kitchen table and trying to share her food, bringing her home a live rat.

Pest.

The rat wasn’t fantastic either.

They say cats are more perceptive of their owners moods, though Wednesday dreads to think of Thing managing to pick up on her ridiculous homo-erotic pining.

She tuts and bends down to pick him up, he quietly yowls in protest, and she rolls her eyes, turning him around in her arms and holding him up so that he’s eye level with her. His one eye blinks slowly, and his scarred ears drop slightly.

“I can feed myself; I do not need any rats.”

He stares at her.

“Or mice.”

Thing licks his lips and she sighs, placing him down on her desk and watching as he circles around before choosing to directly sit on a pile of paper.

What an odd creature.

His ears perk up at the sound of the doorbell and Wednesday very casually makes her way downstairs, not expecting anyone today. Thing decides to follow beside her, convincing himself to play the part of the guard dog.

The doorbell rings once more and she huffs at the impatient visitor on the other side. She takes her sweet time and after working her way through about six locks, she pulls the door open and quirks an eyebrow at familiar blonde hair.

“Weems.”

The older woman’s grin stretches across her face.

“Wednesday, we’ve known each other quite sometime now, I think you ought to call me Larissa.”

Wednesday blinks.

“No.”

Unsurprised, Weems shrugs, her smile remains and the designer handbag resting in the crook of her elbow is the same shade as her blood red lipstick.

“I heard you’ve been writing.”

“From whom?”

“Ms Barclay, who else?”

Wednesday curses under her breath. Bianca was a confidant, a trusted individual who worked for Wednesday. But she could also be cutthroat, strategic, she obviously planted the seed for Weems for a reason. She is many things, and careless is not one of them.

The woman shifts, looking past her and Wednesday makes no motion to welcome her inside.

“I was just passing through and thought-well, you see Wednesday with the recent success of everything the studios have contacted me and they’re eager for another movie, of course we cannot put that into motion until the book is released, but I am so glad to hear that you-”

Wednesday holds up a hand to cut her off, and utters, “I’m done with Viper.”

The smile slides off of Weems’ face.

“How do you mean?”

“It is finished, complete, anything else would be glorified fanfiction or fanservice.”

Weems furrows her brow and looks at the ground, “I’m surprised you know what fanfiction is.”

It seems something has been lost in communication here, or something has been misinterpreted.

“That’s not what I’m writing, apologies for any confusion,” she murmurs, ignoring how Thing wraps around her legs in an obvious display of affection.

Taken aback, Weems nods, though the disappointment on her face is clear as day.

“May I ask what it is you are writing?”

It is nothing she would sell the rights to, nothing to be made into a movie or anything else other than its raw and intended form. They wouldn’t understand it anyway, wouldn’t be able to recreate the words she has written, wouldn’t be able to capture a drop of emotion in the translation from page to screen.

So she shakes her head and ignores the whiskers poking at her leg.

It’s not ready yet.

After so many months she wonders if it ever will be coherent enough to read.

xXx

Enid arrives back late.

Tired, jetlag is a bitch, and her body feels stiff from the long flight. The roll of her shoulder keeps making a clicking noise, but she still feels little to no relief. She’s also so hungry she could eat a cow, so she placed an order down at reception. Soon, a warm, greasy pizza will be in her possession and then she can throw herself into her bed and finally rest.

The apartment is quiet, cold and still. Even once her lamps are on and she puts music on in the background, the loneliness lingers and even her own breathing seems too loud and intrusive. Maybe she should get a cat, or a dog-no, not a dog unless she has a garden. A hamster? No, they die too easily. Maybe a fish.

Yeah, she could raise a fish.

Maybe a clown fish like Nemo. But she’d want a lot, so they didn’t get lonely and a really big tank for them. Like ridiculously huge and then she could buy little decorations for the inside like Spongebob’s pineapple house or a miniature Titanic. But fish are kind of boring. Maybe she could get fish and something else. Something that makes noise and can actually interact with her. A dog would be the dream, they had one when she was growing up, a giant Newfoundland who slobbered everywhere and had a habit for sitting directly in front of the door, so nobody could push it open from the other side.

She’d like something a little smaller maybe and to adopt one from a shelter, give it a forever home. Once she buys a proper house with a garden and enough space. Enid hums and moves about her room with a wistful smile at the thought. They could wear matching bandanas, and she could buy it one of those pup cups.

A handful of clothes are tossed in her laundry basket, and she sniffs a t-shirt to see if it’s acceptable to wear again or if it needs to be washed.

Hm…wash.

Travelling is fun and all, but the unpacking sucks so much. Especially when you’re coming down from the high of your trip and unpacking just reminds you that you’re home again and life is going back to normal. Except, Enid is on planes all the time. It’s not unusual to pack and unpack within the space of a week. In fact, a lot of the stuff in her work suitcase stay there all the time, extra makeup, skincare, hairbrushes, personal hygiene, socks and underwear, and she only swaps out the clothes. But still, massive bummer whenever she has to unpack.

Especially when it’s late and she’s hangry.

She’s not ungrateful though, the trip was a collaboration of a lifetime, hand selected by Anna freaking Wintour. Maybe she’s just experiencing burnout, typical when she’s at the height of her career, huh?

DING.

Enid throws her head back with a grown and clasps her hands in front of her chest, “Oh thank God.” That must be Damien from the lobby with her order, they bring most deliveries up themselves for security reasons. He’s sweet, an older gentleman who always winked at her when she brought a “friend” back to her penthouse. Enid always makes sure to tip him generously.

Her socks slide across the wooden flooring, already able to taste the pepperoni on her tongue. She runs a hand through her hair and pulls the door open with a wide smile, “Damien, you are a godsend-” and the words die on her lips when her eyes land on who stands before her.

Because it’s not Damien.

A haggard-looking Wednesday Addams on the other side, cheeks flushed, breathing heavily, chest heaving, pupils blown, and some of her hair escaping the usually pristine braids. She’s never looked more beautiful.

Enid falters, and her grip on the door loosens.

“Wednesday?”

And it’s like it wakes something inside of her because at the sound of her name on Enid’s lips, she surges forward and pulls Enid’s face down to meet hers, their lips slamming against each other and she pushes Enid back, inviting herself into the apartment. The door slams behind them, and the back of Enid’s legs are pushed against an armchair but she doesn’t care. She moans into Wednesday’s mouth, hands slipping around to hold her back, pull her closer, and Wednesday only deepens the kiss in response.

It should feel awkward and clunky and nervous, but it isn’t.

Enid sighs through her nose, smiling as it brushes against Wednesday’s. “I missed you, fuck I missed you so much,” and it’s hard to pinpoint what exactly she is referring to. What time she missed Wednesday? This past week? The weeks before with Wednesday spent in Europe? Maybe the months where they didn’t speak or the years before that, where Enid knew she was missing something, she just didn’t know what. Because the fact is, Enid has missed her Wednesday for her entire life, and for the first time ever, everything seems to make sense.

The hand cupping her cheek slides down to the skin of Enid’s neck, holding her hand against warm, thrumming skin.

“How did you get here so fast?” Enid gasps out when their lips separate for a brief moment, only for Wednesday to capture them again. “I-mph, shit-Wednesday,” she giggles as she woman keeps pecking her lips, pushing her back. They stumble together in a beautifully awkward dance until Enid’s legs hit the couch and with a soft push, she finds herself on her back, the shriek of delight quickly swallowed by Wednesday who is insatiable, it seems.

It's Enid’s hand on her chest which makes Wednesday pause, wide doe eyes stare down at her and Enid takes a moment to look at them. She, on her back on the couch, with Wednesday on top of her, hands creeping up Enid’s sides, and an all too innocent look on her face.

“We were gonna meet up tomorrow,” Enid murmurs, her hand gently patting Wednesday’s chest, right above her heart, feeling it beat in a frenzied manner. She rubs her hand soothingly over the area, feeling the woman’s breathing even out. “I barely got in, how did you-”

And God how is she meant to speak when Wednesday is looking at her like that.

“Well I was meeting Bianca for dinner,” she murmured, dipping down to softly kiss Enid’s neck. “And you sent me the message saying you’d landed, and I suppose- well, I came straight here.”

Enid’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation of soft lips brushing her neck. Her hands keeping Wednesday in place, one sliding up to her neck, which is oddly slightly damp with sweat?

Hold on-Enid’s eyes snap open, “Did you run here?”

The lips on her neck pause for a second before resuming their work, and Wednesday doesn’t answer her, teeth scraping at the column of Enid’s throat. Unbelievable, like she’s in a fucking romcom.

“Please don’t tell me you ditched Bianca,” she sighs, arching her back slightly when lips suck against her pulse point. “Even though I think this is very romantic.”

She feels Wednesday shake her head and continue to kiss her, determined to taste every bit of skin that Enid has to offer her. It feels surreal, like Enid is in a dreamlike state, body warm and being pressed down into the couch cushions.

All the waiting really paid off.

DING

Oh come on.

Enid groans when she feels Wednesday stop and opens her eyes to see Wednesday staring down at her, eyes wide and wild. She taps Wednesday’s side, and the woman shifts, allowing Enid to sit up and when she stands her legs are shaky. Wednesday being the little shit that she is, lets out an amused puff of air at the sight.

Damien does in fact stand on the other side of the door this time, pizza box and receipt in hand, as well as a shopping bag?

“This was left in the hall ma’am,” Enid takes both from him and smiles gratefully, letting the door close behind her as she turns and shoots Wednesday a curious look.

It’s funny to see her so dishevelled.

Wednesday clears her throat and takes the bag from Enid, making her way towards Enid’s kitchen and opening up the fridge to fill with shopping.

“I figured your refrigerator would be barren after your trip, well I suppose it probably looks unimpressive most of the time anyway,” she pulls something off of a shelf, checks the date and then gives Enid a deadpan look before tossing it in the trash. “I don’t want you to starve is all.”

The grease from the pizza is definitely making its way through the cardboard to Enid’s hand and she probably looks stupid with her lip-gloss smudged and her hair a mess, but she can’t find it in herself to care. She tosses the box on the counter and closes the gap between them again, this time catching Wednesday off guard as lets out a surprised noise when Enid presses a firm kiss to her lips.

Her fingers pull at the fabric of Wednesday’s shirt, barely there and teasing as their noses brush and heads stay touching.

“Thank you,” Enid murmurs, watching as Wednesday’s eyes droop and she leans forward again, only for Enid to step back with a playful grin and snatch the pizza box off the counter, grab two plates and make her way back to the couch. “You hungry? Because I could eat a horse.”

It takes Wednesday a few more seconds before she follows.

“Thing missed you too.”

Enid’s legs are on her lap, the rest of her is stretched out, stomach full and happy. They’d finished eating a short while ago and were just lounging, Wednesday tracing her fingers along Enid’s legs. It was quiet, intimate, and it all somehow felt very natural.

She snorts and rubs a hand over her face before shifting her weight to lean back on her elbows and stare at Wednesday.

“Oh really? What did he miss the most?”

Wednesday shrugs, “Everything,” and she hesitates before adding, “your laugh.”

Oh.

Speaking around the lump in her throat, Enid replies, “You’re sweet,” her foot nudging Wednesday’s leg. The Pokémon socks in all their glory, Bulbasaur of course.

She’s given a sharp look which holds no real weight and smiles at the sight of it.

“Thing said it, not me.”

“Thing is a cat, Wednesday.”

And Enid feels so full and not just because of the pizza. Her body thrums and hums and buzzes like a million bees are trapped under her skin. It feels like there’s something heavy on her chest, not suffocating, but its presence is made to be known. It’s grounding and she feels like there are too many things she wants to say, and not enough words in the world to say it.

Wednesday’s hands are cool, but her heart is warm.

She’s a miracle.

A yawn escapes Enid, and she very quickly slaps a hand over her mouth but Wednesday sees, of course she does. She pats Enid’s leg and stands, gesturing for Enid to get up too. Reluctantly (and wish a groan) she does, sleepy and sated.

“I should get out of your hair,” Wednesday murmurs when Enid scoots over to her and drops her head to Wednesday’s shoulder. “You need to sleep.”

Enid grumbles and presses a kiss to Wednesday’s shoulder.

“Stay.”

“What?”

Oh.

She lifts her head and blinks, Wednesday stares back at her owlishly.

“To sleep!” She squeaks, “snuggle and all.”

And there is no way she’s even going to entertain the idea of snuggling with Enid when they’ve barely passed first base and Wednesday has a strict routine so why would she sleep here, and-

“Ok.”

Enid blinks slowly.

“Ok?” She repeats and upon seeing Wednesday’s nod, she perks up and grabs her hand, leading her through the apartment towards her bedroom. A million thoughts are racing through her head. Would they spoon? If so, then Wednesday is obviously the little spoon. Wednesday would have to borrow pyjamas. Wednesday in Enid’s clothes. Wednesday in Enid’s clothes. Wednesday in Enid’s clothes.

Her room is kind of a messy, still in the middle of unpacking, but she shoves it all off the bed and tries to pack it all away as neatly as she can. The back of her neck burning as Wednesday inspects the room. Oh god it’s still a mess. Enid trips over the rug in the middle of the room, and then over a sneaker, as she stumbles to try and tidy up her closet a little bit.

The walk-in closet was probably the most impressive feature of the apartment, almost as large as her bedroom itself. It’s lined with all her clothes, shoes and jewellery, there is rarely a spot free on her clothes rails on either wall. A lot is stuff she bought, but she’s also been sent an enormous amount of clothes from brands over the years, and has some unique pieces from past collaborations and sponsorships. The wood is white, clean cut, with the handles and knobs of drawers being a shiny rose gold. The room itself has almost a soft pink glow, because of the cherry blossom coloured glass chandelier on the ceiling.

It's almost obnoxious to look at, she knows, but she’ll always feel a little giddy sliding into there and having that much clothing at her disposal. (Yes her Pokémon socks have their own designated drawer).

Wednesday doesn’t really spare a glance at the closet, nor the floor to ceiling windows and the beautiful city lights below them, not even at the stuffed animals on Enid’s bed. She passes Enid’s desk, with the impressive pc set up with her consoles, speakers and headphones, and stops to linger in front of her bookcase.

Of course.

There’s a lot of manga, a lot of young adult fiction that she knows Wednesday would roll her eyes at. Long, bony fingers drag along the spines, no doubt collecting a thin layer of dust, before she stops and pulls a book off the shelf.

Ah.

Enid stands, arms full of possible sleepwear options for Wednesday and stares at the other woman’s back. “Yeah, sure you can take a look,” she scoffs playfully as Wednesday flips the book in her hands. It’s the most worn one in the entire apartment, the cover is a little worn and faded in some spots, and the spine is bent, cracked and tired. There are so many dog-eared pages and sticky notes sticking out of it.

The Chilling Investigations of Viper De La Muerte III

Enid has the hardbacks, but she annotated the paper copy.

Wednesday turns slightly and lifts it up, wordlessly asking her question and Enid nods in approval, heart in her throat as she watches Wednesday flip it open and begin to read her notes.

“You do know that they sell bookmarks for a reason, correct?”

Enid rolls her eyes and places the clothes on the foot of the bed.

“It’s more fun this way, shows that a book is well loved,” and she receives a sceptical look in return before the woman returns to her reading. Wednesday Addams is reading Enid’s silly little notes in her novel that she wrote, and she’s in Enid’s bedroom and this is all so surreal. “I’ll leave so you can get changed.”

Wednesday shakes her head and Enid freezes.

But then Wednesday says, “I’ll simply use your en-suite, no need to leave your bedroom Enid,” and oh ok that makes more sense because Enid wasn’t sure where that was going. Wednesday closes the book and slides it back onto the shelf, shooting Enid a knowing look before grabbing a sweater and chequered boxer shorts.

At the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut Enid lets out a quiet sigh of relief. She’s got the prettiest girl in the world in her room, and she feels like she’s making a fool out of herself.

When Wednesday is changed, she receives a spare toothbrush and they brush their teeth, shoulder to shoulder, Enid sending her foamy smiles in the mirror and receiving a solemn stare in return. But when she bumps her hip against Wednesday, she other woman bumps her back, softly, barely there, but she does it. It’s domestic, and Enid’s heart squeezes.

Enid giggles, still in disbelief of it all, even when they’re lying in bed together, an awkward amount of space between them. Wednesday was kind of drowning in Enid’s sweater, and she was not impressed when she realised that Enid had given her Minecraft boxers.

Maybe it’s an awkward giggle to fill the stiff atmosphere they’ve created.

She shifts so that she’s lying on her side, body curled towards Wednesday, Wednesday copies her and they stare at each other from where they lie on their respective pillows. Even in the dark, Wednesday manages to take Enid’s breath away and any time she does try to breathe, it comes out as shaky and nervous.

And she is searching Wednesday’s face for any sign of discomfort or hesitancy, but she finds none.

Never in a million years did Enid think she’d be the awkward one when they finally got together.

Chill out.

She brushes a finger down the side of Wednesday’s face, “You’re so pretty,” she murmurs with the kind of reverence that should be reserved for God and worship. Enid swallows around the lump in her throat when Wednesday grabs her hand and presses a firm, sure kiss to her knuckles.

“Enid, I cannot have sexual intercourse with you yet.”

Her brain short circuits and takes a couple of seconds to catch up.

“I just called you pretty,” she whispers, blinking slowly, “We promised to snuggle. I swear I did not invite you into my bed for sex.”

Wednesday kisses the next knuckle.

“I am aware, but after tonight, I’m not sure when I will feel ready. I apologise if that disappoints you and you feel led astray,” she says, wholly unapologetic and honest, nose nuzzling Enid’s skin. “I do want to, just not yet.”

Scooting closer might have sent the wrong message, but Wednesday lets her, lets their legs become tangled up, lets Enid cup her face and press a short kiss to the tip of her nose.

“We’ll take it slow,” she promises, heart squeezing at the look of brief relief on Wednesday’s face. “But you don’t have to at all if it’s not something you’re interested in, I’ll take as much or as little as you want to offer. As long as I can be with you, here, like this,” and she links their hands, squeezing gently, “then that’s all I'll ever need.”

A hand finds her waist, warm over the thinner fabric of Enid’s top.

Dark eyes bore into hers, “I do want to, eventually.”

Ok awesome, cool, sick, and Enid feels like a teenage boy being excited with the prospect of sex. She doesn’t know when, or where, but sometime it will happen. She tries to keep the excitement off her face, feigns nonchalance and nods solemnly at the reply (taking a page out of Wednesday’s book). It is true what she said. Sure she enjoys sex, but for her it’s not the be all and end all. Obviously, it’s different from everyone else, but for Enid if a relationship means just being with Wednesday without sex, then she would be 100% fine with it.

Wednesday smiles at her slyly, and Enid smiles shyly back, their heads now sharing a pillow. When her eyes begin to droop, body relaxed and warm next to her girl, Wednesday speaks once more.

“I’ve never done this before,” Wednesday murmurs, voice low and soft.

Slowly opening her eyes, Enid gives her a gentle smile. “Ok,” she whispers, her thumb brushing over Wednesday’s bottom lip.

Wednesday’s eyes flicker from her eyes to her nose.

“You’re a scary start.” The crease in between her brows deepens slightly. “Enid I-"

“Like we said before, no expectations, we go slow.” She looks deeply into Wednesday’s eyes, and when the other woman nods, Enid pats her side. “Alright scootch, turn around, I wanna hold ya.”

With a “reluctant” sigh, Wednesday turns around and Enid curls around her, arm wrapped over her waist, face buried in the crook of her neck, and squeezes tight.

“Good pressure?”

“Adequate, yes.”

“God you’re tiny.”

“Goodnight, Enid.”

xXx

Enid wakes up with hair in her eyes, drool on her face and in a cold bed.

The sheets are tangled around her legs and waist, the pillow terribly askew and her arm bent in an awkward angle. She’s a messy sleeper (is that a thing?), can’t sleep peacefully without tossing and turning. She didn’t wake up in the night, though, didn’t feel Wednesday leave but she obviously did because she’s not here now.

Anxiety spikes as Enid rolls out of bed, pushing her hair out of her face and unable to spot any of Wednesday's clothes.

She wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye, right? Maybe Enid spooked her, came on too hard. They shared a bed last night, that’s gotta be like going from 1 to 100. Did Enid overstep? Did Wednesday freak out?

And she forgot to charge her phone last night, so that sucks.

Enid paces her room, running her hands through her hair, trying to think about what she could have possibly said to scare the other woman away, when she hears sounds coming from her kitchen. She freezes, hands slowly coming down from her hair and she leaves her room, socked feet padding quietly on the floor.

Either Wednesday is in her kitchen, or the burglar is really interested in Enid’s mug collection.

It’s pouring rain outside, long wet lashes against her tall windows, the sky is an unhappy grey, and there is a faint rumbling in the distance. It creates a nice ambiance though, especially with the amber glow emitting from her lamps and the few candles lit.

This possible burglar really wants to set the mood, huh?

Enid enters the kitchen warily, nose perking up at the smell of coffee and something sugary, mouth twitching at the sight of Wednesday in her clothes, plating up what is obviously their breakfast. She doesn’t turn to face Enid, but she must know that she’s there, nothing ever gets past her. Which is what makes even more sickeningly sweet, as she allows Enid to creep up and hug her from behind. Enid noses at her neck, arms loose around her waist and Wednesday doesn’t halt her movements, but she does turn her head slightly in acknowledgement.

“You move quite a bit in your sleep.”

Enid hums sleepily, “Sorry, didn’t kick you, did I?”

She watches Wednesday add cream to one of the mugs, a bright pink one with a bunch of purple cartoon cats on it.

“No, however you did almost take me out when I got out of bed,” she muses, sliding the mug to the side and Enid grabs it. “A strong right hook, by the way.”

With a groan, Enid detaches herself from Wednesday’s back and sips her coffee, eyes fluttering shut because it’s perfect. She eyes up everything else on the counter, some pancakes and pastries which look like they’re from the bakery just down the road and a few bowls of fruit.

Strawberries, raspberries, grapes-

Peeled grapes.

A whole damn bowl of them.

Enid isn’t sure why that’s what stuns her. Renders her speechless and locked in place, something so minimal as someone preparing your food the exact way you like it. Taking the time to peel every single grape. Wednesday had uttered some of the most romantic things Enid had ever heard, and it’s peeled grapes that sends her over the edge.

She tries to swallow around the lump in her throat, ignoring the way it aches. Sips the coffee made for her, and only then registers that the radio is on and playing music she likes (from a band she knows Wednesday despises).

Slowly, carefully, she puts the mug down and steps forward when Wednesday’s hands are free, tapping her on the shoulder and when she turns, Enid presses their lips together. Immediately, Wednesday's hands find her waist and hold her securely. Enid sighs into it, her hand coming up to Wednesday’s neck and stroking the skin there.

It’s slow, indulgent, because they have time now.

“I’m so in love with you it’s stupid,” she murmurs, pressing another kiss to Wednesday’s lips, feeling a great deal of satisfaction in the way her eyes darken. “You’re insane to me, you know what? You peel my grapes. You peel my grapes, and I love you.”

She watches as Wednesday’s throat bobs; their heads knock and the iron grip on her waist pulls Enid closer so that their hips are flushed together.

“It’s calming to do, and you enjoy them more.”

She laughs wetly, thumb sliding along the sharp jawline of her love.

“I love you,” Enid breathes into her mouth, lips tickling Wednesday’s. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone like I’ve loved you.”

The kiss this time is searing and Wednesday keeps pulling, pulling Enid closer and closer, so that they’re entwined. Pressed so close that they begin to feel like one and Wednesday kisses like she’s starving, a woman on a mission as she turns them so that Enid’s back hits the marble counter. They kiss and they kiss, and they kiss until a flash of lightening outside makes them both jump in surprise.

Enid chuckles, and wraps her arms around Wednesday’s shoulders.

They don’t have any plans today and they feel no rush.

Because they have time.

xXx

-@Enidslosteyelash

Why am I only just seeing this picture now? Am I tweaking or is that two different shades of lipstick on her face

[Image description: First image is of Enid at the Met Gala, the second one is a zoomed in shot of her face, displaying messy lipstick]