OMG I JUST NOTICED THAT WEDNESDAY PUTS HER LEFT HAND FLAT AGAINST ENID’S BACK TO HOLD HER BUT LEAVES HER RIGHT ONE IN A FIST CAUSE THATS WHERE THE KNIFE SHE USED TO KILL CRACKSTONE CUT HER AND ITS COVERED IN BLOOD AND SHE DOESN’T WANT TO GET BLOOD ON HER WIFE’S PINK COAT.
That girl cares so much for that fucking wolf that even though she’s exhausted and must be feeling all the feelings, she STILL has the mindfulness not to get blood on her future wife’s coat 😭😭😭
I can’t even right now.
Update: I made edits to this cause someone sassily reminded me that Laurel cut her left hand and it was the sword piece she used to kill Crackstone that made her bleed. Which would have indeed been actively bleeding. Ergo - the point of my post still stands, perhaps more so.
i’m currently writing a fic where Wednesday develops the Hanahaki Disease over Enid and I’d love to see your interpretation of that if you’re ever looking for something to draw 🫶
Sorry it took me like forever to draw this, I kept getting distracted.
(hope you don’t mind I’m using this as a test for an art style I’m working on lol)
I have head canons the the flowers that grow in the afflicted persons lungs are always their crush’s favourite flowers.
description: enid's world has been tilting lately, and even her fencing can't quite steady the ground beneath her. when a dizzy spell turns into something more, an unexpected carer steps out of the shadows – and wednesday addams isn't one for leaving things unattended.
tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, fainting, dizziness, sickness, post-canon.
wc: 2.5k
a/n: hi guys, so this is jes. i wrote this as a part of a new wenclair hurt/comfort oneshot series i'm going to be posting on my ao3 ('enidsunclair'), but we didn't want to leave you hanging with not posting yet... so i thought i'd post it to feed you all. enjoy.. hope it doesn't suck!
The blades clashed with a sharp ring that echoed off the high, vaulted ceilings of the Nevermore Academy fencing hall. Enid Sinclair’s usual grace and agility were noticeably absent this morning, her movements lagging as if she were wading through molasses. The metallic taste of adrenaline mixed uncomfortably with the hint of nausea that had been her constant companion these past few weeks. The dizzy spells had started as minor nuisances, easily brushed off as lack of sleep or perhaps skipping breakfast. But now, standing under the oppressive glare of the morning sun, Enid found the room tilting dangerously with each advance and retreat of her blade.
Her opponent, Divina, seemed unaware of Enid’s faltering state. She continued to lunge, and Enid’s responses were sluggish, her parries weak and off-center. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, mingling with strands of hair and plastering it to her skin. The weight of her saber felt tripled, and her grip on the handle was clammy.
“Enid, focus!” Coach Larue’s sharp voice cut through the muffled sounds of the hall, where the air was thickening with each moment. Normally, Enid thrived under the demanding gaze of their coach, her performance peaking when pushed. Today, however, each word felt like a leaden weight added to her already burdened shoulders.
Divina paused, tilting her head with a frown. “You okay? You’re usually not this…” She waved her hand vaguely, her expression one of concern.
“Just didn’t sleep well, that’s all,” Enid lied smoothly, forcing a grin that felt more like a grimace. She adjusted the grip on her saber, determined to shake off the encroaching dizziness that blurred the edges of her vision.
As they resumed, Enid tried to concentrate on Divina’s movements, the predictable rhythm of attack and defense. But the room spun faster with each step she took. After missing another block, the tip of Divina’s saber tapped lightly against her chest.
“That’s a point!” Divina declared, though her voice was tinged with reluctance.
From the sidelines, a dark figure watched with an intensity that missed nothing. Wednesday Addams, usually detached from the exploits of her more athletically inclined peers, noted the slight tremor in Enid’s stance. The too-bright smile, the way her eyes narrowed slightly as if focusing took more effort than it should. It was unlike Enid to show weakness, to allow any imperfection in her performance.
Wednesday’s observation was interrupted as Coach Larue clapped his hands, signaling the end of the bout. “Take five, everyone. Hydrate,” he commanded, his gaze lingering on Enid a moment longer than the rest.
Enid nodded, relieved, and made her way to the benches where water bottles and towels lay scattered. She grabbed her bottle, hands shaking so visibly that she almost dropped it before securing her grip. The coolness of the water was only a small relief against the heat flushing her cheeks. She glanced around, hoping no one noticed her unusual clumsiness, but her gaze accidentally met Wednesday’s. There was something unsettling in Wednesday’s scrutiny, something that made Enid’s stomach twist—not from sickness, but from a strange, unwelcome vulnerability.
Taking a deep breath, Enid tried to muster her usual cheerful demeanor. “Just a bad day, right?” she murmured to herself, closing her eyes and leaning back against the wall. She could hear the other students chatting, and the clinking of sabers as they clattered to the floor, the normal sounds of a typical morning that felt anything but normal to her.
As the room steadied slightly, Enid opened her eyes, only to find the world tilting alarming once more. The warning signs she had ignored were now impossible to dismiss, and as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed her, the fencing hall dimmed into darkness. The sounds fading into a distant echo as she slumped sideways and the world went black.
Meanwhile, Wednesday’s attention had been frustratingly divided during the break. Xavier had chosen this exact moment to regale her with a strange encounter which, according to him, had happened just the other night in an abandoned wing of the school. “And then, the temperature dropped, just like that,” he was saying, snapping his fingers for emphasis.
Wednesday’s response was a noncommittal grunt. Her eyes, under the guise of watching the general activity, remained subtly but unwaveringly fixed on Enid. Even as Xavier’s voice grew louder, a peripheral blur of motion caught her attention—the unmistakable stagger of someone about to fall. It was Enid, her body faltering precariously as she slammed to the floor.
Without a word, Wednesday abruptly left Xavier mid-sentence, her legs carrying her across the room with a swiftness that betrayed her outward detachment. As she moved, her face was set in an unamused expression, masking the surge of adrenaline that was sharpening her focus. Students milling around the fallen figure of Enid parted with both surprise and irritation as Wednesday’s elbow nudged them aside, brooking no argument.
She reached Enid just as others began to notice the seriousness of the situation. Dropping to her knees, Wednesday’s usually steady and precise hands trembled as she checked for Enid’s pulse. It was there, strong but rapid, a small comfort that did little to ease the unusual tightness in her chest.
“Move back,” she ordered sharply to the gathering crowd, her voice carrying a cold authority that had several students stepping back immediately. “She needs air,” Wednesday continued, her gaze scanning the surroundings for anything that might aid in her efforts. Spotting Enid’s water bottle, she snatched it up, pressing it into the hands of Yoko who appeared nearby. “Keep this ready,” she said, the command clipped and precise. Yoko nodded and clutched the water bottle.
The commotion had attracted more attention now. Bianca hurried over, her expression tense, with Ajax following close behind as he pushed through students, and Divina approached with a worried frown.
Wednesday assessed them with a critical eye. “Ajax, go fetch Coach Larue. He just stepped out. Move!” Her command sliced through the air. Ajax pivoted immediately, his footsteps a scurry echo in the now quieter hall.
Bianca knelt beside Wednesday, her eyes wide. “What should we do?” she asked, ready to follow any instruction.
“Just keep back and give her space,” Wednesday snapped, her usual stoicism fraying at the edges. Turning her attention back to Enid, she noticed the faint flutter of eyelids, a sign of Enid stirring, though still not fully conscious.
Wednesday’s hand, though trembling slightly, was surprisingly gentle as she brushed against Enid’s forehead and swept away damp strands of hair. “Sinclair, why must you choose now to be overly dramatic?” she muttered, the words tinged with a brittle veneer of annoyance that barely masked her concern. “If you don’t wake up shortly, I’ll ensure all your meals are accompanied by an excruciatingly detailed analysis of your medical state, along with a risk assessment of every historical plague for the next month.”
Divina, hovering anxiously, wrung her hands. “Is she going to be okay?” Her voice was barely a whisper, gaze fixed on Enid.
“She will be if she follows the sensible course and wakes up now,” Wednesday retorted, though her eyes remained solely on Enid’s face, watching for any sign of improvement.
As the infirmary nurse, whomst had been summoned by Ajax, finally entered the hall, Enid’s eyelids flickered more noticeably, her consciousness teetering on the edge. She mumbled something incoherent, eyes attempting to focus on the crowd of faces.
Wednesday’s voice softened imperceptibly as she leaned closer, her hand now resting lightly on Enid’s cheek. “Enid, this is neither the time nor the place for a nap. Consider the lack of comfort,” she said bluntly.
Yoko, still holding the water bottle, looked from Enid to Wednesday. Her expression was torn between concern and slight amusement at Wednesday’s unusual and sudden display of attentiveness.
Enid’s eyes fluttered open, her vision setting hazily on Wednesday. “Wha—?” she murmured, disoriented.
“Stay still. You fainted,” Wednesday informed her, the clinical detachment back in her voice as if she had never left it. She straightened slightly, allowing the nurse space to enter the crowd. But her gaze remained intensely focused on Enid, ready to intercede if necessary.
The nurse, a brisk no-nonsense woman named Ms. Thorn, knelt beside Enid, her hands moving efficiently as she checked her vital signs. “Pulse is a bit fast, but strong,” she murmured, mostly to herself, as she placed a cool hand on Enid’s forehead, then shone a small flashlight briefly across her pupils, which responded sluggishly.
Enid blinked against the light, her consciousness waxing and waning like the phases of the moon. Ms. Thorn straightened, turning to address Wednesday and the smaller crowd that lingered. “She’s stable, but I’ll take her back to the infirmary for observation and further treatment. It’s best we keep her under watch for the next few hours.”
Wednesday’s eyes followed every move. As the declaration settled over the group, she rose, her decision made in the span of a heartbeat. “I’m accompanying her,” she stated, the edge in her voice daring anyone to challenge her.
It was then that Coach Larue entered the hall, Ajax trailing behind him. The coach’s brow furrowed as he took in the scene—the nurse, the anxious students, and Wednesday’s stance. “Addams, you need to stay. We have drills—”
“I’m not asking,” Wednesday interrupted, her tone cold.
Coach Larue’s mouth pressed into a thin line, the authority he wielded so confidently seemed to waver under Wednesday’s intense stare. There was a tense beat before he finally nodded, a slight, reluctant jerk of his head. “Very well. But return once she’s settled.”
Wednesday’s response was a terse nod, her attention already turning back to Enid as the coach walked away.
Ms. Thorn, having witnessed the exchange, merely shook her head at the usual absurdities of Nevermore students. She spoke into a small phone, requesting assistance from the infirmary. “We need a stretcher to the fencing hall,” she announced crisply.
Wednesday remained by Enid’s side, arms folded, and watchful gaze never straying. The earlier tremor in her hands had stilled, replaced by a calm that seemed almost out of place in the chaos of concern.
Enid’s awareness flickered once more, her eyes opening slightly to the sound of distant footsteps and the approaching murmur of voices. She tried to speak, a faint whisper escaping her lips. “Wednes…day?” Her voice was a shadow, barely audible over the growing hum of the gymnasium.
“Quiet now. You need your strength,” Wednesday instructed softly, more gently than anyone might have expected from her. The corners of her mouth twitched, the ghost of a reassuring smile.
The arrival of two additional nurses with a stretcher broke the momentary calm. They moved efficiently, gently lifting Enid onto the stretcher. Wednesday stepped back just enough to give them space, but her eyes, those deep wells of guarded emotion, remained locked on Enid’s face; watching her every breath, every flutter of her eyelids.
She had to be there. The raven had to protect her wolf.
* * *
After what felt like an eternity later, Wednesday was sitting beside Enid’s bed, looking the epitome of boredom. Beside her, on a small table, lay Thing, whom Wednesday occasionally whispered to. They were thoroughly discussing the symptoms of various diseases that could have caused Enid’s state.
But a faint groan from Enid broke the monotonous quiet, drawing Wednesday’s attention away from her morbid conversation. Enid’s attempt to sit up was feeble, her movements sluggish and pained.
“Don’t move,” Wednesday commanded softly, her voice low and unexpectedly gentle as she placed a firm hand on Enid’s shoulder and eased her back onto the pillow.
Enid complied, wincing slightly, brow furrowed in confusion. “What happened?” Her voice was weak, The events leading up to her current predicament were a muddled haze in her mind.
“You fainted during fencing. Dehydration, or perhaps something more sinister,” Wednesday explained, her tone matter-of-fact, stripping away any hint of the depth of her earlier anxiety. “You’ve been out for a few hours.”
Before Enid could process this information, the curtain around her bed rustled and a dramatic flair followed that only Yoko could manage. “That’s only half true, Enid!” Yoko proclaimed as she strode closer toward her best friend’s bedside. She flashed a conspiratorial grin at Wednesday, who merely raised an eyebrow in response.
Yoko continued, unabashed, “Wednesday was like a rabid dog protecting you, I swear! She was barking orders at everyone, and man, you should have seen her face when you were being wheeled away—like, you’d think someone had stolen her favorite knife or something.”
Wednesday's gaze on Enid shifted subtly, a flicker of embarrassment—or was it annoyance?—crossing her features. “Exaggeration is Yoko’s primary language,” she injected coolly, but the slight flush on her usually pale cheeks suggested otherwise.
Enid looked between Yoko and Wednesday, a slow smile forming on her lips as she absorbed the words. The image of Wednesday, so fiercely guarding her well-being, was both amusing and warming.
“Really now? Protecting me?” Enid’s voice carried a teasing lilt, her early discomfort momentarily forgotten.
Wednesday sighed, a sound of resignation escaping her as she met Enid’s gaze. “Perhaps I overreacted in my state of… unsettlement,” she conceded, her words clipped. “But let’s focus on your recovery. We wouldn’t want a repeat performance.”
Yoko laughed. “Oh, come on, Wednesday. Admit it. You’re all soft for E!” she teased, winking at Enid.
But Wednesday didn't reply, instead turning her gaze away to hide the ghost of a smile that threatened to betray her true feelings.
Yoko then playfully rolled her eyes. “I’m going to grab some juice,” she announced, already halfway past the curtain. “I’ll leave you lovebirds to it.” With a wink and a final laugh, she slipped past it.
The room fell into a sudden, thick silence. Wednesday, whose gaze had followed Yoko out, now found herself alone with Enid. She turned slightly, her eyes locking with the wolf. The atmosphere felt heavy with everything that remained unsaid.
Enid’s heart thudded uncomfortably loud in her chest. With a shaky breath, she shifted on the bed, the simple white sheets crinkling under her movement. Painstakingly, and mindful of her still-dizzy head, she sat up and edged closer to Wednesday.
Wednesday watched her, motionless, her expression unreadable. The usual barriers she erected, the walls that guarded her thoughts and feelings, seemed momentarily thinner, more translucent.
Reaching out with a tentative hand, Enid’s fingers brushed against Wednesday’s. Gathering her courage, she leaned forward and, with a gentle, almost reverent touch, placed a kiss on Wednesday’s cheek.
The contact was brief, a soft press of lips against cool skin. But it held more weight than any word could.
For a long moment, Wednesday remained frozen, her eyes wide. The mask that so often clung to her features had cracked. A flush, rare and startling, crept up to her cheeks and painted a bloom of color that was usually absent from her pallor.
The world seemed to hold its breath. Things were changing.
And Wednesday Addams, for once in her meticulously curated life, would not have it any other way.
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