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Chapter Text

-

You can bring a bullet, bring a sword, bring a morgue
But you can't bring the truth to me

-

In the way someone might peruse the results of their favorite sports team or check in on how the Dow Jones has fared, each morning, Wednesday Addams had her rituals, too.

She would make herself a coffee (just black, no room for fancy espressos machines in Ophelia Hall, most regrettably), boot up her laptop (she had fallen victim to allowing a few pieces of technology in her life, but refused to get anything ‘state of the art’ or ‘new’, instead opting for old, wheezing things that were almost certain to give you radioactive cancer), and settle in.

Wednesday, unlike everyone else with their stupid and insipid trivialities, kept tabs on criminals.

Most of her list consisted of serial killers. There were a few good cannibals on there as well. A national terrorist or two. And a few rare, less lethal but still exciting felons, like those who embezzled millions or completed daring, dangerous heists. 

Now that Wednesday had seen someone be hit by a car in front of her, her number one bucket list item was to witness someone’s Death Row execution, so Wednesday needed to keep detailed, up-to-date reports on the status of these convictions and trials. 

She was disappointed that more exciting methods, like death by firing squad or the electric chair, had fallen out of fashion, but she could still appreciate a good lethal poisoning. She nearly vibrated with excitement to imagine witnessing something so spectacularly morbid and imagined perhaps giving the executioner a few tips or learning a few ‘tricks of the trade’ to try on Pugsley.

Somewhere in her daily sessions, she’d begun to keep tabs on Tyler, too.

Not that he was on Death Row. He was still housed in Willow Hill, the same place he’d been since he’d been captured a year and a half ago. She also didn’t check every day, as information on him was less readily available. But she took the effort once every ten days or so to call up, posing as a myriad of figures; journalists writing a hard-hitting piece on the once-peaceful Jericho, grandmothers wanting to send fudge and peppermint treats, Outsider PHD candidates interested in studying him…she never needed much, just a confirmation of his existence. She made sure she never talked with him directly, just made sure he was still there.

She wasn’t sure why. If someone confronted her, she wouldn’t have a good answer for why she cared.

Whenever she thought of Tyler, an uncomfortable twisting in her stomach appeared, like bad indigestion. While she usually enjoyed the feeling of her guts in distress, something about this feeling unsettled her.

The best she could figure was that she felt responsible. She’d been so caught up in the…intrigue of him that she’d missed the frustratingly obvious answer all along; he’d been playing her a fool. It was her fault that Eugene had been mauled, her fault that she hadn’t stopped him sooner, her fault that so many that she cared about were nearly collateral damage…the rest of Nevermore had seemed to put Tyler in their rear view, but Wednesday couldn’t let him go.

She needed to make sure he stayed somewhere he couldn’t hurt others. 

While hating someone would usually fill her with glee, this hatred she held for Tyler, this grudge, was markedly different. She’d once tried to talk to Enid about it, attempting the whole ‘friend’ thing, but had found the pastel werewolf’s answer unsatisfactory and 100% off the mark.

“Do you think, maybe, you’re so upset because you liked him?” She had questioned. 

“Of course not,” Wednesday said snappishly, “I don’t do relationships. I hardly hold one with you.” 

“Sure, but you wanted to kiss him, right?” 

Wednesday remembered it differently in her mind, and she told Enid as much. Enid had just laughed her off, almost nervously. 

“Oh, Wednesday, it’s okay that you fell for the wrong guy. We all do it. Usually they’re just straight up a jerk, not murdering psychopaths, but it’s hardly something to feel ashamed about-” 

“My feelings for Tyler do not go beyond frigid disinterest.” 

Enid seemed like she was trying not to sigh, or laugh, or quirk her nose as she did when she lied, “Alright.” 

“He’s not even my nemesis,” Wednesday added, as though it was needed, “A nemesis denotes a challenge. He’s less than that.” 

“Right. But you still check up on him.” 

“For everyone’s safety.” 

Enid shrugged, “He’s obviously not my favorite person, but maybe, if he just vanished…it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world? I mean, without Gates-” 

Wednesday flinched internally. Despite her opinions of Tyler, she could also acknowledge that her former dorm mom’s actions had been reprehensible and disgusting, “-Does he have a Master anymore?” 

“I wouldn’t know, nor care.” 

“Okay,” Enid sighed, tapping her pen in frustration against her notebook, before opening to their page of homework, “So…math?” 

And then, the matter was dropped, and it was never brought up again.

She wasn’t even going to look before she went home for Christmas break, a year and some odd days later. But something pulled her to the computer, and she dialed the familiar number, deciding today she would masquerade as a fan girl wanting to send him a letter, but she was met with the most distressing news. 

“I cannot give any information about a patient.” 

Wednesday sucked in. 

That meant he wasn’t there anymore. Usually, they freely gave, which was morally wrong, but good for Wednesday. If they were clamming up…

“When did he leave?” 

“As I said, I can't divulge any past or present patients.” 

Wednesday hung up her phone with an angry huff.

She was so upset she had to trash three pages of her novel, misspelling simple things and forgetting the name of one of her side characters. 

By the time she’d packed up for home, she had decided she wouldn’t be there long. She would just nip back for some supplies and then go and hunt Tyler down.

She ought to have killed him when she had the chance. She should take him out of this world before he goes on a killing spree. 

She slammed through the front doors of the Addams Family mansion, “Not now, Lurch. I have work to do.” 

“Darling, you look positively dreadful! I’m so glad to see school has been treating you well,” Mortician said, coming to place a pair of kisses on her cheeks.

“Save it, Mother. Where has Pugsley moved the crossbow?” She asked, annoyed. She hardly had time to waste. 

“Not even a greeting for your parents?” Her father asked, hurt. 

Wednesday paused. Her father was so emotional between the two of them, “I would love to tell you all about my grades and other things parents tend to care about, but I have a mission.” 

“Well, before you go, we have something to tell you-” Morticia began to say, but Wednesday barreled past her, taking the steps two at a time to her room. She had a ‘go bag’ for hunting at the ready, as any well-prepared girl should. She always thought she’d be joining Uncle Fester after one of his zany troubles, but something about going it on her own felt like an Addams rite of passage.

“Really, my little rain cloud, if you just wait a moment-,” Gomez tried again. Wednesday picked up her poison tool-kit, rattling the jars. She was nearly out of arsenic. 

“There is no moment to wait,” Wednesday said, “Tyler has escaped Willow Hill and he’s-,” 

The air felt like it had been knocked out of her the moment she stepped out onto the landing again, turning as she saw something in the corner of her eye, expecting it to be Pugsley.

But it wasn’t. 

“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you, darling. Tyler is here.” 

Wednesday dropped all her bags on the floor. It echoed in the house. 

“Hi, Wednesday,” Tyler said casually, as though they were old friends. 

Before he could even finish his greeting, Wednesday threw a throwing star at him with deadly accuracy, uninterested in whatever silver-tongued lies he’d roped her parents into. 

And it would have been fatal, had Tyler not ducked out of the way, shuffling to the side almost uninterested, the sharp edge embedding itself into the stuffed grizzly bear behind him.

“Wait-” He started to say, but Wednesday threw another, faster. 

This one, he plucked from the air, catching it moments before it embedded itself into his throat. The sharp blade nicked against his finger, and a bead of blood appeared as he set the throwing star on the banister. He licked his finger clean, looking mildly put out. 

Wednesday went for her last one, but Thing had already confiscated it.

“Traitor,” She turned, pointing at him accusingly.

“Well, hello to you, too. I suppose that’s a traditional Addams greeting, huh?” Tyler broke in, biting the inside of his cheek, as though he had any right to be salty with her. 

“No.” Wednesday finally found her words, pointing furiously toward the door, “Leave.” 

Tyler leaned against the wall, looking to her parents with a ‘well, I told you so’ sort of look. But he didn’t move.

Wednesday was two seconds from pitching him over the railing when her mother slid between them, moving like she walked on shadows. 

“Let’s set your things in your room and talk downstairs.” 

“Fine,” Wednesday growled, looking around her mother to glare, “I would very much like an explanation.” 

Seated in the kitchen, her father worridly stirred her a cup of hot chocolate, made from dark cocoa powder and cayenne pepper, enough to burn her nose when she inhaled. 

How comforting. 

Wednesday sipped her childhood favorite drink, wishing that there was the sharp taste of bitter almonds as well, but as previously bemoaned, they were out of arsenic. She made a mental note to add it to her mother’s shopping list. 

“Wednesday…” Her mother started, but was quickly out of words, “We thought you’d be…pleased.” 

Wednesday slammed her drink down, “Pleased?” She echoed, staring in disgust, “Pleased?” She repeated louder, the sounds echoing around the gothic ceilings, “Tyler tried to kill me. Kill all of Nevermore.” 

“And what a romantic declaration that was!” Gomez replied enthusiastically, throwing out his arms. 

Wednesday choked on her hot chocolate. 

“We understand very well what occurred,” Morticia tactfully confirmed, “But well, perhaps we aren’t on the same page. We took it to mean that you two were quite…” She patted her lips in thought, “Serious.” 

Wednesday felt her mouth going dry, and not because she was foaming at the mouth, two seconds away from choking on her saliva (though, god, she wished she were to get out of this conversation). “Serious.” 

“Were you two not dating? Did he not take you to the Rave’N? Did you not kiss him?” Morticia asked, and Wednesday felt herself grow paler at each accusation. 

“That is entirely mangling the reality,” Wednesday hissed. 

“So it seems to me that the next natural step would be something as meaningful as attempting to kill you. These violent delights have violent ends, do they not?” 

“You are mistaken, Mother,” Wednesday tried to keep her senses about her, “While it may be true we had a…dalliance of sorts, it ended once it revealed his true intentions were to bury me six feet underground. And I was just playing him,” She added, having convinced herself it was entirely true. She was using him as much as her, but hers was to add some much-needed romance that it seemed every novel boringly required. 

Her mother leaned on her forearms over the marble countertop, tilting her head and tutting, “Oh, my daughter full of woe, can you blame us for making such an error?” She asked, a knowing smile upon her lips, “It seems like the perfect match for you. A worthy son-in-law.” 

Wednesday inhaled. 

“Perhaps on paper,” She quietly agreed, knowing that her mother would never accept a lie, “But as stated before, reality is much different.” 

“Well,” Her mother retreated, seemingly disappointed, “Either way, what is done is done.” 

“I can’t just stab him in the heart? Finish all this?” Wednesday asked with frustration. 

“Unfortunately, no. We promised his father that we would keep him in generally good health, a few incidents notwithstanding.” Morticia said, “And he is one of us.” 

“I take offence at that.” 

“A Hyde is dangerous, true, but he is just as much of an outcast as all of us are. Does he not deserve safety? Understanding? A chance to grow?” 

Instead of answering, Wednesday stood, pushing aside her mug, “If you insist on this ridiculous endeavor, I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to know how he is doing, see him when I am home, or think of him existing in the periphery to me at all.” 

“Fine, cockroach,” Tyler said, “After today, you won’t.” He promised. 

Wednesday caught her father giving her mother an amused look, as though to say, ‘Oh, but look at their sweet nicknames!’. 

“And none of that!” Wednesday curled her fist, “I want any notion of romantic fancies out of either of your heads. And you, stop eavesdropping. It’s rude.” She added, raising her chin. 

Tyler shrugged, “Whatever.”

She expected more of an argument. Something about his absolute sense of non-plussness grated upon her. 

“Stay out of my way, Galpin,” Wednesday said, making a big show of storming up the stairs, “Or the next one of these goes in your heart,” She added, yanking her throwing star off the wall.

“I’d like to see you try!” Tyler called back as she slammed her door.

True to his word, though, Tyler kept himself scarce the rest of the time she was home for winter break. It wasn’t perfect. Sometimes, she would hear a floorboard creak at 1 am and was sure it was him, but the hallway was always empty when she flung her door open. Or she’d go to take a shower and find the room already steamed with a noxious scent lingering, something far too masculine for Pugsley to be using. And one time, she thought she saw his Hyde form running on their lawn, but when she went out to investigate, she found nothing to back up her theory.

Her parents also kept their lips closed about it all. 

The only person who tried to appeal to her senses was Pugsley, but he always was soft-hearted.

“He’s really not that bad,” He said, bouncing on her bed a bit, watching her repack her things to go back to school, “I think he’s just misunderstood. Like all of us are, a bit.” 

“Misunderstood or not,” Wednesday said evenly, making sure she was taking the allowed amounts of acid back, no more and no less, “He is no friend of mine. He’s just using you, too.” 

“I think he misses you.” 

Wednesday nearly dropped the vial. If not for her masterful reflexes, she would have a necrotic foot, something she did not want to deal with so close to the start of her next term. 

“That’s absurd.” 

“I think he’s confused,” Pugsley continued, inhaling hard, “I know you think it was all a lie, but I don’t think he knows what he wants either. But I think he wants yo-,” 

Wednesday turned, sending her brother such a venomous look that his words died on his lips. 

“For better or worse-” 

“Absolutely worse.” 

“-You two did have a genuine connection. You understood each other.” 

Wednesday snapped her suitcase closed, “Understand each other? I could never understand the attempted murder of hundreds of innocents.” 

“Laurel used him. He’s told me.” 

“Told you?” The air felt like it had been sucked from her lungs, “Told you? You’re a child! He has no right to tell you such things!” 

“I’m nearly sixteen,” Pugsley said, crossing his arms, “I’ll be starting at Nevermore next year, Wednesday, I’m not a child anymore!” 

Wednesday went to the door, ready to slam Tyler’s nose through the front of his skull, but Pugsley stopped her. For the first time, she realized how much of a growth spurt he’d gone through. She blinked and he wasn’t the defenseless middle-schooler that she’d left, but nearly grown. 

“Stop, seriously,” Pugsley grabbed her wrist, “I went to him, alright? He didn’t just offer it up. I forced him to tell me.” 

“And how would you know?” Wednesday asked, her voice thin. 

“From my psychology capstone,” Pugsley said, “And I did a bit of research myself. On grooming and-,” 

Wednesday felt her stomach churn, “You don’t have to say it out loud.” 

He examined her face for a second and then dropped his grip. “I’m just saying.” 

“Don’t say.” 

Pugsley shrugged, “You can’t stop me from befriending him. It’s lonely with you gone.” 

Wednesday bit down on her tongue so hard she drew blood. 

“Personally,” She finally shook her head, “A decaying cat carcass would be a better friend, but I suppose you’ve always had a screw loose.” 

Pugsley broke out into a grin, “Aww, I love you, too.” 

XXX

Wednesday returned to her last semester at Nevermore, fully intent on not mentioning Tyler in any way, shape, or form.

As previously observed, everyone would rather ignore what he’d attempted to do and forget he ever was a Jericho citizen.

Apparently, that didn’t hold true anymore.

Wednesday had barely dropped her bags in her room when Enid was up in her personal space, frazzled, “Tyler is gone!” 

“What?” Wednesday asked, blinking. 

“He’s not at Willow Hill anymore! Where do you think he is?” Enid asked, her eyes wide and liquid. 

“He’s not coming for our blood.” Wednesday said, “And past that, I don’t care.” 

She didn’t, really. 

“How can you be so sure?” Enid was hyperventilating so much that it seemed like she’d pass out. 

“Because-,” Wednesday was two seconds away from revealing where he actually was, but swallowed it back, “Because he’d already done it if he wanted to. And how do you even know?” 

“Ajax heard from Yoko, who heard from Sara, who heard from Drew-” Enid said all in one singular word-

Who the hell is Drew?

 “-That Sheriff Galpin used to go visit him every Thursday, but he hasn’t gone in a while. And at first, Drew thought it was just a fluke - his house is near Willow Hill and he’d see his car when he left for school - but it’s true! He hasn’t been in weeks, which must mean-,” 

“Tyler’s dead?” Wednesday asked, grinning. 

Enid grabbed a fluffy pink thing and threw it at Wednesday. 

“What?” Wednesday batted it away with ease, “One can hope. And if he had escaped, don’t you think we’d hear about it?” She asked. 

“Well…” Enid picked up her pillow, dusting it off, sniffling, “Maybe…” 

“For sure.” 

“But don’t you think we’d hear about it if he died too?” Enid pointed out. 

Wednesday shrugged, trying to seem like she couldn’t care less about his whereabouts, “Or maybe it means nothing at all. Maybe his dad just got tired of seeing his sorry excuse for a son.” 

Enid picked at the pillow, looking at the ground, “That’s mean.” 

“Oh, come on, you hate him too.” 

“Yeah, but, well…” Enid carefully put the pillow back in her pile of squishy items, “I mean, your parents are supposed to love you, no matter what, right? Don’t you think that idea is sort of sad? Would your parents abandon you if you killed someone?” 

“Abandon?” Wednesday huffed, “They’d be over the moon.” 

Enid blinked twice. “I forget who I’m talking to sometimes.” 

“Look, let’s not ruin all of this,” Wednesday waved a hand around her, “With talk of Tyler.” 

Enid sighed, “Alright. I just thought you’d …” She trailed off. 

“I’d what?” 

“You’d know .” 

Wednesday tried to lower her racing pace, squash that strange feeling in her chest, “Me? Why me? For fuck’s sake, Enid. You’re not still on about me liking him, are you?” 

Enid pressed her lips together in a sort of smile, “No, no.” She shook her head, “But you have to admit, he dug into you. Got his claws deep, in some way. You haven’t been able to let it go.” 

“I haven’t thought about him in months,” Wednesday lied, trying to seem horrified at the idea. 

“Mhh-hmm?” Enid disagreed but valued her life enough to keep quiet, “Anyway. I guess you’re right. We’re graduating soon, Wednesday!” Enid spun around, grasping her best friend’s arm and shaking it like a dog with a chew toy. 

“I’m aware. Unless one of us flunks out, that is generally what happens at this time in our academic careers.” 

“Not even your raincloud-attitude will bring me down,” Enid insisted, “We’ll blink and it’ll all be over.” She wiped her eyes, “I’m going to miss you so, so, so much!” 

“Despite my kicking and screaming, I do have a phone now,” Wednesday reminded. 

“Yes, but you’re horrible at responding,” Enid pushed her shoulder. “Promise me that you’ll be better at it once we graduate. We have to stay in touch!”

“Fearing what nightmares you'll force upon me if I don't respond, for you, I’ll make an exception.”

Chapter Text

“Guess who brought churros - Wednesday, what are you doing?” Enid broke off, stopping in the entrance of their dorm room, tilting her head.

“Packing.” 

Enid snorted, “Wait, but why?” 

“We have to vacate at the end of the term,” Wednesday said, feeling like it was obvious. 

“It’s April.” 

“Yes,” Wednesday said, “Which means I only have a month and a half.” She looked over at Enid’s side of the room, raising an eyebrow, “I would have gotten started yesterday, if I were you,” She said, her vision overwhelmed by all of Enid’s colorful things. 

“I’ll knock it out in a weekend. When it’s closer.” Enid said, unbothered, offering Wednesday a churro wrapped in a paper towel. Wednesday accepted it. She needed more sustenance, of course. She chewed as Enid waved a hand, “I mean, I’ll get Bianaca and Ajax and everyone else and pay everyone in pizza. And they’ll do the same for me.” 

“Sounds awful. Packing yourself up is bad enough,” Wednesday said, eyes narrowed, “I want to be ready to leave as soon as possible.”

Enid pouted, “I thought you’d gotten over your ‘I hate Nevermore’ and all,” she said, waving her hands around. 

“I do not mind it. But I don’t intend to be here more than I must.” Wednesday said, “So it makes sense, logically, to pre-pack all of my less-used items. Plus, some of this is very valuable, and needs to be packed carefully,” She said, buffing a jar with her favorite specimen, before carefully giving it a newspaper blanket and setting it in a box.

“Well, alright,” Enid flopped on her bed, tearing off her churro like it was beef jerky, “I’m surprised by how much you accumulated.” 

“Yes, me too,” Wednesday agreed with a hum. She put one more fragile item in the box, before stuffing it carefully with bubble wrap before taping it, and writing neatly on the top of the box ‘ SPECIMEN AND SCIENCE ’. 

She started constructing another box.

Enid made a huff.

“Yes?” 

“C’mon, you did one box, let’s go do something bad! We’re seniors.” 

“Like what?” Wednesday perked up. She was immediately interested, flipping through choices; electrically shocking doorknobs for the next poor soul, filling the swimming pool with piranhas (it was good enough to use twice, Wednesday decided), or maybe putting some nails down on the walking path-

“Likeeee, sneaking to Jerico and taking a shot or two!” 

Oh, not that kind of ‘bad’. Normal ‘bad’.

Wednesday deflated, “No thanks. I’ll stay here.” She finished taping another box, “What? I’m sure Divina would go with you.” 

Enid muttered in the background about just wanting to expand Wednesday’s horizons. Wednesday ignored her, surveying the space as she decided what type of items to tackle next. In the back of her room was a closet that she hadn’t touched in at least the last year. She opened with a puff of dust and found it filled with items that were early in her Nevermore career.

Yes, this would be easy. She could just throw away half of this and be done with another bit of her space.

She started pulling things out by the armful, dumping them onto her ornate carpet, Enid wandering over and starting to rifle through.

“Aw, it’s your cat ears!” She exclaimed, putting them on.

“Trash,” Wednesday said shortly. What use did she have for those anymore? 

“Look,” Enid picked something else up, grinning ear to ear, “Your Hummer’s pin!” 

“That’s going in the box,” Wednesday decided. That was meaningful to her. 

Enid peered over Wednesday’s shoulder into the depths, “I didn’t know you had this! I could have filled it with so many colorful sweaters,” She whimpered, frowning.

“It had a much better use, then,” Wednesday said with a shudder, trying to shove her away, “Now, just let me-” 

“What’s that?” Enid gasped, pointing into the depths at something that Wednesday ought to have thrown out a long, long time ago. She wasn't sure why she still had it. Weems had put it back in her room after the Harvest Festival, and then, after Weems' death, Wednesday had been struck by uncharacteristic nostalgia and kept it. At least, that’s what she’d tell anyone if they questioned her on it. In reality, anything from that night, she’d shoved back here to deal with later and forgotten about it.

Wednesday pulled out the oversized panda, passing it off to Enid, “Congrats, it’s yours.” 

“Are you sure?” Enid asked, hugging it against her chest.

“Yes. Please, rid me of it,” Wednesday grumbled. She pulled out the box of other things from around that same time. A Harvest Festival ticket, punched with a smiling pumpkin. A few unused ride tickets, still curled. All of this could be trash. In the corner, she saw her father’s police report sticking out, lifted from Sheriff Galpin’s private records. That may be worth keeping; perhaps her father would want it framed.

She was tempted to think of the gesture as she had at the time: tentatively kind. But now she knew it was all Laurel’s bidding, instructing Tyler to get closer to her, and she’d put her wants right on a silver platter for him. God, she felt so stupid to have fallen for it. 

You’re not scary, just a little…kooky. 

She felt an uncomfortable feeling creep over her skin, like a thousand cockroaches were trekking over her body.

Actually, this was probably just a copy. She could get a better version for her father elsewhere.

“What’s that?” Enid asked, having set down the panda on her bed. She looked at the collection of items Wednesday intended to throw away, including the ticket and the ride coupons, “Trash?” She teased, though Wednesday did not think freeing one of the useless items in their life was cause for joking.

“Worse than trash.” Wednesday muttered, “Ought to be thrown right off the side of the room, I’ll pay the stupid littering fine.” She went to grab it, intending to throw it as far as she could reach out the window, but the moment she grasped the tabbed folder, her legs collapsed.

Enid slid to catch her, being used to her episodes by now.

Wednesday felt like her head was waterlogged, per usual. She focused on the area around her, pinpointing her vision instead of having it drag her psyche through the scene.

She was in a forest. Not one she knew well; not the woods of Jericho, near Nevermore, or around her family’s surrounding land. 

A new forest.

The world was dusky, only a little bit of light filtering through. Wednesday was in her own body, and she felt wet, groggy, and exhausted like she’d just woken up from a long slumber. 

Below her, there was a noise, just a faint hiss of air escaping someone’s lips.

Wednesday snapped her expression down and saw Tyler, blood bubbling over his lips, deep, jagged slashes dragged across his neck. He was bleeding out fast, blood soaking into the dirt beneath him.

He was…afraid. He couldn’t move, like he was frozen, but there was a terror in his eyes, something that paused Wednesday as much as she could in this moment. Afraid of her?

As she stared at her hands, equally as bloody, she felt a sort of strange knowledge press upon her, like a brand. She didn’t know the circumstances or the meaning; she just knew the moment.

You’re killing Tyler.

It was a certainty. She was moments away from ending Tyler’s life, though the method and means, and reasons were hidden from her. However, from the way the blood bubbled at the wound, it seemed she’d made quite a lot of progress already.

Before Wednesday could seek any more, she was thrown back to Ophelia Hall.

Wednesday gasped for air, wiping black blood from the corners of her eyes. Not a fun side effect, even for her, but at least it was better than any other color.

“Wednesday!” Enid was waving her hand in front of her face.

Wednesday shoved her hand away, sitting straight up, still feeling a little woozy. 

“What…what did you see?” Enid asked frantically, pulling her hood over her eyes, quivering, “Oh, you always have the worst visions!”

“Yes, that’s what it means to be a Raven,” Wednesday said.

“Why are you smiling?” Enid demanded, “You’ve gone insane, right?” 

“Because it must have been a fluke,” Wednesday said firmly, standing, “Because the vision I saw wasn’t bad. In fact, it’s been something I’ve been hoping for for years.” 

“Oh…so…good?”

Wednesday thought of Tyler beneath her, a promise that she’d be rid of him soon. Her visions never took long to actualize.

“Yes,” She said, feeling more relaxed about his presence in her house than she had in weeks, “Very, very good.”

XXX

Wednesday did her best to put Tyler out of her mind. She was inching closer to the sweet freedom from high school and standardized education, and she couldn’t afford to let anything mess up her stride. She was aiming for valedictorian, always in a tight race with Bianca in all her classes. If she let her mind wander at all to even think about thinking about Tyler (living in her house, eating her food , laughing with her parents ), she knew all her hard work would slip right from under her.

And besides, aside from the initial panic, Nevermore quickly forgot about Tyler and Willow Hill and the arguments of whether he was there or not. Since he hadn’t come to slice them all down within days of returning from winter break, it was assumed he wasn’t a problem to any of them anymore.

This, technically, was true.

Her parents made sure not to mention Tyler when she called them on her crystal ball every other week, but from a few comments here or there, Wednesday gleaned that Tyler was under strict house arrest. It seemed to be a condition of his psychiatric release. 

Luckily for Tyler, the Addams manor was vast and had an impressive acreage, so as long as he did not cross the boundary, Tyler was free to roam. Far better than Tyler being stuck with his father in his suburban home, though Wednesday took great glee in imagining him going stir-crazy.

Other than the brief moments that her parents let on something they didn’t mean to, Wednesday found herself very good at compartmentalizing enough to almost forget about Tyler entirely.

By the time Spring Break was upon them, Wednesday had made it a successful full month without thinking about him at all. 

She didn’t go home for Spring Break, usually. If she went somewhere on any break, it was with Enid. But Enid had abandoned her to take a tropical vacation somewhere with Ajax. Of course, she’d invited Wednesday, though she had mentioned her single status might make things feel strange, but Wednesday knew enough about social norms to decline. 

“Besides, fruity drinks and sunshine seem like my personal hell,” Wednesday added, “I’d much rather vacation in the Arctic Circle, if I had my way.”

Even with Enid going elsewhere, Wednesday thought that the perfect break would be sitting in her dorm room alone, embraced by sweet, sweet silence. 

It was only because the dorms were being treated for termites that Wednesday was not allowed, though she tried to argue that everything about that - both the poison and the termites - would only make her spring break that much more enjoyable.

Unfortunately, not everyone was as pleased by toxic fumes as she was, and the staff still were horrified by her peculiarities. 

Strange; you’d think after so long, they’d be used to it. 

XXX

Wednesday’s mother greeted her at the door.

“Wednesday, I had no idea you were coming home! What a nice surprise.” 

Wednesday scowled, “If you didn’t want me here, you could just say so.” 

“No, don’t be silly. I’m being genuine,” Her mother said, going to kiss her cheeks. “I assumed you’d be trying to stay on campus, making some bad end-of-semester decisions. I remember the trouble your father and I got into-” 

Wednesday held up a hand. She was uninterested in her mother’s memories. 

“The hall is being fumigated for termites,” She said shortly, “I was told I was not allowed to linger.” 

Morticia blinked, “Why, that seems like a grand spring break!” 

“I would agree, but Nevermore seems to have other ideas. They suggested I go somewhere relaxing,” Wednesday gave a long, drawn-out sigh, “And do not seem to grasp that the most relaxing spring break I could take would be being knocked unconscious by the pest gas. No matter,” She shook her head, “Is Puglsey home? One of my finals is on obscure medieval torture devices, and I feel as though the presentation could benefit from some photo examples.” 

“What an interesting topic! You’ll have to redo it for me and your father. We’d hate to miss out on it,” Morticia said, closing the front doors behind Wednesday, “History class?” 

“Math,” Wednesday replied, eyes scanning the halls for her brother, “They told us to find a project that has real-life uses.” 

While the rest of her classmates had chosen utterly stupid topics like ‘What to do if you ever win the lottery’ or ‘How to use math to make sure your apartment was in feng shi’, Wednesday had chosen a most topical topic. 

The use of math to torture someone was a most intriguing study, one she was disappointed she had not done earlier to better her torture sessions with Pugsley. 

“He’s out in the backyard. Why don’t I make you a snack?” Her mother suggested. 

“If you must.” 

Wednesday pushed out the back door but did not find Pugsley in his normal haunts; not drowning in the koi pond, not strung up on the old oak by his toes, and not buried six feet under in his favorite grave in the Addams cemetery. 

She whacked her way through the grove, following the sounds of laughter…whatever was happening must be the most odious of torture, to be sure. 

As she came into a clearing near the back of their acre, blinking into the sunlight, she was greeted with a scene that she did not know how to register at all. 

Pugsley was playing football . Well, sort of. Moreover, he was catching and throwing the ball back to…Tyler.

And Tyler was shirtless. 

Wednesday gaped for a few seconds, blinking hard before wiping her eyes.

She had never seen a more grotesque view in her whole life. 

This must be stopped.

Immediately.

As Tyler threw the football, Wednesday stomped out to intercept it. She snatched it mid-air, taking out her pocket dagger and driving it deep into the inflated ball.

It let out a pathetic puff before it collapsed in her hands.

Like she’d touched something repulsive, she dropped it, flexing her fingers.

“What gives?” Tyler demanded, stalking up to her.

“Put your shirt on. Your pale skin is offending me,” Wednesday quipped, curling her lip. 

She turned to Pugsley. “Are you being forced to play against your will?” 

“What?” Pugsley was staring at the football at her foot, confused, “No, of course not!” 

“I don’t understand,” Wdneday frowned, “Why would you ever willingly submit to this?” 

“Because it’s fun.” 

She crossed her arms. “There must be another reason. Have you hit your head recently?” 

“Relax,” Tyler said, far too casually, “We’re just blowing off some steam.” 

“You’re not his brother,” Wednesday snarled, turning around, “And I didn’t ask you. But I did ask you to put some clothes on!” 

“Why, Wednesday?” Tyler chuckled, “Does it bother you that I’m not?” 

“He pretty much is!” Pugsley raised his voice, snapping Wednesday back to him, “You barely write, barely call! He’s been here, with me! He’s a better sibling than you’ve been since you left for Nevermore. Maybe I don’t want to always electrocute a rat or…or…see which poison gives us an ulcer fastest!” 

“Yes, but that’s fun,” Wednesday explained. Something was very wrong.

“Yeah? Other stuff is too,” Pugsley said, snatching the football up, looking offended, “You just don’t understand.” 

“I don’t,” Wednesday agreed, unsure why Pugsley was upset with her! “Look, I need your help with a project-” 

“Does it involve me getting drawn and quartered?” Pugsley cut her off, and at her face, rolled his eyes, “Then no, thanks.” 

Pugsley never said no to some new torture methods. It was their fun sibling bonding time.

Tyler must have poisoned her brother against her.

She turned. 

He was still shirtless. At this point, just to mock her. 

He raised an eyebrow, a question, but she couldn’t formulate anything other than a fury that gnashed her teeth. As she stared at him, she couldn’t believe she’d ever kissed him.

She stalked back to the house, but the farther she went, the more the image of Tyler and his bare chest invaded her mind.

By the time she threw open the back door, it was all her mind could see. 

“Didn’t find him,” Wednesday lied, “I'm going to shower.” 

In her bathroom, she turned the faucet all the way up, to the point where it was near boiling. Exactly how she preferred it. 

She hoped she could scald the memory of Tyler out of her brain. 

XXX

She dreamed of the scent of petrichor and musk.

She inhaled hard, picking up the hints of rotten leaves sprinkled on the underbrush.

It was the forests outside Nevermore. 

And as she blinked, right in front of her was the Hyde.

It was just looking at her.

For a long second, she just stared back.

Then, a thought crossed her mind: Tyler is the Hyde.

For as long as the mystery had dug in with its obsession, it felt so jarring to find out who the identity of the Hyde truly was. In some ways, she still felt whiplashed by the realization. It was incongruous to her, even though she’d seen him transform before her very eyes, even though she’d felt him change when she’d kissed him. 

She’d felt every part of him. Every inch of him that yearned for blood, that ached for something darker and deeper, every rotten inch of him that matched with hers.

Just as her dream was about to offer a very horrifying analysis, Wednesday startled awake.

She lay in her bed, gasping, as she shrugged off her straitjacket. She slipped out of bed, toes pressing against the cold hardwood, drawn to the window.

She caught Tyler just as he was returning inside.

Though she was on the second floor, she could still see that he was tense and sweating.

It was nearly 3 A.M.

What is he doing out there? 

XXX

She watched him for three days.

During the hours when the sun was shining, he was friendly with her family (how revolving) but stayed clear of Wednesday. In fact, he was doing a great job of pretending she didn’t exist, exactly how she liked it.

In all, he seemed unbothered to have her home. Perhaps he knew it would only be for a short time before she was bound to return to Nevermore, or perhaps he simply did not think much about her anymore.

She watched how seamlessly he’d integrated himself into the family. She was torn between disgust and fury at this turn of events. She’d rather thought that her parents would keep Tyler as their ward, like a pet they were watching while the owners were out of town on an extended vacation. Instead, he was just as much of a fixture as Cousin Itt.

He helped her mother tend to her venomous plants in the solarium, feeding Cleopatra, something very few were trusted to do. 

He paid attention to Pugsley and every thought he had, and the pair seemed to have hobbies that were unfamiliar to Wednesday, or jokes she was suddenly at the mercy of being outside of.

And he would humor her father in the nights, either with drawn-out chess matches or sword fighting in the basement. 

This alone would have been enough to make Wednesday worried, but no, his nocturnal activities had her far more concerned. 

Dirng the night, he always slipped away. No matter how good Wednesday watched the back entrances, she always fell asleep and always awoke when he was getting back. 

She had come to a conclusion she did not like at all.

Her dream must have been prophetic; a warning.

Tyler was turning into the Hyde at night and running around the forest.

And that simply could not happen.

Chapter Text

On the fourth night, Wednesday waited until her entire family was asleep. Then, she pulled on her sweater and pants and went outside, waiting for him. 

“If I fall asleep,” She told Thing, “Stab me in the thigh.” 

Thing seemed less than enthusiastic at the command. 

It was unnecessary. Tyler came down the path at around 2 A.M., wearing a pair of sports shorts and an old ratty T-shirt. Wednesday sat up like a vampire arising from a coffin, slipping behind him.

He didn’t turn.

She almost couldn’t believe he was so ill-perceptive. These woods had more than a few creepy haunted things in there. 

She grasped his shoulder.

Tyler spun, gasping hard, clutching his chest. She was thrilled to give him a heart attack, even a minor one. 

“Jesus fuck, Wednesday?” He demanded, taking out what seemed like earphones and shoving them into his pocket, “What are you doing out here?” 

“I ought to be asking you that,” Wednesday said, crossing her arms. 

“I asked you first,” Tyler replied childishly, “And we’re talking now, are we?” He added. She considered leaving if he was going to act like this, but some part of him leaned into this. If he wasn’t bothered by their lack of conversation, he wouldn’t have said anything. 

She was sure she could get what she wanted out of him. 

Wednesday raised an eyebrow, “Fine,” She said shortly, “I’m out here to stop you.” 

Tyler blinked, looking genuinely confused. “Stop me?” He echoed. 

“I know what you’ve been doing out here, and it’s dangerous!” Wednesday hissed, throwing her hands out, “How dare you? After my family has taken you in?” 

“What exactly do you think I’m doing?” Tyler asked, almost amused. Far too humored for the situation. 

Wednesday bit back anger, “Turning into the Hyde, of course,” She said, “Without a master, who knows what could happen if you lose yourself and-,” 

“You think I’m turning?” Tyler asked, eyes wide and horrified, “Wednesday, God, no-,” 

“So you deny it?” 

“Of course I deny it!” Tyler huffed, “I know just as well as you do the dangers of it. I’d never do anything to hurt your family. Never.” He said vehemently, “Not something so foolish.” At Wednesday’s dubiously raised eyebrow, he added, “I haven’t changed since that last night in the forest, the one where Enid mauled me.” He added bitterly. 

“You expect me to believe that?” Wednesday asked dryly, “And your Hyde is just alright with that? Being locked down like a rabid dog?” 

“No,” Tyler said, gritting his teeth, “But I fucking manage it, alright?” 

“How.” 

Tyler blinked, as though considering not telling her, but in the end, he just shrugged, almost helplessly, “I work out. Read a lot. Play chess. I just…do.” 

“So what are you doing out here?” Wednesday asked, looking him up and down. 

“Running, alright?” 

Wednesday snorted, “At two A.M.? Yes, such a prime time for physical activities.” 

Tyler rolled his eyes, muttering something she didn’t quite hear. 

“Repeat that?” She demanded, narrowing her eyes. She’d caught something at the end of it, something more than just a half-hearted excuse. Tyler locked up, looking furious at himself for saying anything, and it was clear that he wasn’t going to admit to whatever he’d mistakenly said.

No matter; she had plenty of methods for extracting information.

She grasped his arm with the intent of taking a fingernail or two, but Tyler jumped away like she’d burned him. 

“It’s your fault, alright?” He pinched his nose, “That’s what I said. It’s your fault I’m running in the middle of this creepy forest every night!” 

Wednesday tried to understand the connection but failed. She opened her mouth slightly, confused, then pressed her lips in a thin line. “Explain.” 

Tyler looked at her like she must be crazy, “I was handling the Hyde just fine, you know, until you came back unannounced for spring break. I usually meditate. Fester taught me. But I was thrown out of rhythm when you showed up, and God, I can’t…” He pressed his fingernails into his palms so hard that they broke skin, “I can’t stop it.” 

“Stop what?” Wednesday asked again, stepping forward to trap him between herself and the path he'd been running, “I’ve barely talked to you-,” 

Like she'd cornered a rabid animal, Tyler took two steps, boxing Wednesday up against the tree she’d taken her vigil against. His hand pressed against her throat, and she could feel the rough bark of the tree itching against her back.

Two thoughts came to her, almost at the same time. The first;

Stab him right now, Wednesday. You could kill him if you wanted.

But then, mere milliseconds later.

There he is. I was beginning to worry the Hyde had been neutered. 

Tyler watched her expression for a long moment, his fingers tensed on her windpipe and applying mild pressure, but not enough to hurt her. She thought about challenging him, but found herself unable to speak, tracing the lines of his expression, all the way up to his eyes. They were dark and stormy and unreadable, like she was looking at a still, dead, depthless lake. 

Just as she was on the precipice of going with her first instinct, Tyler jerked her chin up, nails pressing enough to pinprick, and kissed her.

For a second, Wednesday stood frozen, limbs at her side like a damn doll. 

She knew she should shove him away and then break a rib for doing this, but right as she was at the moment when she was about to act, Tyler grasped her braids in his free hand, tugging hard. 

There was a burning to this kiss, so much more than the kiss in the Weathervane. This one could only be described as brutal. He was stealing, taking, overpowering her. His teeth bit into her lip, edging her on as he pressed her with more weight against the tree.

She felt his thigh slip between her legs and press up into her, and she felt her body buckle, seeking that tension. 

She knew all about sex. She’d heard (and seen) one too many unfortunate days where Ajax and Enid were overcome. In fact, the entire senior body seemed incapable of making adult decisions when they were being led by their carnal affairs.

Plenty had been interested in Wednesday.

She’d made it known that she had zero intention of partaking in such activities. One particular boy had ignored her first two ‘no’s and ended up in the infirmary, missing a kidney.

What? He only needed one to survive.

All the girls at Nevermore had flocked to Wednesday, excitedly high-fiving her and applauding her for standing up for herself and the ‘feminine movement’. Wednesday had hated the celebrity and tried to make it clear she wasn’t doing it to make a statement for or against anything; she didn’t want anyone badgering her with any request (sexual or not). 

The message was received quickly, and no other idiot boys had attempted to pressure her into sex, not even hint at less than pure intentions, and Wednesday was grateful that she didn’t have to pretend to be curious about it. 

Until this very moment, when her interest was piqued. 

Tyler pulled away, her bottom lip between his teeth. He was panting hard. It took her a moment to realize she was, too, and her heart was beating unusually fast. Tyler pressed his forehead against hers, which would have been an intimate and romantic gesture in any other setting, but right now felt like he wasn’t willing to let her go yet.

His eyes were flashing yellow. 

“That’s why,” He rasped, “Because I dream of doing naughty, awful things to you, and if I don’t run out this energy, I might just…” He gave a thick swallow, exhaling forcefully. She shifted her hips and felt him hard against her thigh. 

Wednesday gave an experimental roll of his hips and watched that yellow sheen fog over his eyes again. 

“Is the Hyde there?” She asked, tilting her head, “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” 

“Wednesday…” Tyler growled, “You’re playing a dangerous game.” 

Wednesday studied him, “You won’t hurt me,” She said, hedging a bet, “At least, not unless I ask you to. Not unless I tell you I want it hard and dirty.” 

Tyler twitched, and he let out a small whimper. “ Are you asking me?” 

Wednesday considered it. 

Her virginity was such a pesky, in-the-way concept. Enid wouldn’t stop going on and on about needing to find her dates, or how it wasn’t as ‘scary’ as Wednesday might think it was. Wednesday was hardly scared of it, just didn’t see the point. It might shut Enid up if she just experimented. 

Plus, Wednesday had heard that sometimes, losing your virginity hurts.

The idea thrilled her. 

She didn’t want soft, rose-petal-covered silk cushions. She wanted something that made her bleed, leave her tender and aching tomorrow. 

“Would you?” Wednesday asked pointedly, “Or would you chicken out?” 

Tyler dropped his hands underneath her, lifting her against the tree, his teeth tracing her jawbone, “Only if you ask me nicely,” He whispered. She could feel his incisors dragging against her skin. She thought that he was seconds away from clamping down, turning into the Hyde, and shaking her throat like a squeaky toy. But he hesitated. She could feel his body trembling, his muscles taut and tensed. 

Wednesday let out a sound of frustration, “Fine. Tyler, would you please, oh please, fuck me raw?” She asked, her intonation flat, but that seemed to do the trick. 

Tyler kissed her violently and bloodied, like he was trying to suck out the oxygen from her lungs. Wednesday gave a shuddering breath, her nails digging into his shirt and pulling him against her. She had just given an experimental twist of her hips, her fingers at the hem of his shorts, into his when Tyler suddenly shoved her away from him, hard, and she landed in the dirt with an audible thud.

“Go…go away, Wednesday,” Tyler said, shielding his eyes like the very visage of her would blind him, “You don’t know what you’re asking.” 

Wednesday narrowed her eyes. If there was one thing she hated most in the world, more than rainbows or teddy bears, it was being babied. She knew more than the average person, thank you very much, and would like to think that her sense of logic was unflawed. 

“I know what I’m asking,” She countered hotly, rage coiling in her stomach. Or maybe it was lust. It was nearly impossible to tell the difference.

“You go back, I’ll keep running, we’ll pretend this never happened,” Tyler said, but his voice wheezed, like he was sucking air through a colander. 

Wednesday locked her jaw.

Fine . 

Time for more extreme measures. 

She wretched off her black sweatshirt, throwing it to the forest floor. Tyler inhaled hard, as though the scent of her sweat rose up as she flung it, and he half-turned, body trembling.

“Wed-” He warned, but Wednesday was furious now. She bored holes into the back of his head as she shoved down her jeans, pushing them off her hips and stepping out of them, balling them and throwing them with the same intensity as her sweatshirt. “Stop that,” Tyler commanded.

“Are you really going to make me get naked myself?” She questioned, and as Tyler’s jaw twitched, she added her shirt to the pile, leaving her in just her underwear, bra, and socks. 

Well, not just . 

She used her fingers to take out her hair ties, coming her digits through her hair to let it lay loose, shaking out the itching in her scalp that she enjoyed from heavy tugging on her roots so much. 

Tyler had turned in an instant, staring at her free-flowing hair with a sense of awe. She’d never shown him this. She’d never shown anyone, barely even her own reflection, preferring to keep her face the same: tightly controlled, easily repeatable. There was no time in the morning for foolish endeavors like contorting her hair into different fashions.

“Oh, god, Wednesday…” Tyler crooned, almost like a love song, “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He asked, picking her up underneath her legs, knocking her off her feet. She expected him to take her back to the manor, keeping her quiet as he pressed through the doors of the greenhouse, pressing his palm against her face so hot it was nearly suffocating, keeping her silent.

But he laid her down on the forest floor. Gently, gingerly, with a sense of care she didn’t think he was capable of. She looked up at him, the moonlight slicing through the leaves and dappling against the side of his face. His curly hair gleamed, the light caught his freckles on his cheek, and his green eyes shimmered like a mossy pool.

But that was the last time he was gentle.

He grasped her cheeks, kissing her again, and now, whatever he’d been holding back was released. This kiss felt different . She could almost taste the anticipation now, like his body was electrified at the thought of pressing skin to skin. 

His fingers unclipped her bra with a surprising dexterity, but she was so caught up in how he was capturing her lips between his teeth that when he slid the black lace down her arms, she didn’t fully realize it until the chilly air hit her breasts.

Her hands dug into his shirt, pulling upward, and Tyler broke their heated, open-mouthed, desperate kiss long enough to pull the shirt over his head, throwing it behind them, somewhere swallowed by the deep forests. 

Tyler’s lips moved down her neck, swirling around her breasts. Wednesday opened her mouth to tell him off, eager for the main menu and nothing else, until she felt a rush of pleasure freeze her in place when he bit down. A squeal passed her lips before she could stop, and from her vantage, she could see him smirk. 

Wednesday would allow it.

She settled her head back into the decaying forest floor, eyes toward the inky blackness of the universe above her. Something about this felt…right. People, for thousands of years, for eons upon eons, had sex exactly right here - in a dark forest, with the entire galaxy spread out in front of them. There are times she feels very much unlike a modern-day teenager, and this just confirms some otherworldly tug, the sense that she was meant for the witches of old.

This is what it means, some part of her cooed in her mind, This, here, at twilight, in the woods. This is how you ought to have sex. This is natural. 

Wednesday’s fingers dug into Tyler’s scalp, and he paused, peering up at her through a lidded gaze before he continued biting softly all over her skin, like he intended to pattern her with bitemarks, his fingers tearing her underwear off. 

He ghosted a hand between her thighs, and Wednesday allowed him entrance, heart pittering faster than usual, caught up in the mystery of it all. 

Some part of her buzzed with a strange excitement, which was not how she imagined this moment to occur. She thought it would be perfunctory at best and mind-numbling awful at worst, but this…

…This felt good . 

Not the sort of good Wednesday hated, like a warm, fuzzy hug or the taste of hot chocolate without arsenic. No, this felt good in the way that Enid’s laughter felt like, or Eugene’s loyalty was, or how Tyler’s smile was when he looked at her before she decided to cut romantic ties with him. Things she was meant to hate, but couldn’t help but treasure. 

Wednesday’s breath hitched as Tyler pressed a tentative finger against her, the pads of his thumb rubbing against her clit. 

“Oh, god, you’re so wet for me,” He said, almost laughing at the absurdity. She was tempted to be offended that he thought she’d be bone dry, but didn’t she imagine that too? Her own desire was throwing curveballs at the same moment Tyler realized it. 

Tyler licked the pads of his thumb before going back. Wednesday lifted her head.

“What?” She asked, irked, “Am I not wet enough for you?” 

“Don’t get so offended, cockroach,” Tyler chuckled, and when he said it, it felt like the most intimate of kisses. “We just want to make sure that you can really fit me.” 

Wednesday made a noise in the back of her throat, rolling her eyes. Every man thought they were packing a baseball bat when they were really flinging around a toy plastic sword. Besides-

“I feel like dry would be more pleasurable for me anyway,” She said, raising an eyebrow. 

“You would,” Tyler agreed, “But maybe I want to have a good time. Entirely self-serving.” 

Wednesday swallowed a laugh, “Yes. That tracks.” She gazed at the tent in his shorts, “Are you going to prove your claim?” She asked, haunted by morbid curiosity. 

“See for yourself,” Tyler said, grasping her wrist and bringing it to the waistband of his shorts. There was a pause, a moment that seemed to linger in the ether…a last ditch.

Wednesday was no coward.

She pressed on, underneath his waistband, reaching his cock pressed against his stomach, at attention.

She closed her hand around it.

Tyler waited, beaming and arrogant.

“It’s acceptable,” She said after a long moment. She was not going to do the stupid, simpery thing of wondering how it would fit. Humans were meant to procreate. She knew it would, maybe with some tearing, if she were so lucky.

Tyler shoved his pants down, “Last chance-” 

“I think we passed that long ago,” Wednesday said, opening her hips farther, offering herself. She felt her breath catch in her throat and stay there as she waited. 

“Protection-” 

“I have tea,” Wednesday said quickly, because she did not have a condom and would almost be angry if he had one. But she couldn't imagine trekking all the way back, losing not only the momentum but the way the moonlight washed upon their clearing.

“Alright,” Tyler nodded, but he seemed too far gone, fighting back against something, to use any better judgment that still was retained. 

Tyler kissed her, almost too sweetly. Wednesday was on the precipice of complaining when his teeth bit down hard at the same moment he pressed into her, fully, without testing the waters.

She exhaled through her nose, urging her mind to get used to the feeling, as she thought he would move immediately. But when she opened her eyes, Tyler was almost sinking into her flesh, eyes rolled back as a low groan slipped from his mouth. 

Wednesday wriggled her hips, and Tyler’s eyes snapped back towards hers.

Now, they were entirely golden, and it was only in the way his body was tense above hers that she knew that this was still some semblance of Tyler, and not entirely the Hyde.

While the thought of monster sex had tickled her fancy, never with the explicit thought of Tyler, Wednesday wasn’t sure she’d say no in the future…but tonight, just to have a proper basis to compare upon later, this ought to be as normal as either of them could get.

Which is to say that no vanilla sex was going to be had, but they’d try their college best toward that, no doubt stumbling through about twelve unsafe sex practices on their way there. 

Tyler pulled back his hips and snapped forward roughly, his hands grasping at her thighs and holding her hips upward, trying to give himself a better angle.

Wednesday growled, trying to keep her sounds tied to the back of her throat, but found it impossible with how it felt . 

Tyler was relentless, forehead driving her head into the ground, no doubt imprinting leaves and berries, and bugs into her black hair. She’d need at least one shower, if not multiple, after this. One to wash the mud, one to wash the blood, and a third to wash his cum and saliva from her flesh.

He pulled out entirely, and Wednesday made a noise of utmost disappointment, until she felt Tyler pull her hips forward and then flip her, before she was aware of what was happening. As she was gathering her wits, he grasped under her, hauling her backside up, her knees coming to click into place.

Wednesday tried to raise to her elbows like she was in a yoga position, but Tyler’s hand pressed between her shoulder blades, keeping her nose against the earth. He didn’t ask if she was alright or if she needed a safe word.

Wednesday grinned despite it.

Wednesday could communicate her own boundaries, if she wanted to place them. She didn't need a nervous partner checking in every time he moved her an inch to the left. 

Once she was the way he wanted her, Tyler slid between her legs, holding her skeletal hips to keep her steady before he rutted into her, as wild and savage as a wolf. 

Wednesday started to say something, but one of his fingers pressed against the edge of her lips. She bit at the fingers, and Tyler just laughed, before bringing them between her legs.

“C’mon, you’re going to cum at least once before I do,” He said, like he was coaxing it out of her. 

“Unlikely-” Wednesday started to say, but choked halfway on her words.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Tyler teased slowly, and when he pressed his fingers against her clit and bucked his hips, something about it felt like silky velvet or rolling chocolate, the taste against the back of her mouth, rising with her heart. 

Wednesday bit down on her knuckle as what she could only assume was an orgasm exploded, and for a moment, the world was ablaze with colors - colors she didn’t mind, like a kaleidoscope against the back of her skull - before it eased into more comfortable grays and tints. 

And despite that, she still wanted more.

“One down,” Tyler whispered, his fingers still eeking out a climax, never stopping, “Who knows how far we’ll go. When you’re begging for me to stop…” He bit the rim of her ear, slowing his pumps, “I’ll get two more out of you.” 

Wednesday whimpered at the thought. She hated giving up control, but the way he was taking it awoke something deep inside her chest, some locked part of her she didn’t know was needy, but flickered to life at his words.

She felt raw down there, but Tyler didn’t stop, as promised, and the line between pain and pleasure blurred in the most delicious way.

"Knew you'd like it like that," He murmured, snorting. 

By the time she had stopped counting, unsure how she would sit comfortably tomorrow in her pants without feeling that beautiful ache, Tyler had still not finished. 

“Having problems?” She managed to bite, though she was soaked with sweat, when Tyler went to move her once again.

“Naw, just want to see your face when I cum,” Tyler said, this time angling so that he was still hovering above her, but his head was lifted to watch her. She got the sense of being dissected, like a bug under a microscope, and Tyler tilted his head with an almost disinterested gaze as he contorted her body to his liking.

Though her body demanded a reprieve, Tyler coaxed another wave to crash, and as she was trying to discern if the stars against her eyelids were the sky above her or her own delusions, Tyler pressed his jaw firmly in the space where her neck met her collarbone, as though the curve was always meant to hold his fangs.

Wednesday barely had the capacity to think, much less question. She rode her own orgasm as Tyler hit his, and as he did so, he bit down as hard as he could. The sting of his teeth sinking into her skin like he intended to consume her, along with the way his body quivered and shook above her, was like a final explosion in a string of detonations. She felt him, impossibly, in that moment, like their heartbeats synced and his pleasure rolled into her own, like a deadly tsunami destroying entire beach towns in the wake of destruction and unrelenting power. 

When they finally stilled, after Wednesday caught her breath, she could feel his teeth releasing from her body, a wet suction sound accompanying it. She looked up at him, his mouth full of blood that trickled down his chin and onto his bare chest, eyes glinting golden still, and thought he’d never looked more beautiful than right now.

She wanted to kiss him.

She wanted to taste the blood on his lips and pull him back down, and let the pair rot with the foliage beneath them as they stayed here, intertwined, all season. 

Tyler opened his mouth a bit, her blood mixing with his saliva as he tilted his head, curiously, staring at her now-marred skin. He seemed almost...unprepared for it, as though something within had taken over, the Hyde pushing his devilish control for those last moments. 

Tyler wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Wednesday examined the bite mark. It was deep and clearly jaw-shaped. It would not disappear after it scabbed over, not without intervention. She ought to be more upset that, in a sense, Tyler had physically claimed this moment, but she found herself...unbothered. Some part of her wore it like a badge, like a gory tattoo upon her skin.

She met his gaze, “Don’t apologize. It sours everything that just happened.” 

Tyler swallowed hard, probably her blood, and nodded firmly.

Afterward was quiet and should have been awkward, but there was a sense of knowledge that she felt. She knew what sex was now, and she enjoyed it.

If there were a young adult bingo card, this ought to fill in at least a row.

Tyler helped her back into her clothes, and the pair walked back silently to the manor.

“Need to run still?” She asked, noticing his intent to go inside.

“What? No, of course not. I…” Tyler inhaled, “I’m settled. He’s settled.” 

“Hmm,” Wednesday pressed a hand at the back door, “We don’t repeat this.” She said firmly. No threats were needed. He understood.

Tyler nodded, “Whatever, cockroach.” He agreed, shrugging. 

Wednesday went back up to her room and let herself rot in the smells and wounds the rest of the night, before she rinsed the proof of their actions in the shower when she woke.

They didn’t talk about it, not the rest of the break, and there were no repeats.

She went back to Nevermore to finish her last few weeks and certainly did not tell Enid, or anyone for that matter.

She would like to say she never thought of it…but on late nights, when Enid was most assuredly asleep, or when she had extra time in cold showers…one hand's fingers would trace the healing bite - pressing into it to regain that sweet agony as though she was reliving those fleeting feelings as much as she could, one hand would slip between her legs, and Wednesday’s mind always meandered back to him.

Chapter Text

Her senior year ended unceremoniously.

That’s untrue. There was a ceremony. Utterly useless, of course. 

Enid cried. Ajax cried. Fucking Bianca cried.

Wednesday shed not one tear. The only crying matter was the threat of adulthood; of jobs with jackass bosses, or minimum wage, or apartments that smelled like perpetual mold. 

Those were all reasons to cry, but that’s not why her classmates were reduced to blubbering. 

Wednesday wasn’t expected to be sobbing too, so no one was offended. She did manage to keep her eyebrows planted firmly where they were meant, and not raised to her fringe in disbelief at the childishness of her friends.

“Oh my god, Wednesday, you have to call!” Enid blubbered, as though she wasn’t already planning six ‘meet-ups’ into their first young adult years, some reunions, and some solo trips. 

“I will endeavor to try,” Wednesday said, which was about as much as she could give. She didn’t want to make a promise to Enid she didn’t think she could keep.

She’d purposely told her parents the wrong day, but her mother had found out the real one anyway.

Their attendance was misery-inducing.

But at least they could cart her back home swiftly afterwards. Her father asked if she wanted to stick around one more night, celebrate with her friends, but the look she gave answered that right away.

It had been on the tip of her tongue to ask why Tyler didn’t come, but she knew why. And if she had asked the traitorous question escaping her grasp, her parents might sense that something had happened. There was no reason for Wednesday to care about any of Tyler’s whereabouts.

Luckily, he was not expecting anything upon her return and treated her with the same icy aloofness he always had.

At least one person in this house made sense still.

If anything, it was Wednesday who couldn’t keep the status quo with Tyler, and she was endlessly ashamed of herself for being so…normal.

There was no worse threat to her psyche than being distracted like a lovesick teen.

She knew she’d have to figure out how to cohabitate with him. She had asked, through gritted teeth, if her parents might allow her to remain here, just until her first novel was published and she was paid. Her father was over the moon, insisting she could live here her whole life.

She did love the manor, but she was eager to get her own apartment and paint it all black herself.

But she digressed. She’d be here at least a few months, if not a year, and would have to see him every day. Because of that, boundaries needed to be set, because whenever she caught sight of him, all she saw was Tyler naked, bathed by the moon.

That would not do.

She needed to bleach that image from her mind, and Wednesday was just about at the point of using actually illegal chemicals to do so.

She kept her distance.

The first month was…tenuous. For as much as she wanted to pretend like they had exactly zero naked romps in the woods, some part of Wednesday couldn’t let her own mind just be. And whenever she saw Tyler, a blush would start to creep up her cheeks. It was so troublesome that even her father noticed it one night, and Wednesday had to claim that it was a poisonous rash to get her parents to drop the matter.

It wasn’t Tyler. It was all her.

Being civil wasn’t going to work.

Wednesday decided she needed to get mean if they crossed paths; she needed to remind her mind why it had just been to scratch an itch, and was not allowed to spiral into an obsession or any sort of fancying.

It happened in the Greenhouse. Wednesday arrived to do some research for her novel, only to intercept Tyler.

Literally.

Rare steaks slapped against her shirt and then the floor as Tyler stood with a tray, en route to Cleopatra.

“Way to go, Galpin,” Wednesday said, angrily picking up the meat from the ground, slapping it back onto the tray, “Cleo hates dust in her dinner.” 

“You ran into me. I'd watch where you're running off to, Wednesday." 

Wednesday swallowed hard.

You see, this was the problem. The ‘we’re at odds’ tone he used was the same tone he’d employed in the woods, and now her mind was mixing them up, as though they were the same. And every time he snapped at her, she would feel a rush that would pull at her navel, beg her for a release her fingers would never quite achieve. 

“Just…leave-” She started, but Tyler shook his head, impetuous.

“No, I’m here doing a task. You can either stick around or stay away from me, but I’m not leaving because you said so!” 

“It’s my house,” Wednesday argued. 

“Is it now?” Tyler asked, almost triumphant in his smirk, “Or are you just an interloper, counting down your days until checking out, while I’m putting down my roots?” 

“Being a stray isn’t a badge of honor.” Wednesday replied immediately, “And besides, no one else would take you, would they?” 

Tyler’s jaw clenched. She’d hit a nerve. She felt relief flare in her stomach. She could still be the same as always. All hope wasn’t lost.

“Of course, Wen,” Tyler said after a long moment, the use of a nickname almost like a stab to her neck, “Your parents are entirely too generous. And I’d like to keep my place here, and that includes my housework. So.” His voice was short. 

Immediately, some part of her told her she'd gone too far.

(Not that she cared, of course.) 

Wednesday doubted her parents would kick him out over missing a feeding. Cleo was a big glutton anyway, and they fed her because her mother loved her pet, not out of necessity. Even so, for a second, Wednesday imagined it coming head to head, and of course, her parents would pick her…

… but they’d all be so sad to see Tyler go.

He had dug himself into their lives like a tick, hanging on against the winds that battered his place here. She considered kicking him out, out of her confusion, but even she was not that mean. 

“Do it quickly,” Wednesday finally acquiesced, “And stay out of my way.” 

Tyler was finishing picking up the last dredges of the steak, and his eyes snapped toward her, “I don’t get it,” He said, shaking his head slowly, “I blow your fucking brains out and you act like I’m the help .” 

“Worse than that,” Wednesday agreed, “We treat our butlers and staff very well.” She paused, “And that’s overgenerous, wouldn’t you say? It was…merely acceptable.” 

“Eight times,” Tyler said, leaning over the space that they kept on either side of the tray, “I’d like to see anyone else get close to getting your clothes off, let alone that,” He said, his eyes darkening with the memory. Wednesday felt her pulse race and her thighs press together.

No! Stop that! She commanded her body, but she was pulled by the will of a horny woman who was not letting Wednesday take control again.

She shoved Tyler, hard, as hard as she could manage. He stumbled back, unexpecting her reaction. She knew he was rock solid, but he hadn’t seen the motion coming, and he fell against one of the shelves. Pots, pesticides, pruning shears, and soil thundered down around him, ceramic shattering on the tile floor.

“Pick that up,” Wednesday hissed, hoping to leave before her blush gave away her true fantasies, but she’d pushed Tyler too far.

“No, really, what the fuck?” Tyler demanded, shoving himself up, “I’ve done exactly what you wanted, and this is how you treat me?” 

“I shouldn’t be giving you any treatment,” Wednesday said pointedly, “You were a means to an experimental end, and you’ve served your purpose.” 

“Stop it! Look at me!” Tyler commanded, going to grab her arm as she left him. She fought against his grip, and it loosened, like he couldn’t bear the idea of bruising her right now, even though he’d left his mark against her skin. The bite mark almost flared at the memory, reminding her of what she had let him do. 

Wednesday tried to regain her balance, but Tyler pulled her. To what end, she didn’t know. She had visions of him bringing them together for a searing kiss, or maybe to shake her shoulders and scream in her face. Both were equally plausible. But he yanked her right at the moment she lost her footing herself, and she found her foot skating in the wet, slippery mixture of runny pesticide and bloody steak juice.

Tyler gasped, reaching for her shirt, but she was already on a tragedy toward the ground, his fingers - for all his skills the Hyde gave him - a second too short to steady her. 

She saw the tile floor coming at her fast, enough to knock her out. This, in itself, would usually just be a headache for the day, almost enjoyable under the right circumstances.

But sticking out, as though fate had placed it there, were the gardening shears, pointed toward her skull, sharp enough to slice through venomous, deadly foliage.

Wednesday only had time for two thoughts as she careened toward it.

First, Oh, fuck.

And the second was that Tyler, though she was sure this would cause him to require life therapy (and that did thrill her), had given her a gift that no one else had ever been able to properly fulfill…true death.

If she were so lucky to come back as a ghost, she might just have to thank him.

XXX

Wednesday had no preconceptions of death.

Despite being very interested in the subject, all her seances where she’d asked this question had been fruitless. The results were so varied that it was almost worthless.

She had assumed she would get some more time to riddle it out before she met her end. She didn’t like mysteries. 

Death was disappointingly like life.

Wednesday woke slowly, her vision coming back like a faulty, fritzy TV. Her eyes fluttered open, slowly, as she drank in her location.  She was still in the same position she’d died in, lying in the greenhouse. She could smell the raw steaks and the peaty soil beneath her, as well as feel the pressure of the shears in her skull. 

Wait…feel? Well, that sucked . 

An eternity bound to the same senses as life was...unexpected, and a tad distressing. She thought one of the benefits of being transparent and ghoulish was being freed of such mortal coils. 

“Wed…Wednesday?” Tyler whimpered softly.

Something about his tone...it wasn't right.

It was like he’d sensed her opening her eyes.

Wednesday sat upright, nearly colliding foreheads with Tyler, who was pressing his hands against her pale skin, eyes frantic. He was crying, his nose red and snot dripping down his nose. She stared at him as he tried to take gulps of air in, his exhales rickety like an attic staircase, as he stared at Wednesday incomprehensibly. 

“You see me?” She asked suspiciously. 

“What…what kind of fucking question is that?” He demanded, whole body shaking, “Wait, wait, how are you not dead?” He demanded, his tone pitching, “Why are you not dead?” he demanded, growing more panicked by the moment.

Wednesday caught her reflection dimly in one of the glass panes. The shears were right through her skull, deep enough that she knew they ought ot have caused her to perish. And if not that, the amount of blood that was pooling from the wound should be enough.

By all accounts, this should have been a tragic accident that should have killed her.

So why didn’t it?

Wednesday narrowed her eyes, searching Tyler, but he was no use, “Why am I not dead?” She wondered out loud. 

She got up, despite Tyler’s frantic, horrified wheezing, marching with purpose through the manor. Tyler scrambled after her, babbling apologies so quickly that she didn’t think he was taking any air in.

“What are you doing?” He finally asked, reaching for her but snapping back and flinching, as though recalling what his last touch had done, as she reached her parents’ library.

“Why am I not dead?” She repeated, frustrated, to Tyler, before pushing the grand doors open.

“Darling…oh, I think you have something in your hair,” Gomez said, spotting her and motioning to the shears, as though she had no idea they were present. He looked at Morticia and chuckled. Her mother rolled her eyes.

“My Raven, those are my favorites, so you make sure you and Puglsey wash them well before putting them back,” She said idly, flipping through one of her tomes of most violent deaths. 

Behind Wednesday, Tyler made a wheezing noise that was approximately like a half-dead Chihuahua. For the first time, Wednesday’s parents looked up, eyes narrowing as they drank in what they were seeing for the first time; Wednesday with a confused, annoyed look on her face and Tyler about to have a conniption. 

“Oh…” Morticia said slowly, closing her book with an audible snap. 

“Wait, what’s happened-” Gomez said, scratching his head, getting the sense that what they thought had occurred indeed had not, but he was not as quick on the uptake as Morticia.

Wednesday stalked up to her mother, “Why am I not dead?” She asked pointedly and reached for the shears, unsealing them from her gray matter with a squelch as she took them out, raising her eyebrows pointedly. Tyler, however, panicked more - if that was possible - grabbing the closest blanket he could find and pressing it against Wednesday’s head.

“We need to get her to a doctor,” He said, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so-” 

Wednesday ignored his sniveling.

Morticia frowned, her mind rolling through theories as her eyes roamed the picture in front of her, but she needed more.

“Tyler yanked my arm. Due to some unfortunate circumstances, the ground was slick and, apparently, booby-trapped-” She began, and Tyler looked like he wanted to die, looking up at Morticia like he was sure he was going to be smited on the spot, or roasted over a fire for what he’d done to their daughter. In any other family, that was a likely scenario, but Wednesday did not have the focus to explain to him that he ought to stop his worrying, at least, not until this was figured out. She opted for an annoyed wave of her hand, pushing him back, “And I slipped his grip and landed on your lovely sears. Incredibly sharp. Kudos to your attention to it,” She said, “And I should be dead. But I think by this point I am nearly sure I’m alive.” 

Morticia sat down, taking the shears and staring at them with a sense of distress. Gomez finally realized and gasped, looking between Wednesday and Tyler, his jaw unhinging like he was going to swallow a whale whole. 

“I’m missing something…” Tyler finally whispered, his voice fried and raw from crying, “What am I missing? Seriously , someone!” 

“The Addams Family Curse,” Wednesday finally said snappishly, “Though it’s hardly as misery-inducing as the original witch intended.” 

Morticia nodded slowly. She realized, after a long moment, that Wednesday was not going to elucidate further and motioned for Tyler to sit. He did so, caged and nervous, like she was inviting him to his doom.

“A long time ago, the Addams family was cursed. A spell meant to do more harm than good, though by this point, we’ve…” Morticia gave a morbid grin, “Grown around it. We are immortal.” 

“Like…vampires?” Tyler asked, looking ill. 

Wednesday snorted inegantly. What a stupid thought.

“No,” Morticia said, looking more amused than she ought to be, “We are immortal when it comes to one another. We are immortal when it comes to our estate and ourselves. Wednesday is more than correct. That should have killed her. She can be killed, as any of us can, but only by someone who is not an Addams, anywhere. We have built our own bubble here, are impervious to whatever we may try to do with each other, or what we may elect to do to ourselves. It attracts less attention if we...keep our fun, just to ourselves. And, in time, the curse has feathered out. The natural world of the estate, or the house as a sentient being, may not kill us either...but you, as a guest, with the shears, ought to have...” 

“So…” Tyler swallowed thickly, “Arsenic in hot chocolate…or…” He looked more confused now than weepy, which was where Wednesday was sitting in, “Dangerous games with Pugsley that I’m just now realizing were not exaggerations...that's all...fine?” 

“He does so enjoy being buried alive by me,” Wednesday said, shrugging, “He says in the moments between conscious and unconscious, it’s like a warm hug.” 

Tyler looked at his hands, “Actually, uhm, that explains…that explains a lot,” He said, now perhaps viewing them through a less harsh lens, now that he understood what Wednesday had always grown up with…this freedom to do whatever she wanted with Pugsley, and vice versa, knowing that no harm would come to her. Arsenic tasted like a sweetened flavor from her father. An electric bolt enough to kill a horse was a tickle from her brother. A knife that could gut her insides was a thoughtful trinket from her mother. 

But…Tyler was not one of them. The shears were not a part of the house or the forests. Wednesday had not impaled herself upon them by her own volition. 

“So I repeat,” Wednesday said meaningfully, “Why am I still alive?” 

“You guys didn’t…adopt me?” Tyler asked, looking like he hoped that was the entire truth of it, “I mean, if you guys took me and if Puglsey says I feel like one of the family-” 

“If it were only that simple, our family tree would be much bigger,” Morticia shot him down with an apologetic smile, “Not that you do not feel right at home here. But now, it is a bit more…more than that.” 

“So how then?” 

“Blood,” Wednesday said, “Marriage or children. Or a blood-rite for adoption, which you'd know if they did.” She raised an eyebrow, “And still, the mystery continues.” 

Tyler opened his mouth, but only air came out, before he closed it, taking six deep, steady breaths. 

See? No reason for panic…none of that kind, at least.

“I don’t know what’s going on, I guess,” Tyler said, mumbling, like a child being caught with his hand in the candy jar, “But I’m really sorry and I…” He trailed off, unable to articulate more.

Wednesday’s head had stopped bleeding by this point. She stalked over to her parents’ liquor cabinet, finding something that would burn as she dabbed it against the wound, sucking in air through her teeth. While it seemed like she was not going to die from this, if something had gotten mixed up, it didn’t mean that the wound wouldn’t fester and rot if left unattended. And while that usually would be an intriguing process to study, Wednesday was not interested in that right now.

Her mother was watching her, finger pressed against her lip thoughtfully, tracking the way Tyler’s eyes followed Wednesday.

“Gomez, my dearest,” She said slowly, “Perhaps you might go get Wednesday a medical kit? I’m sure she would be thrilled to stitch her head once you retrieve it.” 

“Of course!” Gomez nearly jumped up. He came over to Wednesday, kissing her head, “We’ll get to the bottom of this. I’m sure it’s just a fluke, a mistake in the ripple of the curse.” 

Wednesday was feeling less sure, especially with her mother’s careful expression.

“I’m sure.” 

As soon as Gomez was gone, Morticia sat up straight.

“You’ll have to excuse me for asking this, but it’s important you answer truthfully,” She said quickly, “Have you and Tyler-” 

“Oh my god,” Tyler groaned, already foreseeing where this question was going.

Wednesday met her mother’s eyes, dropping the towel. “Yes.” She answered, without fuss, “We have. Over Easter Break.” 

Tyler looked like he wanted the couch to swallow him whole. In a different part of the house, that could almost be arranged. He sat, hands covering his face, staring out at the wall, eyes bugged and wide. 

“Hmm.” Morticia blinked.

“That would be quite inconvenient,” Wednesday said dismissively, “If every time I slept with someone, that counted. That doesn’t count, does it?” She asked after a moment. She feels like her mother would have forewarned her on this caveat if it were true. Not that Wednesday was, but there was always the chance she could have been a wild child at Nevermore, collecting notches on her bedpost. 

Or maybe her mother assumed her so touch-averse that the idea was preposterous…at once, Wednesday is offended at the thought and wishes she had been a bit more wild with her paramours, if only to show her mother-

“No,” Morticia said, with certainty, and Wednesday unclenched her self-righteousness, “Dear god, no,” She added with the sort of laugh that Wednesday did not want to know the meaning behind. 

“Then what?” Wednesday was growing tired of this, “Just get out with it, mother!” 

“I will preface this by warning you that I know very little about Hydes,” Morticia said, holding up a manicured finger, “So this is all just theory. But I can’t help but think that perhaps you claimed him during it, and sealed some sort of…” Her voice grew quiet, “Bond.” 

Wednesday bristled, “I did nothing of the sort.” 

“The bite,” Tyler suddenly said, his voice strangled, “I bit her. Hard. During it, at the end. It just came over me, like a compulsion, and I just did it.” 

Morticia looked at Wednesday. She pushed down her striped black and white shirt to show her mother. She’d stopped feeling self-conscious about the sex; now it was a riddle. Her mother traced the jagged, deep scar, unsure. 

“So, what you think is that he claimed me? Don’t Hydes require a master?” Wednesday asked dryly. 

“Perhaps you are his.” 

“I doubt it,” Wednesday said evenly, “I’ve given him enough commands he hasn’t followed since then.” 

Tyler shot her an angry, narrowed look.

“Like I said, I don’t know enough. I only knew Franciois, but she was not allowed to be her true self. And since then, Tyler is the only other Hyde I’ve met in person, so any of this business - claiming, masters, or what it means in the larger context - is entirely foreign to me.” 

“Disappointing," quipped Wednesday. 

“Here is what I think. You are the Hyde’s master. You enacted a bond when you two came together. Magical bonds are stronger than blood, and so in a sense…” 

“Oh, fuck,” Tyler said before he could stop himself, “I married her? She’s a Galpin?” 

“Rather, dear, I think it’s more akin that you’re an Addams,” Morticia said, lips quirking with humor, “But in essence…yes.” 

“Kill me now,” Wednesday grumbled.

Tyler looked at her, sitting up, “Sorry, dear ,” He said, nose scrunching and eyes narrowing, “Apparently, that’s out of the cards.” 

“It could be something else entirely,” Morticia reminded, but from her tone, Wednesday realized she doubted so. And though it irked her, her mother was often correct. 

She focused on Tyler, wading through it.

Master. Bonded. Married…Tyler Addams.

It felt like her heart was electrocuted, a little off-beat thump at the idea of it.

Something almost like panic poured into her chest.

The only thing she could think of was that Enid, under no circumstances, could ever find out about this, or else she’d be forced into a frilly pink wedding in no time.

Chapter Text

If Wednesday could have her way, the theory of her surprise survival would have never left her parents’ study. And if it was just concerning her, her mother, and Tyler…there could have been a pretty good chance of that happening.

Unfortunately, her family tree was not pruned down to just two (or three, if she chose to believe Morticia that Tyler was in fact ‘one of them’ now). It was not Wednesday’s first choice to tell her father. Not that she was worried her father would come after Tyler with a sawed-off shotgun (though it seemed now that wouldn’t matter anyway), but more because her father had the unfortunate downfall of being so… emotional .

She’d tried to make her case to her mother.

“Imagine how he’ll be,” Wednesday argued quietly, stopping her mother from bringing him back in. 

“You want to leave your father in the dark?” 

“Yes.” Wednesday said sharply, “Until we figure this all out.” 

“Your father loves you, and he’s not stupid,” Her mother said, chastising, “And he is already sure that something is going on. It won’t be long until it slips out-” 

“Or it’s nothing,” Wednesday said curtly, “And it would be premature.” 

Tyler, in the back, groaned, “Wen, I don’t think it’s just ‘nothing’.” 

Wednesday turned, scowling, “I didn’t ask for your opinion. This is a family matter.” 

“Well…” Morticia said pointedly, and Wednesday locked her jaw. What a pesky, annoying outcome to all of this. And it seemed her mother was not going to let her forget it. 

“Fine. What do you think?” She asked, begging Tyler to understand that telling anyone would surely spread this around. It would get out of their hands before they could stop it. Is that what he really wanted? She doubted it-

“We should tell him.” Tyler agreed with her mother, outvoting her, “He deserves to know what’s happening in his own house.” 

“Nothing. Nothing is happening,” Wednesday corrected, “Nothing my parents need to worry about, as it is. It was…” She swallowed, and for a second, the whiff of the peat was in her head, and she could feel the moonlight pouring on her skin, “A lapse of judgement.” 

“Yeah, agreed there,” Tyler huffed, crossing his arms.

“Even if that were true,” Her mother said, to which Wednesday started to argue against her dubious tone, “I cannot lie to your father. So either you can tell him, or I can.” 

Well, she wasn’t going to let her mother overinflate this, hinting at any romance. And she wasn’t going to let Tyler bungle the news, stumbling through his nervousness. So it fell to Wednesday.

Her father responded exactly as she had worried.

He cried.

“Our little baby, Tish! Owning her first mortal soul,” He kissed Wednesday’s head all over, his lips warm and mushy, “I thought we’d have more time to prepare ourselves. This is so unexpected!” 

“Well, that’s an understatement,” Wednesday jerked away from him, “And remember, it could be nothing.” 

But it didn’t matter.

Wednesday was nearly certain that her father was already making plans to repaint the nursery...right after he fixed up the Gothic chapel decaying in the back.  

She shuddered at the thought.

“At least your parents aren’t mad,” Tyler croaked once they were left alone. A foolish choice. Wednesday was tempted to drive her pen into his heart, but apparently, it wouldn’t do much good. 

Her fingers twitched with frustration. 

“For once, I’d almost prefer that.” Wednesday had never desired normie parents. But now, she wondered how different it would be if they’d come with this news, and they’d been so mad that there had been no choice but to find a way to quickly revoke whatever had happened. But their blessing was a roadblock. She knew any attempt to sever this would result in her father’s confusion or her mother holding her back, because in their eyes, this was expected . 

So her father was told.

Wednesday also would have been fine if it had stopped there. Well, fine was relative. But she could have made peace with it.

But Gomez just couldn’t wait to share the happy news. 

Pugsley had a lot of questions, none of which Wednesday was eager to answer. She didn’t want to give Tyler compliments out loud, but he was able to quell his curiosity with a simple shrug.

“We don’t even know how it happened,” He explained, “But it wasn’t like Laurel.” 

There had been something in his tone that quieted Puglsey. 

“Oh.” He said quietly, “I see.” 

Wednesday examined Tyler carefully. She hadn’t asked, specifically, what had happened with his former master. She hadn’t thought it was something she needed to know. But now some part of her did want to know. But he’d told Pugsley, and that was enough to shut him up.

Whatever it was, you know it wasn’t pretty. 

But she didn’t think their moment of connection had been ‘pretty’ either. It had been violent and beastly and fevered. Wednesday traced her fingers over her sweater, pressing her fabric against the bite mark. She was grateful she enjoyed turtlenecks and modest necklines that hid it easily.

The difference is that you had wanted it. Entirely. And so did he.

She didn’t like that truth, but it was honest. He hadn’t forced her, nor she him. They’d both wanted each other as much as two people could, so Wednesday imagined they were already on a better footing with how things had happened.

She decided she ought to know, just because now it did affect  her going forward. But she wasn’t going to blurt her question right here. She’d have to find a time later. 

“So…Tyler’s my brother-in-law now?” 

Wednesday inhaled angrily, “I suppose.” 

“He’s immune to the curse?” 

“That’s the idea.” 

Pugsley looked at Tyler with a toothy, almost child-like grin, “Can I try to drown you?” He asked excitedly.

Tyler snorted, “You can try, but I don’t think the Hyde would appreciate that.” 

“Oh,” Pugsley looked a bit disappointed, “Well, that’s okay. Just know that if I stab you from behind, it’s a gesture of love.” 

Tyler grinned earnestly, “Yeah, I’m understanding that.” 

After Pugsley, Addamses were crawling out of the woodwork to offer congratulations. Uncle Fester sent them a wedding gift, though he called it a ‘supernatural bonding gift’, but it was basically the same thing. It was a knife block set from William-Sonomoa, still with the security tag on. One of the knives was pre-bloodied, which Wednesday thought was very thoughtful.

“What do we do with those?” Tyler asked when Wednesday claimed the gift for herself, taking it up to her bedroom instead of the kitchen.

“Kill our enemies with it, of course.” 

Grandma Frump sent a knitted blanket with an anatomically correct heart. Cousin Itt wrote a touching letter and offered to pay for a ‘bonding moon’. Aunt Ophelia sent them a dozen black doves. 

“I think if my family found out,” Tyler said, petting one of the doves with his finger, “They’d send psych ward doctors.” 

It also had the whole family abuzz, more than Wednesday would want, about the terms of this curse. She did vaguely remember her uncle marrying previously, but she didn’t think it had triggered the curse, meaning her parent must have done something more.

Though Wednesday did not want to inquire about the specifics. She may literally need to pour bleach in her ears if she ventured there.

Besides, there was enough to think about within her special case. Tyler was a Hyde. There had never been a Hyde in the Addams family. Somehow…Wednesday imagined that they’d created a mutation, a whole new set of rules that they were meant to guess along the way.

In any other situation, Wednesday would be eager for the mystery.

For the first time, however, she wished someone would just give her the last chapter with the answers and the riddles all figured out.

XXX

When it came to the mystery of it all, her father was far too elated to wonder about the ‘why’ or the ‘how’ of this occurrence her her mother was smart enough to know that she’d be coolly rebuked with her theories unless Wednesday invited speculation. But Puglsey was just annoying enough not to care about Wednesday wanting to keep this between just her and Tyler, and that summer, he often theorized about his ideas and theories.

It was aggravating.

Wednesday kept her distance from Tyler, more so than ever. Whenever she was in the same room with him, her skin fritzed like she had been electrocuted, and she felt this…tug, this dragging toward him, like someone hauling her to hell.

She wasn’t sure if it was a side effect of the curse or their bonding, or if it was neither and something far worse.

Either way, he wasn’t begging for quiet, romantic nights, so Wednesday considered that maybe…nothing at all would have to change.

On one summer day, they found themselves both lounging in the living room. Wednesday just couldn’t focus on her writing. Tyler being in here distracted her, but when she’d asked him to leave, he’d responded - with venom - that he was in here first.

She knew if her mother saw, she’d accuse them of acting like children.

Pugsley eventually joined them with a drawing pad, and the trio sat in a heavy silence for a while. 

Wednesday huffed. She couldn’t remember the proper order in which one loses their boldly functions when they were poisoned with wolfsbane. It was absurd. She’d memorized that by the time she was six! Clearly, Tyler was throwing her off.

She spied the book she needed across the room.

“Tyler,” She broke the silence, “Can you grab me that book? The one with the red foiling?” She pointed, where the book was sitting on a side table, perhaps taken out by her mother for some casual reading. 

Tyler raised an eyebrow, “Uhm, you have legs?”  When Wednesday didn’t respond with an answer, he motioned again, “And you have a computer.” 

“So?” 

“Google whatever you’re looking to answer,” He said, like it was obvious.

Wednesday made a sound in the back of her throat, “What a pedestrian thought. I’m offended.” 

“Well, I’m comfortable, so get the damn book yourself-” 

“Wait?” Pugsley jerked his head up, “You just requested he do something?” 

“Hardly. She barely phrased it as a question,” Tyler huffed.

“No, wait, exactly. As his master, aren’t you able to…make him do things?” Pugsley pointed out. Wednesday raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t thought of that .

“Maybe it needs to be less of a question?” Tyler offered, curious. She wondered how much all of this unknowing was bothering him. Apparently, enough for him to humor Pugsley. 

But shouldn’t you be able to? Laurel made him do all sorts of things.

Wednesday closed her laptop, “Tyler. Go get me that book.” 

They waited, and the air buzzed with anticipation, but Tyler didn’t jerk an inch off the couch. 

“Like you mean it, maybe?” Puglsey implored.

Oh, but I did. 

“Get me the stupid book, Galpin.” Wednesday tried again, then, though it made her mouth taste like spoiled milk, she adjusted, “Get me the stupid book…Addams.” 

Tyler blinked fast, like since that first night, he hadn’t considered what this meant. But with a sense of relief to both of them, nothing happened.

“Well, guess not,” Tyler shrugged, “Definitely for the best,” He laughed, rolling his eyes, “Or your sister would have me throwing myself off cliff sides.” 

Wednesday let out a snort of air.

He wasn’t wrong.

She stubbornly refused to get up to get the book, as well as did not look it up online. She’d finish that chapter later.

She found herself wondering, though, about the rules they thought they knew about Hydes and Masters. And if maybe it hadn’t been commands at all, but choices of his own volition. A true Hyde, unchained, allowed to be as dark as he wished.

And if so…Wednesday couldn’t quite figure out if that thought upset her, or if it curled something much more dangerous in her stomach, a sort of feeling that made something below her navel burn and her thighs clench. 

XXX

Wednesday wasn’t sure how she ended up here; fingernails drawing scratches into the headboard, thighs parted over Tyler’s hips, rocking to meet his thrusts in the darkness of his bedroom.

She was surprised Tyler hadn’t snipped at her yet, childishly reminding her that she had told him that this would never happen again.

But maybe that was low-hanging fruit, too easy a remark, beneath him. Wednesday felt like it would be beneath her. She could be much more creative.

Plus, most obviously, Tyler was enjoying this. If not for the way his hips bucked into hers, she would know from the sheen of sweat across his forehead, or how one of his fists curled in the bedsheets, knotting it into his palm. 

“You tease,” He panted as Wednesday lifted her hips, drawing out this need. It was the only way that she felt like this wasn’t going to go off the rails. 

“Are you going to do something about it?” She challenged, keeping herself lifted. Tyler cocked his head toward her, biting his lip as he thought about how he might want to. 

The moonlight spilled through the open window. Perhaps she was more occult than she would have thought (and she gave herself quite a lot of credit there) because it was as though the full moon called to her to divest herself of clothes and creep into Tyler’s embrace.

As Tyler grasped her hips with his other free hand, forcibly pulling her back down, his fingernails scratched against her bare flesh.

She wondered if he’d add another mark to her collection. Maybe dig his Hyde claws into her, make perfect pockets to hold her each time this happened.

Wednesday was aware of herself now to know that this would not be the last time. Her first comment had been foolish. 

Besides, you’re bound now. 

Like overripe fruit, Tyler’s was hers alone for the taking. 

The moonlight reflected on his raised scars. She felt a finger trace the ones on his face; cartographing the way it quivered on his nose, his cheek, his chin…Then, her fingers followed them down his chest, like a trail, fingernails itching over them. 

Tyler’s breath was short as he shuddered under her touch. 

“Yeah,” He said, not bitter, but impressed, “Enid should be proud of her work.” 

But there were still scars that were not Enid’s werewolf claws, ones that were older and more hidden. 

Laurel. 

Wednesday had a memory from her first vision float to the surface of her mind; Tyler, chained to a wall in a cave, shuddering and flinching away from an evil woman stalking toward him.

“Is this how you had sex with Laurel?” Wednesday asked at once, curious, though some part of her knew she ought not to be.

She barely had time to think , let alone react, but all at once she was not on Tyler’s bed but hitting the cold wooden floor.

She realized, belatedly, that Tyler must have shoved her off. She pulled herself to stand, but when she went to crawl back on the bed, Tyler vaulted up, moving away from her.

“Jesus, Wednesday,” He snarled, patting around his bed for his shorts, “Who the fuck raised you?” 

Wednesday frowned. She doubted it was a serious inquiry, but some part of her was worried that there was some brain damage, maybe a parasitic brain worm. It wouldn’t be past someone in her family to give to Tyler in good fun. Puglsey had one when he was ten; he didn’t remember anything for three whole months.  

“You’ve met my parents,” She started slowly, “Multiple times-” 

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Tyler said, going to the door. He opened it. Wednesday stood, frowning.

“You’re so sensitive that this ruins what was, from what I saw, a good time?” She asked, irked, because she’d just been on the precipice of a climax. 

Tyler stared her down, “Sensitive?” He echoed, “It may seem odd to you, but I don’t really want to talk about my abuser , much less while we’re in the middle of sex.” 

The words I’m sorry lifted to the edge of her tongue, but Wednesday swallowed them back. 

“You overcame her. And she’s dead now. So.” Wednesday said, trying for positivity, but from Tyler’s face, it was obvious that this was not landing as intended. 

Wednesday pushed the door closed again, standing chest-to-chest with Tyler, “You know that social politeness isn’t one of my strong suits. It wasn’t meant to be offensive.” She started, and she felt like there was an implied apology in there. More than she would offer anyone else, “If you don’t want to talk about it-” 

“I don’t,” Tyler responded darkly. 

Wednesday tried not to feel jealous that he'd felt like he could share this with her younger brother, but not the one he was 'bonded' to. 

“Then don’t. But I’m not her. So…” She swallowed, “Whatever you want to do with me…” She raised an eyebrow. 

Tyler stared at her for a few seconds, as though contemplating whether or not this was worth it to him. But after a beat of thick tension, he pulled Wednesday back toward the bed. Gathering her wrists in one hand, he used his teeth to tear off a strip of the sheets, tying them together and then to one of the bedposts. 

Then, he slithered down her body, parting her legs and biting on the inside of her thighs to her clit. 

“Is this what you wanted to do? In the crypt?” Wednesday whimpered, “Instead of killing me?” 

“Yes,” Tyler rasped, “Two parts of me, at war. God, I would have laid waste to you if I could have…” He groaned, and his tongue dove into her. Wednesday tried not to whimper, but it was relentless. After a few moments of aggressive ministrations, she let out a little hitched breath, slipped without permission from her lips. 

Tyler’s eyes met hers over her stomach, tracing up her body. 

As though he had succeeded in some unknown task, he pulled her to him, stretching her arms, before sinking up to the hilt. 

Without knowing so, Wednesday wondered if he had answered her original query. She imagined a woman like Laurel, so afraid of letting anything go the wrong way, must have had her thumb firmly over every aspect of their relationship, even the sex. 

Tyler seemed to like to take the lead, so she had to wonder if…

Wednesday’s thoughts dissolved as Tyler’s fingers found her center as he sped up. 

Letting go of control wasn’t so bad, not in this context, Wednesday decided. She’d be loath to admit to his face, but he hadn’t disappointed her yet.

In the wake of their actions, Wednesday, a bit more bloody than she’d started, she found her voice again.

“Do you think I really am your Master?” She asked, eyebrows crinkling. 

“I don’t know,” Tyler admitted, “But what I do know is that I’m pulled to you. I should have kicked out into the hall, but I just can’t.” 

“Well, the sex is enjoyable.” 

“It’s more than that. But then again, you’ve always whispered to me. Like some part of me is reaching out and found your blackened heart in the darkness, seeking, too.” 

Wednesday would like to argue that she worked best alone. That she didn’t need anyone, and certainly wasn’t looking for a partner.

But she understood it, even in a way she didn’t fully comprehend. Like their entrails were knotted together, some supernatural sense dug both into them, pulling them together. Something invaluable, unspoken.

“So this is going to happen more now, right?” Tyler asked.

Wednesday swallowed back a chuckle, “You'd better continue to keep up. This privilege can be revoked at any moment.” 

Tyler laughed, as though realizing that Wednesday couldn’t just hand him the keys to carnal pleasure without any warnings.

He brought her into a searing, hot, open-mouthed kiss that was nearly dirtier than any of the acts they’d just committed. His final words were a thin, rough-edged tease that made her stomach twist. 

“Yes, darling .” 

XXX

Wednesday had made war with the fact that every goddamn Addams on the family tree knew about what had happened between her and Tyler, but she drew the line at anyone outside of their poisonous roots to know.

Not Enid, not Bianca, not Yoko, and certainly - under no circumstances - Tyler’s father.

Tyler was not jumping at the bit to tell him either, though.

When, early on, Morticia had asked if he wanted to call him, Tyler had gone so white that he was nearly translucent and shaken his head so violently that Wednesday thought it would spin off.

And that was the end of that.

Unfortunately, Wednesday was not good with the unknown. And the biggest unknown of all of this was what she could or could not do as a Hyde, and what being a Hyde was in general.

She knew she had exhausted all her resources at Nevermore.

There was nothing in the whole house on Hydes, and she had scoured every book that she could find.

Online was disappointing, just as she thought it would be.

Wednesday refused to believe that no one knew anything, though.

Finally, feeling defeated, she’d gone to Morticia, but it had been less than helpful.

She hadn’t been just saying things when she warned that she’d barely known Fran, and known even less about her condition. Everything she told Wednesday was tainted by her ignorance as it was happening, so Wednesday couldn’t take any of what she’d known - what had mostly been mindless gossip - as anything worth her time.

“But you know who would know something?” Morticia suggested gently.

Wednesday turned from her notebook, eyes wide and horrified, “No.” 

“He was married to one-” 

“Tyler wouldn’t want to,” she said quickly, glad to use him as an excuse. It seemed her mother was not going to force Tyler to do anything. The joke that he was the favorite Addams child seemed not too far from the truth. 

“Just a thought.” 

“A bad one,” Wednesday muttered, snapping her research notebook closed and shoving it in her pants. She put her frustrations with hitting dead ends out of her mind as long as she could manage it, which seemed to be just about two months.

The worst thing is that Morticia was right. Sheriff Galpin would know. He had seemed fully aware, and Francoise had assumedly opened up to her husband. It seemed rude that he hadn’t brought over any knowledge, any warnings.

Sure, Donovan liked his son, but Wednesday wasn’t sure he loved him. If anything, it seemed like a relief that he was out of town and someone else’s problem. 

Indignation on his behalf burned up her throat whenever she considered this; Tyler was a far more interesting person as a Hyde than he’d ever been a normie. 

He’s the one missing out. 

Mid-August, Tyler announced in the kitchen that his father wanted him to come visit that week.

“For your birthday?” 

Tyler stopped whatever he was about to say, mid-sentence, turning to Wednesday with an indescribable look of confusion on his face.

“You know what my birthday is?” 

“Of course I do,” Wednesday said quickly, “It’s the same date that the Texas Chainsaw Massacre happened at Camp Silverlake.” 

“Oh! August 18th!” Pugsley raised a hand, like they were being challenged in trivia. 

“Exactly.” She narrowed her eyes, “If my birthday wasn’t so befitting, I’d be jealous.” 

“Oh…” Tyler blinked, “Erm, I didn't know that about my birthday.” 

“You should. It’s the most interesting thing about it.” Wednesday said. 

“We should celebrate!” Pugsley vibrated with excitement. 

Tyler winced, “It’s, uhm, fine. Really.” 

Puglsey turned to Wednesday, licking his cereal spoon, “You know what this means?” He teased, “Tyler’s older than you!” 

“Only by a few months,” Wednesday corrected, annoyed, “Barely worth mentioning.” 

“Wednesday’s birthday is-” Puglsey started to inform Tyler, but he waved a hand. 

“November 13th. I know,” He said with a twitch of his lips that almost looked like a smile, “Surprised it’s not a Friday the 13th, but close enough.” 

“It lands on Friday sometimes,” Wednesday argued, but personally had always been bothered by this fact at all, especially that if she were a month premature, she would have been able to easily be born on October 13th, which was indeed a Friday that year. Many frustrations.

“Did she ever tell you about the birthday date I did for her?” 

Wednesday rolled her eyes. 

“No!” 

“I showed her a horror movie,” Tyler said, leaning close to him and winking. Puglsey laughed, turning.

“Seriously?” 

“So, your father?” Wednesday interjected. She did not need to go down memory lane. All of those thoughts were pre-Hyde, back when…

Back when you liked him differently.

She bit back the thought. She never liked him at all.

“Yeah,” Tyler brought his attention back to Wednesday.

“I’ll go with you.” 

He winced, “Not necessary.” 

“I’m not asking.” She said firmly. Tyler scowled.

“What are you planning?” 

Wednesday dropped her items in the sink, washing her hands off with a quick turn of the water. She shrugged, “Can’t a forcefully bonded mate join their Hyde to visit their father-in-law?” She asked dryly. 

Tyler looked like he wanted to do anything but say yes, but after a long moment, he locked his jaw. He probably knew she’d come with or without his permission.

“Fine.” 

XXX

The drive to Jericho was sheer torture. They took Tyler’s car instead of Wednesday's. Well, the family car - Wednesday insisted they could take the limo and have someone drive them.

“I’d be burned at the stake if we arrived in that,” Tyler choked, “I’m not supposed to be ‘anywhere’, you know.” 

Wednesday forgot that, outside of their little bubble of family, Tyler’s whereabouts were still unknown. Enit would be furious to find out, that is, if she ever did. 

Tyler played his music the entire time, and Wednesday was sure it was just to torture her. Why else would someone willingly listen to Lady Gaga or Coldplay? Wednesday spent the entire drive writing in agony at each peppy pop beat, fiending for a hit of some Rammstein or Black Sabbath to soothe her blackened soul.

“My music on the way back,” She hissed when they pulled into Tyler’s garage, slamming the door with force.

“Alright, Wen,” He said, with a grin that she knew meant she’d been right, and he was just doing it to get under her skin.

Donovan stood ungracefully, having taken a seat on the step up to the house while waiting. He looked at Tyler and then his gaze slid to Wednesday. He didn't outwardly flinch, but she saw it in his eyes, like she was a ghost of bad memories.

Wednesday grinned. 

“Does she have to be here?” 

Wednesday was not his favorite outcast. That’s fine; she didn’t like him much either.

Tyler looked back at her, inhaling hard. He seemed to know what her motivations were. That, on some level, they weren’t leaving without information about Hydes, and that would require admitting to the worst thing in the world. But Wednesday had decided it was worth it. She was desperate to know what she didn’t know.

“Uhm…yeah,” Tyler said uneasily, “Well. Anyway. She was sent, just in case.” He lied. Not that he needed Wednesday to protect him. She, upon first meeting him, had assumed he would need someone to do that. He just seemed so stringy and uncoordinated; he certainly had never gutted anything. But with his Hyde, he was more dangerous than she was, but only by a smidgen. 

Donovan grumbled in the back of his throat. “I don’t need to invite you in, do I?” 

“I’m a Raven, not a Vampire,” Wednesday said briskly, brushing past Donovan into Tyler’s house. It was so different from where he’d been living for the past year or so. She wondered if Tyler missed this utterly boring suburban house, something that looked straight out of a magazine or the background of an average living room on a sitcom. The only thing missing was any family photos, giving the space a sterile feeling. 

Donovan had a small gift for Tyler’s 19th birthday, clear that it was given out of obligation rather than a desire to see him. She wondered if Tyler would care, or if it would be a secret relief that neither of them had to pretend to have anything other than blood in common. Still, Tyler accepted it and gave the brightest smile he could muster. It was cash. 

How impersonal.

Still…useful, Wednesday supposed. 

They chatted, awkwardly, for a little while about his time at the manor and what was going on in town, and a bunch of meaningless droll responses that sounded no more flavorful than cardboard. Their replies were jerky and too fast or too slow, like just a few months had erased away any semblance of familiarity between the two. 

Finally, it was too painful for even Wednesday to bear with, and she was sure she was about to break out in hives if she spotted one more item bought from a TJ Maxx. 

“Tyler has some news of his own, doesn’t he?” Wednesday interrupted Tyler in the middle of a really boring story about his first day at the manor.

“Son?” Donovan went on the defensive, eyes narrowed, “Son?” He asked again, worried. His eyes flickered to Wednesday’s stomach, and sheer panic gripped his whole body. Wednesday internally rolled her eyes. 

Oh, tell me you're joking.  

“No! God, no, not that!” Tyler followed his gaze, choking on air.

“Oh…” Donovan laughed, patting his chest like he’d been seconds away from a heart attack, “Thank god…” 

Tyler hesitated, wincing, like he was considering just telling his father to forget it. But Wednesday was not plagued by the same worries when it came to Sheriff Galpin that Tyler had. He wasn’t going to kill Tyler, and he could try to kill Wednesday, but he wasn’t going to get very far.

“We need to know what you know about the Hyde, specifically about Hyde bonding,” Wednesday said sharply, and Tyler groaned, sinking into his kitchen chair. Donovan’s whole face froze. 

“If you’re trying to tell me what I think you’re telling me-” He started, his voice wavering as he raised a shaking finger accusingly. 

“If what you think is that Tyler and I have, unbeknownst to us, triggered a Hyde mating bond, then, yes. That is what we’re telling you.” Wednesday said.

Donovan opened his mouth, but all that came out was a strange sound, something strangled and horrified. He opened his mouth and closed it a few other times, like he was trying to reset his brain, but every time he spoke, all that came out was horrified gibberish. Finally, he managed one thin word.

“How?” 

“Dad…” Tyler broke in, “I don’t think you actually want to know, do you?” 

Donovan’s skin went from white to purple to red, and he shook his head hard, looking anywhere but where Wednesday was sitting. He muttered something that sounded like an agreement, and his left eye twitched. 

“It was not our intention, if that makes you feel any better,” Wednesday said, because she felt that’s how people usually went about this. She wasn’t usually inclined to cater to others’ feelings, but she was in pursuit of information that perhaps only Donovan knew. 

“It doesn’t,” Donovan said firmly, staring her down. 

Well, she had tried. 

“I need to know about Mom,” Tyler said quietly, picking at his nails, “I know you don’t like talking about her, or about this, but…” He inhaled hard, “Imagine if I’d known…if I could have talked to you about this?” 

“So you’re saying this is my fault?” Donovan asked furiously, standing over Tyler, eyes blazing with disgust. How was it possible that he looked at someone half of him, half of his late beloved wife, and that’s what he viewed Tyler as? It was enough for Wednesday to imagine his innards spilled over the kitchen tile. 

“Yes,” Wednesday hissed before Tyler could walk back his accusation, “And I think you know it too.” 

Donovan looked at Wednesday like he was about to haul her out of his house, but he held his anger in. 

“It wasn’t supposed to happen to him so young,” Donovan said, a poor excuse, “I was supposed to have more time to figure this out! Francoise said that if he ever was even one, it would…a Hyde was usually twenty or even thirty before it was released. I had time to figure it out!” 

“Well, Laurel really ruined that, didn’t she?” Wednesday said crisply, having little sympathy. Both Donovan and Tyler flinched hard at her mention.

“Let’s take emotion out of this,” Wednesday suggested, “Just give us the facts.” 

Donovan eased back into his chair, jaw stern and unforgiving, and shook his head. Still, after a moment, he exhaled, “When I met her, she told me it may never happen to her. You don’t know if you are or aren’t until it does. And she was happy . There was no reason for me to expect it would be triggered.” 

“And then she had me,” Tyler added sourly. Wednesday felt a pang. It was terrible to think your parents wished you had never been born. 

“No, no,” Donvoan groaned, “She was so excited about you. It was other things. More than you. Hydes aren’t mentally sound folks, and I think, perhaps I was naive to think…” 

“Yes, probably,” Wednesday agreed.

Tyler jagged her in the ribs, sending her a nasty glare.

“We tried to keep it hidden after. But it just gets more and more…aware…” He said, his voice warbled, “And it’s easier the older you are.” 

“As a teenager, I imagine it was unbearable,” Wednesday said thoughtfully, “So many changes already, and then that?” 

“You have no idea,” Tyler sighed, “Were you her…did you two…” He seemed unable to even answer the question. 

Donovan reacted like someone had slapped him. “I hated it,” He spat, “It’s not right. Lording things over her. I wasn’t…I wasn’t a good master. Hydes don’t require absolute domination, from what I understood. It was a give and take. But I just knew how to take.” He said glumly, “And I made it worse.” 

No one argued against it.

The fact that Francoise wasn’t here said enough.

“If you gave her a command, did she follow it, without question?” Wednesday asked.

“I don’t…I didn’t…” Donvoan looked very uncomfortable now, “It’s hard to say. I didn’t like doing any of that. It felt like we weren’t partners anymore, that she was my…pet. But a Hyde needs a master, otherwise they…” He made a slicing motion and a gurgling sound, wincing hard, and motioned to the pair. A Hyde without a master couldn’t control impulsiveness and went on a spree.

There was a reason Tyler was sedated most of his time locked up.

“And sometimes,” Tyler muttered dryly, “They still do.” 

Because Laurel had told him to kill, right? 

“I don’t have more to tell you. I really don’t,” Donovan said weakly, “I tried to stay away from all that…fuss.” 

“You mean Mom’s heritage? The truth of who she was?” 

Donovan at least looked guilty at the thought. “She was supposed to be normal ,” He muttered, but even as he said it, he knew how his words sounded.

There was a long silence. Tyler looked like he wished he had never come at all.

After a long moment, perhaps as an apology, Donovan sighed. He went over to his desk, digging through a drawer.

“Here.” He said, handing Tyler a worn and folded piece of paper, “This is who reached out after Francoise’s death. Her family in France. She was here on a Fencing visa. We never went back over there,” He said miserably, “I haven’t talked to any of them in a decade. Longer, I guess.” He shrugged, “They probably know more.” 

Wednesday looked at Tyler, and he met her gaze. Was he angry? Disappointed? Relieved? Resigned? His eyes were dull and empty.

“Thanks, Dad.” He said, standing, but his words didn’t quite match his tone. 

There wasn’t more to say. 

Part of Wednesday wondered if Tyler would find any reason to force himself back here.

If she were him…she’d never step foot in here again.

When Wednesday expressed that someone ought to be in hell, she often meant it as a compliment. But not for Donovan. For the first time in her whole life, she hoped whatever afterlife was waiting for him was excruciating.

Chapter Text

Tyler was sullen on the drive back, sinking into a state of disquieting silence, staring at the road with his jaw clenched and his knuckles white. The silence was so stifling that Wednesday didn't even offer any music, so they drove in a strange, heavy, quietness. 

“Your father was never a good father,” Wednesday tried to start, for some reason, desperate to soothe him, but Tyler shot her a hard-eyed glare.

“I’d prefer not to talk,” He said bitterly, “Wouldn’t you?” 

Wednesday nearly snapped at him, but instead focused on his expression. Somewhere deep, he was holding everything together, but some part of her was sure that it was seconds from snapping.

And she felt like she should do something. 

It was such a foreign thought. He wasn’t her…something, anything, someone. He was an interloper in her house, a demon tied to her. It shouldn’t be her responsibility to ease his hurt emotions, but still…she wanted to.

The realization was most upsetting.

Still, when he stormed into a gas station while they were refilling, Wednesday did something utterly out of character.

She called Pugsley.

“Are you dead? Dying?” 

She understood her brother’s dramatics. She’d never call him without a gun to her head. And even then, she’d be having so much fun that calling to beg for her family would be unlike her.

Everything about this was. She considered lying, telling him that it was a misdial, but she caught sight of Tyler through the grimy gas window.

“You have three hours,” She said, her voice clipped, “I expect a party when we arrive home.” 

When Tyler came back to the car, he was none the wiser.

XXX

Wednesday followed behind Tyler into the manor. Immediately, her mother swooped Tyler up, distracting him, asking him if she’d accompany her to the woods to search for a rare, poisonous flower that she knew was blooming right now. Tyler looked like that was the last thing he wanted to do, probably preferred to wallow in his bedroom, but he relented.

“Of course, Mrs. Addams,” He sighed. 

“Call me Morticia. We’re family now,” She said, sending a side-long glance to Wednesday.

Wednesday rolled her eyes.

Once they were out of sight, Wednesday scurried through the house. She saw, out of the corner of her vision, Pugsley acting like a drill sergeant, conducting various Addams family members to pull together a birthday party. He waved to his sister, elated and gleeful, before turning back to Thing and telling him to hang the streamers higher up. 

In her bedroom, Wednesday peeled off her black shirt and jeans, standing in front of her wardrobe.

She wasn’t sure what compelled her to change at all, but here she was, naked, unsure of what to wear. 

She wasn’t making a big deal for him, of course not. She told herself that she smelled like Jericho, which could not stand, and that’s why she was changing. Of course, she could have just taken out a sweater and a pair of jeans, but her fingers brushed along a tiered Victorian dress.

She took it out, holding the hanger for a long moment, like she was trying to kick her brain over a roadblock.

In the end, she slipped into it, and her brain bombarded her with memories of the Rav’N, something she tried hard to forget. She sat on her bed for a long moment, recalling Tyler’s face when he’d picked her up. And the dress; the occasion itself had been unenjoyable, but the dress Thing had procured to her was still something that held a strange sentimental value. 

And Tyler…he’d looked good in his suit, something that surprised her even then, and still did now. 

Of course, Wednesday wondered how good he’d look in black instead of white. 

“You’re being silly,” Wednesday muttered to herself.

This dress was not the same Rave'N dress, but similar in style - a gift from Enid, an attempt to match Wednesday's strict fashion. The reason Wednesday rarely took it out was because of a colorful ribbon of burgundy lace that was stitched to the hemlines, too much color for Wednesday's allergies. She'd meant to dispose of this politely and somehow had forgotten.

But you look so good in it! Enid had argued, the one time she'd made Wednesday try it on. Taste was subjective, especially Enid's. 

It felt like some alien had taken over her limbs and forced her to pull the dress on over her head, but she did it anyway. She would have changed, but she heard the clock strike 6:06 pm. The party was about to begin; she had no time for substitutions. Wednesday descended the stairs just as Pugsley was putting the finishing touches on everything. He’d put on a bowtie in an electric neon-green and black pattern, something far too gaudy for Wednesday’s tastes, but she supposed it was festive. 

“You look nice,” Puglsey said, and immediately, Wednesday wanted to burn this dress. 

“You look awful.” 

Pugsley beamed.

Thing had just finished brushing some supplies under a couch when Tyler arrived back through the door with Morticia, carting a bucket full of shrieking flowers.

“Happy birthday!” Pugsley said, throwing black confetti in the shape of bones into the air as he entered. The gathered guests echoed his sentiments, and Wednesday opted for a near smile. 

Tyler stood, jaw unhinged, staring at the transformed living room.

“You guys didn’t have to…I mean that’s…” He wheezed out, blinking, “It’s not a big deal.” 

“Of course it is!” Gomez insisted, coming and grasping Tyler’s arm. His tie was a sunny blood-red, which looked smashing against his usual black suit, “We’ve really outdone ourselves, if I can say that.” 

“Yeah, no kidding…” Tyler chuckled, a small grin across his face as he drank it in.

“We opted for a cheery, bright color scheme of gray,” Morticia said. 

Tyler nodded at the balloons, all in lighter and lighter hues, noticing this party theme and the accompanying streamers. Some weren’t gray at all. Some were taupe or beige. Wednesday didn’t even know that her parents knew what those colors were!

“And that?” Tyler asked, nodding to the corner windows, where the curtains were still lightly smoking. 

“Pugsley said to ‘make it bright’. I think I misunderstood a bit,” Uncle Fester chuckled, “Apparently, he meant ‘color,’ not ‘fire’.” 

A grating sound echoed from the family gramophone. As Gomez tried to encourage Tyler to try some finger food (“Not actual fingers, but it sure looks like it, doesn’t it?”), Wednesday floated over to Pugsley.

“What is this awful racket?” 

“Pop songs,” Puglsey said cheerfully, “Organ covers.” 

Thing tapped out a message on the table; I think Walking on Sunshine is only improved upon by becoming a funeral hymn! 

“That’s why it makes me want to murder small animals,” Wednesday muttered, shuddering. 

They herded Tyler over to the long table, with white gauze and beige accents. The centerpieces of the tables had dead flowers sprayed with glitter. His cake was the most cheerful of all, a Mexican sugar skull, complete with hantingly bright colors against a black charcoal frosting.

Everyone sang Happy Birthday in their own pitch and speed; some finished within a few beats, some drew it out like a funeral dirge. Tyler’s face was bright red the entire time, and Wednesday saw him fighting off a smile, trying to swallow it back.

The gifts were showered upon him with a sense of unfettered excitement. 

Gomez gave Tyler his own engraved fencing sword. Fester gave Tyler a stone that would glow and never go out - because it was powdered in radioactive plutonium. Morticia gave Tyler a mini flytrap to care for, citing that he’d done such an excellent job with Cleopatra. Thing gave Tyler a journal covered in a rich, dark, deadly red velvet. And Lurch gave Tyler something ‘warm and cuddly’ - a taxidermied ferret in a little knitted sweater. 

“Guys, this is…” Tyler inhaled, “I’m not lying, the best birthday I think I’ve ever had.” 

The party swung late into the night. Addams loved a reason for a good sock-hop. In between Gomez pushing the furniture aside to do a fencing demonstration with Tyler’s new saber and Uncle Fester getting a little tipsy on drain cleaner, it was almost a perfect night.

As the party wore down, while Morticia and Gomez slow-danced to an off-key and grating rendition of ‘Make Me Feel Your Love’, Tyler found Wednesday nibbling on a piece of cake. He was sweating, having spent quite a few rounds going toe-to-toe against Gomez, winning by only one game. Her father was over the moon at his efforts. 

“No present from you?” He teased.

“My presence here is your gift,” SHe said, not wanting him to have any idea of her involvement.

Tyler raised an eyebrow, “Well, you look nice. You’re even wearing color.” He teased. Wednesday looked down at the burgundy lace trim of her dress.

“I am. I decided to be festive. I’m already breaking out in hives.” 

Tyler snorted, shrugging, “Well, either way, I like it.” He looked around, “Who knew that the Addams put so much into birthday parties?”

“Of course we do. A birthday is just one day closer to a death,” Wednesday said, “Birthday parties are always celebrated, only overshadowed by the ultimate party of a funeral.”

“Yeah,” Tyler leaned back, “I can imagine.” 

Wednesday stabbed a piece of her cake. 

“I wouldn’t worry about your father. We knew he wouldn't know much,” She consoled. Tyler inhaled.

“I know.” But he still sounded upset. 

Before Wednesday’s brain could betray her and say something else sappy and unlike her, Morticia grabbed the pair for a photo.

They all squished in front of the grand staircase and the grandfather clock. Morticia went to check and motioned for everyone to squeeze closer. Wednesday felt herself being jostled between her brother and Tyler. In the end, Tyler’s arm ended up coiled around her shoulder, as heavy and nerve-racking as a noose, while they snapped the picture.

XXX

That night, Tyler goaded Wednesday into giving him another birthday present. Wednesday allowed herself to be unwrapped, her party dress with the toxic burgundy lace pooled on the floor next to Tyler's clothes.

It was his birthday, after all. 

She could hardly say no to him. 

XXX

Gomez announced the birthday photo as the 'best yet' (though Wednesday wasn't sure in comparison to what) and complimented everyone for looking so brilliantly half-dead in it. 

Morticia had it printed and framed, and hung it within the week on the family portrait wall. 

When Wednesday walked past it, she expected to be revulsed. She stood in front of it, noticing how it took center of the hallway, as though proudly putting this new cobbled family for Tyler on display. Tyler was grinning, earnest and bright, and it did look like they were together from the way he held her close to his side. 

She waited for a feeling of nausea. Perhaps a heart attack. Maybe a strike of lightning where she stood.

It never came.

The closest was a strange fizzing in her stomach, like static or acid, that made her heart pick up the pace from its usual near-dead crawl.

The bottom had an inscription - Tyler Addams' 19th Birthday - We Had a Horrifically Wonderful Time!

Whether or not Wednesday agreed, it seemed everyone - the universe, the powers of magic beyond her reach, and her entire family - had decided Tyler was undeniably one of them.

XXX

Time crawled like the undead digging themselves out of the grave. It seemed to go slowly, painfully so, mostly because Tyler was waiting for news. 

Upon returning from his father's some weeks ago, Morticia had taken the contacts from Tyler and offered to reach out. She was fluent in French, something neither Tyler nor Wednesday was (Wednesday preferred a more brutalist second language, like German), and wondered if perhaps her family might recall her as a friendly figure from Francoise’s youth. She had many wonderful things to say about Fran's involvement on the fencing team.

For a time, it was put out of everyone’s minds. 

Rather, Tyler seemed to think it was a complete dead-end, something his father did to get Tyler off his back. Wednesday was not going to needlessly promise something she didn’t know would happen, so she opted to say nothing at all.

Tyler would ask, doubtfully, in the first few weeks, if there’d been any response.

But every week, it seemed less and less likely he’d seek the answers they were looking for.

“That’s okay, isn’t it?” Pugsley had tried to comfort him, “You have us now, and we don’t care who you are.” 

Tyler, for the first time, seemed like he believed it.

“Yeah,” He agreed, catching Wednesday’s eyes over the card game table, where Fester was teaching him how to cheat at casinos. 

Wednesday didn’t offer a verbal agreement, but gave a slight incline of her head.

She had decided she was mostly alright with Tyler being here. 

XXX

The invitation came for Wednesday as September crawled out from the suffocating grip of summer. Lurch brought it in, a pink, glittery envelope that smelled like cotton candy, and Wednesday knew exactly who it was from.

Even worse, it was on purple paper with a pink swoopy gel-penned handwriting. 

“Enid?” Tyler barely had to see the contents to also guess. 

“Unfortunately.” Wednesday felt like using her ceremonial antique paper opener on this was an insult, so she’d opted for her fingernail, “How horrifying. A girl’s weekend.” 

Tyler snorted behind his hand.

“Darling, you should go!” Morticia encouraged, “I still keep up with my Nevermore friends with a spellbook club. I'm sure your friends-” 

“Friend.” Wednesday corrected, “Singular. Under duress.” 

“Well,” Morticia sipped her tea, “I still think it would be fun.” 

Wednesday frowned. She sincerely doubted it would be enjoyable in the slightest. But perhaps she could kick off her Halloween season with a true horror. “I’ll think about it.” 

Pugsley leaned into her personal space. She turned, glaring, but he ignored her. He still ignored her when she stabbed him with her antique letter opener, as it might as well have some use being taken out. He plucked it from his neck like it was a bothersome fly, putting it back in Wednesday’s lap. “Looks like Enid anticipated this. She says she’s going to come and kidnap you if you don’t RSVP ‘yes’.” 

Wednesday folded the paper back into the envelope, “Urg. How annoying.” She did believe Enid when she said that. She was strong-willed as a werewolf and probably could drag Wednesday by her ankles all the way to the cabin she’d rented. 

“Looks like you’re going, then?” Tyler chortled.

“Are you gunna wear pink?” Puglsey asked, giggling into his hand.

“I think wearing red will count for her,” Tyler teased. The two of them were insufferable together. Wednesday would prefer that her brother and her…Tyler wasn’t so friendly, “No, I got it! Black glitter.”

Wednesday narrowed her expression on his face. He could wipe that smirk right off, thank you very much. “If anyone tries to put me in anything covered in glitter or rhinestones, I will break a few ribs. And that’s being nice.” 

Gomez patted his heart, “Aww, Tish! Girls will be girls, won’t they?” 

XXX

"Are you going to miss me this weekend?" Tyler asked as he thrust into Wednesday.

She rolled her eyes, "Like a neck misses a sword, maybe."

"Well," Tyler teased, biting her neck - though not sharp enough to break skin again - "According to your family, that means your answer would be 'very much'." 

"I was trying to code-switch to your upbringing as a normie," Wednesday said, trying to swallow back a feeling of blush that rushed up her cheeks. 

"Whatever will you do without me?" Tyler whispered, palms holding her wrists to the headboard. 

"Probably have the most relaxing weekend since you arrived here," Wednesday snorted. 

"Oh, c'mon, you'll miss me." Then, at her expression, "At the very least, you'll miss my coc-" 

"That's a preposterous idea," Wednesday huffed. 

Tyler bit the curve of her ear, fingers diving between her legs. "You haven't been able to keep your hands off me lately, Wen."

Wednesday felt something like shame coil in her stomach. Most regretably, Tyler was correct. The length between romps in the sheets was growing shorter and shorter. She'd done her best to put it from her mind, citing many reasons she knew were all conjecture, but the one theory she wouldn't hear was of their bond. That her body now craved him, or something equally as demeaning. 

She was coming to him of her own free will and could stop at any time. 

"You never seem to say no."

"Why would I?" Tyler asked, like it were absurd that he might. He grasped her hips, making Wednesday's eyes roll into the back of her skull as he found that place deep inside of her that fingers could never quite reach, "It's alright. I'll have my way with you extra when you come back to make up for it." 

"Or maybe distance will remind me of how good life was before you." 

"Somehow..." Tyler said, casual and confident, "I doubt that." 

XXX

Wednesday had to hand it to Enid. Somehow, she’d found the perfect cabin in the woods; something that looked ripe for a serial killer to choose as his next stakeout for Wednesday’s tastes, but something with a fridge big enough for pre-mixed margaritas for all the girls.

Enid had a full spread of activities and bounded around like an over-energized bunny. Most of the girls were preparing to go to college, but everyone was nice to Wednesday, asking her about her books with genuine interest.

This surprised Wednesday. She didn’t think that she’d garnered such trust in these women. Part of her had assumed their tolerance of her was forced, like so many others. 

She was still reeling about what it meant to have Enid as a friend, and she feared she’d be overwhelmed by the friendship of others. 

There was a long, creaking dock out to the lake. The werewolves and the sirens were playing a round of water polo, and the vampires hung out by the porch, covered, but cheering on their friends.

Wednesday changed into a suit and a lace coverup, grabbing her manuscript to do some light editing in the sun.

“Surprised to see you in that,” Bianca snorted, swimming up to the edge of the dock, “I would have thought you’d be covered head to toe.” 

“I’m hoping to burn, actually, and contract a rare and deadly cancer,” Wednesday replied, dead serious. A few of the sirens snorted behind Bianaca, clearly thinking she was being funny, but this was no joke. That would be the perfect souvenir to bring home from the woods. Bianaca, though, flashed a small set of fangs.

“Yeah, that sounds like you,” She agreed, flicking some water playfully toward her. Wednesday shivered away from the water, holding her manuscript above her head, glaring at Bianca. 

The sun beat down on the lake as everyone enjoyed their time. Wednesday got halfway through her edits and did partake in some margaritas, specifically colored black with food dye just for her. She appreciated that Enid was sensitive to her allergies. 

“Oh, Wednesday, can you check on the chicken and see if it’s thawed?” Enid called from the water, pushing her hair back. Wednesday raised an eyebrow. It would be far better raw, and she was surprised that the werewolves weren’t begging for that, but she supposed not all outcasts were the same.

She set her manuscript carefully in her backpack and poked the chicken. It was squishy and unfrozen.

As Wednesday was coming down the dock to inform Enid, something flashed in the water, darting out with a shimmering holographic before grasping a slimy hand onto Wednesday’s ankle and yanking. She was under the water before she could even really comprehend what was happening.

Wednesday kicked out at Divinia, fighting against the siren’s grip. She saw Divina laugh under the water, bubbles escaping her lips at Wednesday’s distress. 

Someone grasped Wednesday’s arms, pulling her back up onto the dock. Wednesday gagged, spitting up lakewater. 

“Babe, you need to get back in the shade! The heat index is-” Divina started to worry, but Yoko sent her girlfriend a furious glare.

“That’s not funny!” She said, turning to Wednesday, “Are you okay?” 

Wednesday forced herself to vomit the rest of the extra liquid slugging around in her stomach, letting out deep coughs. She sent a furious, daggered look past Yoko at Divina, who was still bobbing in the water, unconcerned.

“I’d sleep with one eye open,” Wednesday threatened, standing on unsteady legs. Her cover-up was soaked, and she worried that the ancient threads would fray being this wet. Angrily, Wednesday peeled it off her body, kneeling on the dock as she carefully started to wring it out. By this time, a group had gathered - some chastising Divina for her childish behavior, others clambering onto the dock as though Weneday had been stabbed. 

Enid leaned down with the intent to help Wednesday and rocketed back, straight as a board, like someone had electrocuted her. She let out a yelp. Wednesday looked up at her, in no mood for her friend’s dramatics. 

“What is that on your shoulder?” 

Wednesday, in the fuss of all of this, had forgotten about the bite mark. Wednesday ran her finger over the jagged edges of new skin and old skin. 

“What do you think it is?” She asked, not ready to tell Enid more than her friend thought she knew.

“It looks like a bite mark,” Enid said slowly, her eyes wide and confused, “Like a mating bite mark.” 

Wednesday stared at Enid curiously. In all her years, she’d never asked much about werewolf mating habits, feeling like that was going a step too far. She had never considered that perhaps other outcasts, the ones more beast than human, would act similarly in ways to a Hyde. Not that a wolf and a Hyde were on the same family tree, but they certainly shared more in common with each other than a wolf and a Gorgon. 

Bianca let out a ripple of a laugh, like a harsh tide crashing against the shore, “Who knew Wednesday was the kinkiest out of all of us!” 

Wednesday bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to make any sort of reaction to that. 

“Is it?” Enid pressed, man-handling Wednesday to get a better look at it. 

“It looks like normal jaw size,” Yoko said, using her finger to measure. 

“Deep, though. Definitely more beastly than human. Half turned?” Divina questioned, hauling herself onto the dock. Wednesday specifically batted her hand away. 

“Wednesday, this is what it is, isn’t it?” Enid asked again. 

“If it were…” Wednesday said cautiously, “What would you say?” 

“Oh, fuck,” Bianca let out a snort, covering her lips. 

“Who?” Enid asked, eyebrows furrowing, “Not a werewolf. I mean, I’d know. If it were. The fact that you were supernaturally married to a werewolf would have been all over the pack grapevine unless it’s a werewolf I don’t know, but I still think I would have heard about it, because I mean, you’re a pretty big deal Wednesday and-” 

“Breathe, Enid,” Wednesday instructed, “You’re going to run out of air.” 

“I just…Jesus, Wednesday, this is a big deal!” Enid threw her hands out. Wednesday narrowed her eyes, examining Enid’s expression.

“You’re…upset.” 

“I don’t know, god,” Enid groaned, “I’m not upset, but I’m not…I mean, you…like…are okay with it, aren’t you?” 

It took Wednesday a moment to realize what she was talking about, “Do you think anyone who would be stupid enough to try to force themselves on me would get very far and walk out alive?” She asked dryly. 

“She’s right on that count,” Divina chortled, “We would have read a report about a body found in eighteen pieces.” 

“No, because no one would ever find the body,” Wednesday corrected, “Yes. It was.” 

Enid looked even more distressed, “Well, then who? I mean, do we know him? I’m sorry, I’m just finding it hard to believe that you, and I mean don’t take this the wrong way, but you would-” 

“Wednesday, you haven’t liked anyone since Tyler, and even that’s not confirmed,” Bianca broke into Enid’s rambling, “People at Nevermore thought you weren’t interested. In anyone. Coming here with that-” She waved a hand, “It would be less shocking if you showed up pregnant.” 

Wednesday huffed at the idea. 

“Well?” Divina pressed. 

“Well, what?” 

“Do we know him?” Yoko pushed her sunglasses down to meet Wednesday’s eyes, “Did he go to Nevermore?” 

“No.” 

“So…we don’t know him?” Enid asked cautiously. 

Wednesday thought about it. Just as the ‘yes’ was poised on the tip of her tongue with the intent to lie, she considered this semantic untruth. And perhaps that it really wasn’t so much of a lie at all.

This Tyler, the one who was grappled and handling the Hyde between him as though it was a second skin, free to be who he was, was entirely different from the ‘Normie Tyler’ they’d all come to know, or the ‘Groomed Tyler’ that Laurel had revealed that dark fall day. Everything past that, he’d been a monster whispered through the school, but they hadn’t met him.

Not formally.

So in reality, saying that they didn’t know him was entirely truthful, as strange as it was.

“Yes, that’s right. You don’t.” 

The group pouted.

Wednesday pressed her lips together, “He’s…” She picked her words carefully, “Not close with his Outcast side of his family. Some bad blood. He’s had to figure most of it out himself; what exactly does the bite mean?” 

Divina choked on air, or perhaps a bug.

Enid looked at her with wide, horrified eyes, “You mean you let him mark you and neither of you even knew what it meant?” She shrieked. 

“You could say…passion overcame us.” 

“That’s not the Wednesday I know,” Bianca said, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. Wednesday frowned at her tone.

“I think everyone is allowed a few-” 

“Mistakes?” Bianca finished with a patronizing chuckle. Wednesday refused to answer.

“I mean, he must be really serious about you too,” Enid broke back in, still looking pale and haunted by her friend’s confession, “It is a more…instictual thing, and sometimes feels impossible to resist,” She agreed, a blush rising on her cheeks, as bright as her hair, “But we wouldn’t just do it with anyone. It has to be someone that we could see as a viable…” She choked out her last word, “Mate.” 

Wednesday tried not to let her surprise show, “Oh?” She found it hard to believe that Tyler could be overcome by any flights of romance. 

“It’s a deeply magical thing,” Yoko agreed, “I mean, is it a werewolf? Unless we know the type, it’s hard to get into the nitty-gritty of it.” 

Wednesday shrugged. She hoped that they’d take her lack of direct answers for embarrassment, not that she was skirting the truth to get what she needed. She thought it had been unofficially decided that it was a werewolf. 

“I just hope you’re being safe,” Enid finally said, “When you’re mated, uhm, you’ve gotta be really careful that you don’t…you know…” She wheezed. 

“You can’t even say it, can you?” Wednesday asked, a bit annoyed, “It’s clinical, that’s it.” 

“Pregnant,” Divina finally broke in, “Easier to get pregnant.” 

Wednesday appreciated her bluntness, “In that case,  yes.” She said succinctly, “I have no intention of being a mother anytime soon…if it all,” She added for good measure, not wanting the girls to think she was going to be pulled into motherhood and start wearing florals or pastels or need a baby shower anytime soon. 

“I just think you should talk with him, whoever it is,” Enid let out a long breath, “About what it means. Even if he doesn’t know he knows it, there’s this, uhm…” She twiddled her thumbs, “This instinct. Beneath the surface. He’ll feel it.” 

She paused, swallowing, turning so she was the only one in Wednesday’s sight.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” She asked, her voice quiet, a hairsbreadth above no sound at all, “We’re best friends.” 

“There’s nothing to tell,” Wednesday responded. 

Enid bit her lip. She jerked her head, and everyone else scattered. Wednesday went to leave, too, but Enid jerked her down.

“You can talk to me. Please,” She said, eyes wide and liquid, “I’ll figure this out, you know? I’m not the sluth you are, but I did pick up some skills from you.” 

If you haven’t already, I highly doubt that. 

“You can try, but there’s nothing to figure out. It was meaningless,” Wednesday said, making herself believe the words even as she said it. 

Enid looked ready to argue, but finally dropped it, “It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. To love someone, you know? You might actually like it…” She trailed off at Wednesday’s murderous expression. 

“Are we done?” Wednesday asked tiredly, “I think I’d rather braid each other’s hair and make friendship bracelets than suffer any of this a moment longer.” 

For most of the time, the matter was dropped.

It was only one night, near the end of the weekend, when Bianca and Wednesday found themselves awake at 3 am - Wednesday to write by the moon and Bianca for a late-night dip.

“Level with me, Addams. It’s not a werewolf.” Bianca said, “And not a siren. Or a vampire. And that leaves very few choices of outcasts left that mate-bite their partners.” 

She seemed to know without saying it out loud.

“That’s personal,” Wednesday replied stiffly. 

“I think we do know him,” Bianca said carefully, tilting her head, “You just are afraid to tell Enid. She’d flip. Of course she would.” 

“And you?” Wednesday asked, “If what you think it is actually is?” 

Bianca shrugged, “You’ve always been weird. It would make sense, strangely. More sense than you finding a normal werewolf to settle down with. And since I haven’t heard any murder reports of late, I have to assume you’ve…” She chuckled, “Muzzled him, somehow.” 

“Hmm,” Wednesday crossed her arms, “Are you going to tell Enid?” 

“Naw, I’ll let you break that,” Biacna laughed, “Because one day, you won’t be able to hide it. And you’ll have to tell her. And I think by that point, you’ll be so in love-” Wednesday flinched at the idea, “That it will be hilarious.” Then, she paused, “She loves you like a sister. She’ll come around. Maybe in a few years.” 

“And what do you want? For your magnanimously generous secret-keeping?” 

“Front row seats to your wedding,” Bianca said with a grin, “I think any wedding thrown by an Addams to their daughter marrying a Hy-” 

Wednesday gave a furious hissing to shush her, just in case someone was eavesdropping, and Bianca raised her hand, as though to apologize.

“Any wedding thrown by an Addams for whoever it is,” Bianca revised with a roll of her eyes, “Is going to be the best wedding I’ve ever been to.” 

“It’s not what you all think it is,” Wednesday said quietly, because even she wasn’t sure what this was. 

“Just…” Bianca frowned, eyelashes fluttering, “The person I knew would only let someone bite her like that if…if there was something far more than any of us saw. And maybe that’s all it is. A forced proximity to satiate your curiosity.” 

“But?” 

“You know what I think. You think so, too. I hardly need to say it.” 

Wednesday huffed, gathering her things.

Bianca was incredibly off-mark.

She should have known that talking with a Siren would only mess with her head.

Chapter Text

When Wednesday returned and she was asked about her weekend, she told everyone it was mostly uneventful. 

When Tyler asked, she considered telling him what she’d gleaned. There was no world where she thought he might know anything about this bite or what it meant. But in the end, she couldn’t even be sure any of what Enid had told her was correct, so she stayed quiet.

“It was torturous,” She told Tyler.

As fall blew in, Pugsley returned to Nevermore, and all of Wednesday’s former classmates started their first semester at college. Now that Tyler was nineteen and ‘graduated’, he was not technically bound to the Addams’ Property the way he’d once been, legally. Though Willow Hill might have something to say about that. But when he’d been asked if he wished to leave, he’d just raised his eyebrow.

“Seems rather silly, doesn’t it?” 

And that was the end of that conversation. In essence, Tyler was to remain here, a fixture just like anything else, another stray taken in by the welcoming, dark arms of Gomez and Morticia. 

The question of what he’d do with himself wasn’t really an issue. He didn’t need to do anything. Even Wednesday, if she wished, she could live off her parents’ provisions and money for the rest of her life. Tyler was free to follow whatever flights of fancy he wished. To Wednesday, it seemed that he spent most of his time sliced between the Addams members, whether it was keeping Gomez sharp in fencing or learning horticulture from Morticia. When Wednesday had asked, almost annoyed, if this was what he planned to do with himself, he’d shrugged.

“For right now…yeah? I mean, maybe down the line…” He trailed off, “There’s just a lot of unknowns.” 

In a sense, Wednesday understood. Out there, where normies lived, was backwards and unwelcoming. And when he barely knew who he was as not just Tyler, but Tyler and his Hyde…Wednesday was sure with his condition, she would not be eager for the ‘real world’ either. 

She stayed, working diligently on her novel. 

It was early October when her mother disturbed her research session, waving a parchment around like a bat.

“Oh, darlings,” She sang. Tyler, who lingered near Wednesday whenever he could (part of their ‘bond’? Wednesday couldn’t say), lifted his head from his book, “I come bearing news.” 

“What sort of news?” Tyler asked, swinging his feet back onto the carpet. 

“A family connection,” Morticia said with a purr, “From some French cousins and aunts, across the sea.” 

Tyler’s face turned white, then red, then blue, and then back to white. Wednesday watched him flicker between emotions, finally landing on a cool anger. His jaw locked, his eyes burned.

“Oh, so now they’re interested in me?” 

“I understand your ire,” Morticia said gently, coming to sit on the chaise lounge next to him, “But they may have answers we all need.” 

“Fine,” Tyler relented, “What does the letter say?” 

“Oh, of course, the usual. Apologies, excuses, pinky-promises that they swore to come over but never quite made it…” From Morticia’s voice, it was clear she held his extended family with as much regard as he did, “But they want to get on a call with us. Err, well, a crystal ball.” 

Tyler thought about it, finally exhaling, “Alright.” 

“Do you want to be there?” 

Tyler blinked. Wednesday watched his fingers knead the velvet of the sofa, his nails lengthening and scratching. After a long moment, he gave one firm nod. 

“We’ll find a time that works for all of us,” Morticia said, glancing meaningfully at Wednesday. She supposed she was part of this, and despite what she may want Tyler to believe, she was…interested. 

They scheduled a time a week or so later.

Wednesday and Tyler exited their rooms at the same time, meeting on the landing, almost awkwardly, before Tyler gave a sweeping ‘after you’ motion. Wednesday brushed past him but paused.

“Whatever they say…” She started, unsure why she was pulled to ease his nervous expression, “It doesn’t matter. Do you know the benefit of being a rare, nearly one-of-a-kind outcast?” 

“I have to do everything totally alone?” Tyler asked scathingly.

“You get to make whatever rules you want,” Wednesday said simply. She saw Tyler’s expression lighten, a strange frown on his face. He was clearly thinking deeply about her words, instead of immediately jettisoning them. 

Morticia was rubbing the ball to get a clearer connection when they entered. Immediately, a woman gasped. 

“Oh, mon dieu!” She said, which Wednesday understood. Then, she chittered to a husband off-screen, and they spoke in quick French. 

Morticia frowned, swallowing back her thoughts as she turned to translate, "They said that Tyler looks just like Francoise."

Tyler stood stiffly in the doorway, his expression caged, like he realized he didn’t actually want to be here anymore. But Mortica gingerly led him to a place to sit, easing him down. Wednesday sat next to him. 

The woman on the crystal was obviously related. She had the same curly honey-brown hair and the same divot on her nose. It was strange seeing Tyler’s face anywhere else. Wednesday had always thought he barely favored any of Donovan, small mercies. 

“He’s so big,” A man next to the woman mused, and Morticia carefully translated. 

“Yeah, that’s what happens. The years keep marching on, closer to death,” Wednesday snapped, because what an absurd comment. How utterly boring. Did they think he’d stay a baby forever? Didn’t they have anything better to say? 

Two sets of eyes focused on Wednesday. They seemed to understand English, though they were not speaking it themselves. Or maybe they understood the sentiments. She wasn't trying to be subtle about it. 

“My daughter,” Morticia waved a manicured hand, not embarrassed. Almost proud, “And Tyler’s…” She trailed off. 

“A friend,” Tyler choked out, looking at Morticia as though she was going to spill the secret, and a 'friend' was farther from the truth than anything else. Wednesday frowned. She wasn’t sure how she’d describe them, gun to her head, other than the obvious and very unhelpful category of ‘mated’, for whatever that meant. In reality, their red string of fate was so much more complicated. Enemies, first kisses, acquaintances, family, forced co-habitants…it was everything and nothing at once.

"Did they know about me?" Tyler asked, looking at Morticia, turning away from the crystal ball. Mortica gave a tentative shake of her head. 

"Not...specifically. From what I talked with them about prior, they knew Fran was accepted to Nevermore on a student visa. She just never came home after that. The next news they heard about her was that she had died. They saw a photo of you and thought she must have had a son, but never confirmed." 

Tyler's fingernails dug into his skin, "Oh." 

Was this better, Wednesday wondered, or worse? Was it apathy or something crueler? 

There was a short introduction, and Morticia carefully managed the situation. Introducing herself, Wednesday, and giving some colorful information about Tyler; he was nineteen, he was a master at fencing just like his mother, and he made the best coffee. Tyler blushed at the introduction. 

The woman and man were introduced as Oncle and Tante Morel, and all at once, Wednesday could see it on Tyler's face that he'd never even really known his mother's maiden name. Tante had been Fran's sister, and Oncle her brother-in-law. They made a vague reference to some kids - Tyler's cousins he'd never met - but from the tension, it seemed none of them had ever been Hydes. A whole family twig made up of Normies...how ungodly unfavorable. 

“We were hoping that perhaps you may shed some light on your family’s…heritage,” Morticia took over swiftly, moving the conversation along, “We here are dreadfully underinformed on the Hydes and their genus.” 

The Tante and Oncle members exchanged looks. “We may not be able to help,” The man said, regretfully. 

“Can’t, or won’t?” Wednesday asked hotly, narrowing her eyes. 

“Can’t,” The woman said, but she was scrutinizing Wednesday with a sense of apprehension, “There aren’t so many of them left. Hydes, as it turns out, don’t live long.” 

Tyler inhaled hard beside Wednesday, and she could feel his pulse quicken with panic. She went under the table to grab his hand, but he leaned in, gripping her leg. 

For anyone else, under any circumstance, she’d cut his fingers off one by one. But she would allow it, as long as such behaviors didn’t leave the room. 

His palm was hot on her skin as it pushed up her skirt, not with the intent to be indecent, but almost like he required the feeling of her flesh against his own. 

“Them?” Morticia picked up. 

“It’s a mystery who it hits and why. We were lucky enough not to get it; Tante never did, and we thought Fran missed it, too. Fran's older brother, Etienne, couldn't make it today, but he's 50 and never turned either,” The man explained, almost with a hint of pride, as though making it through life so dreadfully unextraordinary was something to be haughty about. 

“Only one out of three inherited it?” Morticia raised an eyebrow. 

“Half. There was another of us, but, well…” The woman looked forlorn. “She died earlier than Francoise did.” 

Wednesday glanced at Tyler. A whole other wide family he'd never known. She'd researched Galpin early on and found that Donovan was an only child with parents who died before ever meeting Tyler. It seemed almost absurd that just a few continents away, Tyler had a whole lot of people who had wanted almost nothing to do with him. 

"Oh, well, I'm very sorry," Morticia said. 

“Oui, and then Tante's parents died not long after Francoise, and then one of her cousins…” 

“Oh, and two of his kids-” Tante broke in, as they counted off dead branches of their tree. 

“A third uncle…a great uncle,” Oncle inhaled, shaking his head, “It’s a curse.” 

“Well,” Morticia said simply, “We know a thing or two about those.” 

“Is it terminal?” Tyler asked, for lack of better words. 

“Oh, no!” Tante's eyes widened, “Now, it’s just… There aren’t many out there as welcoming. And Hydes have a tendency to…get aggressive, and deadly, quickly.” 

Tyler flinched, visibly. His fingers dug into Wednesday’s skin. She allowed it. 

“Yeah.” He said quietly.

His Aunt and Uncle exchanged looks, “I’d stay where you are. It’s safe there. Your minder seems to have a good sense of her. Seems like she can take you down when you get off the rails.” 

Wednesday bit back a snarky reply; it seemed that they were disinviting Tyler before he even thought to ask. Wouldn't want a Hyde to ruin their perfect normie life, now, would they? 

“What about a master?” Tyler asked, his throat raw, his eyes wild with worry. From the way they talked, it seemed like there was no controlling the Hyde, and any attempts would end in tragedy. Which, for anyone else, perhaps. But for an Addams, he’d never be able to kill them, no matter how much his Hyde wanted.

The perfect place for him, she found herself thinking, before she could stop her own traitorous thoughts. 

“If you can find one who isn’t in it for greed, or other things,” His aunt snorted, “Most of them are worthless anyway. Hydes need it, but they hate that they do. It’s an act to find someone who can take and give.” 

“You’re young,” His uncle said dully, “To have triggered it. What happened?” 

“I’d rather not,” Tyler said sharply, grinding his teeth. “Besides, no point harping on the past,” He added.

His Tante and Oncle were quiet for a moment.

“If there’s anything else to share, it would be greatly appreciated.” Morticia prompted. 

The aunt gave a sorrowful shrug, “We didn’t ask. It seemed easier. As soon as a Hyde is triggered, we all knew it was just a matter of time. I don’t think there’s any studying to be done.” She looked at Tyler, “We’ll be on the lookout for your funeral. Come to America, finally, for a visit.” 

“I’ve lived like this for years,” Tyler choked, offended. For any other moment, someone speaking so fondly of a funeral would be a big compliment to Wednesday. But in this moment, she was furious. Tyler deserved a hundred more birthdays instead of feeling like he was living on borrowed time. She hated their tone.

“That’s impressive,” Oncle said slowly, “But I don’t believe there’s any cure. Except for a bullet through the head.” 

“Well, we thank you for your time-” Morticia began to stand, but Tante threw out a finger.

“Wait! Look, it might not be anything, not anymore, but Francoise used to get invites to this…Hyde gathering, back in the 90s. I don’t know if it’s even still going on, but I think I can dig up an address…” She sighed, “We don’t mean to be defeatist, but it’s so hard to get close to someone, just to watch the monster eat them inside, before eating the world. And we have to think of our family; the Hyde has no such differentiation about who it kills, you see. It just kills.” 

“We are committed to figuring this out,” Morticia said, almost angrily, accusingly, “I believe there is always another path.” 

The Tante and Oncle looked dubious.

“We’ll track down a letter.” Tante said, “And send it over.” 

Then, the connection went dead.

Tyler stared at the crystal ball for a few moments, his eyebrows knitting.

“We shouldn’t have expected much,” Wednesday said, “The only good thing the French ever did was revolutionize the guillotine.” 

“Tyler-” Morticia started, but he stood, abruptly.

“It’s fine,” He said, but his voice wheezed, forcing a dark smile, “Good to know where my ilk stands, right?” He asked. 

“Self-pitying isn’t a good look on you,” Wednesday said, and Tyler swung his heavy, foggy gaze toward her.

“What would you prefer?” He sneered, “Blind obedience?” 

Wednesday opened her jaw, formulating a reply, but Tyler stormed out of the study, shoulders shaking as he left.

“We are blessed,” Morticia reminded, “To live in a world where we have each other.” 

“He has us now,” Wednesday found herself muttering, even before she realized it. She was aware that he’d been accepted, gleefully, by everyone else, but somehow, she’d crossed the point of thinking of Tyler as theirs, too. Perhaps as a strange pet or forever boarder, but unequivocally theirs. 

She felt a strange curl of protection in her stomach.

“He can’t help but want to know.” Morticia shook her head, “I think it would drive even the best of us mad, and not in the way that’s so enjoyable.” 

At the top of the landing, Wednesday curled her fist to knock on his door, but at the last moment, slinked away, leaving Tyler to abrasive music that rattled the hinges on the door. 

XXX

The letter came three days later, postmarked for speedy delivery. At least they could muster that kindness.

It was obvious that it was made in an era of poor technological literacy, looking like it came straight from a 90s sitcom plot. The paper, once a ghastly orange, had yellowed at the edges, and the typewriter letters were faded at the creases. 

Wednesday smoothed it out on the counter, Tyler hesitantly behind her, gazing over her shoulder with an air of detachment, but she could almost feel his heart beating out of his chest. 

The advert announced a Hyde-centric annual meeting, on each Hunter’s Moon, with a note pleading for Francoise to join. It seemed underattended, for perhaps obvious reasons. It was all the way out in Montana.

Wednesday wrinkled her nose.

“Think there’s any truth to it?” Tyler asked, trying to seem as though he couldn’t care less, but the warble in his voice gave it away.

“It’s been nearly three decades,” Morticia weighed it carefully, “And I’d assume once they heard of Francoise’s death, they stopped sending it.” 

“Strange it went to France, and not my dad,” Tyler mumbled, “Though, maybe…I dunno.” 

“You think he made sure no mail came to her?” Wednesday caught his expression.

“Yeah? I don’t know. He seemed to think that the Hyde was something to overcome, like a cold, not a lifelong affliction to weather.” 

“How do we know it’s real?” Wednesday prompted, “How can we trust whoever this is?” 

“Well,” Morticia handed the flyer to Wednesday, “It seems perhaps you get to do what you enjoy most; a little digging.” 

“I prefer graves, but I suppose online will be a new adventure,” Wednesday said, but carefully slotted the advert into her pocket, as not to ruin it.

“If it’s nothing, I mean, who cares?” Tyler muttered, shrugging, “They might have died out a long time ago.” 

“If there’s something there, I’ll find it.” 

Tyler snorted, “You just got acquainted with electronics.” 

“If a toddler can navigate a phone, I’m sure it can’t be too mentally taxing,” Wednesday replied. 

She threw herself into it. She told herself it was because she needed a mental cleanser from her novel, working through a plot hole, and this was easy and enjoyable. She did, in fact, have equally as much fun falling down internet rabbit-holes as she did in person, though she still preferred getting physically dirty with a good clue.

There was not much to indicate any stronghold of Hydes living in Montana, but Wednesday did wonder if the multiple sightings of Bigfoot (who was not a known outcast classification - Enid swore it was just a furry werewolf. Wednesday had assumed it was whatever type of thing that Cousin Itt was) were actually Hydes? Or perhaps when someone claimed they saw a skinwalker, it was a long-lost relative of Tyler? 

That was enough to set the gears in her brain turning, wondering how many other cryptids were just carefully hidden Hydes? 

There were some reports from hunters and campers of weird and strange noises that happened in the wilds of Montana near every Hunter’s Moon, but most of the reports were from the early 80s and 90s. It was barely anything to go on, but Wednesday felt like she just needed to pull more on the thread, and it would all unravel. 

She told Tyler her findings, and immediately, he was going to pack his things.

“Hunter Moon for this year is in just a few weeks,” He muttered, tapping October 17th on his phone, looking up, “I have to go.” 

“Of course you do,” Gomez agreed, wholeheartedly. 

Wednesday wordlessly turned, heading toward her bedroom. Tyler followed, watching as she started slotting knives into carefully hidden places on her person.

“What are you doing?” Tyler finally asked. She turned, his eyes wide and confused.

“Coming with you, of course. I’d imagine you’d want to leave immediately.” 

Tyler blinked, “Why?” 

“Why?” She echoed. 

“Yeah. Why bother?” 

“I’m…having writer’s block,” Wednesday said, but that was only half the truth, “And I’m a much better protector than you are.” That wasn’t the other half of it.

“Better than a Hyde ?” 

“Yes. Because you need to turn into an 8-foot grotesque monster. I can stab someone in the carotid and walk away before anyone knows what has happened,” She said, “Or poison someone’s coffee. Or-” 

“Okay, I get it.” Tyler raised a hand, “Can you stand it, though?” He asked, “Being alone with me?” He teased.

“I will endeavor through it.” 

“Well…” Tyler opened his mouth, then shrugged, closing it, “Alright, Wen. Leave in two hours?” 

She nodded.

Tyler grinned, genuine and warm, something like the early days of knowing him, back in Jericho. “I’ll bring the snacks.” 

XXX

Morticia and Gomez, of course, had no qualms about Wednesday going on a possibly life-endangering quest with Tyler to find other Hydes. If anything, they seemed jealous about all the trouble she might get into. Morticia, at the car door, pressed forced kisses into Wednesday’s forehead, reminding her of the best deadly plants to find in Montana if she was in a pinch. Gomez was talking about the time he’d cut someone’s hand off in Wyoming, reminiscing about being banned from the state. Thing insisted on going too, joking that it was just like Nevermore. 

Wednesday was endlessly annoyed that they’d sent Thing to be her minder, and not Pugsley. Like she’d been the problem child. 

Gomez told Tyler, undoubtedly, he’d find what he was looking for. If he said with any more conviction, even Wednesday may wonder if he was a seer too. 

Morticia came around to Tyler’s side, wishing him luck, and at the last moment, pressed a motherly kiss to his crown too. Tyler blushed bright red, muttering a goodbye, but his eyes were trained on the steering wheel. 

“Keep them safe, Thing,” Gomez said with a final wiggle of his finger, “And I think Uncle Fester is in the area on vacation if you need him.” 

“Hiking?” Tyler guessed, but from his tone, it seemed clear he doubted it.

“Oh, yes! And hunting.” Gomez said, nodding enthusiastically, “He likes to see if he can take down an entire moose about once a year with just his teeth. He’s in North Dakota, last I heard.” 

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Wednesday replied dryly. 

Then, they pulled out of the driveway, and Thing immediately took the aux.

His time rooming with Enid had been nothing short of a disaster to his nonexistent ears, as his tastes now skewed to Taylor Swift and Ariana Grande.

At least Tyler seemed equally disgusted by his music choices, which Thing protectively hoarded. 

Skipping Canada, because Tyler didn’t have a passport (not that this had stopped Wednesday before, but he insisted that it would only slow them down), it would take them about 35 hours to get to Montana. Today was October 10th, meaning they had a full week to figure out where exactly the Hydes met, as the flyer had been extremely vague in location. 

But Wednesday had narrowed down a few possible choices from her online sleuthing, digging through cryptic message boards and Reddit threads. She was fairly sure it was in Yellowstone, in the sliver that Montana owned. 

What better place for a group of outcasts to sink away, unseen, to be mistaken for a moose or a bear? 

Between the two of them, Wednesday was confident they could make it all the way to Montana by switching off, the other sleeping in the car during their non-driving time. She wasn’t eager to draw this out longer than necessary.

Still, in between bathroom breaks, meals, and Thing insisting they stop at kitchy roadside stops like the biggest mustard jar or the largest corn on the cob, it took them closer to four full days, just shy of 48 hours. They hadn’t bothered to buy a hotel room yet, finding out-of-the-way places to curl up in the car, if they were stopping for long periods at all.

It didn’t feel as strange sleeping in the same place as Tyler when it was a car. In this strange liminal space, detached from the pressures of the real world implications of sleeping in the same five-foot radius. 

By the time they made it to Montana, on the westernmost edge of Yellowstone, it was October 14th. Far less time than Wednesday would have preferred to have, but she was still confident in her ability to track them down.

Gomez had loaded their car with some dusty and rarely-used camping supplies, so all that was needed was a better pinpoint on the location. Wednesday and Tyler split up, pretending to be looking for Bigfoot, asking at conspiracy road-stops or strange gas stations with X-File posters about what they saw or what they knew. 

Most of what they received was utter garbage. Clear red herrings from whoever was protecting the existence. These normies really believed it, which was even more absurd. 

But there were, within the trenches of useless tales, some kernels of truth.

An old man at a diner told them about seeing Bigfoot, but it looked much more like a Hyde when he got into the nitty-gritty of describing it, though to him, he just chalked it up to a bad case of Whisky. 

A woman at a roadside who sold fireworks in bulk mentioned coming across a group of things that weren’t bears, deep into the Montana wilderness of the forest.

A man with grenades strapped to his chest, trying to look rough and intimidating, whispered about unholy things in the taiga, confirming the location they’d been told before.

It was something, at least.

And then, a woman in a Denny’s late at night, pointed them on a map to a place Wednesday was already eyeing, talking about ‘strange occurrences’ and ‘things she can’t explain away’. 

“Up for camping in Yellowstone?” Wednesday asked. 

“I don’t think there’s much of a choice,” Tyler replied with a wry grin. And there wasn’t. He had to know, or he’d go crazy. Wednesday might go crazy, knowing about this great, big thing between them, with no explanation of how it worked. 

Thing tapped excitedly on the dashboard. He was trying to go to all the National Parks, apparently.

Tyler turned their car toward the entrance of the park, and Wednesday was sure that there was something to be found. It seemed utterly impossible that they’d leave with no answers.

Chapter Text

Camping in the bowels of Yellowstone was no small feat. Though they had a handful of days until the supposed meeting, the terrain was difficult, and dangers lay at every turn. A bear came sniffing near their camp the first night, entrancing Wendesay completely. She managed to scare it away with a dance-like ritual that Fester had taught her after he was trapped in the Amazon for eighteen months, and had learned it himself. 

Sleeping in the same tent with Tyler was also not as romantic as one may have made it out to be. Wednesday couldn’t imagine anyone doing this activity for fun, to be clear. For torture? Absolutely. 

They were both damp, shivering in sleeping bags, and under the watchful eye of Thing, which was the best form of contraception out there, even if Wednesday may have considered rustling the bushes with Tyler.

They trekked in the blistering heat and pouring rain. Neither knew where they were going, but Thing directed them, using a map of Wednesday’s studies, pointing left or right up long, winding trails.

“It would be real nice if you could have a magical vision right now,” Tyler grouched, swatting at a mosquito the size of his fist.

“Doesn’t work like that.” 

He turned, annoyed, “Aren’t you getting bitten half to death?” 

“No. My blood isn’t sweet. It probably tastes like gasoline.” Wednesday said, unafflicted by bites.

“Tasted delicious to me,” Tyler said with a half grin, the closest he’d gotten to mentioning anything sexual towards her. Wednesday felt an itch on her bite mark, but kept her hand firmly on the map.

Luckily, Thing hadn’t heard; otherwise, he’d be spelling out swears and begging for bleach.

She shot Tyler a warning glare.

He returned a half-shrug, as though to ask, ‘Did you really expect me not to take that bait?’ 

It took them up to the morning of the 17th. They passed by a clearing and Tyler seized, inhaling hard.

“Choked on a fly?” 

“No, let’s just… over here…” He suggested faintly, pointing toward the clearing. “I think it’s just instinct, like a homing beacon. Sounds dumb, I know.”

Wednesday looked at Thing, who consulted the map, and she shrugged. It was about 500 yards away from their initial prediction, but when it came to the acreage of Yellowstone, that was such low mileage to squabble over. 

Close enough? He tapped out.

The trio stepped into a mossy, cleared area, where sunlight broke through trees, dotting their flesh with the warm rays like a laser on a rifle trained on their skin. 

Tyler staggered over to a tree. Deep, harsh claw marks marred the bark. His fingers traced it, as though imagining his Hyde claws in comparison, fingers quivering.

“Wen,” He whispered, tilting his head. 

Wednesday examined the clearing with a scrutinizing gaze. She saw a story beneath the unassuming glen. She saw tree branches long torn off, just starting to re-bud. She saw jagged stumps at the edges, like someone had felled it with a bite. She saw the claw marks splattered over the clearing’s boundary. She saw indentations in the grass, like uneven dips, where she imagined a Hyde curling up like a cat might be the right size for a pack of them to sleep altogether.

But she didn’t see an Hydes, not a single hint that they were here or close.

Still, there was enough of an argument for her to believe they’d found their location. 

“I think this is it,” Wednesday announced cautiously. 

“Then where is everyone?” She saw the way Tyler’s whole body just collapsed in disappointment. One wild goose chase once again ended with more questions than answers. He turned around, “If it’s tonight, shouldn’t there be…camps?” He asked faintly. There had been little to indicate anyone camping close by, either, and not just people good at living in the wilderness. No others period . 

“Maybe the date is wrong,” Wednesday said, frustrated, pinching her nose, desperate for a reason why they’d come all this way out here for nothing, “Maybe it’s once every other year. Maybe they changed the location to a local IHOP.” 

Tyler wiped the back of his nose, sniffling, his jaw quivering, “Or maybe…Hydes don’t survive long, huh? Maybe they stopped this meeting long ago, and we’re dumb enough to believe I’d get answers.” 

Wednesday frowned, mouth open to offer something to comfort him (still a weird knee-jerk, entirely foreign in emotions), when many things happened at once. She stepped forward, and there was a telltale crunch that was incredibly familiar to Wednesday. She looked down, lifting her foot. Beneath the rapidly growing moss and weeds, Wednesday yanked, revealing the scavenged, bleached bones of a great beast without a skull. Beyond it, scattered across the clearing, were more bones and skeletons, as though it had rained them here in a freak meteorological event.

A carcass? Of what? 

As Wednesday was reaching down to clear more of the underbrush, Tyler tensed at the exact same moment that Thing jumped across the clearing.

No, not jumped. 

Kicked.

Wednesday grasped for a knife in her boot, but before she could do anything, there was a pinprick on the back of her neck like a bee sting. As she felt her whole body freeze, heart beating fast and dangerously paced, a blow came to the back of her head.

No one caught her as she fell straight to the ground.

XXX

Wednesday came to some undetermined time later. It couldn’t be longer than minutes, because a group of three men who looked like the poster children for NRA idiots and The Inbred Hillbillies Brigade were scouring the ground.
“Where’d that fucking hand go, Si?” One was demanding, pushing through the mossy ground.

“Why’d you kick it? You should have grabbed it,” Another accused, pressing a carving knife against his friend’s chest. Friends? No, brothers. They had the same misshapen noses. All three of them looked like they were from the same tangled family branch. “Fucking idiot!” 

“Scared the shit outta me! You ever seen anything like that?” 

“No, but who cares. Now it’s gone!” 

Wednesday already felt her eyes regaining movement. Whatever they’d injected into her seemed to be a powerful paralytic. Luckily for her, and unfortunately for them, Wednesday had been micro-dosing herself on a strict regimen of all poisons since she was three, so her body was quickly cannibalizing this danger. While the average non-trained person may be under the effects for hours, Wednesday just needed a few minutes.

She didn’t want to give up her advantage, so she just scanned the treeline.

Thing was nowhere to be found.

Hopefully, he was hiding. He was a pretty lousy fighter.

On the other side of the clearing, in her peripheral vision, was Tyler…morphed.

His Hyde form was straight and shaking, in the grips of this paralytic, the same as she was. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could almost taste his fear, like it was bile in the back of her throat. While this would usually thrill her, anger burned fast through her.

Hold on, Tyler. Just give me a few moments.

“Never mind that,” One of the men said. He seemed to be the leader, the oldest, with a stringy ginger beard and a deep scar down his jowl, “Think she’s a late bloomer?” He teased. 

“Naw, she’s no Hyde. That would have turned her like it did him.” 

Wednesday forced herself to be still, despite the overwhelming desire to rip their spines from their skin. Whatever they’d given both of them was what Laurel had to have given Tyler to force him to turn. He should never be forced without his consent. It felt like such a gross invasion of his privacy that she was boiling with fury on his behalf. 

She felt an itch in her fingers as, slowly, she regained function. She kept her hands exactly where she’d fallen, though, focusing on her breathing techniques.

She’d long ago perfected her ability to lie perfectly still. Her skills in mimicking an opossum had been learned in kindergarten, where she’d lain so unmovingly that her teacher had thought that she had somehow come to her life’s end at recess. She managed to keep up the act with stiff limbs and undead eyes and barely a pulse all day, up until her parents picked her up in the mortuary and scolded her for scaring the normies. 

This ought to have been laughably easy for her to stay still.

But Tyler …

The urge to get to him overwhelmed her, so much so that it was a mental meditation to stay in the same position she’d fallen over in, as not to squander her advantage prematurely. 

“Kill her too?” The second one, who was wearing sunglasses in the middle of the day (and looked very uncool doing so), asked. 

“Sure. I mean, if she’s with him,” The leader made a dismissive gag, “She’s just as bad.” 

The youngest one, wearing a trucker hat, peeled back Wednesday’s rain jacket, “Jeee- zus ! Look at this. They’re Hyde-bonded and shit,” He said with a grotesque laugh, showing off her bite mark to his friends. 

Get your fucking hands off me. 

“No goddamn way!” Sunglasses chortled, “I mean, seriously. She’s tiny and he’s-” Out of her field of vision, he made a gesture that must have been crass because he and his friends laughed like it was the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. 

“Must be kinky,” The eldest one sniffled, “Shame, but not worth keeping around.” He glanced between the two, “Him first.” 

They thought they were taking out the bigger threat. Never in Wednesday's life had she been so happy to be underestimated. She watched as the three descended upon Tyler’s supine body like a flock of vultures, one of them pulling out the large knife. 

Wednesday could feel Tyler’s heartbeat pitch faster, sheer unbridled panic gripping whatever facilities he had left. 

No voice to scream, not as they yanked his throat to the sky and pulled the knife, deep and slow, across it.

“Fuck. It’s been a minute since I’ve done this,” The youngest chuckled, “Forgot how meaty they are. Workout.” He mumbled, as though dismembering someone was a fun way to stay active. 

“What’ll you do with the $5,000 after we bring Paw-Paw the head?” Sunglasses mused, “I think I deserve a nice vacation. Wife wants Hawaii.” 

“Hawaii? What about Bora Bora?” 

As they sawed, Wednesday felt indignation that they chatted so casually. She felt every saw cut as it dug deeper and deeper. Tyler’s body jerked, frantic, but unable to move. She could tell that he was growing weaker and weaker, a true panic, actual death, descending upon him.

Move, Wednesday, fucking move! They’re going to kill him before you get up!

Like she was on strings and some greater force above was puppeting her limbs, she felt herself lifting off the forest floor like levitation. Her fingers were still halfway asleep and cold, not quite warmed and flexible, but she was able to kick her pack over enough to uncover one of the knives from Uncle Fester’s knife block gift, and then she was hurdling herself forward, taking down Sunglasses. She gutted him from the bottom of his stomach up as he turned, a shocked fury the last expression painting his face.

“I thought you fucking got her!” The oldest one snarled, shoving his younger brother.

He dropped Tyler’s head, half-sawed off, but he was still alive . 

“I did! I swear it!” He said, stepping over Tyler, swishing his knife at Wednesday with uncoordinated wobbles. There was no gracefulness in this. 

“Don’t believe that for a second,” The oldest one snarled, lunging for Wednesday, swearing as he did so. Wednesday did not intend to make this last long, nor to keep any of them alive. However, she required a bit of context, but only one needed to be momentarily saved for such things.

“You know what they say. It’s hard to keep a good man down.” She grinned, “It’s even harder to keep a bad girl dead.” 

She decided the one who had cut Tyler’s throat open, she’d save for last; enjoy torturing answers out of him before giving him an excruciatingly long trip to hell. 

She grasped the oldest one’s arm, right as she plunged her knife into his chest, and was gripped by a vision.

Not. Right. Now! 

Through his eyes, she was waiting out in the shadowy corners of the field, with many others. His hands were less wrinkled, younger. They all kept quiet in the trees, crouched low and hidden. A woman with a teenager, coming to the clearing with an advert in their hands, eager and curious.

A horde descended, paralyzing them with tipped arrows before either could move. And then, a forced transformation.

And after…heads torn from their bodies, bloody prizes for money. Headless bodies left to rot in the dirt. 

She saw years of this, less and less as time went on, until they’d hit a drought.

Until today.

Wednesday stumbled back like she’d been electrocuted, the oldest brother falling forward into the grass, eyes unseeing and blank.

The youngest lunged for her, but Wednesday felt functionality regained in a more fluid way, easy enough to trip him. 

“Who are you?” She demanded, grasping his hands behind his back and pressing a foot to keep him down, “Answer me!” 

“Like I’d fucking tell you,” He sneered, confident.

Wednesday blinked.

“Fine. The hard way it is.” 

Only a few measly extracted fingernails later, he was wailing like a baby. 

She barely got to torture him. He wasn’t any fun at all. 

“We’re the Hyde Hunters!” He blubbered, sobbing, “We make sure that those monsters don’t kill entire towns. We’re good people, I swear!” 

“Explain that to whatever deity is going to meet your sorry ass,” Wednesday sputtered. To her, and maybe she was wrong, but ‘good people’ didn’t murder nearly an entire species of Outcast, “Is this all a setup? A sick trap?” 

“Stumbled across it. Didn’t start that way…used it to our benefit,” He sobbed, his words slurring together as he fell into a haze of pain, “Thought we got ‘em all…been eight years…since the last one…” 

“Where’s ‘Paw-Paw’? How many more of you are there?” Wednesday demanded.

The hunter pressed his lips, shaking his head frantically.

It didn’t matter. Wednesday got it out of him.

Just because she rid him of his tongue didn’t mean she couldn’t still communicate.

As they’d culled Hydes, time had culled their family tree. Now that his two older brothers were meeting their makers, the remaining folk who still trained for this event were few and far between. Just about seven of them, and an elderly grandfather, who proposed the hunt all those many years ago.

She believed him. No reason to lie.

And she got their location, too.

After that, there was no reason to keep him alive. She didn’t feel satisfaction as she picked up his own knife off the ground, killing him with his own tools, leaving his pale body lying next to his family. 

She just felt fear.

Tyler was still bleeding out on the forest floor. His eyes blinked, slow, still sluggish, and she saw his fingers twitch, desperate to put pressure on his own neck, but the paralytic still held him hostage. He was still the Hyde, large and spread out in front of her.

Wednesday pressed her hands against his neck, cooing, but she felt a rising panic.

It was so deep. She didn’t have enough hands or materials to stop the bleeding, and he’d lost a lot already. 

He’s going to die.

“No, no, no…” Wednesday sputtered, using her sleeve to wipe wetness from her cheeks. She realized after a long moment that it was tears. She couldn’t find the will to be embarrassed or to care right now. 

She pulled the blanket from their pack, the one with the heart from her grandmother, stuffing it against his wound, trying to soak up the blood, but it was coming too fast. 

Tyler was going to die no matter what she did.

As she had the thought, she saw this moment through the lens of her vision. Of course, in that moment, she’d seen Tyler as a human. But as she pressed her hands desperately against his throat and looked down, she saw him. She saw his being in the Hyde, his humanness stitched to his monster, like a strange Frankenstein doll. She felt horror rise in her throat as she realized what her vision had been telling her.

You have to kill him.

If she, Wednesday Addams, killed him…there was a chance he’d wake back up. If she didn’t, he would most certainly die. 

What once had been a satisfaction at bringing Tyler to his end was now fraught with panic and uncertainty. 

“Tyler, shh…listen,” Wednesday whispered, pressing her cheek to his, stumbling through hiccuping sobs, “I’m going to…I’m going to kill you, alright? It’ll be okay, I promise, it’ll be okay-” She drew back to see the panic drain, just a little. Though he could barely move, he inclined his head with great effort.

He couldn’t speak, but she understood him.

Please. 

The trust he had in her was enough to take the air from her lungs.

She stood up, unsure. She’d killed Pugsley more times than she could count. She’d felled her father in spars here and there. She’d even partaken in a few bad fights with her mother that ended in one of their deaths.

She was no stranger to the Reaper. She’d just reintroduced three people to him today alone.

But standing over Tyler, she didn’t know how to do it. 

Fingers clumsily ghosted along his body, like searching for a key. Did she widen his wounds on his neck? Close his lips and hold her hand over his nose? Force him to swallow poison? 

Her vision hadn’t told her that.

She wished it had, so she had a better sense of it.

She was drawn with the desire to make it soft. As gently as she could. She didn’t want to cause him any more strife.

Standing, she went to her backpack, fingers shaking uncontrollably as she dug through her items. 

Her items were scattered in the brush. The only thing that she found was Fester’s knife block, the butcher knife glinting in the sun. 

She grasped it, fingers shaking so much that she had to wrap both of her fists around it to keep it steady.

Finding his heart was easy; she could feel the tready pulse of it beneath her fingertips, the size of her entire palm. 

“Tyler, I—” She began, but couldn’t bring herself to speak. If she let the torrent of emotions that was wreaking havoc on her heart, she wouldn’t be able to do this. 

Before she chickened out, she pressed the knife to his flesh and pushed down against him with all her might.

She knew anatomy like the back of her hand, and Hydes were not so dissimilar. This method was painful, but quick.

Tyler’s eyes kept fixed on hers until something quieted, like someone drawing a curtain over a sunny window. Then, she watched as the shimmer reflected his eyes dulled until he was staring at the dusky sky above them, the Hunter Moon creeping over the horizon.

Wednesday stumbled back, heaving deeply, the knife still embedded in his chest. Grasping it, she ripped it out and threw it as hard as she could across the clearing. Blood trickled down his frame, adding to the liquid that already pooled beneath him. She tried to press all those feelings down, but they came out in a large, uncontrollable sob.

Tyler was dead.

What if he’s really dead? 

Truly, no coming back sort of dead. They hadn’t tried the theory of their connection since her unfortunate spill in the solarium. It could just be her mother’s mistake. She could have just killed him permanently. Gone forever.

The thought struck her with such a sense of loss that it felt like she couldn’t breathe. In between her angry cries, lonely cries, she got the sense that something was grasping her heart and clenching it tightly, like they were trying to squeeze the blood from it.

This was unbearable.

How long was it meant to last? In all the times with her family, they came to after a few minutes. How long had it been? Was it meant to take this long? 

Had she just messed everything up? 

Please, please, please…wake up…please.

She didn’t know how to place this emotion, but she felt like she might die if he didn’t wake up again. It was so consuming, so burning. If this is how her parents felt, she couldn’t blame them for their constant nearness to each other, this uncontrollable urge to be in each other’s personal space. 

If Tyler woke up, Wednesday couldn’t imagine parting from him.

She pressed her forehead against her knees as she drew her arms around, rocking back forward as she screamed . 

Her eerie caterwhaul bounced off the bare branches, echoing like a mocking laugh. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This wasn’t how any of it was supposed to go.

She curled up by Tyler’s side, his body still unchanged back to human. She felt the warmth seeping from his skin, but she pressed against the stretched figure, his bony structure poking against her. 

She found where his heart was on the Hyde, pressing a bloodied hand against it, begging for a flutter of movement.

Maybe this is how they’d find them: a girl and her monster, curled together in an endless embrace of eternity, with flowers and mushrooms springing around them, lining their open-air grave. Maybe they’d collapse into bones here, his and hers indistinguishable from the other, melting into the soil to never be found again.

If Tyler never woke up, Wednesday wasn't sure she could imagine lifting herself from the clearing. She'd never wished for death, not like this, not like right now. She'd make her grave here.

Her parents would understand; her and Pugsley had long ago come to the conclusion that if Morticia or Gomez ever truly left this mortal plane, the other would not be far behind. 

Night drew over them like someone pulling a blanket up to her chin. It felt like a thick comforter, something that smelled like something deep and primal she couldn’t place, but Wednesday lay at his side, refusing to move. Whenever she thought she managed to get her crying under control, she’d shift and think about how she’d never hear a teasing comment from his lips or see his casual grin. Her father had lost his sparring partner. Her mother had lost her protegee. Puglsey had lost a brother.

And Wednesday? 

You lost your mate.

She didn’t even know the full meaning of it, but it felt so undeniable now, in the wake of her miscalculation, she felt so incredibly foolish.

The world swirled around her. She felt Tyler's blood seeping into her shirt, her cheek, her disheveled hair. She traced constellations across his skin with a tired finger, trying not to dwell on how long they'd spent chasing each other, losing time. She found herself drowning in fantasies. One where Tyler went to Nevermore from the beginning. One where she stood by him after the reveal. One where she sprung him from Willow Hill far earlier, not her parents, and dragged him to her house for his sancutary. One where she found more time with him in between the shadows of their private haven. One where they never came here. 

Night dragged on, like a funeral march, like someone pulling a corpse behind them. Hours spun above them. 

After what felt like an eternity, something melted beneath her hand. She looked down to see Tyler’s chest sinking from a Hyde back to a human. Just as she jerked her head up, a weak hand pressed against her cheek. 

“Wednesday,” Tyler creaked, his voice raw and thin, his other hand pressed to his throat, “You’re crying?” 

He seemed utterly flummoxed by this, as though he was sure he wasn’t seeing right.

The sense of relief that exploded from Wednesday was so overwhelming that it was like being taken by a tsunami.

She choked out laughter, tasking salty tears on her cheeks, before surging forward to press a kiss against his lips, meaningful and full-bodied. 

“You killed me, didn’t you?” He asked as she pulled back. She wondered how foggy his brain was right now, more sludge than usefulness. 

She nodded, and he used his free hand to attempt to wipe the blood and tears away from her face.

“My throat is still bleeding,” He mumbled, but he didn’t seem in mortal peril, not anymore.

Wednesday didn’t have the words to describe any of this, never being good at emotions, so just opted for another kiss, hoping he understood.

“You’re alive! Holy hell!” A shocked voice broke them apart. They turned to see Uncle Fester arrive from the woods like a vampire from the shadows, Thing on his shoulder, panting hard, “And he’s…naked!” 

Tyler looked down, the shreds of his clothes littering the floor.

“And they’re dead!” Fester said jovially, coming nose to nose with one of the Hyde Hunters, “Look at that!” 

“What are you doing here?” Wednesday whispered, trying to find her voice.

“Your parents have every faith in you, but of course, they can’t help to be worried. I’ve been close, just in case, but it seems you managed it on your own, huh?” 

“That’s where you went, Thing?” Wednesday asked. Thing cowered, but Wednesday was only grateful. They would have killed Thing if not for the fact that he’d gotten away. And…

“I need help,” Wednesday turned, showing her uncle Tyler’s wound on his neck. Though he was not in imminent danger, he could still get nasty bacteria if it was left untreated, and he would continue to lose blood. 

“Oh, I’ll take care of that,” Fester said with an easy-going grin, “You had all the fun without me, didn’t you? I’m jealous.” 

Wednesday wiped the snot from underneath her nose, stepping back but not letting go of Tyler’s hand as Fester took in his wounds.

“Wowee, they really sawed your head nearly off.” 

“That was their intention,” Tyler said, confirming the sick feeling in Wednesday’s stomach that he’d known their every plan, aware of his own demise. 

Thing took the blanket and covered Tyler’s bottom half, kindly, giving Tyler a ‘you got this!’ sort of pat to his shoulder. From there, he helped Fester, holding a flashlight, as Fester stitched Tyler’s throat with the ease of a surgeon, something far cleaner than Wednesday would have done.

As Fester worked, Wednesday peered at the clearing. Now, the moonlight illuminated the bones with an eerie taunt, and she knew what she was looking at. Decades of Hydes, beheaded, their bodies left to decompose here, stacked endlessly on top of each other.

She was no stranger to death. In any other circumstance, this would have piqued her curiosity. But thinking of this as Tyler’s family, his heritage, all lying here utterly nameless and forgotten, made her want to vomit. 

It was sick.

Wednesday worked through the nausea, holding Tyler’s hand in her fist, her thumbs running comfortingly over his knuckles and holding tight through each dive of Fester’s needle through his skin, trying to ease his fluttering, racing heartbeat back to normal, one stitch at a time.

Chapter Text

No one was up for camping after that.

It was agreed that, at the very least, Tyler deserved a real bed to sleep in. And tomorrow, they’d head back, where he could fully recover in peace.

Tyler’s clothes were destroyed when he had turned against his choice, so they de-panted the youngest one, who seemed closest to Tyler’s size, even though it was clear the thought disgusted him. But, they couldn’t bring him into a hotel naked.

As they trekked away from the clearing, Wednesday saw his eyes linger on the bones.

“We’ll come back for them.” She promised. Every Hyde here deserved a real funeral. 

In town, Fester sweet-talked the receptionist (really, intimated her) to keep the focus on him while Wednesday dragged Tyler bloodied through the lobby and Thing nicked the room keys. 

At the door of a very nice Holiday Inn that Fester was absolutely going to seal a radiator from, Wednesday lingered outside the door. She blinked at Fester, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, go on!” He encouraged, "I'm tired, let's go." 

Thing came to the rescue, flashing two room keys. Fester stared at it for a moment and then slapped his forehead, laughing.

“Oh, of course you two!” He said, wiggling a finger, “Now, don’t do anything that your parents wouldn’t do.” 

“That’s a very short list,” Wednesday said, feelingly on a tinge of embarrassment. 

They parted, each going into a room across from the other. Tyler was still weak and lightweight, and she helped him ease into the bathroom. She turned the water on and turned back to help Tyler hobble into the bath.

Tyler was leaning heavily against the vanity, his whole figure shaking as he kept himself upright. He stood, his chest naked and bloodied, his entire weight pressing onto the sink. His fingers ghosted across his neck, tracing the jagged sawing and the clean stitching, swallowing thickly as he tried to make sense of it.

"Tyler?" Wednesday asked, her voice above a scarce whisper, but she didn't know what she was asking. When he turned, she tilted her head toward the bath.

Tyler allowed Wednesday to help him sink into it, the spray of the head pouring down on him. Wednesday turned behind him, turning the knob until it hit resistance, waiting  until it was hot enough to burn away the memories of what they’d come across, before crawling into the tub with him.

“Wen-” 

She shot him a look as she helped peel the jeans from his body. She settled back down, legs circling his hips, her clothed body against his bare flesh. The shower was already cleaning his chest, and rivets of rusty red blood made paths, blossoming in the inch of water beneath him. 

“We’ll burn these tomorrow,” she said with a disgusted shudder, flicking the jeans to the ground. 

Tyler breathed into the hot water, steam rising from his skin. He was breathing unevenly, still. He pressed his forehead against her damp clothes, trying to find his voice.

“I hate…” He croaked, “That they almost killed you, too.” 

“I wouldn’t have let them,” She said firmly. 

“But if they went for you first…” His eyes were liquid and large, guilty, “If they had killed you…” He shook his head, any attempt to be clever or teasing vanished, washed away with the dirt and blood, “I can’t lose you, alright?” 

“You have me,” Wednesday insisted quietly, suddenly aware of how wet her clothes were as well, and how dirty they were. They were caked with blood, dirt, and twigs. It was unseemly, really, and muddying the bath beneath the pair. Slowly, she peeled off her jacket from her damp skin, dropping it on the other side of the tub. 

Then, she threw her shirt away. It was slicked with blood, imprinted on her skin. Tyler’s Adam's apple bobbed as he watched with a rapt, quiet attention, his hazel eyes tentatively warm. She leaned down, cautiously, to kiss him, her tongue carving the inside of his mouth,

She felt his hands, gentle, on her bare shoulders. His nails skated across her skin, like he was contemplating his very humanness right now, compared to the destruction of a Hyde’s nails. 

With a cautiousness that Wednesday would usually not have, she pulled back, taking a washcloth from the top of the sink, scrubbing his skin clean. 

Tyler leaned back, wet hair on the tiling, swallowing deeply. She didn’t like how his neck looked; jagged, thick thread pulling angry flesh together.

“Does it hurt?” 

“Yeah,” Tyler said, nodding, “Like hell.” 

Her lip quivered.

“I almost lost you ,” She murmured, trying to tamp down these emotions that swirled up, but found herself failing.

“You saved me,” Tyler insisted, sitting up to meet her gaze, “If you hadn’t had the courage and hadn’t killed me, well, you know…” He trailed off, “I would have died. For real.” 

“Guess it’s true, then, huh? The curse…our…marriage,” Wednesday asked, craning her neck to catch a sight of the bite. The word didn’t sound dirty anymore. It sounded like a saving grace. 

Tyler gave a soft smile, “Thank God.” He whispered. He kissed Wednesday again, fingers digging into the skin beneath her pants, tracing movements on her hip, “Look, we don’t have to…” He trailed off.

Wednesday rolled against him, “But you want to.” 

Tyler exhaled noisily, “Yeah. A bit. Sorry.” 

She fought a smile, “No apologies,” She leaned up to let Tyler push down her jeans, now soggy and heavy, but she paused, unsure, “I don’t know how to be…soft.” She said cautiously, “And I don’t want to hurt you right now.” 

“Just…” Tyler maneuvered her hips back on top of his, pressing her down onto him slowly, “Like this?” He suggested, “Just move slowly…” 

Wednesday exhaled as he bottomed out, letting Tyler guide her movements. There was something different in this moment, more than just a gentleness that their other times had lacked. It felt meaningful. It felt like it was what she didn’t know how to tell him, not with words.

By the time the water ran cold, they were still in a close embrace, moving without care, without a rush. Tyler’s tongue licked the water from her collarbone and the top of her breasts, his fingers rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Wednesday allowed herself to be carried by this ease, this rolling, slow desire that was building between her legs as Tyler paced himself.

“The bed might be more comfortable,” Wednesday said, which was odd, since usual comfort was the last consideration. Tyler blinked, leaning up behind him and turning off the shower. They were mostly clean now, anyway. 

Though injured, he picked Wednesday up, stepping out of the shower and out of the bathroom, stumbling the fifteen or so feet to set her down before he was chasing after her nude body, hands grasping both of her wrists in one and holding them above her head.

She would hate, usually, to be in such a position, but something about this made her just want him more.

She wanted all of him; the real, the ugly, the jagged, and the broken. 

As Tyler was easing back into her, she met his gaze, “I want to have sex with the Hyde when you’re better,” She said matter-of-factly.

Tyler’s movements stilled after an initial jolt of surprise.

“What?” 

“They were making crude jokes about it,” Wednesday said, “But I do want to. Not tonight. Back at home, maybe.” 

The word hung between them.

Home.

Not ‘my house’, but his too. His safe space, with her. 

Tyler opened his jaw, a bright red blush racing up his cheeks, “That’ll hurt you-” 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” 

Tyler laughed at her joke, and she rewarded him with a smile. 

“Do you not want to?” She asked after a moment. 

“No, of course that’s…” He pumped a little, fast, before catching himself, his whole body aching, “I want that. But I just want you to be safe.” 

“From everything I understand about all this, we’re mates,” She said, “And I don’t think you’d ever hurt me on purpose, nor would fate give me a monster that wasn’t mine to take in every way I could.” 

Tyler groaned, pushing her legs farther apart, pressing his forehead into the bed’s headboard, “You’re going to make me come far too soon, and I’m not done with you,” He whispered. Wednesday bucked her hips to meet his. 

Tyler shifted her hips up higher, pressing into her in a way she hadn’t felt before, rubbing against some deep, hidden space she didn’t know existed, something so euphorious that she saw multi-colored fireworks on the back of her eyelids.

“Mine,” She hummed, not meaning to, but the words slipped out. When she realized what she’d said, she opened a cautious eye to see Tyler deep in the throes of a near-orgasm.

“Mine,” He agreed greedily, kissing her like he was trying to drive her into the mattress, “All mine. To do this forever,” He mumbled, almost wobbly, like he was drunk on her like an intoxicating perfume. 

Wednesday let out a keening groan.

“I want to…bite you again,” Tyler whispered. There was a question, unasked, but Wednesday understood it. She nodded, whole body shivering as his teeth traced the scar. She adjusted her shoulder for him to get a better grip on it, easing into his mouth, clenching as his tongue traced the indents like he was trying to read braille with his tongue. 

The first time he’d done it, it had been in the heat of the moment, and neither had been thinking about what this meant or what they were doing. It had been a surprise to Wednesday, though not enjoyable.

Now, she got to savour the moment, commit to memory. She tensed as Tyler’s jaws pressed down on the existing scar, pressing down cautiously, as though trying to match the same exact mold. She felt the moment in excruciatingly wonderful detail, the moment he broke the skin and felt her warm blood pool against the inside of his lips, and she felt his tongue flicker to catch it. 

And more than that, she felt something she’d missed the first time.

That red string.

The proverbial tying of fate, something old and ancient and more magical than Wednesday could start to understand. It was a tying of forces, long before either of them was ever born. Like, from the moment the world exploded into color, they were bound by something startling and gothically awe-inspiring. 

A sense of meaning settled in her bones, sinking into the marrow. A knowledge that this was holy, in a way she’d never cared about religion, and sacred. This was not for many.

This was just for them.

And with it, she felt a sense pressing against her skull, inside of it, and Wednesday opened herself to it.

Images, like the first time she’d kissed him, flooded her brain, but they weren’t sharp, and this didn’t feel like a Raven’s vision. This felt like something more, something she wasn’t sure of, but had a fairly good idea of. 

She twisted her legs behind his back, pressing him deeper inside of her as he came with a force that had Wednesday seeing stars in the back of her eyelids as she finished with him, like they were pulling each other down into the abyss, connected and tangled as one.

He stayed inside of her as he pulled his teeth from her shoulder. He pulled back, just enough to use his thumb to lift her chin, before kissing her. She tasted her own blood on his tongue, finding it as sweet as he claimed it was. 

She brought both of her hands to his cheeks, shifting her hips, enjoying the way he felt, still semi-hard inside of her. Tyler, teasingly, bit her bottom lip before retreating and pressing a kiss to her cheek, an imprint of blood in the wake of it.

“Will that happen every time?” Wednesday asked, “The biting?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Tyler said, “Not like this . Though if you ask nicely, I won’t say no to other biting,” He teased quietly. 

“Ah, as I thought.” Wednesday mused, “A mating bite.” 

“Aren’t we already?” Tyler asked, looking pleased, but still tired and injured. 

“Yes. But I think we…” Wednesday struggled to explain her thoughts, not having the right words for it, “Tied the bond on one end, but not the other, not entirely. And that’s what this was.” 

“So you think this ‘confirmed’ it,” Tyler asked, “Like an engagement, and then, the marriage?” 

“Yes,” Wednesday traced his face down to his healing neck, looking like Fraknstine’s monster with garish stitches keeping him together, “I think…magic knew what we wanted before we did, but our minds needed to catch up. I think it settled that I’m your Master, too. I can feel it.” 

“Hmm,” Tyler hummed, settling down next to her. He pulled Wednesday against his chest, and she allowed it, if only because he was bruised and battered.

“I know you don’t like to talk about it…” Wednesday whispered quietly, “But I feel like we should. To know. What happened with Gates?” 

Tyler tensed at the question and did not relax. He shivered, swallowing deeply, “Not this.” 

“Did you bite her?” 

“No, god, fuck,” He almost seemed nauseated at the question, “No. My Hyde didn’t like her, Wednesday. I promise. I fucking swear.” He seemed guilty, “It was me who…I dunno…” 

“You don’t have to feel like you’ve done anything wrong,” Wednesday insisted firmly, “She abused you. You were a teenager,” She whispered, her voice hoarse. 

“She used that same stuff to turn me against my will. When she couldn’t get the Hyde to do it by other means,” He mumbled faintly, “I think that’s why I froze up when they used it. I was back there, in that cave. I was angry and scared, and I felt like something was going to tear through my skin. I didn’t understand any of it. Not really. When she told me what my mother was and what she thought I could be, I thought she was…” He let out a shaky breath, “I thought I would know if there was this monster inside of me.” 

Wednesday listened, allowing him this space.

“We were at odds, always. I think a Master is supposed to guide a Hyde. But I didn’t want to do it, not at the start. Later, I enjoyed it, but parts of me were fracturing…” Tyler dragged his fingers in shapes on her bare back, “The Hyde wanted you, but was being told you were nasty and awful and that I needed to kill you. It confused everything. It never felt natural.”

“And I do?” 

Tyler nodded, burrowing his nose into her crown, “Yeah. This feels…right.” 

“And the Hyde?” 

He rolled his head against the headboard, “It’s funny, you know? Before, with Gates, it always felt like two distinct people. But now it feels-” 

“Unified.” 

“Yeah. Like it’s just this other side, just a different facet of my personality, not someone different.” 

“That’s good, isn’t it?” 

Tyler pulled Wednesday closer to him, “Yeah. It is.” 

Wednesday stared at the ceiling fan above them. “We’ll stay here for a few days while you recover,” She said thoughtfully, “And tomorrow, Uncle Fester and I will take care of the rest of the Hyde Hunters-” 

“Absolutely not,” Tyler snarled. 

“They need to die.” 

“Completely,” Tyler huffed, “Painfully. But that’s not your job, Wednesday. They killed my family. They’re the reason we have no fucking idea what being a Hyde means. And all parts of me want to rip them limb from limb.” 

“You’re recovering,” Wednesday paused, “I suppose we could wait a few days until you get your strength up-” 

“No.” Tyler’s voice was sharp, his eyes darkened, “Tomorrow. Otherwise, they’ll rally and make plans. I’d go right now if I could. The sooner the better. I’ll heal up after.” 

“I don’t like the idea of that,” Wednesday said quietly, vulnerable, “You could die again if you’re not back to normal.” 

“Are you going to command me not to, Master?” Tyler asked, bitter and furious.

Wednesday examined his face, shaking her head, “No. Of course not. I understand why you want to do it. I just…” Her voice died. 

Tyler softened, “I know. But this is the way.” 

Wednesday nodded, “Then allow us to come with you. As back-up.” 

Tyler nodded, “Yeah.” He glanced around the room. The blood-stained sheets, the bathtub filled with dirty, sanguine water, and the shredded mattress. Wednesday followed his eyes.

She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or snort.

“Thing will stay back and clean up for us.” 

XXX

The land the Hyde Hunters owned was barren and dry, perhaps a metaphor for their depravity and lack of goodness. What was once a collection of barns and cabins now lay mostly abandoned, one large cabin patched at the end of a driveway.

Tyler had agreed to a bit of…help. He wasn’t at full strength, not even at quarter strength, and Wednesday would not see him killed. Uncle Fester, who was always ready with a whole cocktail of dastardly things, was able to whip up the same paralytic that Wednesday had been hit with.

It was fitting, she supposed. Ironic. They’d suffer the same fate as the hundreds of Hydes they’d killed - paralyzed, aware of every move.

But Tyler would be gracious if he only cut off their heads, giving them a swift and painless death.

She didn’t think there was a kindness left in him for these ilk, and she held no fond thoughts toward them either.

She would be jealous if it were anyone else, but Wednesday knew she’d enjoy this. 

Getting inside was easy. All eight of them were conveniently gathered in the living room, some young and some old. They weren’t concerned that their kin hadn’t returned yet; sometimes Hydes wandered up the day after the Hunter Moon, and cell service was spotty at best.

If they had waited any longer, Tyler was right. They would have prepared for them or come looking. They still had the element of surprise.

Uncle Fester liked to utilize an Amazonian arrow dart, preferring to slink in the shadows, but Wednesday wanted them to see her face when she leapt from behind the wall like a panther, savagely pressing the paralytic into their throats before they could even make a breath of surprise.

And then she was rolling on to the next one, jumping up and incapacitating her four. Fester hit with deadly accuracy, and within mere seconds, the Hyde Hunters had collapsed on the floor like statues knocked over, panicked and frightened.

Well, all except one.

The patriarch sat in his chair, leathery and old. He barely seemed able to move, pushing 100 or so. Wednesday approached him, hands behind her back.

“You know what’s about to happen, don’t you?” 

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” He spat distastefully. 

“No,” Wednesday said with a wide, electric grin, “I’m mated to one. And I was the one who made sure none of your grandsons would ever be found again, not a single, bleached bone.” 

The old man moved, but she’d spotted the gun taped beneath his rocking chair and stepped forward to easily paralyze him. Not as much as the others, not wanting to send him into premature cardiac arrest. 

“You get to watch.” Wednesday whispered in his ear, a gentle coo, “And think about all your choices that led to this moment.” 

Then, she stepped back and wolf whistled. She hopped up on a buffet table, legs dangling as she waited for Tyler. Fester joined her, offering her a bag of popcorn.

Tyler pushed the door open, still human, taking stock of the room. 

His fingers traced his neck, eyes burning with fury. She watched as he transformed. For all they shared, she’d only seen this once: the night at Nevermore. Every other time had been out of her view, or a half-glimpse, like in Yellowstone. 

It was beautiful. 

The way his bones and skin stretched and broke, like the Hyde was tearing himself from within Tyler. His limbs elongated, his nails scratched the wood floor, and his whole body took up the space of three Tylers on top of each other in seconds. It was a quick transformation, but Wednesday savored being so trusted to see it.

He paused, the most aware she’d ever seen him, waiting.

She grinned, tilting her head, “Kill.” She commanded, and she felt the way the words left her lips, fritzing along their string of fate, all the way to him. 

Tyler grinned; she wasn’t forcing him to do anything.

It was more a test, she gleaned, to see if she was his Master.

Well, signs pointed to ‘yes’.

Fester and Wednesday shared the popcorn as Tyler lay waste to the Hyde Hunters. Fester narrated like it was a sports game, eager and excited.

“-Oh! There goes a limb, straight through the TV. That’s going to be hard to watch Duck Dynasty now, folks! And what’s that? Folks, we’re seeing a unique technique here, where Tyler has torn out the spine of one of them and is using it to bash in the head of another! Inspired!” 

Wednesday enjoyed it.

She did not condone meaningless killing.

But she was very much into killing for a better cause, and part of her was thrilled to see people get exactly what they deserved. Even if it meant something messy, bloody, and utterly depraved.

No worse than what they’d done to decades of Hydes, though. 

She didn’t think most of them lived very long, but she knew that the moments before were excruciating and well deserved. 

By the time that Tyler reached the patriarch, the living room was a graveyard of bodies torn apart like string cheese, organs mushed like mashed potatoes, and blood painting every surface like someone had sprayed an even coat.

Seeing this, the way Tyler had killed others like Rowan had been restrained and clean, knowing what he could do when he was allowed.

The Patriarch had wet himself.

Did he think that no Hyde would ever come after them? That they were invincible, given this task by God? Did they think that they would never have to pay for their sins? 

A tear dripped down his cheek, from fear or agony of watching his family being slaughtered, Wednesday didn’t know.

Tyler gave him no such sympathies.

He was the cleanest; using his large claws, Tyler ripped his head from his body in the way that Paw-Paw killed so many Outcasts before.

Then, it was done, Tyler panting in the remains of the massacre.

He slowly melted back to his Human form, his body soaked in blood.

He looked at Wednesday, a sort of smile, something between relief and vindication, before his legs buckled.

Wednesday jumped to grasp him. He was still wounded and was burning up, eyelids fluttering. She didn’t even want to know how much energy he’d expended to do this, but it seemed past his current limits.

Frustration tempted a worried snark, but she bit it back, knowing that he had to do this. 

“Find him a blanket,” Wednesday snapped to Fester, “Something not soaked with blood.” 

Fester found him something to wrap his shaking body in, and the pair helped Tyler limp back to the car.

“What about that?” He asked, motioning a hand toward the lodge.

“Well, we can’t have authorities finding it,” Wednesday said simply. She locked eyes with Fester.

“Oh!” He lifted a finger, “Should we do a Pitbull? Or maybe a Mariah Carey? Or perhaps we’re feeling a Backstreet Boys?” 

Tyler blinked up at Wednesday like he’d gone crazy, “What?” 

“Ways to make the house disappear and send the cops on a wild goose chase,” Wednesday said, “Let’s go back. You, stay here, rest,” She commanded, and that was a Master instruction. Tyler sagged against the car seat, nodding, accepting what she told him.

Fester gave her a list of necessary supplies once inside, and Wednesday went on the hunt. She managed to collect most in the kitchen but went searching for a bathroom to find the rest.

She pushed open a door near the living room, and her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t even need to turn on the light to know what she was seeing, but she did so anyway.

A Game Room, but not the sort where you and your family played Monompy.

A hunting Game Room, with spoils of war.

Hundreds of Hyde heads mounted on wooden busts hung on the wall, complete with dates of kills. A morbid, grotesque trophy room, a reminder of their mission.

Wednesday felt tears clog her throat. She rarely cried. The last time, before Tyler’s death, was when she thought Thing had died at Nevermore. Since then, she kept a tight lid on her emotions. But this? This was beyond any facilities she had to keep her composure. 

She stood in the doorway for God knows how long. 

“Wednesday, I’m almost ready to- oh.” Fester sang, arms full of supplies, but he stopped to stand in eulogy with her.

“Tyler can’t see these,” Wednesday choked out, through a sob, “But we can’t leave them here, not like this. Not in the grave those assholes are going to get.” 

Fester nodded sagely, “You’re right,” He agreed, “On both counts.” 

They loaded up the busts in a trailer in the back, so that Fester could send Thing to come back with him (before the cops) to pick it up and give them a proper funeral. It took time, and Wednesday’s arms ached as she took down each one from the wall, shivering with exertion. She looked into the faces of every one of them, wondering how many of these were Tyler’s family that he never got to know? She wondered if there was a way to return them to their human forms, to give them a better funeral than this? 

She wondered if things had gone differently if Tyler’s head would be up here too, just a nameless beast in a long line of monsters felled.

Fester dragged the trailer far away, in a safe place to come back to later, and then shooed Wednesday back to the car.

Tyler had fallen asleep and jolted awake, “Took a while.” 

“Needed to do some prep work,” Wednesday said, hoping her tears had dried.

From behind them, there was a boom that rattled the ground, and the house exploded in flames.

“Which one was it?” Tyler asked, semi-sarcastically.

“Pitbull, obviously,” Wednesday said, and then at Tyler’s expression, “Fireball?” 

Tyler snorted, “I do not want to know what the Backstreet Boys method is.”

Chapter Text

They stayed in the area for four days. Tyler did little else other than sleep, sprawled out on the bed in the motel they rented out, with Wednesday making quick trips out for food. She’d shake him awake, and he’d eat enough to keep himself alive before flopping back over and drifting back within minutes.

Each day, his neck looked less and less like a horror movie and more like something manageable. 

Wednesday put her sleuthing skills to use and booted up her computer, which she had to admit was invaluable, what with being able to use it to tug at strings and deep-dive into internet conspiracies.

She saw the folly in her research now; the true monsters hidden between the lines. Sweet, siren-like voices, calling Hydes to the place where they’d be killed. She felt sick for not realizing it before. So many of these threads were penned by those who meant harm.

She also kept close tabs on the local news for reports about the fire. There were reports, early on, of people seeing the plumes above the tree line. And then it took a while for the police to say anything, probably trying to decide how they wanted to spin it.

In the end, it was explained to be a ‘tragic accident’, citing a gas stove fire. Wednesday wondered how the internal system was ignoring the body parts, or if they truly believed that it was caused by what Fester had set up.

Either way, though Fester was not the most reliable in some cases, he was very much a help in this. 

Case closed; no questions about it.

And, Wednesday had to imagine that if you spent your life hunting down people to kill, you probably weren’t a decent person outside of that. Perhaps the town was rejoicing that a whole family line was unfortunately culled by a freak accident.

Fester and Thing took the trailer back the day after, leaving Wednesday Tyler’s car to return when he had the strength.

Tyler wriggled his head onto her lap, groggily looking up at her.

“What’s that?” 

“Nothing,” Wednesday closed her laptop. Then, at Tyler’s face, “Just making sure that the police see what we want them to see.” 

“Do they?” 

“Yes.” She said, and her fingers found his head, and she absently scratched. Tyler sighed at the contact, sinking into her ministrations. On some level, Wednesday knew she ought to jump away, disgusted at the contact. But in the quiet of this room, only the two of them, where Wednesday did not have to perform for her friends or her parents, she liked this. 

She liked being close to him. She liked feeling his pulse beneath her fingers, live and strong. She liked the little hums Tyler made when he was pleased, curling up beside her like an overgrown cat. She liked the comfort they both found in the silence, and most of all, she liked being with him.

She snorted.

Tyler opened one eye, curious.

She considered her words carefully. “I’m just surprised I haven’t killed you yet, being trapped in a small room.” 

“Wonders never cease,” Tyler agreed, “Me too.” 

Wednesday allowed an almost-smile. 

“I like this,” Tyler said after a long moment, “Do you think all Masters and Hydes are…sexual? Or…romantic?” He asked after a moment.

“I don’t know, we don’t have enough,” Wednesday said, “But from what I think I understand of it, a Master is meant to have your best interest in mind. In another life, maybe young Hydes had a parent as a Master. But it figures that usually the best person for that task would be someone tied to their lives with them.” 

Tyler picked up the laptop, carefully setting it on a side table, before he pushed himself up on his elbows and pushed Wednesday back against the pillows to kiss her.

“Feeling well enough?” She asked, concerned. 

Tyler nodded. 

While Wednesday had been eager for some repeats, she understood that it might be a bit before he felt ready for that again. She wasn’t going to stop him; she was thrilled. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” Tyler whispered, tugging on her braids, “In just that shirt.” 

With no need to dress up for others, and little clothes clean and available (she was not taking a chance with the motel laundry room, a prime location for serial killers), Wednesday had bought a black tee at a gift store. Nothing she’d usually wear, but at least it was the right color, and she’d just been wearing this. 

“Keep it on then?” Wednesday asked. 

“No, naw, off, for sure, off,” Tyler whispered, fingers grasping the hem.

Wednesday chuckled at his eagerness.

They began exploring the limits of their connection that night, in earnest, and found the one place in life where the Hyde was certainly not subservient.

XXX

“Oh, thank God,” Tyler whispered when the family mansion crept into view, the fog parting down the long winding road to reveal a snow-capped sanctuary. It had begun lightly blanketing the world on their drive back, winter tiptoeing in early. 

It felt like an apology, Wednesday mused. She liked the cold. Freezing was almost euphoric under the right circumstances, much better than blistering heat. She felt like it was stopping the world for them while everything was righted. 

The gates creaked aside for Tyler’s car, driven by Wednesday (illegally, mind you), and she saw everyone waiting at the front steps.

“Looks like a full family reunion,” She said bitterly, but she was pleased that they cared so much. She knew it wasn’t for her sake. Fester had gotten back quickly, no doubt filled everyone in on what had happened. Hopefully, her parents would be tactful enough not to need to ask questions to dredge it back up, at least, not from Tyler.

As soon as Wednesday stepped foot outside the car, Pugsley — who had clearly been pulled from Nevermore due to the circumstances — flung himself around her waist, squeezing her so tightly that she thought she might run out of air.

“You scared the shit out of us!” He snapped, wiping tears. As always, the bleeding heart.

“Darling,” Morticia said, coming to trace her daughter’s cheeks with her fingernails, “What a harrowing experience you’ve been through.” 

“No one can get the best out of my little Scorpion, however!” Gomez crowed, “I knew starting you on poisons from six months old was the smart choice.” 

“Yes, it saved my life. And his.” Wednesday said, able to give credit where credit was due. She shuddered to think what might have happened if her body had not been so readily able to devour the paralytic.

Tyler stood, halfway out of the car, nervous for some reason, as though he assumed he'd be cast out now, like her family would wake up and realize there was a monster in their midst. Wednesday snorted; if he thought that, he clearly had misread all of them.

He tensed, staring back at Gomez and Morticia, fingers gripping the car door.

But his worries, whatever they were, were all for naught.

Gomez came around the car, throwing his arms out, “Come here, mijo ,” He announced, pulling Tyler into a warm, albeit awkward hug, mostly because Tyler had gone stiff as a board. 

“Darling, don’t smother him,” Morticia said, pulling her husband away, “Though we know that it would be okay,” She added, shooting a knowing look back at Wednesday. Fester obviously had confirmed that the Addams Family's ‘Curse’ was indeed placed upon Tyler. 

Wednesday rolled her eyes.

She supposed her parents were allowed some jesting, as they had correctly foreseen their connection, though now she was wondering if her mother had some visions that had never been shared with her daughter, knowing Wednesday would ignore them…

Either way, she’d give them some allowance there, but not many. 

Pick your jokes wisely. You only have a few left.

Morticia caused Tyler to blush bright red when she kissed his cheeks, mothering, “We’re so glad you’re okay,” She said, hands on his shoulder with a gentle kindness and care that he probably hadn’t felt for years, “Welcome home.”

Tyler swallowed hard, fighting back tears. 

Pugsley waited, giving Tyler a high-five, “Heard you kicked some ass.” 

“Pugsley!” Morticia chastised, though Wednesday wasn’t sure if it was due to his language or for bringing up what may be a panic-inducing memory for him. Instead, Tyler grinned.

“Yeah, dude, sure did.”

The rest of the Addams clan came forward, greeting Wednesday and Tyler the same, as though Tyler had never been an interloper in the family to begin with. She was sure, on some level, they must know about her and Tyler’s magical…connection, for lack of a better word, but she was glad the rest of her extended family had enough sense not to harp on it. 

“Tyler, dear, before you go inside…” Morticia said, pushing him at the steps while Lurch grabbed their bags, “Your father is here.” 

“My father?” Tyler asked, jaw tensed and furious, “Why?” 

“We did feel it appropriate to call him, all things considered,” Morticia said carefully, “And he came over right away. He’s been here for the last week, waiting.” 

Tyler looked displeased about it, but Wednesday saw some part of him desperately want this to be true. She supposed you couldn’t help but want your parents to care about you, too. 

“We can at least hear what he has to say,” Wednesday offered, so Tyler didn’t have to be the one making the final call. 

Tyler blinked in surprise. Usually, Wednesday was the first to offer more brutal methods, and was not one for forgiveness, at least, not so easily. But this wasn't about her and Donovan, who she was sure she'd always have a fraught relationship with. This was about Tyler.

It was so strange to be thinking of others instinctively. 

After a long pause, Tyler nodded, grateful, “I guess.” 

As soon as they came through the doors, Donovan shot up. He looked hollow and tired, wiping his eyes. 

“They said it was best if I waited…” He trailed off, looking green at Tyler’s neck. It would be forever scarred, despite Fester’s best efforts, “Jesus fuck,” He said, legs shaking beneath him.

Tyler crossed his arms. “Hi, Dad.” He seemed more prepared than Wednesday would expect. Perhaps it was different, now that he was on his home turf, instead of in the carcass of his childhood home, “Let’s go to the living room,” He said, jerking his head.

“And me?” Wednesday asked. Tyler turned, confused.

“Of course,” He mumbled, as though the idea of Wednesday slinking away was preposterous. 

Donovan let himself be led, meekly, through the house, like he expected a jumpscare. When he was finally alone, out of sight of the rest of them, he reached out. Tyler flinched away from his touch.

“I guess I deserve that.” 

“You nearly got us fucking killed,” Tyler spat, “If you had cared at all about Mom…” He pulled in on himself, “We wouldn’t have been so desperate for answers.” 

“Of course I cared about her, just like I care about you!” Donovan defended hotly, “I just…it’s a lot to deal with, you know? Hydes aren’t welcome like werewolves or sirens.” 

“Imagine being the one with the affliction,” Wednesday said hotly. 

Donovan trembled, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He muttered, “I don’t know how to do this; how to be a good father to you, to this,” He said honestly, “I just keep messing it up.” 

“It’s okay, Dad,” Tyler finally said, dragging his hands over his face. Not quite forgiveness, but bitter acceptance. “Really. I have others. You don’t have to take me as I am.” 

“But I want to. Or, I want to learn how to. I don’t want to…” He trailed off, “I don’t want to miss things. I wouldn’t want to not be called if you got hurt. I wouldn’t want to not be at your wedding, or any other big moments.” 

“Wedding?” Wednesday couldn’t help but ask, smirking.

“It seems that you two are…” He made a motion with his hands, “Morticia explained it, the best she could. Already paired.” 

“Are you okay with that?” Tyler asked, narrowing his eyes.

“From what I hear, she saved your life, so of course I am,” Donovan sputtered, “And if she can keep you on a leash…” 

“Well,” Wednesday purred, more of a tease between her and Tyler, as close to emotion she may let anyone else see (if only because she knew it would bother Donovan), “I’ll sure try.” 

Donovan turned bright red, muttering under his breath.

“I’m tired, Dad,” Tyler finally said, “But, uhm, if you want to try, we can…just in small doses.” He said.

Wednesday expected Donovan to argue. Instead, he nodded, “Yes, of course. Whatever you want. Weekly dinners here, maybe?” 

Tyler gnawed on his lip, “Monthly, I think,” He whispered. 

“Sure,” Donvan easily accepted, “Monthly.” He got up to leave, “I do love you, Tyler. I know I don’t know how to show it, but you meant everything to your mom and me. And I loved your Mom. I want to make her proud. I know I haven’t. I know I need to do better.” 

Tyler sniffled, but refused to cry, whole body trembling. Then, just as his dad was at the door, Tyler stood, almost reaching for his dad, but at the last moment, pulled himself back. Instead, Wednesday slipped her fingers into his as his dad grabbed his bags, thanking Gomez and Morticia for their hospitality. 

Then, he was gone.

“Think he’ll do it?” Tyler asked, “Change?” 

“I did,” Wednesday said honestly, “But who knows if he can. If he does, I’ll do what you want. If he doesn't, I’ll spike his coffee with rat poison.” 

Tyler let out a bark of laughter, “ Not necessary.” 

Wednesday pouted, “If you insist.” 

XXX

After more reunions, after a warm home-cooked meal, and after all that fuss, at the landing, the hallway split between Tyler’s bedroom and Wednesday's, placed on opposite sides of the house, per Wednesday’s previous request. They hesitated, Lurch standing with their bags, offering no opinions or judgements at their pause.

“Well…” Tyler started after a moment, nervously licking his lips, “I mean, we’ve…” He trailed off.

We’ve been in the same bed the whole other week. 

“But if you want your personal space, that’s alright, you know?” He added after a moment.

Wednesday looked at Tyler, tilting her head.

“Personal space is for those I despise. And those I like.” 

“Right,” Tyler said, not offended. 

“So far, I haven’t had to contend with a third category,” Wednesday said thoughtfully, eyes flickering to her bedroom and to his, “And I think that, perhaps, my parents would be glad of another spare bedroom opening up for guests.” 

It was a silly excuse, she knew. The Addams Estate had hundreds of guest bedrooms. One being used up by Tyler was hardly a concern. She’d been at the precipice of saying something brave, but felt her courage drain away. This was enough, she supposed, for right now. 

Tyler gave a tentative smile, “I mean, yeah, wouldn’t want to inconvenience your parents at all,” He agreed, following Wednesday to her bedroom. They both paused at the threshold, examining it.

“Perhaps…in the future…” Wednesday said cautiously, “There are many wings that I don’t think my parents use. Perhaps we might…” She tilted her head, “Renovate one of those to our liking?” 

“You think?” Tyler asked.

“We can talk about it,” Wednesday said quickly. 

“It’ll do, I guess, then, until that,” Tyler agreed. 

Lurch set down both of their bags, and they didn’t talk about it.

And, really, no one said anything about them sharing a room either. If anything, Wednesday got the sense that it had been entirely anticipated.

XXX

Three days after arriving home, Wednesday woke to a silent house. Tyler clocked it too, confused. They came down to a snowy day, with Morticia reading the obituaries and circling those she may like to attend, like it was movie shows, and Gomez sprinkling enough red pepper flake on his omelet to kill a moose.

“Good morning,” Morticia said.

“Where is everyone?” Tyler asked, sliding into a seat. Lurch pushed an omelet his way, made exactly how Tyler liked it, “I would have thought they all were sticking around for a bit longer.” 

“Oh, yes, they will, but they’ve gone on a…side trip,” Morticia said, “And they’ll be back by Christmas.” 

“Side trip?” Wednesday asked, confused. She was usually aware of the movements of her family. 

“Yes, we’ve sent them back to Yellowstone. Pugsley insisted on going too, and Thing. Really, I think we all would have gone if we could!” 

Tyler paused, tensing, not quite upset but nervous, like an animal on the road seconds from skittering, “Yellowstone?” He echoed, his voice crackling like a road flare, “Why?” 

“To retrieve the bones with utmost care,” Morticia said, reaching across the counter to take his hand, as though giving him courage, “And make sure that they all come home so we can give them a final resting place.” 

Tyler looked stricken, “You’d do that?” He asked quietly, almost in disbelief, “For me?” 

Gomez looked up, frowning, “Why wouldn’t we?” He asked, like the question was silly for him even to be asking. 

“They deserve much more than to stay in the place where they were deceived and slaughtered. It brings me great joy to expand our family graveyard. I have been wanting to do some more landscaping of that nature for years.” Morticia confirmed.

“They’re being buried…here?” 

“Does that upset you?” Wednesday asked, trying to riddle out his tone. 

“No, I just…” Tyler flexed his fork in his fingers, “I’m glad. I know you’ve all taken to me, but…” 

“We were entirely serious when we expressed how excited we were to have a Hyde in the family. A real feather in our cap!” Gomez insisted, “And, as Tish said, she loves designing family plots.” 

“It’s a bit of a hobby of mine,” Morticia said, “And I’d love to plan the plot with you. I’m thinking some mausoleums, perhaps some ornate wrought gates. What do you think?” 

“I…” Tyler swallowed, “I don’t know what I think. This is…” He exhaled hard, “So kind of you.” 

“You’re family now, Tyler,” Gomez reminded, “it’s what Addams too.” 

“The favorite of our generation, if I’d had to guess,” Wednesday added with a pleased grin. If this made her parents spend less worry on her, she’d appreciate it. Plus, Tyler could do with a little family obsessing. He was long overdue for such care. 

“You do take such good care of Cleopatra,” Mortica hummed, “She was wilting to nothing while you were gone, worried about you!” 

“And no one can go toe-to-toe against me the way you can. And now that I know you’re officially one of us, I’ll spar the way I do with Wednesday,” Gomez said jovially, poking his side with a fork playfully. 

“So it may be quiet for a bit here, while things are settled. As you can imagine, taking bones out of a National Park poses a bit of a challenge, especially with how many we think are there, however…” She tilted her head, “The entire Addams Clan is extraordinarily motivated to do it right, however long it takes.” 

“We thought that perhaps…it may be too much for you.” Gomez added, nervously, “And did not wish to cause any more…pain.” 

“Yeah, that’s…” Tyler wiped underneath his nose, though it may just be the heat from his omelet, “I don’t know if I could…” He trailed off. 

“You don’t need to. You and I will make the most beautiful grave plot, and you’ll be there every step of the way for that, which will be more than enough.” Morticia insisted. Tyler nodded, more sure, “Splendid! I think we might be able to get to the quarry today,” She said, checking the clock on the wall, “To pick out some marble for the headstones. Only the very best.” 

“It’s how the entire family plot is,” Wednesday informed Tyler as they handed their plates to Lurch, “Funerals are a big deal here.” 

“Yeah,” Tyler said with a kind smile, “I figured.”

XXX

The window was open, and snow drifted in, settling into piles on the windowsill.

In the safety of darkness, Tyler's fingers found her in the bed, pulling her across the long space between them. His nose burrowed into the nape of her neck, an arm slung over her silk nightgown. It only took a few moments before she felt him harden, pressed against her tailbone. 

"Tyler?" She asked, voice almost purring with amusement. 

"Cockroach?" He replied, ever as warm, his teeth scraping against her neck, tongue flickering out to press open-mouth kisses against her ice-cold skin. 

She turned over in his arms, pressing herself underneath him. She saw that yellow gleam against the back of his eyes, like they were glowing in the dark.

She grinned, "Hyde," She murmured. The Hyde wasn't out often now, settled strangely, no longer lashing out. She felt this pull whenever she commanded Tyler, which in itself was few and far between, just a little to test their boundaries. He was like a dog, eager to please, keening and whining when she extended a command. Always hungry for her, for her words.

This was the other time she saw him, past the witching hour, always wanting her like he was suffering in a desert and she was the only oasis for miles. She'd never found someone who was deserving of obsessive affections, seeing herself as a non-romantic 'other'. She didn't think she'd wanted any of that fuss until she had this now, and realized how nice it was to be desired. 

Wednesday hitched a leg around his hip, pulling him down against her. Tyler breathed out, needy, pressing a warm kiss against her while his fingers dug into her roots. 

She paused to pull back, head tilted and a smile curling on her lips, staring up at her monster unblinkingly. 

"Do what you want," She whispered, a command that drove him to action in the same way it broke the chains, allowing him agency. It was like letting steam from a pot; necessary to make sure that things didn't implode. A Hyde needed this release, this free run of the lawn, or else they'd twist into something mindless and resentful of their Master, much more likely to kill them. This is what Wednesday had gleaned.

And, she so enjoyed being able to shut her brain off and see the ways in which Tyler's subservience to her in the day turned on its head in the night. 

But, as Tyler shoved up her nightgown and tore off her underwear, fingernails pressing against her stomach to hold her down as his tongue flicked against her clit, it felt so elementary to call it a role reversal. He always made sure that Wednesday was drowning in her own pleasure before he ever thought about getting himself off. 

When she'd confronted him with this one time, accusing him that it didn't seem like he was exerting his full control in the moment, he'd kissed her and responded, "Did you ever think I was doing it because that's what I want to do to you?" 

Some part of her had thought Tyler would use her as a means to a sexual end when the Hyde was released, so coming to terms that all parts of him strived to worship her, even when given an allowance to do whatever he wanted, made something in her chest beat so fast she thought it could be felt on top of her skin. 

Wednesday groaned as Tyler pressed a finger inside of her, but it was too loud.

That private wing couldn't be gifted to them soon enough.

Tyler looked up, eyes shimmering, "Aha, ah," He chastised, "I know we're mostly alone, but be more aware of yourself," He said, using his other hand to press against her mouth. "Quiet," He rasped, and she felt a shock ripple through her body. She imagined this is what it must feel like to be commanded by your master, though perhaps hers was a shallow imitation, like her command that he could do whatever he wanted was pinging off his commands to her, like two satellites communicating. 

Tyler's hand stayed over her mouth and nose, cutting off her breath, making it impossible for her to make a noise, even if she had wanted to, even if she had been able to break his wish. And Tyler dove back down between her legs, trying his damndest to try to get her to disobey his words. 

She felt the familiar buzz of a different darkness curl on the edge of her vision, lungs choking themselves. 

Tyler looked up, pausing, questioning.

They hadn't done anything like this, not since she'd killed him in the forest, and then far before that, when he'd accidentally killed her. He paused, waiting, expression unreadable. 

Wednesday grasped his wrist, and he released his seal, or started to, misinterpreting her motions. 

She pressed his hand back against her jaw.

Tyler grinned.

He kept his hand there, hard and firm, eating her out as she felt her body transcend life for a brief moment, a final flash of white against the back of her eyelids at the very moment she hit the most intense orgasm she'd had to date, before her body jerked and expired. 

She came to from a foggy, mossy sense to find Tyler hovering above her, cautious.

"I'm fine," She wheezed, her throat raw, grinning, "Just fine," She promised, pulling him back down.

Tyler kissed her hard, fingers fumbling to shove down his own shorts, before pressing inside of her with such urgency, such vigor. 

"Did you like that?" He asked, his voice wheezing and thin, "Tell me, Wednesday." 

"Yes," She whimpered, nodding, "Yes, I did." 

"Maybe I'll have you choke on my cock next," He whispered in her ear, "Or use one of your knife sets to cut you open and lick the blood from your skin. Or maybe I'll turn and really let the Hyde out. I know you can take it. There's so much we can do with each other now," He said, and Wednesday saw a future for them. Not a vision, not really, but flashes of a greater understanding. She clung to him, panting as she nodded 'yes' to all of those things, her mind swirling with a hundred more ideas.

Tyler finished inside of her, biting down on her lower lip enough to break the skin.

They lay next to each other, sticky and panting. They remained like that for a long while, letting the winter breeze evaporate the sweat that clung to their bodies.

In the moments after, she turned, watching the glow fade from Tyler's eyes. He was watching her, a pensive look on his face.

"What?" She asked, finding the shreds of her underwear discarded at the end of the bed. 

“What was the third category?” Tyler finally asked as he pulled his shorts back on.

“Hmm?” Wednesday feigned ignorance, though the comment had been bobbing around her skull since she’d said it, sure he would have called her out on it much earlier. The fact that he had waited nearly two whole weeks was impressive, to say the least. 

“The third category. Those you hate, those you like, and those you…” He trailed off.

Wednesday coiled herself on the bed to look at him, feeling nervous. 

She’d never felt nervous, not like this. Not in the way that made her heart beat too fast, that pulled sweat from her glands, and made her throat dry. It was akin to a poisoning, but she knew it was a much more dangerous substance than anything she had in her kit, something unreplicable. 

“It’s a very special category,” She said slowly, “Population one.” 

“Hmm, is it?” Tyler asked, seemingly, that he knew, or at least thought he did, what it was. He waited.

He’s going to make me say it, isn’t he? 

She supposed a little bit of teasing torture was good for their relationship, but Wednesday was hating every second of this. 

“You know what it is,” She whispered. 

“Yeah,” Tyler confirmed, “But I want to hear it. Just once,” He said, “And if you don’t spontaneously combust, I won’t make you say it again.” 

Wednesday found his heart beating fast beneath his skin, too, though he had no reason to be nervous. 

“It’s love, obviously.” She muttered. 

“Huh,” Tyler hummed, like he hadn’t thought she’d actually say it, “Alright.” 

“That’s it?” She asked. All that fuss for just a casual ‘alright’? 

Tyler pulled her into his side, kissing the crowd on her head, and she made a show of trying to wriggle away, though it was mostly in jest. 

“Those you love,” He echoed thoughtfully. 

“If this gets out-” 

“I know. It'll ruin your carefully constructed reputation. You’ll cut out my spleen and eat it in front of me,” Tyler said, chortling, "I know." 

“With salt,” Wednesday confirmed, but she felt her heart beat slower, her nerves settled now that she’d said it, now that this truth was out in the universe. 

As they drifted to sleep, wrapped together like two boa constrictors, Tyler’s lips caressed her temple.

“Love you too, Wen. Always have.”

Chapter Text

Midway into December, with no updates given - sending Tyler into a spiral of worry - Wednesday called Pugsley on the crystal ball. He’d been given a leave of absence from Nevemore, some of his papers citing a ‘family emergency’ and others giving him credit for a capstone in ‘archeology’. 

Yes, Wednesday knew the ‘confuse and deny’ method very well, though neither of the excuses was untrue. 

Pugsley answered promptly, standing in a thick jacket, the woods of Yellowstone surrounding his body like a coffin.

“What’s the hold-up?” Wednesday asked, irritable, not bothering with niceties. Tyler sat next to her, half-listening, reading a book. Or, attempting to. He hadn’t turned a page in ten minutes. His fingers picked at a loose thread on the antique couch, but as soon as Pugsley picked up, all his attention was on the conversation, “Is it the snow? If you’re an inferior Addams, being bested by something so pathetic, just say so now.” She quipped, noticing a heavy blanket of precipitation around Puglsey. 

Pugsley winced, “Is…Tyler there?” 

“Naturally,” Wednesday said, eyes flickering to him. Tyler sat up now, leaning over, not quite having the courage to sit next to her, but not willing to leave the room either.

“Aw…man…” Puglsey rubbed the back of his neck, looking dour, “I mean, do you want the real reason, or a fake reason?” He winced through his teeth, meaning it was worse than Wednesday thought, and likely not due to the weather. 

She looked at Tyler, silently asking him. 

“I mean, I’d figure out eventually, wouldn’t I?” He asked, his voice raw.

“Ye…ah…” Puglsey agreed slowly, watching as Tyler cautiously crept into view behind Wednesday, fingers digging into the wood-carved part of her armchair, eyes focused and trying to seek beyond the confines of what the crystal ball could show them. 

“Well, out with it,” Wednesday commanded, “I know you’re not quite as direct as I’d like you to be, but if there is something we ought to know-” 

“There are hundreds,” Pugsley whispered. 

Tyler frowned, “Hundreds?” He echoed. 

“Of Hyde bones. Jesus, Wen, they’re just piled on top of each other, and earth, and growth, and the clearing wasn’t a clearing…it’s a valley.” 

Wednesday winced hard. Yes, she would have preferred Pugsley to tell her that separately, so she could break the news to Tyler with more care. Because the way he was right now…

“Oh.” His voice was small. 

“Mom was pretty clear, and I mean, we all agree that we’re not just going to…throw them in a trunk or something,” Puglsey said, disgusted by the idea, “But separate them. I mean, Fester is really good at separating bones out, but there’s just way more than we thought there was.” 

Wednesday had anticipated perhaps thirty or forty, which was still enough to make her feel sick. But if what Puglsey was saying was true, it would certainly make sense why it seemed Tyler was the only Hyde on the eastern seaboard. 

“How many?” Tyler asked, “Ballpark? Like…100, as in ‘one’ or…” 

Pugsley didn’t answer, just jerked his chin up.

“Oh.” Tyler said again, “Oh.” He repeated, like he wasn’t capable of forming any other words.

“Your manner of giving bad news is as subtle as a chainsaw for surgery,” Wednesday snapped, angry. 

“He asked!” 

Last I checked, he wasn’t your master! 

“I mean, thank you to everyone there…it’s…” Tyler spoke, looking at the ground, “I guess it makes sense why it’s taking so long…” He trailed off, looking pale and sallow, like he was dying again with them. 

“Go quicker,” Wednesday hissed, “They don’t deserve to be there longer than necessary.” 

“I know,” Puglsey said, nodding, “Trust me, we’re not here on vacation.” 

“No,” Tyler said, not angry at him, “Just collecting the bones of my kind.” 

Pugsley winced, “Well…yeah.” 

Tyler stood. Wednesday muttered a quick dismissal before dropping the crystal ball, following Tyler outside. It was snowing here just as much as there.

She watched as Tyler shuffled toward the burial plot that he and Morticia had been constructing. A grand, beautiful resting place, with more generosity and kindness given to Hydes than Wednesday thought had ever been. She was silent, concerned, as Tyler brushed away a space for himself in the dead grass, pushing snow to the side, and lay down in it.

Wednesday joined him.

“It’s going to need to be bigger,” He murmured, hurt, eyes tracing the outlines of what they’ve created, burial plots for about 50 or so, Wednesday’s original guess from the busts of the heads, with some to spare.

She didn’t even want to imagine the real number.

“Mother will be over the moon. If our entire backyard was transformed into a graveyard, I think she’d be the happiest I’d ever seen her.” 

Tyler sniffled, wiping his reddened eyes, offering a cautious, thin smile, ready to tear at any moment. 

“Do you wish you were with them?” Wednesday whispered. Do you wish you were just bones, left to collect, in a quiet place in the woods? 

“No. Yes. I don’t know. What if I’m the only one left?” Tyler asked, reaching for her hand. She let him pull her against him, her black sweater wetted by the melted snow beneath her, freezing her skin. 

“Being one of a kind is a blessing. You get to decide what the Hydes are going forward, then.” Wednesday tried to console him, “And you might be lone, but you’re not alone,” She corrected, “You are one of us now. One family gone, but the Addams aren’t going anywhere, not unless there’s a good family murder pact in our future. Which…isn’t out of the realm of possibility.” 

Tyler cracked a real smile. 

“When I die, bury half of me here, and half of me in the Addams Family plot, alright?” Tyler requested, “I can’t imagine being separated from them forever.” He paused, “Sorry if it upsets you to talk about such plans. I mean, I’m being dumb, I do plan to be alive for a little bit longer.” 

“On the contrary, discussing funeral plans is a better aphrodisiac than anything else you could whisper in my ear. Discuss your plans of how you’ll split your body in two, and you can tear my clothes off right here.” She raised an eyebrow, “You know, having sex in a graveyard has been on my bucket list ever since I read about Mary Shelley. I am disappointed that I did not follow in her footsteps completely, such as losing my virginity on a grave, but I suppose that any of it is better than none.” 

Tyler leaned forward, kissing her, “We’ll put a pin in that one, okay?” He promised, “Just maybe not right now.” 

Wednesday eased into the comfortable burn of the snowstorm, settling in for a nap.

“Very well,” She said, burrowing into his side, “I’m sure Mother will wake us when it’s time for dinner.” 

XXX

Wednesday put her sleuthing to good use. Actual good use, not what she’d consider ‘good’ but Enid would consider ‘disturbing’. She started tracking Hyde disappearances, knowing that soon, they’d need to put names to bones and heads. It wouldn’t do to have a graveyard full of unmarked headstones. 

Morticia helped. The Addams were infamous in the outcast community, and no matter how people thought of the Hydes, if Morticia or Gomez Addams was requesting any family trees that people knew, there wasn’t much leeway to say ‘no’. 

By the time Christmas rolled around, Wednesday and Morticia had a disturbingly heavy box full of names, pictures, and missing posters. 

Which one of you lay in Yellowstone? Wednesday wondered, and who among you could have been a mentor for Tyler? 

Someone at Nevermore finally got to the bottom of all Pugsley’s excuses and was demanding him back at the start of the new year, much to Pugsley's disappointment. But he returned with the first truck of bones, boxes carefully wrapped and stacked on top of each other. 

He also provided one crucial final assistance before he was dragged back to the horrors of mandatory youth education. In fine-tuning his Spark abilities, not wanting to reanimate bodyless heads and put them through the horror and agony of untold depths, he figured out the right amount of ‘juice’ to jerk any lasting poison out of their brittle veins and turn the Hyde heads back to humans.

Faces began to take shape in the large garage out back, emptied of all the family cars in favor of this much more important task. They’d taken a painstaking number of photos of the Hyde heads so they could match, the best they could, with the bones that lay scattered in the large garage, too. It was going to be the most difficult puzzle that Wednesday had ever tasked herself with. 

Slowly, over winter break, monstrous gaping monster heads with snarled jaws turned back to people that Wednesday could have passed on the street; a woman with a soccer-mom haircut, a teenager with 90s grunge makeup smeared over her eyelids, a man who looked like he traded stocks…The Hyde Hunters had only seen these Hydes as nameless monsters. She was sure that if they had been forced to look at the faces of people who were the same as them that maybe they wouldn’t have been able to stomach what they did.

Even Wednesday felt disgusted, not a usual feeling for her.

No different than you or me.

The teenagers bothered her most, more even than the young children. As she stared at the heads of girls and boys that she could have befriended or ignored at Nevermore, she was once again reminded that Tyler’s head could have been among them, too.

Were you like me? Or were you clever, like Bianca? Bright and bubbly like Enid? Smart and awkward like Eugune? Tortured and artsy like Xavier? Could you have been my roommate? A confidant? An upperclassman mentor? A best friend of Tyler's? 

Slowly, they whittled down the list, matching missing people to faces. Their list of papers with bright, smiling faces grew smaller and smaller as they were able to catalog most of those from the heads Wednesday had collected, and with a face, Wednesday was able to start easily tracking down the rest.

It seemed the Hyde Hunters only started hanging up their kills more recently, which wouldn’t help with their digging of the first few years, but this gave Wednesday a strange, warm hope that this task was not insurmountable. 

Wednesday knew that Tyler knew about something in the garage, but for his own sanity, he chose to stay away. 

As fun as it might be to see someone’s mind unravel in real time, Wednesday was protective of Tyler and would prefer that befell Pugsley, who she liked far less than Tyler most days. 

He only asked, once, if it was going alright.

“Yes,” Wednesday confirmed, “It is.” 

She did not want to torture him, at least, not outside of the bedroom. 

There were things in this life, and in death, that did not deserve her usual dry humor, and this was one of them.

Tyler didn’t get faces, per his request. Just names and a few descriptions, if they existed. And with this, he went back to designing their grave stones, the most he was able to do, and more than Wednesday thought he had to.

But he insisted. 

“They need someone to care, someone like them. They need to know they weren’t unwanted.” 

Wednesday very much believed in ghosts. She’d seen them many places. And if any Hydes were hanging around, unfulfilled, she wondered if this would be enough to set their souls at peace.

XXX

After Christmas, in early January, a woman’s car rolled up their driveway.

“Are we expecting anyone?” Gomez asked Wednesday. It wasn’t the extended family, still making progress - slowly - in Yellowstone. Thing had sent a message that he thought they should be wrapped up in a month or so, finally a firm deadline. 

Wednesday shook her head. She wasn’t the type to invite friends over, especially without proper warning.

Tyler shrugged too, “All my ‘friends’ abandoned me after this,” He motioned to his scars. 

“Not me either,” Morticia said, standing, not nervous but cautious. She went to the front door, and Wednesday and Tyler fell behind her, peering around her black velvet dress. 

It was an old, beat-up car, probably on its last legs to get here. They watched as a woman stepped out of it, staring up at the Addams family estate with the same sense of uncomfortable awe most people felt when they first saw it, like someone was watching you out of the shadows. 

“Wait a minute,” Tyler choked, “That’s not…” 

“Indeed,” Wednesday narrowed her eyes furiously, “We met her on our trip.” 

“Oh?” Morticia turned, trying to suss out the feelings toward her.

“Meet is probably too broad,” Tyler frowned, “She pointed us in the general direction…was she the woman at the gas station in the middle of nowhere, or was she the woman we met in that Denny’s at 3 A.M — Wednesday!” 

Wednesday slipped her mother’s barricade, grabbing an ancient mace off the wall next to the door for quick jaunts out, stalking out to the woman with a fury unmatched. 

She slammed the spiked end onto the hood of her pathetically rusted car. 

The woman jumped. 

“You’d better have a good reason for showing your face here, or the next swing goes in your head,” Wednesday snarled, jerking the mace from the hood, holding it in a preparation swing.

“Wednesday!” Her mother grasped her, Gomez yanking the mace from her fingers, as her parents pulled her away. Wednesday fought them like a rabid dog, snarling and snapping as close to the woman as she could, “Where are your manners!” 

“Left to die in Yellowstone,” Wednesday spat, kicking out in every direction, “She deserves it! She’s the one who sent us right there!” She shook her head, “Oh, I knew that last one was lying!” 

“Do you really think a Hyde Hunter would just drive up our driveway?” Morticia pointed out, logically, but Wednesday would not hear of it. 

“I don’t care! It’s her fault we nearly got beheaded!” 

The woman threw her hands up, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She was around 50, with deep wrinkles in her face like rivers crisscrossing a forest. She had frizzy hair that was going white, bushy eyebrows, and looked backcountry enough that Wednesday was confirmed in her assumption. The woman went for something in her pocket and pulled out…

“Sheriff…Wheeler,” Morticia read a badge, “Welcome to the Addams Estate. What brings you all the way out here?” 

Wheeler looked at Wednesday, and then over her parents’ shoulders to where Tyler sat, stiff and shadowed in the door of the house.

“Thank God you two are alive.” 

“Are you really?” Wednesday asked unkindly, “Because last I remember, you sent both of us to our assumed deaths.” She wrenched herself from her parents’ grip, backtracking to stand between her and Tyler, “So excuse me for thinking otherwise.” 

“I didn’t know who you were,” Wheeler held up a hand, “Swear it. Didn’t know if I could trust you. Haven’t had a Hyde come through in…nearly a decade! If you were from my view, you’d know that’s mighty suspicious.” 

“And if you thought you were, you still would send us to our deaths?” 

“If you weren’t, nothing would happen, the serum wouldn’t do anything,” Wheeler said, “And I meant to be out there, to catch the Carridan brothers. We’ve been trying to prove them killers for years.”

“So what happened? Stopped to get a Starbucks on the way, got there late?” Wednesday asked icily. 

“Yes. I mean, no, I mean-” Wheeler swallowed, taking a step forward, but the way Gomez glared at her kept her back near her car, “I got caught up with reports of someone killing a moose, illegally, and trying to eat it raw... my officers were worried it was some kind of strange cult initiation. And then, when I was trying to get to you, half the forest was on fire!” 

Hmm…that was probably Fester…regretabbly… He probably imagined the fire was keeping folks away, and it did… unfortunately. 

“Why should I believe you at all?” Tyler asked furiously from the doorstep, his voice cutting the tension.

“Don’t…wait…” Wheeler moved, setting her badge down, and pulled down her sweater. In the gleam of the day, Wednesday could see the old, still shiny reflection of a long-healed scar. A bite mark.

“Your mate is a Hyde,” Wednesday said, surprised.

“Was,” Wheeler choked, “Killed 30 years ago, by that fucking family. Never could prove it. I’ve spent my whole life trying to, but they cover their tracks. Never got a warrant, never placed them there, never…” She inhaled, choking hard, “I’ve been trying to bring them to justice before you were born.” 

“Apologies, then,” Wednesday said, “Though I hope they get justice where they went. And I’m not sorry they’re dead.” 

“I’m not either,” Wheeler said firmly, “I don’t care that you did it. I’m just glad someone did. I assume it was you who blew up their cabin, too?” 

“And you…as a woman of the law…brushed it away?” Morticia guessed, delicately. 

“All of it. The bodies in the woods, the state of the house, the bones being taken from Yellowstone…I swear, I’m not your enemy.” She looked at Tyler, eyes softening, “It was you who killed all of the rest of the Carridans?” 

“Yes,” Tyler said, still tensed, “They felt it.” 

“Good. And Silas, Eban, and Jude?” At the blank faces, “The brothers?” 

“Guilty as charged,” Wednesday said, then frowned, “You’re not here to arrest us, are you? If so, everything I’ve said is a hypothetical.” 

“God, no,” Wheeler shook her head, horrified, “I just…” She slouched against her open car door, “I think you’re the last Hyde left.” 

Tyler had thought it, had brought it a voice, but hearing someone else say it…

“Perhaps you should come in.” Morticia finally offered. 

Lurch made everyone coffee, and they all sat in the living room. Wheeler focused entirely on Tyler. Morticia explained that they had taken a great shining to Tyler and that he was safe as houses here. No harm would come to him. They were fully intent on assuring their as-good-as-son made it to full adulthood and everything after. 

Wheeler listened, nodding occasionally, though she seemed faraway. Her fingers traced her bite.

She seemed…human. How odd. Not an outcast, not that Wednesday could tell. 

She wondered if that was how Wheeler survived her mate dying? Perhaps it was not the same, but Wednesday could not imagine continuing if Tyler was not also. She suspected they’d die within hours of each other when that day finally came. 

Then, it was Wheeler’s turn. She introduced herself - Marlene. She explained how she’d met her husband, Jack, back when they were in their 20s, both in the police academy. Wednesday was right. She was startlingly normal. By the time Jack told Marlene what he was, she didn’t care. She was so in love that being an uncontrollable monster was hardly a deterrent. 

They married.

They mated.

They planned for kids as Jack took a role as a Park Ranger. Marlene diverted herself to being a Detective. Already, there weren't many Hydes, and they were hungry for information.

And then, they killed Jack. Marlene didn’t know where or when, and by the time she caught on to the location and the date, they were in the long drought of no Hydes…until Wednesday and Tyler.

“I don’t know what I’ll do with myself now,” Marlene admitted, “Now that it’s done. I do know that no Hyde knows much about themselves. But we dragged some information from hell, it seems. If you want to know.” 

Wednesday looked at Tyler. He nodded, slow, but not unsure. Just…guarded.

Marlene wove a tale: Hydes came out of England, during the crusades, and spread to other places in Europe. Mostly Germany or France. Originally, they were bred as protectors, mixed with old Norse myths of Berserkers as inspiration. 

Tyler jerked back, “Protectors? Us?” He echoed, because all he’d ever known was how to lay waste. 

“Hydes could defend an entire hamlet single-handedly, eliminating the need for young warriors. Of course, people who wanted to rape and pillage didn’t take kindly to that. Hydes were hard to kill, though. And for the beginning of it all, you were mostly seen as creatures of guardianship.” 

Tyler looked at Wednesday, heart hammering, so much she could feel it. This desire, this need to be more than what he’d led to believe. How deeply he wanted it to be true. That he’d believe it even if it wasn’t.

“But Hydes weren’t…perfect,” Marlene said, “Once you let the beast out, you couldn’t put it back in. And if you weren’t in their town, it didn’t matter if you were friend or foe. Yes, early Hydes did destroy anyone coming in, without the ability to…differentiate. But they could be controlled by a Master - a trusted individual. A best friend, a parent, a partner. Someone who could stop a Hyde, tell them when to attack. Someone they looked to for guidance, needed. Otherwise, they’d go mad, being killed early, unable to stop themselves. You want a killing machine, you get a killing machine…they weren’t able to make changes to that,” Marlene chuckled, “When the enemies figured out what a Master could do…well, that’s when it changed. If you got a Hyde, you were invincible. The intent of it was twisted. People used Hydes for their own gain, caging them, forever changed, at the forefront of wars. And slowly, people forgot that towns used to celebrate them.” She shook her head, “Hydes were protectors, but dangerous. And a master was supposed to keep them ‘in line’, and wasn’t supposed to send them down paths of darkness. Once people started abusing that, Hydes got more dangerous; their sense of purpose was poisoned. It fractures the holy, magical bond.” 

“So that brings us to today, I guess?” Tyler asked bitterly. He was thinking not just of himself, but of how Laurel ruined this bond, forced it into her hands.

“Perhaps it’s enough to know that you were never an abomination,” Morticia said gently, taking his hands, kissing him like a mother would console a child, “You were a hero.” 

Tyler let out a weak smile, but Wednesday knew he felt hollow, drained. 

“We meant to do more research…but…” Marlene trailed off, “Everything we found is in my truck. If you want it.” 

“We will,” Wednesday said, “Just to have it. In case we decide to do anything more.” 

Marlene transferred what she had: boxes upon boxes of translated material. Finally, before she left, Mortica touched her sleeve.

“Come with us.” 

They led her to the garage. When she saw the bones, she swallowed hard, holding back a sob.

“If you know…if you are sure…” Morticia said, “Jack may be here.” 

Marlene spent a few days going through the skeletons. Finally, she claimed a skinny one.

“Are you sure it’s him?” Wednesday asked.

Marlene wiped her eyes, holding the box against her chest, “When you’re mated, you just know. And now, I get to bury him for real, and give him the funeral I always wanted.” 

Then, Marlene got in her old car and drove away.

Wednesday was not surprised when she heard, three months later, that Marlene Wheeler had died in her house, peacefully.

Her mate was gone, and her purpose was fulfilled.

You might not think it, but Wednesday thought that this was the best definition of a happy ending that anyone could give someone like them. 

When Wednesday lit candles to honor the dead in years to come, she’d light one for Jack and Marlene, too, but their ghosts were long gone. 

And Wednesday was glad.

Chapter Text

It was spring by the time everything was sorted. Long, painful months that rolled into this moment - the moment when everyone that could be accounted for was, and the plans for the funeral plot just needed bones.

“We should make it a grand occasion,” Gomez decided, somewhere near the end of this task, and no one argued.

Not even Wednesdays.

Funerals were her favorite kind of party.

The first invitations to go out were to the living relatives of Hydes. They were invited to take their loved ones' bones, but Hyde Park - as Morticia had dubbed it - was a very beautiful place to be put to rest. At the very least, they were encouraged to meet others, learn the truth of what had happened, and stay around for the internment of others as well as partake in party items.

Donovan was sent an invite, though it wasn’t Wednesday’s doing, nor was it Tyler’s. He responded enthusiastically, albeit a bit too much for the sullen occasion. After some threatening, Thing finally relented. 

“He sure likes to stick his fingers in pies that aren’t his,” Tyler huffed. It wasn’t the first time Thing had taken something into his own palm. 

“Yes. He’s like that.” Wednesday agreed, adding Donovan’s RSVP to the pile for her mother to make the arrangements.

Pugsley was inviting some of his Nevermore friends to the party, which prompted Morticia to suggest that Wednesday do the same.

“Of course,” She added, “Only if you want to.” 

The question percolated around her brain for a few days.

“Do you think I should?” She asked Tyler.

“Well, that’s really not up to me,” Tyler sighed, letting out a thin breath of air, “Most of them probably want to stab me on sight.” 

“It’s not that, though…” Wednesday’s eyes glimmered at the idea, “There is a chance, if we do this, that they’ll know before we…” She trailed off.

“Before we’ve decided what we are to each other, huh?” Tyler guessed quietly. For all that they most certainly were - mates, bonded, Master and Hyde, ravenous sexual partners - there was so much unsaid. Wednesday had always been behind on social skills, but she assumed at one point they’d become the dreaded “Facebook Official’...or some other nauseatingly similar concept.

But Tyler had been fine with being whatever they were, without a required qualifier. 

“Honest, Wed,” Tyler sighed, “I don’t know if I’ll be very ‘couply’ during it.” He admitted, “I think I’ll be focused more on…” he motioned toward the ground outside, where Morticia was waving around her bat-like sleeved arms, instructing gravestones to be brought in to her exact specifications. 

“We could take a break.” 

Tyler reeled up, looking horrified, “That’s not what I want.” 

“Not like ‘that’,” Wednesday frowned, realizing how it had sounded. She chewed through her thoughts before amending, “We could just ‘pause’ us for the ceremony. I can be there for moral support.” 

“Don’t you mean un-moral support?” Tyler asked, but he was chuckling, “Reminding me how much closer I am to death?” 

Wednesday snorted, “That is comforting.” 

Tyler rubbed his chin, “Maybe,” He mumbled, thoughts askew as he glanced around, “I just don’t know if I can take hard-launching our relationship the same day that we bury my entire heritage.” 

Wednesday blinked, frowning hard, “Hard launching?” She asked, “I assume it, regrettably, does not involve a grenade launcher?” 

“I forget how adorably luddite you are,” Tyler teased, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “Hard launching is…like… publicly announcing you’re dating without any hints or build-up to it.” 

“You have to drop hints?” Wednesday asked, uncomprehendingly, “Make it a treasure map?” 

“Sorta. I mean, usually, people will post a picture with my head blurry in the background…or my hand in the frame but not my face…or tag me in a location with you…” He trailed off at Wednesday’s look of horror.

“My generation has made all this so…complicated,” She huffed, “It seems so pointless.” 

“So I should delete my Instagram post that has a picture of your braid on my lap,” Tyler teased.

Wednesday snapped her head toward him, “If that exists, burn it,” She said seriously, "The entire phone." 

Tyler pushed Wednesday back on their bed, “Jeeze, joking, joking…” He laughed, “But your horror was worth it.” 

Wednesday batted away his advances, “So, to confirm, you don’t care if I invite my Nevermore…” She hesitated calling them friends, “Compatriots. And we aren’t going to reveal that we’re together. Not that you’re embarrassed-” 

“Of course not!” Tyler sounded horrified at the idea, “Of you? Never. I have the most badass girl ever. It’s just…a lot, don’t you think? And it’s just for that one day, until we have things more settled.”

“That sounds…” Wednesday tilted her head, “Acceptable to me. As long as afterwards, I can come back to the bedroom with you.” 

“Yeah,” Tyler chuckled, “No complaints there.” He leaned in, biting her tongue teasingly, “Maybe we’ll push the limits of the curse a bit. Give your parents a run for their money-” 

Wednesday shoved him off the bed.

“You bring up my parents again,” She gave a full body shudder, “And you will get none of what I am willing to offer you.” 

Tyler picked his head up, smirking, “Yes, dear cockroach.” 

Wednesday’s lip twitched, “I’ll kiss you, just because you whisper the sweetest things to me.” 

XXX

Wednesday considered sending Enid a letter.

But then she figured that perhaps some more caution was needed in this situation.

Her next idea was to call, but she liked the idea of using a phone far less than the other choices.

The final decision she landed on was to go and visit Enid in person. Her old roommate had been begging her all year, after all, to visit her at Loyola.

Of course, Enid’s imagined fantasy of this visit would be filled with bar crawls, visiting student libraries, and probably forcing Wednesday into some sort of school spirit.

Wednesday was going for a much different reason.

Her mother promised to fly them both home once she secured Enid’s attendance to make it in time. Wednesday sent out her three other invites, to Ajax, Bianca, and Eugene, and would be grateful to be away while their responses trickled in. 

Tyler kissed her at the airport, just like any other boyfriend would. But even as she had the thought, she mused that ‘boyfriend’ felt so childish to describe what they were. Husband might be a far better choice, and though they were supernaturally married, Wednesday wasn’t sure she was ready to commit to that…not yet.

Either way, Wednesday traveled (after having to once again dispose of her methods of protection strapped to her person) to Chicago, landing at an airport so torturous that it made her heart fill with glee.

Wednesday was strangely charmed by O’Hare. 

Enid was waiting for her with an Uber, but instead of running and launching herself at Wednesday with a hug that would break a few bones, she instead grasped Wednesday’s face so firmly and stared at her with such worry that Wednesday forgot why she’d come.

“Uhm—” 

“Tell it to me straight,” Enid sniffled, wiping her eyes, “How long do you have?” 

“Wait, what?” Wednesday frowned, tilting her head.

“I’m serious! God, you don’t ever answer my invites. So I have to conclude that the only reason you’d trek all the way across the states was to give me bad news in person. So, just tell me…” Enid stepped away, lip quivering, “Two months?” 

Wednesday gave her a withering glare.

“Two weeks?” Enid gasped, and then, at Wednesday’s growing frown, nearly sent herself into hysterics, “Two days?” 

“Stop that. I am, unfortunately, of perfect health.” 

Enid stared at her like she didn’t quite believe it. 

“So…like, not that I don’t want you here, because I do, but why are you…here?” She asked, blinking hard.

“I’m here to invite you to a party.” 

Enid looked entirely spooked. “A party?” She echoed, taking Wednesday’s things and putting them in the trunk of the car, gnawing on her lip, “Seriously, a party?” 

“Well…” Wednesday slid into the passenger seat opposite Enid, “I mean, it’s a funeral.” 

Enid relaxed, “Oh, yeah, I guess I should have expected that.” She went stiff, “Wait, Wednesday-” 

“It’s not for me!” Wednesday said, then huffed, “Regretfully.” 

“Who…who is for, then?” Enid asked, looking less worried.

Wednesday opened her mouth, fingers twitching to grab the invitation, but she just shook her head, “Let’s just go and enjoy the night together. If you want to go, we’ll come back tomorrow, and my mom will fly us back to my house.” 

Enid pressed her lips together, clearly wanting to argue, but just blinked, “Alright.” She finally said, probably because she knew trying to get anything out of Wednesday would be like trying to draw blood from a stone. 

Then, she brightened, “Alright! I mean, I do have a full day planned for us,” She said, exactly as Wednesday expected, “And I don’t want to ruin it with depressing thoughts of a funeral.” 

“Funerals aren’t depressing,” Wednesday argued, “But you know what is? A toddler’s birthday party. Nothing worse.” 

Wednesday spent the day trailing Enid around Chicago.

It started with Enid taking her to the ‘absolute best coffee shop on campus’ (it wasn’t; they ought to be embarrassed they were selling such swill. They even messed up a quad…it’s not like her order was rocket science).

Then, Enid took Wednesday on a tour through all her favorite classrooms, ooing and aahing as though she hadn’t seen all these things a million times before, in all its unexciting glory.

She took Wednesday out to eat at the ‘best Mexican joint in the Midwest’ (also an absurdly untrue statement) and introduced Wednesday to all her friends, each as nausiatingly peppy as the last. The food was fine, Wednesday supposed, if not touched with that hint of cultural dissonance, but she supposed the margaritas as big as her head were enjoyable (one of Enid’s friends ordered for the table. The waiter was too frightened by Wednesday's glare to check IDs). 

Finally, they ended up back at Enid’s dorm, which was just as nauseatingly colorful as it was at Nevermore.

She had been kind enough to buy Wednesday a black and white blanket to sit on, so she wouldn’t have a sneezing fit on her overly saturated couch.

As they sat, watching Love Island (not Wednesday’s choice…she found all reality TV shows to be equally torture-inducing), Wednesday was only half-watching. She was, in reality, trying to figure out the best way to broach a very touchy subject. 

She remembered what Bianaca said: that Enid might not talk to her for a few years. But she didn’t have a few years. Not really.

“Okay, seriously, what the hell is up?” Enid finally snapped, pausing the show.

“Mhh?” Wednesday lifted her head, confused. 

“I have been forcing you through more and more absurd things as the day’s gone on, and you haven’t pushed back once. I even goaded you into wearing a sombrero; I thought that would snap it out of you!” 

The sombrero had been black and white, and Enid had looked so disappointed when Wednesday had tried to pass on it that she’d allowed it to sit on her head, briefly, for just a moment.

“So all of this today?” Wednesday waved a hand, “Was just to…to…” She trailed off. 

Enid was much savvier than she gave her friend credit for. 

“Yes,” Enid said meaningfully, “And if you continue to insist that you’re not dying, it must be something really big.” She said, her eyes wide, “You’ve killed someone,” She guessed, “Oh my god, you’ve killed someone, and you need me to hide the body!” Enid got up, pacing, “I mean, I don’t have the right outfit for it at all, and I really don’t think that the Witness Protection Program is my jam, you know? I’m like, so, so honored but—” 

“I haven’t killed anyone,” Wednesday said, cutting her off. 

At least, no one I need help hiding.

Enid spun, “Are you sure?” She asked, narrowing her eyes, “Like, pinky-swear sure?” 

“Yes,” Wednesday said emphatically, “I think I can remember where my bodies are buried.” 

Enid groaned. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked about my bite-partner yet,” Wednesday said, testing the waters, “I would have expected it would have been the first question out of your mouth.” 

Enid stiffened, shrugging, “Honestly, forgot all about that,” she said, but from her tone, it seemed exactly opposite.

“Have you figured it out, then?” Wednesday asked, raising an eyebrow. If I doubted it, because Enid wouldn’t have so willingly let her come here…she would have been slamming down the door, demanding answers. 

“I mean, school has been really busy,” Enid fibbed, “So, like, I’ve barely had time to…oh, dammit, Wednesday, of course not!” Enid threw her hands up, “I have exhausted every connection I have. I even Facetimed a wolf in Germany to see if it was a foreign wolf, but nada! No one has any leads. It’s infuriating, is what it is!” 

Wednesday held back a tiny smile. 

“Stop that,” Enid pouted, “You’re just trying to send me to an early grave, aren’t you?” 

"If that was my intention, you know that would be a gesture of utmost friendship," Wednesday said in her usual way, but...

When I tell you…that might be a possibility. 

“This…funeral…” Wednesday started slowly, trying not to slouch down, keeping herself steady.

“Switching topics?” Enid sighed, “Oh, alright. I guess I don’t even know who it’s for.” She waited expectantly. Wednesday felt the nerves in her throat. She had a terrible moment where she imagined Enid wouldn’t forgive him.

And if it came down to it…If she had to choose between…guilt coiled in her stomach.

She was already making plans to make the severing of their friendship less painful, feeling like it may be… inevitable. 

“The funeral, it’s for…” She collected all her courage, thinking of the scattered bones in Yellowstone, and how this was hardly scary compared to all that they'd experienced. “I want you to be there. Because you’re my best friend.” 

“Well, duh.” Enid laughed nervously, but her expression paled, “Oh, no, tell me it’s not for anyone in your family!” She wailed, “I didn’t even think! Is it Thing? Tell me it’s not Thing!” 

“It’s not Thing,” Wednesday was quick to assure, “It is for part of my family. My bite family, I guess,” She struggled. She was usually unflinchingly honest. But tying honesty to emotions was a new one for her, something she only ventured into with Tyler, in very rare moments. “It’s a mass funeral for…Hydes.” 

Enid blinked at her, then let out a trilling sound, almost like a choke, almost like a snort, “I’m sorry, but did you just say for ‘Hydes’?” She tapped her head, like she was trying to dislodge water from her ear, “As in…those kind of Hydes?” 

“Yes,” Wednesday said, “The reason you haven’t been able to figure out which wolf bit me is that it isn’t a wolf. It’s a Hyde. It’s Tyler.” In her mind, she said that even-paced and calmly, but at Enid’s screwed-eyed expression, she realized that it might have come out in one big, almost incomprehensible connected sentence at breakneck speed. And then, just to be safe, admitting something that she thought might make her skin slough off, but she needed to be clear with Enid, “I’m in love with him.” 

Enid suddenly seemed to riddle out what Wednesday had said. She stood, silent. 

“Enid?” 

Enid waved a hand, face bright pink. She opened her porch, grabbed one of her fluffy pillows, and stalked out.

“Are you going to Wolf-Out?” Wednesday asked, getting up. Enid ignored her, standing on her balcony, and screamed into the pillow. 

Enid returned, a placid smile on her face.

“Okay, that was dramatic—” 

But Wednesday had hardly gotten her words out before Enid was returning to the porch and hitting the pillow against a pillar until it exploded into feathers. 

When she returned, she had all her words ready.

Enid gawked. “Wens, are you serious? He—he—” She flailed for words. “He literally monster-mode murdered people! And you’re just… what, grabbing lattes with him now?”

Quite a bit more than that…

“He’s changed,” Wednesday said, “He was groomed. By Laurel.” 

Enid flinched visibly, “Yeah, but—” 

“It’s a long, long story,” Wednesday said quietly, “But my parents took him in. That’s why you couldn’t find him before. That’s why his father stopped visiting Willow Hill.” 

Enid scowled, “And you knew then?” She demanded hotly.

“Yes,” Wednesday admitted, feeling terrible, “But at that point, we were not…I didn’t…like him,” She insisted, “He hasn’t turned, he hasn’t killed innocents, he’s trying to be better. For me, for himself, for my family. I believe him. I’ve seen the change.” 

Enid groaned, pulling another throw pillow into her chest as if it could anchor her. “You always say stuff like that, like it’s some kind of final ruling. But you can’t just—” She broke off at the look Wednesday gave her: steady, unyielding.

“Enid,” Wednesday said, her tone softening by a fraction, “this is not up for debate. I am telling you because you are the one person whose opinion still carries weight. But…you saw the bite. We’re bonded. I am… deeply in love with him.”

The words hung between them, heavier than the silence. Enid looked stricken at her confession. Her eyes wandered over Wednesday’s shoulder, where her bite was hidden by her cardigan, but they both knew it was there.

Enid let out a slow breath, squeezing the pillow. Her voice dropped, quieter now. “You’re really sure about this.”

“As certain as death,” Wednesday replied, "Which is as severe as I can be about anything." 

Enid shut her eyes for a beat, then opened them with a resigned little laugh. “Okay. Fine. I don’t get it—I really don’t—but if he makes you happy, I’ll try. Just don’t expect me to stop side-eyeing him for, like, the next… forever. I mean, I guess we’re even…” She murmured, “I clawed him, he clawed me, you know?” 

“He wants to apologize,” Wednesday said. Tyler had done a fair bit of reflection on possible owed conversations, chief of which was Enid. 

“I don’t know if I can accept it right now,” Enid said, “He’s just been this…scary nightmare in my head for years, and now you’re telling me you’ve basically gone and married him!” 

“You don’t have to,” Wednesday allowed. Forgiveness was hard. It wasn’t always steady. Enid was allowed her feelings, whatever they might be. “He knows that.” 

“Oh…okay…” Enid said cautiously, “Is it his Mom you’re burying?” 

“Worse,” Wednesday said, and then, she dove into her abridged version of what they’d found. She kept out specific gory details, but even her five-minute version of the tale was enough to make Enid’s skin turn green.

“That’s horrific!” She choked, “Oh my god, that’s…” She stood, fingers shaking as she went to her cabinets, grabbing a bottle of vodka. She uncorked it, pulling out a holographic glass, but ended up taking a pull, right from the neck of it, “Jesus, that makes my spine tingle.” 

“They deserve a funeral, and a well-attended one.” 

“Yeah,” Enid rubbed under her nose, sniffling, “That’s really thoughtful of you. All of you.” She added quietly, after a long moment, “I’m sure it means the world to Tyler.” 

Wednesday inclined her head, asking for the bottle. 

Enid took another long swig before offering the bottle to Wednesday. She took it, enjoying the burn down her throat.

“So…” Enid finally said, “When’s the wedding?” She asked with a halfway mischievous smile. 

“Oh, Lilith, I need more of that before we start on this,” Wednesday said, taking another big gulp, shaking her head.

“It’s the least you can do,” Enid said, innocent, “For repentance. Let me be your wedding planner and maid of honor, and this is all water under the bridge.” 

“You’d square your emotions, your convictions, just like that?” Wednesday said, semi-disbelievingly. 

“Mhh,” Enid said with a wicked smile, “Because your wedding is going to be my dream, but your nightmare. And if you allow me, I’ll know that (a) you really love Tyler and (b) you really are serious about wanting to make it ‘right’. So…” She patted Wednesday on the head, “Just, you know, think about it.” 

Wednesday stared at her, “That’s very…you’re…you…” 

Enid preened, “Why, thank you.” She nudged her friend teasingly. “I learned from the very best.” 

XXX

Tyler was waiting for the pair on the steps of the Addams Mansion. When Lurch let them out of the car, he scrambled up. He was wearing a flannel, like he wore when they first started their friendship, and he rolled up the sleeves like he was half-expecting a fist fight.

Enid got out of the car, expression shadowing to see him. She breathed deeply a few times before stalking up to him with all the confidence of a chihuahua going up against a German shepherd.

“Enid, I’m…” Tyler started, fingers flexing at his sides, “I’m sorry, you know? For everything that happened at Nevermore. This is going to sound like an excuse, but I was young, impressionable, and manipulated by Laurel. I wasn’t in my right mind. I wasn’t sane. I get it if you never forgive me, but you have to know I love Wednesday and I’d never hurt her and…” He trailed off, losing steam, realizing that Enid wasn’t winding up to hit him. Instead, she was circling around him, studying him, “Wha…what are you doing?” 

“Brown?” She asked out loud, “Or navy…where’s Thing? He’s always had an eye for fashion.” 

“Wen?” Tyler wheezed, looking like he’d been fooled into some grand trap. Which, yes, it was.

“Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you the good news,” Wednesday said, absolutely deadpanned, “Enid is our wedding planner.” 

Enid popped up in front of him, all smiles, “You betcha!” 

Tyler let out a creaking laugh, “Well, damn, Wednesday, don’t I have to propose first?” He asked, nervously. 

“You basically have. The bite,” Enid tapped her shoulder in the same place he’d bitten her, “This is all just a formality, from what I hear,” She said, grinning an eerie, almost too excited smile. 

“Ohh…okay? So are we just…Can I finish my apology?” Tyler asked, uncertain. 

“Maybe later. I’ll be honest, it’s a lot to wade through. Like, a lot,” Enid said, eyes wide, “And it’s going to take some time to come to terms with. But Wednesday spent the weekend expressing how much she loooves you,” She sang, and Wednesday rolled her eyes behind her friend, “So I’m intrigued to see this through. But…” She poked him in the chest, “You step a foot out of line, and I will rip you apart. No full moon needed.” 

“Yeah,” Tyler agreed, “Sure. Alright.” 

“Perfect!” Enid spotted Thing lurking at the door, “Thiiiing!” She sang, “We have a wedding to plan!” 

Morticia was moments behind, “A wedding? Is there some happy news to share?” She asked, humored. 

“Not yet. But I will be ready when it does,” Enid said, like a soldier reporting for duty. Morticia seemed humored by her can-do attitude. 

The funeral was set for later in the evening, at dusk, which was — in Morticia’s decision — the most gloriously beautiful time for a funeral if there ever were. People had already begun to arrive; the family of deceased Hydes mingling nervously, some of Pugsley’s friends (who had no idea who Tyler was, at least, not more than in ghost stories), some of Morticia’s friends (whom she made Wednesday sit through small talk), and Wednesday’s other invites. 

Bianca saw Tyler hovering and only flashed Wednesday a ‘so I was right’ sort of victorious smile, but had no scathing comments to say. Perhaps, she figured, not the time nor the place.

Eugene had arrived earlier, and Tyler had already given him a long, deep apology. He’d seemed to accept it, somewhat, but was still jumpy around him.

Ajax was one of the last to arrive. He saw Tyler and stopped, fingers going to his cap, but he just whistled, low and nervous. 

“I prepped him. Not about all of it, since that seemed personal to you two, but that he’d be here and we’re okay with it. Mostly.” Enid said as an aside, bounding over to kiss her boyfriend on the cheek. 

“Damn, that’s just…he’s just…here…” Ajax said, waving a hand, “I mean, I know you called me, but, holy shit…” 

Before Ajax could say any other brilliantly astute comments, someone somewhere hit a low, deep gong. It was time.

The Addams family cemetery lay beneath gnarled, skeletal trees, their branches rattling like bones in the wind. Candles in wrought-iron lanterns lined the pathways, casting a funereal glow across crooked tombstones. The family had cleared a new plot: freshly dug graves, each marked with stone etchings that read names of those that they could find, and epithets of those that they could not. A larger, central monument stood tall. It had been custom-carved to be a Hyde. This one was not grotesque or scary. It was beautiful, truly stunning, carved from gleaming obsidian. At the base of the statue, it was engraved:

“Here rest the Hydes:
Feared, forsaken, forgotten.
Now remembered.”

The turnout was more than admirable. Between the guests of the Addams, nearly 100 lost souls, mourning loved ones, had come. Some to pick up bones, but others to see a daughter, mother, brother, father, uncle, best friend, lover, or otherwise laid to rest. Donovan stood the farthest, careful, focused intently on the rows and rows of graves, almost too many.

Enid counted under her breath, sniffling, rubbing her eyes. 

The Addams wore their finest black mourning attire. Morticia glided in a gown of inky velvet, Gomez with his arm ever at her waist, eyes shining with proud tears. A string quartet played a slow, haunting melody in a minor key—something that sounded like it should usher in a séance. Uncle Fester distributed black lilies to guests, while Thing handed out embroidered mourning handkerchiefs with little skulls stitched into the corners.

Wednesday was at the front, standing close to Tyler. He was rigid, uncomfortable, his gaze fixed on the earth. But there was a kind of quiet relief in him—like this grotesque pageantry was, in its strange way, the first true absolution he had ever been offered. She was willing to give affection if need be, but he was far away, focusing on faces. 

She wondered if he was suffering from survivor’s guilt? If he were imagining Wednesday as a tear-stained mourner, and if things had been very different, if he’d be another headstone? And, the fact that he wasn’t, if others might…resent him for it? 

Morticia took the lead, her voice lilting like a midnight bell. 

“Too often the world confuses difference for wickedness. The Hydes, poor tortured souls, were shunned and punished—not for their crimes alone, but for their very nature. Tonight, we plant them among our own dead, that they may find at last the home they were denied.”

Gomez stepped forward, placing a black rose on the central grave. His eyes brimmed with passion. “To be an Addams is to be misunderstood! These Hydes were our kin in spirit, cast out by the dull and the frightened. Today, we claim them as family.”

Then came the ceremonial portion: each Addams family member placed a symbolic item into the grave.

Pugsley tossed in a slingshot, muttering, “For mischief.” Fester added a lit firecracker, which fizzled out dramatically in the soil. Morticia sprinkled herbs and bones, chanting in an old tongue. Wednesday offered a single drop of her own blood, pricking her finger and letting it fall. “For memory,” she intoned.

Finally, Gomez beckoned to Tyler. His hands trembled as he stepped forward. Wednesday wasn’t sure what he’d give; this moment was deeply sacred and something her family kept close to their chest. He knelt, placing a claw-marked stone into the grave. “For all of us,” he whispered, voice cracking.

The Addams family cheered, wept, applauded—it was morbid and theatrical, but entirely sincere. The mourners looked mostly mournful, though perhaps a bit confused by the parade of it all. Fireworks shaped like skulls exploded overhead. 

The Hydes, once forsaken, now had a resting place among those who would always care for their gravestones. 

After the funeral turned into a party.

Naturally, the Addamses loved a good party, and a funeral was the exact perfect time to celebrate. 

The Addams mansion had been transformed for the wake. Heavy black velvet drapes muted the light, candelabras dripped with wax, and the long dining hall groaned under the weight of a feast that would have made any undertaker blush. Silver platters held delicacies such as bat-wing turnovers, marrow stew, candied scorpions, and coffin-shaped cakes dusted with powdered sugar. Crystal goblets brimmed with blood-red wine, or, for the squeamish or underage, blackberry cordial.

At the head of the hall, the organ thundered out a triumphant dirge, while Lurch occasionally broke into song in a deep, mournful baritone. The atmosphere was both reverent and celebratory: a family reunion of the living and the dead.

Enid had gone all out, wearing black sequins with pink accents, trying to honor the mood without losing her sparkle. She stuck close to Ajax, who looked overwhelmed but fascinated, his snakes hissing softly under his black hat in what might have been approval. Bianca, ever composed, observed the strangeness with cool detachment, though her curiosity betrayed her. Eugene hovered near the dessert table, already on his second coffin cake, occasionally whispering with a small cluster of moths that buzzed just above his collar.

At the far end of the room, former spouses and distant relatives of Hydes mingled. A pale widow in lace gloves dabbed her eyes with a black veil while recounting her late husband’s misunderstood “episodes.” A stooped uncle reminisced fondly about his nephew’s talent for woodcarving before “the madness took him.” Instead of shame, the room brimmed with recognition—a patchwork community stitched together by grief and acceptance.

Tyler swam among them like a fish taking to water. She watched him, ready to intervene, but he was stitching together community like he was carefully weaving patches into a quilt. She watched him connect people, take phone numbers, and listen with care. There was a promise in the future, and Wednesday got the sense that he meant it when he told folks about all he had planned for them; it wasn't just politeness. 

Wednesday allowed herself to be drawn into some conversations. She did have a strange kinship with all of them, especially those bonded to a Hyde. Some, drowning in memories, showed Wednesday their bites, scarred over or nearly faded. They told stories, but that’s all it was…stories. It seemed no one knew any more than Wednesday already did. 

But she refused to believe that there were no answers out there. Yet, tonight was not the night to dig deeper. 

Morticia floated through the crowd like a raven queen, ensuring every guest felt seen. Gomez raised toasts with fervor, his wine glass sloshing dramatically as he declared, “Tonight, we honor the beauty of monstrosity!”

As midnight struck, Morticia led a séance at the table, inviting the spirits of departed Hydes to join in the feast. Guests swore they felt the brush of unseen hands, heard the low growl of voices carried on the candle smoke. The living raised their glasses to the dead, and for the first time in years—perhaps ever—the Hydes had a seat at the table.

The door slammed open as the night drew on. Wednesday watched a woman stumble in, shrugging off a long jacket, her hair full of twigs. She seemed to be her mother’s age, but Morticia was nowhere to be found.

“Did I miss it?” The woman was asking, “Oh, shoot! I got caught up running over here. Tish’ll kill me—” 

She broke off when Wednesday approached, waving Lurch away. 

The silver streak in the woman’s dark hair gleamed whenever the candles caught it. Someone offered her a goblet, and she took it, shaking out a wild mane.

Must be a werewolf…where’s Enid when you need her? 

The answer was probably nauseating to Wedneseay; she imagined Enid and Ajax sneaking off to one of the many unused rooms together. 

“You’re Morticia’s girl,” she said, her voice low and rasped by age but full of certainty. “You have her cheekbones—and her way of looking at people like you’re already dissecting them.”

Wednesday tilted her head. “Observation is a survival skill. It also helps when one wishes to avoid tedious small talk.”

The woman extended a hand, “Belladonna…Donna. Your mother and I were best friends when we were at school.” 

Wednesday looked her up and down. Yes, she believed that.

Across the room, she searched for Tyler. He was fantastic at inane small talk. She was hoping she could foist this introduction off on him, but he was talking to Bianca in a corner and was blind to Wednesday's fiery stare on the back of his head. She looked back and realized Donna had followed her summoning glare. 

Donna chuckled, showing just a hint of fang. “Oh, you’re definitely her daughter. I remember when Morticia brought Gomez as her date to a Nevermore mixer. Half the school thought he was beneath her. She never cared what they thought.”

Wednesday’s gaze flicked briefly toward Tyler across the room. “An admirable trait. One I’ve had to practice recently.”

Donna followed her line of sight, then raised a brow. Understanding seemed to dawn on her face. “Yes. The Hyde boy.” She swirled her drink. “That’s… a bold choice.”

“It isn’t a choice,” Wednesday replied flatly. “It’s a fact. And facts are stubborn things.”

Donna regarded her for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. “Your mother always had a gift for loving what others feared. I suppose it runs in the family.”

Once, not so long ago, Wednesday would have been horrified to be compared to her mother in any way. She recalled the firm, snarky comment to Morticia when she was dropped off at Nevermore.

I'm not you, Mother. I'll never fall in love, be a housewife, or have a family. 

Childish shame filled her. She wondered how her mother could have stood there and let Wednesday say such things that were obviously so untrue. And even, at the time, her mother had no idea her daughter would run into her soulmate just a few days later, it seemed so absurd to Wednesday that she once thought that she'd never want those things in life. 

She let herself muse on the fact that already her first announcement had proven false. While she didn't think she was ever fit for the life of a housewife, idly, her thoughts drifted to the idea of a family.

In a sense, she was already a unit with Tyler. But there was that last, taunting little final nail in the coffin. Something she felt she was too young to think about seriously, but was realizing that she might, one day, owe her mother a large apology.

And the most disturbing realization of all? Wednesday was not horrified that she was breaking all the rules she'd so stubbornly set for herself. 

Wednesday allowed the faintest curve of a smile. “Unlike most, she taught me that monsters are often the most honest people in the room.”

Donna lifted her glass in salute. “Then here’s to the monsters. And to the Addams women, who never flinch from loving them.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes. She would hardly call her father a monster…except when he saw a churro stand, that is. 

Before she could say anything, whether to correct or confirm, there was a sound of glass breaking. Wednesday saw the crowd part to reveal Ajax having dropped his wine glass, Enid trying to brush away the debris, apologizing. 

“You never told me that they’re—” 

Whatever he was about to say, Enid cut him off by dragging him into the butler’s pantry just off the hall. Wednesday followed, and her friends filed in behind. Finally, Tyler, too, followed, looking unsure. 

“What is this about?” 

“They’re married!” Ajax threw his hound out, looking like a fish out of water, “Those two! There’s a family photo out there, and it says that he’s Tyler Addams.” 

Ah, yes. In all Wednesday’s preparations, she’d forgotten about Tyler’s birthday photo. Hmm. 

“I mean, I told you that Tyler was going to be here…” Enid trailed off, “What did you think…that he was…doing here?” She asked slowly. 

“I don’t know…” Ajax rubbed his temple, “This is trippy. Wednesday’s married.” 

“Magically,” Wednesday confirmed, though she doubted that small clarification would matter to him.

“Surprise?” Tyler asked. Wednesday jabbed him in the kidney. 

“Congratulations,” Biacna snorted, but it was obvious that she knew. Ajax turned to Euguen, desperate. He shrugged.

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out,” Eugene said, "I mean, maybe not the marriage part, but the fact that they're obviously together." 

“Oh, so I’m just the last to know?” He sighed, “Gave me a heart attack…” 

“The last of my friends,” Wednesday said, which did matter, “Our classmates from Nevermore they…I don’t…intend to speak on this publicly. Not for a while.” She said, “I would appreciate it if you kept it that way.” 

“Sure…” Ajax mumbled, “What did you do this weekend, Ajax? Oh, nothing. Just went to this big funeral. For who? Uhm, well, that’s…you see…” He started whispering to himself. Enid gave a terse smile. 

“He’s good, don’t worry,” She assured, kissing his cheek, “So you’re not Wendesay Galpin?” She asked. 

Wednesday gagged, “I’d rather die before that.” 

Tyler snickered, “That can be arranged.” And then, at everyone’s confused and horrified looks — and Enid looking like she was about to stab him through the throat at the light jest— he rolled on the balls of his feet, “Guess you haven’t told ‘em all about the curse?” 

Wednesday groaned. No, she had not. 

Tyler, so kindly and humoursly, filled them in.

The response was immediate; a lot of yelling.

This was going to be a very long night. Luckily, the party was set to go until dawn, meaning that Wedneasy had plenty of time to share much more about herself than she ever intended to with those who had, absurdly, shown up without question.

Healthy friendships and a budding, deep relationship. If you had told Wednesday this was in her future when she’d set foot at Nevemore years ago, she would have gutted you.

But now, here in the moment, in the tiny broom closet, with Tyler’s warm hand on her shoulder as she explained how it wasn’t really a curse, it didn’t seem quite so bad.

XXX

Tyler commissioned the last grave stone without telling anyone. It was about a month after the formal induction ceremony for it to arrive, and when he did, Tyler dug the space for it himself.

Then, he and his father sat out in front of it for ages, talking to the grave. 

Wednesday watched from a safe distance. This was something the two of them needed to do alone. 

Finally, as a light ran pitter-pattered against the roof, sliding down the windows, Wednesday ventured out to her Hyde. She gave Donovan a terse nod as he left. 

Tyler was sitting in front of the grave, fingers tracing the etching. 

Francoise Sylvaine Galpin

Mother, Wife, Hyde

September 5th, 1974 - February 19th, 2011

Tyler looked up at Wednesday and patted the soil beside him. Wednesday sank down, the mud squishing against her raincoat, but settled herself in. 

“It’s truly beautiful,” Wednesday said. It had carved roses and woods, like someone was peeling back moss to find a temple of lost times. 

“I never knew how my mom died, you know?” Tyler mumbled, “Guess my dad thought if he told me, I’d surely turn if I had the beast within me.” 

“Bad?” Wednesday guessed, reaching for his hand. He took it, squeezing it, his smile grim.

“Yeah. Bad.” They sat in silence for a bit before he sniffled, finding the words to explain, “She, uhm, was triggered after having me. Post-partum. She did her best, but I think it just never got treated, and it got worse and worse and worse. And my dad, he didn’t know how to be a Master.” Tyler’s jaw twitched, “I have a theory, you know? About all this.” 

“About…Masters?” 

He nodded, “I think it’s a miscommunication. I think it’s led to so much heartache because people don’t know what the hell they’re doing. I think it’s more supposed to be…a leader. I mean, hell, I don’t want to be in charge. I just want you to tell me where to go and what to do. I’ll follow with a sweet ‘yes, Dear Cockroach’.” 

Wednesday gave a nod, thoughtful, as she chewed on that idea. It would certainly make more sense. Someone guiding, not commanding with an iron fist.

“And, well, my dad’s not a leader. Ironic, since he’s a police chief, but you can skate by being sort of like he is and be bad at it, right?” Tyler offered, “Anyway. She just got worse as time went on. Never fixed the root to begin with. Started losing memory…waking up covered in blood…God, Wen, she must have been so scared,” His voice broke, sounding like he was a five-year-old again, only knowing that his mother was losing her mind, “And no one was there to help her.” 

“Did she go to the Hyde Meeting?” Wednesday hadn’t wanted to ask until now. She imagined that maybe her mom had kept Francoise's face from here, that too much for anyone to bear.

“No,” Tyler said, “Thankfully, no. But she…” He trailed off, staring up at the sky, “She was really losing it when I was young, like, four or five. She nicked me, right here,” Tyler lifted a shirt to show a very old wound, “I always thought I got that from falling off my bike, but when my dad told me, I do remember…” He shook his head, “She thought that it was only a matter of time until she lost herself completely. And she couldn’t stand to lose me to this. She had dreamed of my dad coming home to find me torn open and that she would just be completely off the rails, mind totally gone. So she wanted to protect me…” He sucked in full sobs now, “My dad’s not good at a lot. But he’s a good shot.” 

Wednesday flicned, as though she was having a vision through space and time and could hear that final shot from Donovan ringing in her ears. 

“He did it because he loves you. And her. He just…didn’t know there were other choices.” Wednesday didn’t think she’d ever be defending Tyler’s dad, but…he had been a normie. He wasn’t born into a family so accepting like Wednesday had been. 

“I guess I always guessed something like that. I mean, why else would my dad get drunk so often?” Tyler asked, bitterly, “But hearing it confirmed was…Jesus.” Tyler’s voice shook, and all at once, he couldn’t finish his thought. Heavy tears escaped his lips, and he broke down in front of the grave. Wednesday rubbed his back, not sure what else to do, but he seemed to appreciate that she was just merely there. 

She hoped that, perhaps, after this…Tyler would be freed from the awful news of his family.

“I think she would have liked you,” Tyler finally whispered, using his sleeve to dry his eyes. 

“No,” Wednesday said firmly, “Adults tend not to like me. I’m too aloof for them. I’m used to it.” 

“Yeah, but there’s no one like you, Wen. No one who loves as deeply, or goes to such lengths. I think if she saw how stupidly happy I am, she’d have no choice but to love you, too.” 

Wednesday couldn’t offer any assurance of that. What she could offer, though, was what she knew she could control.

“No one ought to suffer like she did. We’ll make sure any Hydes still out there have someone they can go to. This will be the end of this.” She said, motoning around them.

Tyler gave a tentative smile, “Yeah?” 

“There must be others out there. And more leads.” Wednesday insisted, “It just will take a little bit more adventure.” 

“Well,” Tyler laughed, rubbing his neck, “I mean, it’s only up from our first one, right?” 

“Who knows?” Wednesday asked with a small smile, “If we’re lucky, next time, one of us will get fatally disembowled. What fun that might be.” 

Tyler snorted, kissing her forehead, “I’ll let you cut out my intestines whenever you want.” 

“Well, now, dear Hyde, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Chapter Text

Tyler pressed behind Wednesday, his breath warm against her earlobe.

“Bathroom,” He’d whispered in that sinfully, velvety blackened voice, “Now.” 

Wednesday glanced around, but he was already gone, as if it had just been her imagination. She checked her watch; it was still forty-five minutes before the party. 

She was pretty sure it was the way she’d been reaching up to tack glittery black bats to the rafters that had done Tyler in. She’d offered to Enid to procure some real bats, which would make the party all the more realistic, but Enid had just scrunched her nose.

“Let’s just stick to my decorations, okay?” 

Well, if Enid was going for gaudy and glittery, she’d gotten it.

The warehouse was bursting to the brim, decorated with smiling pumpkins, cutesy little black cat statues with wide grinning eyes, and bright streamers in pinks, purples, and blacks. It was an overload to Wednesday’s senses, and if Enid let her, she would probably give a scathing review on the commercialization of a once sacred holiday.

And then Enid would pout and say, ‘But look! This little ghost is pastel and soooo cute!’ 

She didn’t see Enid, but she was sure she was dealing with something that Enid would call an emergency. Wednesday supposed planning the five-year Nevermore reunion was more than just sending out a gilded invitation, and Wednesday was glad that she was not the one trying to organize it. 

Wednesday wasn’t even going ot attend.

While Ajax and Bianca had come to terms with Tyler as, in a sense, a separated entity from the ‘Tyler’ that had wreaked havoc during their sophomore year, Wednesday wasn’t sure her entire graduating class would take to him so swimmingly. Most were far too emotional and not intelligent enough to comprehend complicated ideals like ‘redemption’. 

Enid had given Wednesday such a look of sorrow that Tyler had swooped in and offered to help her set up the ‘spooky’ warehouse, with assurances to Wednesday that they’d leave before anyone arrived. 

Enid had been happy enough with that compromise, since it was the best she was going to get. Wednesday hadn’t been too keen to offer any middle ground. She just wasn’t sure it made sense for Tyler to be out.

They’d grown accustomed to their lives at the Addams Family mansion. It was big enough for the pair of them to have their own lives, their own growth as a couple, without needing to live on top of her parents. 

Everything they needed was there. That, and Tyler was now a leader in a Hyde Support group…so far, no actual Hydes, but there were plenty of mates or family members who attended. Their gate was open more than ever these days for relatives to leave flowers at headstones in Hyde Park, and Morticia couldn’t be happier. 

But Tyler and Enid liked each other…or at least, they liked to torture Wednesday, in so much of bringing up the ambiguous ‘wedding’ on some far horizon. It was their favorite shared pastime. 

And Enid and Tyler had spent the morning hardly working to get the party set up, instead taking shots together and raiding the snacks before any guests arrived, while Wednesday toiled to get this up as fast as she could…because then she could leave faster.

Wednesday had zero interest in finding out what her classmates were doing five years post graduation, and she was sure the feeling was mutual. 

When Enid had asked what she should tell people about Wednesday’s absence, Wednesday had lifted an eyebrow.

“Contagious skin-eating disease, emergency amputation below the elbow, lost in the jungles of the Amazon for a vacation…take your pick.” 

Enid had tilted her head, “Your amputation or someone else’s?” 

“Whatever stops people from asking.” 

Suffice it to say, when Tyler commanded her presence, Wednesday was not guilty of leaving her task at hand.

The bathroom door took a little bit of jiggling to get it to lock properly. Wednesday had been thrilled at the location of the reunion, the only redeeming thing about it. It looked like the perfect place for a serial killer to dismember someone, but Enid's touch had crept everywhere.

Even the bathroom.

Wednesday wrestled an orange hand towel to the ground, kicking it away with her foot.

Tyler laughed. 

"Baby, you gotta take those tights off," He groaned, picking Wednesday up and dropping to his knees in front of her, "Unless..." He asked, his eyes glimmering with a wicked yellow shimmer.

"No," Wednesday said shortly, "These are my favorite tights." They were covered in little spiders. 

Tyler pouted but carefully rolled them down, and his tongue chased the hem as he revealed her skin, inch by inch. When they had slid over her foot, he peered up at her, opening his jaw, already panting. His cheeks were blotched with a delicious red, like the color of a fresh wound.

"Legs, open," He commanded, "Far as they go." 

Wednesday obeyed, leaning against the mirror, letting out a shiver of pleasure as Tyler pressed his whole jaw against her clit, biting it between his teeth before following it with a lap of his tongue through her underwear. She shivered, her fingers gripping the edge of the vanity, one of her legs pressing against the spine of his back, heel digging him farther against her. 

Wednesday bit back a low, throaty groan.

Tyler looked up, his lips glistening with her wetness, "Oh, no, you know the rules," He teased. 

He liked to hear her.

Wednesday's eyes flickered to the door, and Tyler took off his watch, setting it beside her, "Plenty of time," He assured, "And we've overheard Enid and Ajax enough, so Enid doesn't have a leg to stand on," He added with a snort, "C'mon Wednesday, throw me a bone," He purred. 

Wednesday nodded twice, sharply, and Tyler pulled her back into this moment easily. She let out whimpers as he teased her, graduating to moans and to full groans. Tyler took his time, in no great rush to move on, yanking her to that hazy post orgasmic state as he rolled through more than she could take, but he always pushed as far over the edge as he could go.

"Get down," He finally commanded, palming himself through his jeans. Wednesday gave a fluttered blink, shaking her head. She didn't think her legs would support her.

Tyler nipped above her breast, "That wasn't optional," He crooned. "Get down," He said, and she felt her limbs slip onto the floor. Tyler, of course, wouldn't let her collapse boneless and held her steady as he turned her around. He flipped her dress up, grasping her ass in his hands, massaging at her tailbone. 

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart." 

"You," Wednesday groaned, pressing up against him, her forearms shaking as she held herself steady on the vanity. 

"In what way?" He continued, stepping back. 

"Inside me," Wednesday begged, "I know you're just as needy as I am," She added, looking back over her shoulder to see him breathing heavily, his eyes darkened like a starless night.

Tyler pushed his pants down and grasped her throat, holding her head up to watch as he pressed inside of her.

"My darling Raven," He whispered, and she watched the way his skin rippled, teetering on the edge between human and Hyde, "Made for me." 

He pulled down her sleeve, revealing the bite, and pressed his lips against it, letting his teeth graze over the skin. It was equally as orgasmic as any other erogenous zone on her body, if not more, as just Tyler's gossamer touch against it could have her desperate and wet. 

Wednesday's fingers pressed against the countertop as she watched Tyler thrust into her, knocking off a fake plant, another hand towel, and whatever else was blocking her way from spreading out for him.

"Tell me what you need," Tyler growled.

"Just you, just this," Wednesday whimpered, twisting her neck for Tyler to suck on, "No marks," She gasped. 

"I will if I want to," Tyler argued, "I'll leave you black and blue. We both know you look so pretty like that," He said. 

"No death, either," Wednesday said, "We don't have ti—oh!" 

Tyler reached between their bodies. 

"Come, Wednesday, come on my fingers. Come on my cock." 

"Yes," Wednesday groaned, feeling a higher peak. She always came harder when he was inside of her. Tyler pinched, and she finished. Tyler grasped onto her braids, never more than a few seconds behind, their bond reverberating between both their frantically galloping hearts.

Wednesday caught her breath, rising, taking note of the unnatural stillness of the space.

It was quiet outside the door. Enid’s cheery, very not-scary music couldn’t be heard in the background anymore.

Wednesday gathered her wits, pulling away from Tyler. She cocked her head, confused. Tyler wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes still following Wednesday’s figure with a self-satisfied smirk.

Wednesday pulled up her tights, wondering why it had gotten so quiet. 

Tyler patted the ground for his watch, and just as Wednesday was pushing the door open, Tyler made a choking sound like someone was stabbing him through the throat.

“Wen, wait—” 

But it was too late.

The entire warehouse was filled with Wednesday’s Nevermore graduating class, all staring at Wednesday exiting the bathroom with varied looks of shock, disbelief, and acute horror or keen uncomfortableness. 

Wednesday’s eyes flickered to the clock; they’d been preoccupied far longer than she had initially thought.

It was one thing to watch Wednesday Addams stumble out of a bathroom with her lipstick smudged and hair askew, but the party was suddenly extraordinary, not silent when Tyler meekly exited behind her. 

The whole warehouse was suddenly yelling over one another.

“Didn’t he try to kill us seven years ago?” 

“Well, yeah, but that would be Wednesday’s type, wouldn’t it?” 

“Do you think he hypnotized her?” 

“Ha! If anything, it’s probably Wednesday pulling the strings…” 

Wednesday wasn’t usually prone to caring a lick what others thought, but she cared if Tyler was uncomfortable. Instead, he just surveyed the crowd with curiosity. He seemed unbothered. 

“Tyler!” From across the warehouse, Enid parted the former students like a magician. She was practically vibrating with electricity, and she stormed toward the pair with such forecefulness that Wednesday thought she was about to wolf-out and bodycheck them against the wall. 

“Enid…” Wednesday started with narrowed eyes, but she was not in the mood to be messed with.

“I set all this up, and for what? Seriously?” She demanded, waving a wild set of hand gestures toward Tyler, some of them extremely rude. Tyler opened his mouth, shrugging helplessly, but before he could utter a single word, Enid was whisking them both away toward the front of the building, swearing under her breath.

As they passed the twins, Kent slapped Divina’s shoulders.

“I told you Wednesday wouldn’t pick just any old Outcast, that it was bound to be a monster. Pay up!” he demanded gleefully. If anything, Wednesday was glad that she was causing Divina to lose money.

“Wait, wait!” Divina blinked at Wednesday like she was trying to blink away a fog, “If he’s the one who bit you…” She was thinking very hard, back to that girl’s weekend at the lake that felt so very long ago, to Wednesday, “Are you his master?” 

“Yep.” Tyler answered with a pop of the ‘p’.

“But then…the sounds that we heard…how does that work?” Divina asked, looking so confused she couldn’t stand it, “He was ordering you.” 

Wednesday coolly observed one of her least favorite classmates, “There must be a natural balance, otherwise Hydes go mad. Though...” She turned back to look at Tyler, a half-grin on her face, “That may be fun too.” 

Before anyone else could question, Enid tugged them away with brute force. Behind them, Bianca clapped her hands, drawing their attention away.

On the steps of the warehouse, Enid let them go, pacing hard enough to make a rut in the pebbled drive.

“Tyler!” She finally threw her hands down, a frustrated scream, “We had a plan!” 

“Sorry, Enid, I just got…distracted—” 

“Oh, oh, oh!” Enid poked him with a finger, “I don’t need to hear that.” 

“A plan for what?” Wednesday asked, eyebrows furrowing, “Have I missed something?” 

Enid turned to Wednesday, screwing her eyes narrowly shut, “Seriously? Take a guess.”

Wednesday tried to draw forth the situation, but found herself drowning in a lack of clarity. She gave a single shrug, feeling like she was being called on at school, and she didn’t have the right answer.

Enid turned, stalked out to the parking lot, and kicked a pile of leaves until they were scattered all over. When she came back, she gave a shrug that seemed as if she was trying very hard to seem nonplussed about whatever was happening. 

“I guess, just, do it now. No matter that Enid set all of this up, but whatever, who cares, right?” Enid threw up her hands. Thing appeared. She gave Thing a shared look and then shook her head, “I know! I can’t believe it either, Thing…” 

Wednesday tilted her head, suspicious. She turned to the sound of ruffling behind her, of clothes creasing. 

Tyler was on the ground.

Kneeling.

Wednesday blinked at him.

“Urg, seriously? Not even now?” Enid gaped, “Oh, wow, Wen—” 

“Enid, maybe now might be a nice moment to just…” Tyler made a ‘quieting’ motion with his palms. Enid slapped a hand across her mouth, nodding hard, eyes wide.

When Wednesday swung her gaze back, Tyler had procured something.

A box.

Wait, no, not just a box but a…

“Wednesday Addams, you are the kookiest, spookiest girl I’ve ever met. And you know, we’re basically already married, sure, but what do you say about making it government legal, dear cockroach?” 

There was a ring.

Black, and gothic, and matte instead of sparkling, and the most beautiful thing Wednesday had ever seen. She blinked at it, mouth agape. 

Tyler was right. There really wasn’t much need to go through this, and she’d almost rather just go down to the courthouse and threaten the municipal worker to file the paperwork, if not for that pesky promise she’d made Enid.

Still, there wasn’t any doubt about how she felt or what she’d say.

“Get off the ground, Tyler,” She said, fighting off the strangest sensation…a smile. 

“So…is that a yes?” Enid asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet, overeager. 

Wednesday extended her hand, and Tyler slid the ring on.

“Urg! Yes, finally!” Enid punched the air, “I mean, not really as romantic as you made it seem like it would be—” 

“I thought it was very romantic,” Wednesday argued, “There’s nothing sexier than utilitarianism. Hardly a need for purple prose.” 

“Well, sure, you’d think that,” Enid sighed, “When Ajax proposes, I want roses. I want a hundred white doves. I want to cry so hard I ruin my makeup. And, Jesus, I even tried to make it Wednesday-friendly—” 

“Wait,” Wednesday frowned, “What does that mean?” 

“Well, I’m your wedding planner, of course, I had a hand in this. I thought you’d be thrilled with a Hallowen proposal.” 

“I…am.” Wednesday blinked, strangely touched by Enid’s thoughtfulness. 

“I was meant to do it inside, before everyone arrived, but, uhm…” Tyler rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepish, “That dress just does a lot to me.” 

“Oh.” Wednesday’s eyes widened, looking back toward the warehouse, “Oh.” 

“No good deed goes unpunished…” Enid gave a dramatic sigh. 

“I’m sure you’ll make it up with the planning,” Wednesday said, deadpanned. 

The doors to the venue broke open. It seemed all Bianca and Ajax’s efforts to keep the curious crowd back had failed, but at least they’d managed until the big moment.

“I think he just proposed!” Someone gasped, catching the new jewelry on her finger.

“Now this would be what someone might call…” Tyler laughed, trying to keep it down, but couldn’t help it, “Hard-launching a relationship.” He teased.

She knew people expected her to snap at him, to chide him for making jokes or making light of this moment, but if anything, Wednesday found herself, as she always was by Tyler, charmed and soothed in a way that made all the things in life that might cause her strife feel so far away.

Wednesday expected herself to be more…upset. She didn’t like people peeking into her private life, and for Enid’s frustrating moments, she had tried to make it intimate. Of course, she couldn’t blame Tyler’s desire, as she shared similar feelings. More than that, though, she was unbothered by the idea that people had just witnessed something almost sacred. That they knew she was in love with Tyler.

She just didn’t care at all.

She pulled Tyler down, grasping his blushed cheeks, and brought him down into a long, deep, meaningful kiss.

Yes, in front of everyone.

Simply because…she wanted to.