Work Text:
Tyler wasn’t so good with Hyde in the beginning. He would scratch himself. Tyler worried what his soulmate would think when they woke up and had long blue slashes across their torso; they might think he was dead or wounded. After the third or fifth time, they may think he was a maniac— which Tyler Galpin may be.
At first, he wouldn’t remember where he got the scratches— Hyde’s appearance would cause him to blackout. However, as he began to remember the nights more, he began to like them more too. It became almost fun. There was a rush to it, an excitement— but also a craft.
It was a shame that Laurel demanded he kills as quickly as possible. He never had time to hunt his prey or really savor the kill— the best part would be the build of their fear, an escalation in their terror, a skyrocket of their instincts, then Tyler would see them in person and serve them their coffee. It would be so fun to be the ‘boy next door’ but also the cause of their doom.
Tyler used to think that maybe Laurel’s cause could actually be something worthy. That was naïve of him. There isn’t anything wrong with the students of Nevermore Academy. It was just their roll of the dice— they had theirs, and the town had its, and Tyler had his.
Many people had soulmates, few didn’t. A soulmate’s flesh would reflect yours. Tattoos would seem like birthmarks on one’s partner, scars wouldn’t appear, and wounds would be a shade of blue— the deeper the wound, the deeper the blue. Tyler would swear up and down he would have the lightest patches of color on his skin when he was 5 or 6 but his family insisted those must be bruises from playing too roughly. Outcasts supposedly had a special connection with their soulmate, but it was all very hush, hush. Rumor has it that the bond is influenced by the talents of the pair— so if one is a siren, their partner would have immunity to their song… of course, a normie-outcast pairing was incredibly uncommon so who is to really know.
Tyler used to wonder if his soulmate could love what he has become. He no longer thinks of it now, resigning himself to a loveless fate. If he was to have a soulmate, it would be his master— and Gates unlocked his Hyde so she was his . There was a time when Tyler thought it might be a reciprocated connection— that maybe now that he had a master he would find a blue splotch on him one day. To no avail. His skin remained free of blue. Tyler was doomed to a one-sided bond.
It was odd. It was fucked. It wasn’t romantic in the slightest. Fortunately, she kept him at a distance and it hadn’t turned sexual. Though sometimes she would touch him in a rather suggestive manner that frankly made his skin crawl. How could he have ever thought this woman was like his mother?
Over time, Tyler and Hyde become more in sync and he starts to see the positives of the situation and pick up some more than unique interests.
Tyler Galpin meets Wednesday Addams one day. He’s more than intrigued, then Laurel orders him to keep an eye on her. Then Laurel sees how close they are getting— despite Tyler’s best efforts to hide it— and tells him to use that to his advantage and presses him more and more to keep an eye on Wednesday the sacrifice.
Wednesday is wonderful. She’s a dark mistress who barrels into any and every situation with her signature deadpan expression. Tyler is fond of Wednesday, likes her even, but he knows he can’t get too attached to the gothic girl. His master wants her dead, and he does what his soulmate wants.
Wednesday had briefly seen long, slanted, deep lines across her ribs, chest, and stomach. It crossed her mind that perhaps her fated partner would die from such wounds but realized that if they were meant for her, then of course they would survive. And they did.
More claw marks appeared and Wednesday was so lost in the delirious happiness of having such a gory soulmate that she passed a whole semester at a school— her parents deemed it a ‘step in the right direction.’ Of course, they stopped just as fast as they came, and then the worry set in.
What if they were a normal person who just got kidnapped and survived? What if they didn’t even have cool scars? Wednesday refused to be with someone so blah that they had no appreciation for the darker things in life.
So Wednesday took all of that stress and poured it into the school’s pool… while the water polo team was inside. Then her parents told her that she would find her place at Nevermore. Her mother even went as far as suggesting that perhaps she would find her soulmate there. Preposterous.
Nevermore did yield other interesting plots. The murders, the Hyde, her father’s arrest and subsequent release, a family of interest, and more.
Then someone got hurt and she catches a glimpse of red in her bathroom mirror that night.
Wednesday zeros in on the color immediately. It’s red. All Adams family members were thankfully cursed long ago to have red soul marks rather than the traditional blue. She’s thankful for the curse because red is the only color she can stand.
There are 5 slash marks across her right breast; just like the ones Tyler had earlier after his encounter with the Hyde.
She doesn’t take it well. There is no way her soulmate is Tyler Galpin. He is so- so… There are no words. They do not exist in Wednesday’s vocabulary. Sweet. Kind. Puppy-like.
To make matters worse, he already seems to have some sort of inclination toward her— between the Rave’n and the birthday dinner debacle, Wednesday had already found herself on a specific path. A path she must avoid.
Then her Uncle Fester comes to town and she, of course, has to take him to the Weathervane. Tyler comes over like she hoped he would and offers a quad. Suddenly she is introducing him to her Uncle and her Uncle shocks him.
It looks like it hurts. It will surely leave a mark that will show up as a reddish patch on her right wrist too.
Tyler insists upon a date, and Wednesday does have to acknowledge that she does owe him. So she accepts, preps, and sets her expectations extremely low.
The date is unfortunately incredibly creepy and a bit torturous— her ideal date. After the film, he seems a bit nervous.
“Wednesday,” he starts as he goes to hold her right hand. oh no, here it comes. “What happened to your wrist?”
The Addams feels her breath escape her. Her sleeve must have come up during the grotesque movie and she had been too pained to notice. Rookie mistake. Wednesday slowly raises her eyes from her slightly off-red wrist, back up to Tyler’s blue eyes. There’s hope, but also something black in his eyes— something she’s never seen before and it makes her heart skip a single, small beat.
“The Addams family get red marks,” she says cryptically.
His face drops from its tight, forced grin. Tyler stares into her eyes with an expression she doesn’t know how to label. His grip tightens, and tightens until it is painful, he doesn’t break eye contact. This newfound dark determination is uncharacteristic of who Wednesday knows him to be. It ignites a spark of wretched hope in her little black heart.
“You’re hurting me,” she says as flatly as she can, merely making an observation. His grip on her wrist has turned punishing. She knows what he wants, but she doesn’t bruise easily. “You’ll have to press harder,” Wednesday advises.
Tyler stops his vice grip and stares at her before bringing up a hand to the base of her throat and sliding his fingers around the column of her neck. “What if I try somewhere more delicate?” He looked like a man possessed.
Wednesday was thrilled at the unexpected shift she had witnessed him undertake. He had already worked his way into her dead heart before showing her any of the actual meat of his personality. Now that she knew he was capable of dark, pleasurable pain, she was suddenly more keen to see just how corrupt her soulmate actually was. How deep was this blackness inside of him?
It’s like electroshock without the metallic aftertaste. He stands so tall above her and yet she holds all the cards— he lets her have them all. Even though he wants so badly to know the truth, he would rather live in pained confusion than act without her permission. His hand is wrapped around her throat just decorating. All his hand does is sit there as he searches her eyes for affirmation.
What is it that her mother droned on and on about with soulmates? Something about sealing the bond with a… kiss. Yes. Wednesday wouldn’t mind laying claim to Tyler. She leans into his touch and lifts her face to his. Tyler is already willing and tilts his head down to meet her.
Then, of course, his father- the sheriff- busts in, putting an end to whatever grand reveal was about to take place. So unfortunate.
“Hey,” Tyler catches her outside the crypt and roughly jerks her arm— it seems the idea that she could be his soulmate is one he won’t let go of. He’s right of course, but she’s not quite ready to admit that. There’s something shifting and swirling in his eyes— they look red. “This would change things— it would—“
“Tyler!” The sheriff shouts his warning and even though Tyler clearly isn’t finished, he releases her.
His desperation was fascinating. Is this what true love did to normal men, made them starving demons?
Wednesday retreats to her dorm to process the onslaught of emotions that she can’t label, but she finds no reprieve. Thing has been stabbed. She finds his lifeless body stuck through and hanging against the wall. These are emotions she knows how to label; anger, fear, sadness.
She rushes to Uncle Fester and he performs a miracle. Relief. Then anger. Anger. Anger. And pain.
“This ends now.”
Wednesday catches the killer, albeit through dubious means. Xavier is behind bars, the Hyde is no longer out there. Then Enid and Wednesday reconcile and Wednesday agrees that it may just be time to stop running from fate.
So she goes into her bathroom with the longest blade she has and adds a mark of her own right under her right breast. Now the lines on her chest are five red and one real.
Tyler looks different somehow, perhaps it’s the newfound acceptance of their bond, but Wednesday feels something flutter in her stomach. She fights to keep a smile from gracing her features.
He hasn’t seen his chest yet. That much is clear from the way he keeps his distance and keeps his awkward charm. It doesn’t bother Wednesday, she knows he’s got some darkness in him— after all, he is her soulmate, he’ll know when they finally complete the match and kiss. Actually, it could be quite memorable to have him find out through a kiss.
She steps forward once, twice. She tilts her head up, her heart is pounding. This will change everything. She will no longer be alone. Whatever happens after this, they will face together. He will have to learn to be an Addams, but she has no doubt he is up for the task, he is her soulmate after all.
The kiss shatters her. It’s like his cells are slowly merging with her own. Pieces of him are now pieces of her and any notions she had about this being something less than extraordinary are dispelled. There is no coming back from this. The more they touch, the more they feed into each other.
It’s all a weirdly sweet syrup until the deep well of blackness hits her. Wednesday has a vision.
He’s over her; Panting, Snarking, Out of control. There was sweat, and blood, and something else that just sizzled into her through their fated, forced match. Fuck. It would feel really good. But it’s not here. It’s Ms. Kinbott. This is the moment he killed her. Dead. No ritual. No refinery. No story. Mindless slaughter. Such a callous waste of a death— it wouldn’t even provide a good source of power. Just more gluttony of nothing.
He likes it. She can see it in his eyes. He fucking likes it, and she loves it— with one hand, she could bring him to heal. So goddamn magnificent.
Her eyes throw open and she’s in his arms— so heavily soft on her. He’s concerned, actually concerned she can feel that. He is anxious. There are lingering questions about what she saw and how she would react.
Horrified. This was white abject horror. She could feel her mind racing to process her thoughts fast, his faster, and stay one step ahead but there was none— they were only knitting together better and better each second. Until finally, in one final stitch, they had to physically hold on to one another as tightly as they could. It was searing and hot.
Wednesday knew what was next and it would have to happen. His was her fated match and this was the last threshold for them— to be one body— and traditionally this would be the last threshold they were physically bound to pass with pressure mounting each day.
It’s why her mother had told her to “be careful when dealing with a kiss, as Addams women are more inclined to go all the way immediately,” it was simply another Addams quirk, earned the Addams way (a curse. They were cursed to be this way and the red marks were actually their idea of a remedy). Red marks, to make who was their mate obvious, and they would be able to compose themselves. They would be able to complete the Addams ritual- a traditional Addams family sex rite- of course, her parents hadn’t gotten through it and neither had most of the family, but surprisingly Uncle Fester had. Wednesday found that this was a profoundly easy thing for her to do… if she had remembered.
Which meant she now was going to give her body over to him and let him in completely. Forgive him. Forget the betrayal.
Never .
His hand is up her back, skin against skin. It presses heated handprints into her heated skin. He’s kissing her with the dirtiest excitement— so clearly animalistic and bright-eyed. She’s the master he’s been waiting for. She’s right in front of him. He had to worship every part of her.
Wednesday pulls her head away, just enough that his lips can slip down her neck, pressing a calm like of kisses to her heart.
Her button-up has been undone a bit, her sweater vest gone— along with his apron, and shirt.
Fuck that Addams curse is strong.
Wednesday straddles Tyler. He is leaning up against the booth side, holding her firmly in his lap. The dull moonlight causes a sharpness to his features. Darkly possessive. Darkly needing to consume just her.
Wednesday comes to as she breathes more and more; regaining some semblance of control. The world comes into focus and the fact that they are doing this in an open windowed shop on a popular night sinks in like a stone.
More than that. Tyler lied to her. He fucking duped her. She fucking lost. She had friends whom he attempted to disembowel. He killed her fucking therapist. There was class and motive. He had planned so much. The other victims were torn into with mindless teeth and tongue.
It warmed her cold dead heart to know that he, her fated match would kill her therapist. It was so deeply depraved and intimate. It was something only he could give her. Then, of course, he had already signed his soul away to another master.
That’s what does it. Wednesday’s body grabs for its first instinct and scrambles her body off of him with zero regards for his own person.
She backs away from him into a table. The sound rattles a new sense of reality into the environment. The realization of what’s happening falls into place behind his eyes. She can read it all on his face. He is an open fucking book. Emoting just the same as he had when he was deceiving her about his nature. He is a good liar.
That causes a cold- frigid- freeze to wash over all of her thoughts and feelings. Wednesday felt her thoughts lose grip on her emotions as her thoughts kept chugging forward and her emotions sat frozen in time; mid-avalanche. She was dealing with a predator. A predator so lethal and dangerous he was even in her head.
The gap they had yet to cross throbbed between them. There was a synchronized flip in their bellies.
Goddamn, this Addams family curse.
Wednesday stared down at the predator before her, She could not feel anything come from the bond she knew must connect them. She knows there is a shared history, but can’t access any plausible reasons to think she won any battle knowing he won the war.
She couldn’t trust him. He would just rip her apart. He wouldn’t give her the glorious end she would pursue. No art. No craft. Just mindless slaughter in the name of another.
Who?
Who was his master?
Their thoughts were connected now, she could extract information the way he could now, with her mind. Wednesday zipped through his brain, fast and burning. Tyler grunted in pain as he winced from the sudden cut.
Wednesday found what she came for and bounced out of his head— unceremoniously ripping herself from their shared connection and shutting him out of hers again.
It hurt him. She cut her emotions off from the both of them and he still projected so clearly to her.
Laurel Gates. Ms. Thornhill.
Her soulmate is someone else’s monster.
It’s euphoric. It’s darkly divine. He was supping from the mouth of a gloomy Angel. He is worshiping the skin of his fated match. He can see it now; the extra red line accompanying her five. He catches glimpses of the open wound on her ribs and pays extra attention not to accidentally cause her pain. However, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t engraved into his mind and soul the way she shuddered and gasped when he ran a soft finger along the bandage, following the entire length of the under of her breast subsequently. Holy. This was sacred. Tyler could now read every inch of her soul.
And then memories started freezing, like frozen pictures. Her world of complexity and emotion turned so frigid they gathered soft permafrost. Tyler felt alarmed at the sudden lack of warmth. It was now bitter cold from her side of the bond. Only a cold wind would billow through from her side. He searched for a path that could connect him to her. And then the Addams Family Curse passed through them.
The only thing connecting him to her is their shared pleasure and lust. The feedback loop was left on. One pleasure mounting another until he was forced to meet her eye up above him.
She looked down on him the very picture of dark desire. Her clothes are askew, her face is still flushed, but her eyes are stone to him. Wednesday wasn’t going to complete the bonding. She wasn’t going to let him in and take solace in her cold soul.
“I have to go,” the words sounded flat. She wastes no time going out the door and up the street, righting her clothes as she goes.
The burning in Tyler’s veins, the one he knows she feels too, demanded their completion of the bond, and yet the tundra of Wednesday’s mind told him that he wouldn’t be so lucky. She had locked him out. He focuses on the last emotions that passed through their bond. Flesh against flesh– Bliss. An image of blood– Thing and him– Shock. Hyde– Betrayal. Thornhill– Anger.
He had been betraying her for Laurel this whole time. She had seen that in his mind. She had seen Hyde. Secrets upon secrets Tyler had kept from Wednesday and now he would pay for them. Everything he had done up to this point seemed so idiotic.
He should have known from the beginning that Laurel wasn’t his fucking soulmate. She may have unlocked him, but the way he felt towards his horrid master didn’t even come close to the utter devotion he lays at Wednesday’s feet. And yet he has allowed himself to become subservient to another, carried out their bidding, and all the while manipulating his soulmate.
It made sense that Wednesday was his soulmate. Of course, she was. It was so painfully obvious to him now; the heated interest, the desire to protect her, the urge to obey her whims. If anyone could accept Hyde, it would be her. Wednesday would have done more than accept, she would have adored his monster. Knowing that all of the glory and acceptance that Wednesday could give are now locked to him causes his own body to tense.
He would make this right. He had to make this right. Tyler fucked up. He had been a part of a plot to set his soulmate up and mistakenly followed a weak master. He even let himself be manipulated by Thornhill into thinking that she was his soulmate. Disgusting, ugly notion.
Tyler forces his dizzying panic and suffocating pain down. He scrapes himself off the floor and starts testing the limitations of what Laurel has commanded of him. The demands of his master still have heavy chains in his mind that he must obey. He wasn’t free, he never was, but he would be soon. Tyler doesn’t care what he has to do to get Wednesday to accept him, he will.