Chapter Text
It was a snowy December 20th.
Christmas was right around the corner.
And of course, Tyler had decided the house needed a total Christmas-themed rebrand.
It was truly horrifying.
All that terrible decorating was almost enough to make her nauseous.
They’d been living together for a few years now, and not one Christmas had passed without him turning the whole house into a festive disaster.
They’d even gotten married — which really said a lot about how much she apparently cared about another random human being she once met.
But this—this was too much.
Red and green everywhere, and a glowing dead tree in the middle of the living room.
Still, she stayed quiet, only sighing loudly from the couch whenever he got close enough to hear.
And every time, that fool would just laugh and kiss her forehead.
Pathetic.
He wasn’t even a little scared of her.
She felt ridiculous — and that feeling was deeply unsettling.
He finally ended his nonsense by hanging some kind of hideous tinsel on the wall, then sat down next to her, apparently out of breath from all that tremendous effort.
“Isn’t it so much better now?” he asked, looking far too proud, a piece of tape stuck in his hair.
“Absolutely not. This is awful,” she replied, meaning every single word.
“All of it? You don’t even like that amazing Christmas ball Enid gave us — the one with the little pink unicorn?” he teased.
Instead of answering, she simply plucked the tape from his hair and slapped it over his mouth.
Silence. Blessed silence.
He just peeled it off and tossed it on the floor — disgusting.
She gave him a deadpan look.
“Aww, I’ll throw it in the trash in a second, don’t worry,” he said, smiling at her reaction.
She stayed quiet, officially too tired to respond to his constant teasing.
Instead, she stood up and went to take Enid’s hideous ornament off the glowing corpse of a tree.
“Na-na-na,” he warned, jumping up too.
He caught the pink ball before she could.
“Give me that,” she said dryly.
“Hmm no! I put it there, and it’s Enid’s gift!” he said, grinning.
She reached for it again, but he just lazily lifted his arm.
Too tall. She couldn’t reach.
Deeply humiliating.
And she was not about to jump.
Besides, she was really tired of this.
And kind of nauseous.
Weird.
She sighed and gave up, sitting at the table to work on her current novel instead.
While typing, her mind started to wander.
She couldn’t be sick.
Wednesday Addams did not get sick.
Then, a horrifying realization hit her. She mentally counted the days since her last period.
A month and a half ago.
She was late — and Wednesday Addams did not do late.
What a horrible discovery.
How could this day possibly get worse?
Downstairs, Tyler was whistling as he started making dinner, pop music blaring from the radio.
Ah. There it was. It got worse.
She hadn’t typed a single word, but her brain was moving fast — and within ten seconds, she already had a plan.
Wednesday Addams did not “pee on a stick.”
Thankfully, she knew a spell for this.
All she needed was a glass of hot water and a certain powder she had upstairs.
She went to her room to find the book where she’d written it down once, thinking at the time: “Why would I ever need this?”
Pathetic.
She was becoming more pathetic by the minute.
Downstairs, he was humming while cooking pasta — utterly unbothered.
He was probably still proud of his hideous decorations.
Oh, right — he had to show Enid.
He left the pot boiling while recording a quick video for her.
Meanwhile, Wednesday worked methodically. Feelings were irrelevant.
She mixed everything exactly as instructed, then snipped a few strands from the end of one braid and dropped them into the water.
If the water turned green, she was pregnant.
She didn’t even bother to stress about it.
First, because the signs were obvious and she trusted her deductions.
And second — horrifyingly — because she was strangely fine with either result.
As long as the baby was a girl.
There was no way she was bringing another man — and a Tyler, no less — into this world. One was already more than enough.
She was disgusted by her own thoughts.
What was this sudden, revolting maternal instinct?
Was she going insane?
Was the “Christmas spirit” doing this to her?
She was so lost in thought that she didn’t even notice when, five minutes in, the water had already turned a deep green.
She finally looked — and of course, she was right.
Case closed. She felt slightly less pathetic.
The real problem now? Tyler.
First of all, this was his fault.
Second, he was going to overreact like she’d just announced the apocalypse.
When she went back downstairs, he was still filming, proudly showing Enid every single piece of tacky décor. Poor Enid.
Actually — no. After spotting the pink ornament on the tree, she didn’t feel sorry for her anymore.
He ended his video and nearly jumped out of his skin when he noticed Wednesday standing there.
“AH! You scared me!” he said, clutching his chest.
If he was already this dramatic…
She sat down calmly on the couch.
“Tyler, I’m pregnant,” she said, perfectly composed.
He froze — eyes wide, mouth open, but no sound came out.
Here we go. Showtime.
“And it’s your fault,” she added, crossing her arms and legs, leaning back into the couch like it was the most normal sentence in the world.
“WHAT? How??” he sputtered, utterly shocked.
She blinked slowly.
Was he that stupid ?
“The birds and the bees, Tyler. The birds and the bees.” she said deadpan.
He rolled his eyes — realizing it was definitely not the problem here.
He’d wanted a kid forever, but he wasn’t sure she did.
So, carefully, he asked,
“What do you want to do?”
“I guess I don’t mind that much,” she replied.
Which, in Wednesday Addams language, translated to: OMG YES in Enid’s.
“REALLY?!” he shouted, lungs at full capacity — and promptly started coughing while she sighed.
“Do I ever joke?” she asked flatly.
“Well, no, but— oh my god—” he squeaked, moving way too fast to hug her.
She was almost crushed between him and the couch — dying like this would be humiliating, so she shifted just enough to hug him back, then pushed him off before he could murder everyone currently in her body.
A strange noise came from the kitchen.
He remembered his pasta, yelped, and ran to turn down the heat — then returned, determined never to leave her side again.
Every time she moved an inch, like to grab a book, he looked ready to faint.
It was ridiculous. She went back to sighing loudly every time he gave her that lost puppy look.
He then proceeded to text everyone about it — except Enid and Lucas, who apparently deserved the news face to face.
His dad probably cried at the idea of Wednesday Addams joining his family tree.
Later that night, after being over-sweetly observed for hours, she realized she could finally do what she’d wanted to do all day.
She got up — to throw that damn pink ornament into the fireplace.
“Wait! No! It’s Enid’s gift!” he panicked, for a variety of reasons: she was getting away, the ornament was doomed, and— oh that was it.
“I’m pregnant, and it’s your fault. So I’m throwing this away,” she said simply.
That shut him up real quick.
He started squeaking again — something about happiness, or joy, or whatever — while she tossed the pink ball into the flames.
Then he cried for, like, half an hour, holding her on the couch while she gave him the most unimpressed side-eye imaginable.
A baby would be nothing compared to this.
Still she allowed herself a small smile as he finally fell asleep, still wrapped dramatically around her.
Maybe — just maybe — this could be fun.