After 18 months, my first long fic is finally complete!

I owe so much to @its-the-allure for being with me on this journey since day one. And @fisheatingbirds who supplied my ego with the most lovely, encouraging comments (she also made the cover art above!). I also must thank @jelliewrites for being the best Britpicker and let’s be honest copy editor of all time. @smehur you were so wonderful to backread my whole WIP and provide me with thoughtful comments and encouragement to get it across the finish line. And my dear @faiell, I appreciate you so much for reading my Japan chapters. And @epitomereally for hopping into a chapter last minute when things just weren’t clicking.

“He was,” she replies. “Some boys took him from me when we were out on a walk, and they ran him over with their bikes. I buried what was left of him and cried my little black heart out.”

Of course Wednesday took her pet scorpion out for walks, and of course the poor scorpion died tragically. Tyler understands Wednesday's morbid fascination with death a little better now. She must've really loved that scorpion to actually cry over it.

“Have you had any pets since then?” he asks, hoping she had another creature to cheer her up…er, bring her down, after Nero’s traumatic death. He misses his dog Elvis, but at least he knows Elvis went to a good home.

She gives him a sly look out of the corner of her eye, her lips twitching.

He snorts. “C’mon, I don't count as a pet.” Hyde or not, he’s still human.

“That's debatable. I've been informed you have puppy dog eyes, for one. Enid's words, not mine. You also come when I call, you protect me like a loyal dog, and you've even worn a collar before.”

“A shock collar,” he mutters. “While I was imprisoned.” And she enjoyed that very much. He didn't miss the dark delight in her eyes when she saw him chained up at Willow Hill.

Hmmmm, that could be more fodder to tease her with. He just has to figure out how best to use it.

He decides on an attack that almost never fails: complete and utter sincerity.

He takes a step closer and smiles, so close he’s right next to her, and her pupils dilate as she stares up into his eyes.

“You enjoyed seeing me like that, didn’t you?” he murmurs, tucking a strand of hair that's popped out of her braids behind her ear.

“Possibly,” she replies, dancing around the truth.

He chuckles and wraps his arms around her. “My sweet little sadist.” A new nickname, a tender endearment to add to their collection. She would kill him if he told anyone about her favorites, especially because she shudders and cringes over her parents doing the same thing, so their nicknames for each other remain their dirty little secret, for their private enjoyment only.

She smiles, pleased by this latest addition to their collection, and it warms his monstrous heart. He kisses her, and she melts in his arms.

Here they are, standing in a graveyard on a gloomy, cloudy day, celebrating life in the midst of death. He’s pretty sure their relationship seems absolutely bizarre to anyone who doesn't know them, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

“Fine, you win. For now,” Wednesday says when the kiss is over. A temporary truce that'll keep them both on their toes. “If I'm not allowed to count you as a pet, then now seems as good a time as any to mention the tarantulas, snakes, piranhas, and Socrates the octopus currently living in my room.”

“That's…good to hear.” He eyes the mansion with trepidation before remembering he can transform into an apex predator at will. A few tarantulas and snakes on the loose won't be any big deal for a Hyde. The house itself seems more and more like it'll be a test of whether he’ll fit into the Addams family as Wednesday’s…chosen mate.

That seems like the most fitting description for their current relationship.

“I also have an anole lizard named Lucifer,” Wednesday continues as they walk towards the mansion’s front entrance. “And Uncle Fester once brought me back an Australian Huntsman spider from his travels there.” She pauses, and he waits patiently for her to continue. “I named him Hunter. He was an expert at blending in with his surroundings and eating bugs. Pugsley thinks he's still alive somewhere inside the house.”

Tyler chuckles. “So many fun pets I just can't wait to meet. No more scorpions though?”

Wednesday shakes her head. “The day I lost Nero, I vowed I wouldn't ever cry again, because crying didn't fix anything. Getting another scorpion seemed counterproductive at the time.”

At the time, but how about now? The wheels in his head start turning. If he survives this visit, he knows exactly what he’s getting Wednesday next.

If he survives this visit. A disembodied hand reaches out to grab his leg the moment he steps foot on the front porch, and he nearly has a heart attack before he realizes it's just Thing.

To think, Thing came from his crazy uncle all along. Wednesday smiles, and he supposes he's passed the first Addams family test of belonging in a house full of them.

No better time than the present to prove himself. He smiles at Wednesday and walks through the front door.

🦂 🪦 🖤

Tyler handles himself quite well during his first visit to the Addams family home. Wednesday is pleased with his progress. She wouldn't want to take things to the next level with some wimp who dies at the first obstacle thrown his way. Then again, she isn't really surprised. Tyler is strong and tough, just the man and monster she needs. She wouldn't have let him into her life and home otherwise.

By the time he leaves, he's mostly in one piece. Hunter the Australian Huntsman is, in fact, still alive, and the welts on Tyler’s skin are undeniable proof of the spider’s continued existence. He took getting bitten in stride though and didn’t Hyde out. He didn't even turn into a Hyde to handle the other challenges thrown his way (including an accidental close brush with beheading and a near-miss with the Iron Maiden) and managed to eat some rather exotic roadkill at dinner, including a possum.

Her parents are finally cooling down to him, Lurch seems to tolerate his presence, Thing’s had a soft spot for him for a long time anyway, and Pugsley is the biggest, cringiest Hyde fanboy known to humankind, both dead and alive, and that has only intensified after today’s visit. He would give the Hyde fangirls a serious run for their money.

Tyler at least finds it amusing.

All in all, he’s starting to feel like one of the family. If things continue on this marvelous downward trajectory, she’ll have to ask him how he would feel about changing his last name. He’s meant to be an Addams someday, she’s sure of it.

For their next date, Tyler meets her in the family graveyard at night, her preferred location and time of day. Mist lingers on the dark ground, and it’s a full moon tonight. He’s wearing all black, which she wishes he would do more often, and in his hands he’s holding a box with ventilation holes poked in it.

“I got you this as a surprise. Happy early birthday,” he says.

“My birthday isn’t for a few more weeks,” she replies, taking the box from him. He painted it black so she can safely touch it. He’s always been very thoughtful about her allergy. She hasn’t ever had to worry about anything he's given her or even handed to her.

He grins. “Don’t worry, I've got something special planned for then, too.”

Curious, she opens the box. Inside is a black scorpion, tail arched and stinger poised. A few crickets and a scurrying cockroach are in there with the scorpion, along with some rocks and a shallow water dish. A little sign in Tyler’s familiar handwriting next to him says, “Vlad the Impaler.”

“I was torn between that and Caligula for his name,” Tyler says. “Feel free to change it if you want.”

“I won't. It's perfect.” She smiles lovingly at the dark creature. “My little Vlad, I'll happily provide you with so many victims you’ll get to impale with that beautiful stinger of yours that your cage will run black with insect blood.”

Insects don't technically have blood, they have hemolyph, and hemolyph isn’t black, but it's the thought that counts.

Tyler smiles and pulls a tiny chainmail leash out of his pocket. “And this is for your daily walks.”

Wednesday hesitates. After what happened to Nero, she wonders if taking Vlad on walks is the best idea. Of course, she's older now and much more versed in various ways of torturing bullies and miscreants. She should be able to handle anyone who tries to hurt him.

“If anyone ever tries to hurt or kill Vlad,” Tyler says, “if anyone so much as thinks of running him over with a bike, then your Hyde boyfriend will kill them for you.”

Oh yes, that's right, she also has a Hyde at her willing beck and call for protection. There’s a smirk on his face and a mad glint in his eye that matches the darkness in her own, and it sends an icy thrill through her.

She smiles as she closes the box and sets it on a nearby grave. “You would tear them limb from limb for me till their organs spill out and their blood gushes on the ground?”

He nods. “Anything for you, Wednesday,” he says softly, and she knows he means it. His actions have proved it, over and over again.

She wraps her arms around him. He's so much bigger and taller than her, but he’s like a big puppy when she holds him, and the sweet smile on his face makes her heart race. “Thank you, my Hyde. I'm very pleased with this gift, and the way you’ll kill for me always cools my dark heart.”

“I’d die for you too,” he says, and she wonders if someday he will. If someday he’ll have to transform to protect her, and that'll be his last transformation.

She doesn't want to think about such things. With his treatment regimen, that should be a long time from now. But if it happens, what a fitting end to their romance full of woe. And even death won't be able to keep them apart. She's made sure of that.

She kisses him, and he’s sweet and eager, but she can sense the animalistic desires stirring within him. She loves how he keeps himself chained for her sake, doing what she asks not because he has to but because he wants to. Because he loves and trusts her.

Against all odds, she loves and trusts him, too. She never admits it out loud in so many words, but she knows he knows.

Afterwards, they take Vlad on a moonlit walk together, the perfect ending to their date. The scorpion even catches a few cockroaches in its claws and then stings them as they eagerly watch. He’s a cold, efficient killing machine, and Wednesday is glad to have a partner who appreciates that.

Yes, Tyler will make a very suitable member of the Addams family someday. She can hardly wait till that day comes.

🦂 🪦 🖤

A/N: Ever since I saw the flashback scene in Season 1 where poor Nero the scorpion gets killed, I felt so bad for him and for Wednesday. I figure if Tyler ever found out about what happened, he’d want to make it up to her 🥹🦂 It was also fun to include references and cameos to past Addams family pets, and I really hope Tyler visits the Addams family home someday, because imagine the wacky hijinks that would ensue.

He’s never touched a pilot’s mind like this before, scalpel-light instead of brutal. Once, when his Aid had still needed coaxing to sit in his embrace, Vortex had promised not to hurt him, and he’d scoffed. How many other pilots did you say that to?

The answer was none. Not a single one. It had never even occurred to him.

The first couple he’d destroyed instantly out of sheer territorial rage at someone else invading his mecha. (The mechanics had ripped out the whole pilot interface and replaced it, but couldn’t find anything wrong, couldn’t find him.)

Then he’d taken to toying with them, waiting a few missions or killing them slowly, because he had nothing better to do to keep himself entertained, but he’d never bothered to talk to them.

And then he’d done it because every time he burnt out another pilot, they’d sent a cranky little disgraced medic to clean out his cockpit. His lack of squeamishness caught Vortex’s attention, so he’d tested it with bigger and more creative messes. Every time the EMT left, he took not only the fresh blood but layers of old, crusted viscera that everyone else had long stopped bothering with. First Aid is messing with him too, all the time, even if he doesn’t realize.

Vortex strokes across Felix’s slumbering brain in a way he thinks of like raking nails, many light but sharp points of contact. His pilot makes a little sound and squirms in his sleep, and he hastily makes sure he’s recording audio as well as video, because he’s going to want to relive this during the long hours when First Aid is away from his hangar.

More carefully than Vortex has ever done anything, he teases out individual strands in the neural network, finding exactly which parts are connected to making his pilot whimper and rock his hips up in search of friction he’s not going to get. First Aid has only got himself to blame – for teaching him how to vivisect things instead of just cutting them up, and how much fun it could be. Precision never used to thrill Vortex, until this little medic crawled inside him.

He thinks he could make Felix cum in his pants just by touching his fucked up little brain. He also knows he could kill him like this, so very easily, which only makes it more exciting. It’s never mattered if he slipped before, and it’s been so long since anything mattered.

First Aid whines softly, absently palming the crotch of his armor, and Vortex needs him awake, now. If he can’t fuck him properly, he can make sure his pilot knows exactly who is doing this to him. Disentangling himself from the other slightly, he considers what parts he does still have.

Vortex was a ghost in the machine, not a poltergeist; he could only move the parts of the mecha that were computer-controlled. Years of familiarity had given him a little leeway – shift just so, and that loose ceiling panel would drop open with a loud -bang- that had been good for a cheap scare the first few times his future pilot had cleaned up after the old ones – but not telekinesis.

(And you know what the fucking kicker was? Three weeks before he died, Vortex had pitched the engineers on installing a small arm inside the mecha’s head, so he could deal with debris in the unusually large cockpit without unhooking from the control system, after a fight where he’d spent the second half ignoring being whacked by a loose cable. Everyone had agreed it was a good idea that could be implemented fairly easily and oh, look, never got around to it. He could have done so much fun shit with one stupid little claw arm in the past four years.)

But since he has to work with what he’s got, Vortex abruptly engages the pilot harness. First Aid is roughly jerked back from his comfortable slouch and pinned tightly to the pilot’s seat. He wriggles sleepily against the restraints, confusion and irritation rising up out of warm oblivion as he wakes. Vortex waits with predatory attention for the moment he realizes his predicament, fully prepared to resort to more extreme measures if he tried to slip back into sleep.

There – the spike of panic, spreading like wildfire, as Felix becomes conscious enough to be aware that he is immobilized, achingly hard, and subject to Vortex’s undivided attention. Deliberately, he digs into that sweet spot in Felix’s mind until he gasps.

“Good morning, sunshine. Sleep well?” he purrs inside First Aid’s head. The medic’s eyes are wide behind his visor, and while the dim red light makes it impossible to see, the interface tells him how deeply he’s blushing.

“W-what the hell are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Vortex punctuates his words with a pointed stroke, reminding him that a minute ago First Aid had been enjoying what he was doing just fine.

He wouldn’t mind at all if Felix struggled. But just like the first time he’d sat in the pilot’s seat, when he’d been smart enough to keep his hands in his lap and away from the controls, he lays back and lets Vortex do whatever he wants. “Good boy.”

Felix shudders at the praise and the contact, turning his face into the headrest like that will let him hide from Vortex. But he’s surrounding the other pilot, entwined with him, doing things he doesn’t have words for and the interface sure as hell wasn’t designed for.

“Touch yourself for me,” he orders, and First Aid fumbles for his armor and uniform with gratifying haste. Vortex watches him eagerly from both inside and out – the way his hands tremble as he undoes his fly, the way he bites his lip on the first actual stroke of his cock.

The sensations are far more vivid now that First Aid is awake, very nearly real in a way that he can’t afford to stop and think about. Vortex had wanted to make Felix tease himself, drag things out and make him beg for release, but now that the end is approaching he’s just as desperate for it, maybe even more.

Vortex cuts himself from the rest of the mecha’s systems, focusing on his pilot until he can imagine it’s him with his hand wrapped around Felix’s cock, or the other way around, or both. In their minds, he squeezes, presses down as hard as he dares – probably harder than he should. There are worse ways to go, anyway. He would know.

“Vortex—” Felix gasps, arching his spine like he’s having a seizure, bucking against the straps hard enough to bruise. His mind goes white and takes Vortex’s with it (for what feels like long enough that it should be worrying but he really really doesn’t care) as he spills all over his own hand and lap.

Felix slumps in the restraints, boneless and panting. Drifting on his afterglow, Vortex lets himself pretend, just for a little while, that the other man is sprawled in his lap and not directly in the pilot’s seat, held in his arms rather than a safety harness. Which just goes to show that not having a body made you crazy, because he’d never gone in for any of that cuddly shit before.

The urge for a cigarette is so strong that First Aid reflexively pats his pocket for a pack that isn’t there.

“You’re always making messes I have to clean up,” he grumbles halfheartedly, wiping his hand on his already soiled flight suit.

Re-extending his awareness back into the mecha, Vortex can admire just what a lovely mess he is from the outside. The thought of First Aid having to do a walk of shame back to his bunk like this was almost enough to reconcile Vortex to having to let him out of the cockpit to get a fresh uniform. Almost.

“I made a mess?” Vortex laughs, and jabs a tender spot inside Felix, the equivalent of touching him while he’s still too sensitive, and doesn’t let up until he yelps.

“Yeah, you,” he retorts anyway, gasping for breath with a pouty little scowl Vortex finds adorable, and flips one of the mecha’s cameras the bird for good measure. “Are you going to let me up or what?”

“Maybe.” Fuck, he’s so cute Vortex wants to trap him in the cockpit until he suffocates. But instead he releases the harness, and absolutely doesn’t feel a pang when First Aid slips the helmet off, or another when he runs a hand through his sweaty hair and the dead pilot wishes he could be the one to do it. He watches Felix all the way out the hangar, ruthlessly ignoring the part of him that said it was a mistake to let him go.

It doesn’t matter, either, that instead of avoiding him like Vortex half dreads expects, First Aid is back in a couple hours, freshly showered and changed, and curls up in his stupid little nest in the back of the cockpit like nothing has changed.

______________________________________________

Currently, however, she was lounging on her bed in the penthouse, wearing a hoodie and comfy PJs with as many trains as she wanted on them, her demon marks peeking proudly out of her clothes now that she no longer had to hide them. A plate of gimbap rested on the bedside table, and papers with scrapped lyrics were strewn all around the room.

Seoul was beautiful at night, the twinkling lights shimmering like diamonds below her. No matter where you went, no matter what time of day or night, there was always someone awake and at least two people celebrating being alive together.

She picked up a fresh sheet of paper and her favorite sparkly pen, then scribbled a few more possible lyrics.

You’re writing a song about your parents? came Jinu’s voice from the pendant. Only she could hear him, but that was better than not getting to talk to him at all.

“Yeah. Zooey and Mira and I wanna do a tribute to the past Hunters for our next album. Zooey’s handling most of the lyrics, of course, but I thought I’d write about my parents. I always wondered how they met and fell in love.”

She sensed amusement from the pendant. I imagine it was much like how we did. Your mom was probably trying to beat him up and something about him caught her eye, and the rest, as they say, is history.

She lifted her chin and stuck her chest out. “‘I imagine it was much like how we did,’ how very formal, old man,” she teased, still not over the fact there was a guy, a demon no less, who truly knew her and accepted her and loved her. Who had given her the courage to accept herself. And now Zoey and Mira knew her secret and still loved her as much as ever. No, they loved her even more because they finally knew the real her.

She would never forget what Jinu had done for her.

Hey, it’s not my job to keep up with youth culture, he replied, clearly enjoying their banter.

“It was your job.” She smiled fondly at the memory of his debut song that had irritated her so much at the time. Looking back, she could see the humor and sheer absurdity of the situation, especially since everyone was safe now, the captured souls returned to the land of the living.

True, but I'm retired now.

The reminder of his current predicament made her heart sink. “Well, when I figure out a way to bring you back, we can perform a duet together like we talked about.”

So long as you let me play my Bipa. That’s non-negotiable.

She laughed lightly. “That might be just the fusion of old and new our song needs.” Their song would be more than just a duet. She and Jinu wanted to use their love as an example and save any other demons who regretted their choices and wanted to atone for their deeds. Gwi-Ma might be defeated and the innocent souls released from his realm, but the Underworld hadn't yet set any demon prisoners free when she and Jinu were living proof demons didn't have to be evil.

The trick was getting them to hope again after despairing for so long. To pour her whole heart and voice into showing them what she and Jinu had discovered.

She scribbled a few more lyrics for the tribute-to-her-parents song as she hummed to herself. On the balcony, Derpy and Sussie were currently fighting over/sharing the giant bowl of bingsu Rumi had ordered for them. Sweet icy milk dripped from Derpy’s delighted derpy grin, and Sussie pecked at the red beans with a speed that defied explanation.

“Jinu, do you know who my father was?” Rumi presently asked because she’d just had a thought. He’d been in the Underworld for 400 years. Maybe they’d met.

There was a long pause. I knew him.

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Maybe asking about her father hasn't been such a good idea—

He was a good man but a bad demon. Much more noble than the rest of us. He actually had a good reason for asking for power. Wanted to save his sweetheart from what I remember. It was only after she betrayed him that his heart turned dark and he succumbed to Gwi-Ma. It stayed like that for hundreds of years. Then he met your mother and everything changed.

“I wish I could’ve known her,” Rumi said wistfully. There were so many photos and videos from her mother’s years of fame, but it wasn't the same as actually knowing her. Speaking to her. Hugging her. Spending every day with her.

A woman who could love a demon would almost certainly have loved her half-demon daughter, Rumi was sure of that.

“What happened next?” she asked, both wanting and not wanting to know.

When Gwi-Ma found out, well, you can imagine what he did to him. Your father refused to hurt your mother, and so he was made an example for the rest of us.

Rumi felt like someone was squeezing her heart. She hadn't ever even met her father, and yet she still loved him and hated to hear what had happened to him. And yet even in his suffering, he’d showed the same love and loyalty to her and her mother that Jinu had shown to her.

Gwi-Ma stopped attacking your mother though, Jinu continued, probably because he knew about the pregnancy somehow and wanted to use you. But then she died, and he realized you couldn't hear his voice. His plan was a failure.

“It still could’ve succeeded if it weren't for you, Jinu.” And not just Jinu but her parents, too. They had sacrificed so much so she could live. The least she could do was honor their memory and save Jinu.

You had the power to defeat him inside you all along, Jinu told her.

“All Along, that’s it!” Rumi crowed, her brain flipping back into singer/songwriter mode. “It’s the perfect title.”

She scrapped her current paper and pulled out a fresh one. The lyrics came to her in a rush, and she wrote and wrote like someone possessed. And when she was finally through, she sang them aloud as Jinu listened, experimenting with different melodies as she did and even throwing in a few dance moves.

She waited for his response. He never sugarcoated things to try to make her feel better, and so his critical feedback was invaluable. Still, a song so vulnerable, a song about her parents and their love and about how she and Jinu had repeated their beautiful history—she was baring her heart and soul with this one. Harsh critique was needed, yes, but it would be hard to hear—

It’s your best song yet. Your parents would be proud, he said.

Her heart filled to the brim and overflowed into a big smile. His praise meant everything.

And I like the version where you went up a few notes instead of down on the chorus, though you’ll have to get Mira’s feedback on the dance moves—

“Great! Now let’s work more on our duet.” She handed the song to Derpy, who very slowly took it in his mouth to show to Mira and Zoey for their feedback, then grabbed a fresh sheet of paper. Sussie perched on her shoulder and cawed once, then stared into her soul for a few moments before settling in.

Jinu chuckled. Mira and Zoey are right. You just finished a masterpiece of a song and you want to work on another one already? You really do like to hustle.

“I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.”

And I wouldn’t change a thing about you, he said softly, and Rumi could’ve sworn she felt warmth trace the lines of her demon marks. A caress he couldn’t give her with hands or lips but his heart and soul. A reminder that he really and truly loved and accepted her, all of her.

“And I wouldn’t change a thing about you,” she echoed.

Yes, his current situation wasn't ideal. She wanted more than anything for him to be human—er, demon, er, corporeal? Yeah, corporeal was a good word, Zoey would be proud of that one—again.

But until she found a way to restore him to himself, she would treasure every moment that they could spend together, no matter what form his heart took. Her friends and parents and Jinu had all taught her that, and she was determined to make the most of her time with him.

🩷 🩵 💜

A/N: I'm super curious about how Rumi’s parents met as well as how their relationship played out, and this was how I thought it might've happened in broad strokes along with some Rumi/Jinu post-canon fluff. Also Derpy and Sussie cameos because they’re hilarious and bingsu because bingsu is the best.