#fic: son of hell

[2af-afterdark]

Son of Hell - Chapter 2

Fandom: What in Hell is Bad? Characters: Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Asmodeus, Beleth, Bimet, Valefor, Paimon, Leraye, Buer Content: Post-canon, omegaverse Word Count: 1,929

The streets of Gehenna were littered with the corpses of angels. Every step would find a foot separated from the ground by flesh or feather or cloth. And each and every single one of them was felled from the sky by an enraged Satan.

 The generals of Gehenna chose to simply watch in admiration as Satan dropped angel after angel from the sky, leaving their blood running through the streets. Getting in his way wouldn't simply result in a swift kick to the ass, but likely a hole through the chest.

 Paimon sat with Leraye on a nearby rooftop, the same place they had been stationed before Satan returned from the human realm.

 “Why is Satan so maddd?” Paimon asked, his rifle sitting lazily in his lap.

 “Not sure,” Leraye replied. “Maybe he wasn't able to meet Ra-on.”

 “But he was looking forward to seeing themmm.” 

 Leraye's face twisted into a pout. “I wanted to hear how they've been this last month.”

 After all, Hell was still at war. No one had wanted Ra-on to leave, but they had fulfilled their deal with Satan and that meant they could return to their own world and the man waiting there for them.”

 Paimon sighed. “Oh welllll.”

 Now was clearly not the right time to ask.

 Meanwhile, as soon as Mammon returned to Hell, he began to walk the streets of Tartaros and buy everything he could. Considering that Lilith’s disappearance meant that a child hadn’t been born in the last few thousand years, there was little in the way of supplies for one. Still, there was plenty he could shower upon Ra-on and he decided he wanted the items returned by the one tasked to watch them so he could gift them to the human who had so generously been watching his child. 

 His sudden spending was noticed by every citizen. It was lavish, even by his standards. Still, no one would dare to question their king's spending, especially since he seemed so happy each time he exchanged gold for goods.

 The only one who dared to question him was Valefor, who was the unfortunate retainer tasked with helping Mammon carry everything he bought. (Eligos and Bimet were there too, but they refused to help. Eligos was simply there to look adorable and, sometimes, bat his pretty eyes to convince Mammon to get him something or pet his head. Bimet was there to pick up any stray specks of gold that Mammon may have dropped and ensure Mammon did not spend more than necessary. After all, that extra money was better suited to his coffers.)

 “Lord Mammon, is there a special occasion?” Valefor asked.

 Mammon held up a bottle filled with a small amount of the golden water that ran through Tartaros, imagining how the toddler's feet would look dipped in gold.

 He didn't look at Valefor as he responded. “Ra-on had my child.”

 He said it so casually that every citizen that overheard him thought they must have misheard.

 The shop keeper suddenly cheered, “Their Majesty Ra-on has given Lord Mammon a child!”

 Almost immediately, near instantaneously, the news traveled across Tartaros. For the next week, gifts were delivered to the palace, all addressed to Mammon, Ra-on, and the yet unknown child. Some people even tried to create clothing, despite how long it had been since any of them had last seen a child.

 And, of course, Bimet began a fund for the child where he intended to keep a reasonable portion of the funds for himself as a gratuity.

 Across Hell, Leviathan entered his throne room and took his seat above everyone who bowed before him. Any devil that was unfortunate enough to ask how his trip to the human realm went found themselves hung from the ceiling before the full question could leave their mouth.

 He sat with one leg crossed over the other, his elbow leaned against the arm of his throne, and his cheek rested against his fist. His ill temper was clear to all who looked upon him and they dared not raise their heads to draw his ire.

 “Foras,” he finally called. Not a yell, but a simple command.

 “Yes, my most beautiful and glorious king?” The devil dropped his invisibility, revealing that he was kneeling at Leviathan’s feet.

 “The child,” Leviathan began the sentence, but clearly expected Foras to complete it.

 “Is not Minheyok’s.”

 Leviathan glared at Foras for daring to say that name in front of him.

 “Is not that humans,” Foras corrected himself. “He and their majesty Ra-on did not have an intimate relationship before it was revealed they were with child.”

 Which Leviathan had already known. Foras had informed him some time ago that Ra-on had a child. He had meant to see the child earlier, but the war still raging in Hell left him unable to do much more than sending his most trusted informant to keep watch over them. He had simply gone today to see if the child had begun to show any features that proved who the father may be. What he found instead was a child that was clearly Ra’on’s progeny.

 A small part of him was almost relieved that the child looked so much like Ra-on. Another part of him, the much larger part, was seething with envy that that child had an unknown father that, whoever that father may be, had created a child that looked so much like Ra-on. If that child began to develop features resembling another person… the thought alone filled him with jealousy.

 But jealousy wasn't boiling in everyone's heart.

 When Beelzebub returned to Hell, he immediately indulged himself in drink, food, and pretty male and female omega at his side. Abyssos was more than happy to welcome their king and pour endless booze into his cup.

 “It's always good to have you here, Lord Beelzebub,” the female omega said as she leaned in to press her breasts against his arm.

 The male omega topped off his glass with a smile. “It's been so long since your last visit that we thought you may not return.”

 Beelzebub looked between the two. “When was the last time I was here?” He couldn't seem to recall.

 “About three years ago.” The male omega picked up some chocolate from the table and held it out to Beelzebub. “Would you like some?”

 Beelzebub was not one to reject good food, especially because he could smell the spices hidden in the thick layers of cocoa. He readily ate it out of the omega's hand, purposefully nipping at their fingers as he devoured the confection in one bite.

 “Lord Beelzebub,” the male omega flushed and began to leak pheromones.

 “No fair. You're ignoring me,” the female omega whined as she also began to leak pheromones to try and steal his attention away.

 That was the appeal of this place though; omega who let their pheromones flow freely to rile up their alpha clients until the obvious happened.

 The attempt of the two omega hanging off of him reminded him of something. Or, rather, it made him feel like there was something he should have recalled, but he couldn’t. Oh well.

 Beelzebub wasn't complaining about forgetting it. He liked having two beautiful omega hanging off of him, filling his belly, and willing to spread themselves open for him. And the best part was that he wouldn't have to concern himself with the bill. Although, he could already hear Bael cursing him for that.

 And he wouldn't be the only one hearing from a close confidant.

 Buer listened to Bimet over the phone, getting the latest news from Tartaros. It was mostly the same old news as always, but it was not lost on him that Bimet was clearly hiding something. The kind of something that filled him with arrogance.

 “What is it?” Buer prompted Bimet, knowing that he was waiting to be asked.

 “The whole of Tartaros is celebrating. It seems our Majesty Mammon has had a child.”

 Buer was shocked by the news. So shocked that he presumed that Bimet was suffering from some sort of delusion.

 “And who would the mother of this child be?”

 “Is it not obvious?” Bimet chimed. “The mother is Ra-on.”

 Buer went silent.

 He was now positive that Bimet was having some sort of delusion.

 “I'd like you to come in for an appointment tomorrow. I need to check your head.”

 Bimet made a sound of annoyance. “Our Majesty Mammon said it so it must be.”

 To believe anything else would be to insinuate that Mammon was a liar, which was not in a devil's nature.

 “Of course,” Buer simply agreed. “Tomorrow, around noon. I will see you then.” He hung up before Bimet could protest.

 It would take a few more days for Paradise Lost to realize that the information was not a delusion of Bimet, nor was it an unfounded rumor. It was a half truth; Ra-on did indeed have a child. As for who the father was… that had yet to be proven.

 And the rumor did spread far and wide, though it did change some as it traveled.

 Beleth was the first to hear the rumor of Ra-on's supposed child. He thought about telling Belphegor, but he wasn't sure if his king would have a reaction. It was possible the news would awaken the king of sloth, but it was also possible that it would mean nothing. Still, in the end, he knew he would have to pass on the information that was quickly spreading through the whole of Hell.

 He sighed, took a seat at the foot of the bed where Belphegor lay in deep slumber, lit a cigarette, and steeled his nerves. He took a few drags, held the smoke in his lungs, then exhaled a thick white cloud. 

 “Ra-on went and had a kid.”

 He ripped the band-aid off. There was no point in trying to beat around the bush.

 There was no response from the bed.

 Beleth looked behind him where Belphegor was, only to see him still dozing off. It seemed the news wasn't shocking enough to rouse him.

 “Well, I told ya, so don't go pretendin’ yer surprised when ya hear it from someone else.”

 And it was in the mouths of every devil. Even those at the furthest reaches of Hell, beyond where just gossip should have been.

 Neverending moans and sighs filled the air of Aaddon. Every jail cell clattered with either screams of pleasure or torment, but Asmodeus listened to them all like they were music as he stroked himself to the sound. His kingdom was madness and he welcomed it.

 His latest partner had already passed out in a puddle of their and his cum, but they still twitched like they were experiencing another orgasm.

 “Your Majesty Asmodeus,” someone called from beyond the sealed door of his chambers. “There seems to be a rumor spreading across Hell.”

 Asmodeus stood from his spot, unconcerned with his nudity or his erection as he opened the sliding door to view the jailor face-to-face. The second they made eye contact, the lower devil appeared to go weak in the knees.

 Asmodeus ran his fingers under the jailor's chin, coaxing a moan from deep in their throat. He had just been growing bored of using his own hand, so he thought it kind that one of his citizens offered to continue where the other had left off.

 He could listen to this supposed rumor while fucking away their sanity and showing them pleasures they couldn't even begin to imagine.

[charcoaledrocks]

hello Tumblr User @pittdpeaches you ruined my life / j

[garden-of-rambles]

Posting yesterday about Penelope headcanons and preferring her depicted as being smart and manipulative over the warrior AUs, reminded me of a specific bit in my fic. One of the tags I have on it is even 'Political Penelope' and I was genuinely shocked that wasn't already a tag.

For context, within the story suitors have started to arrive and Eurymachus is one of the earliest ones. He attempts to trick Penelope and Telemachus with "proof" of Odysseus's death (presenting a piece of rubble from the remains of the Ithacan fleet, attempting to pass it off as from the King's ship specifically). Penelope sees through it quickly, and Telemachus does as well when they discuss it in private later.

She isn't a warrior in the traditional sense, but she is always fighting. Her mind and her words and her deliberate actions are the weapons she uses. This is something Odysseus has going for himself too of course, it's one of the ways they're alike in trying to think their way out of situations. But while Odysseus also has a bow and a sword and his own famous physical strength, Penelope's bow is her cleverness. Her sword is the words she chooses so carefully. Her strength is her mind. And for me, that's what makes her so compelling, and so engaging to write!

[sidesteppostinghours]

ok. question.

ortega ended up hallucinating sidestep after they "died", but sidestep doesnt know about that. they know it got bad, but never the full extent of how their death affected them. so if your sidestep Did learn, if they found out ortega looked for them in every little piece they could, would that change anything for your sidesteps? would their relationship with ortega be any different?

[likesdoodling]

So. This is a slightly misremembered scene from a lotr fic I read-

By that I mean I reckon I got the chaos but it's not word for word, I just thought it was hilarious. The fic is called 'What the Hell is Happening???' by Leader_In_Red.

Characters here are: Glorfindel, Legolas and Maglor, along with our pov character, Hazel.

Maedhros is also in this scene, but I forgot to draw him till a bit too late and I could not be bothered reworking everything after I'd already finished colouring. Just know that he is somewhere sword in hand with an 'I am disappointed in you Maglor' stare.

I would highly recommend this fic you're a lotr fan btw, (it's got a lot of stuff from the silmarillion, but most of the stuff is explained in the endnotes for those of us *cough -me- *cough who do not remember what actually happens in the silmarillion/couldn't be bothered reading it)

Premise is 'young lady out for a holiday finds elf in backyard- oh wait there's more-'

(I'm paraphrasing, but I feel like that's as good a description as any)

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #139

NWH AU where Tony's been in a coma this whole time. He still is. But the world thinks he's dead.

One day, Rhodey is in some science place (maybe SI, maybe a community college where he was giving a speech?) and he sees this kid tinkering who looks exactly like Tony Stark. The teen Tony Stark from when he first met him at MIT. Even down to the mannerisms. He goes up and has a brief conversation with this stranger, just curious. Then he leaves.

Unbeknownst to the kid, Peter, Rhodey managed to grab something for a DNA test. The kid just looked too much like his best friend. Like seeing a ghost

When they analyze the DNA, they learn that this kid is in fact Tony's biological son

Rhodey goes back to find the kid, this time bringing Happy. Peter gets to have the super fun conversation where two people who should know him but don't tell him that the person he saw as a father was his actual father, only it's too late

They convince Peter to come with them eventually. And Peter gets the shock of his entire life

Over the next little while, at Tony's bedside, Peter gets to know Morgan (who he would've seen as a sister anyway but this is insane). He also gets reacquainted with Rhodey, Happy, and Pepper, who all admittedly find him a bit sus with how much he seems to know.

But...this is Tony's kid. His son. So they let him be there, let him talk to Tony and hold his hand. 

Finally, finally, Tony wakes up.

And it turns out, being in a coma and thought dead by the entire world, including wizards, makes one exempt from certain magic

Bonus:

As he sits by Tony's bedside, Peter has to grapple with a lot of emotions. One of them is the realization that he was never actually related to Uncle Ben, which makes him feel like his uncle and aunt died for nothing

Pepper helps him through it. Even not knowing him the way she once did, she knows plenty about guilt complexes and chosen family. She assures Peter that he's still a Parker, no matter what, and that his aunt and uncle wouldn't have given him up for the world

Another thing Peter deals with is the fear of Tony waking up and not knowing him. It breaks his heart just thinking about it.

Cue THE most relieving hurt/comfort reunion ever imagined

[frankiebirds]

this scene makes me need to lay down. goddddd.

sometimes i get the sense that reid is more attached to gideon than gideon is to reid. obviously they both serve as surrogates for the family member each is estranged from (gideon is estranged from his son and reid is estranged from his dad) but.

you know. reid clings to gideon, not physically but emotionally, and i think a lot of his wellbeing at the start of the series relies on gideon's presence. gideon almost certainly knows the most about reid out of anyone on the team—i don't think canon ever says that reid has told gideon about diana, but i would imagine he has—and i think reid feels understood by him in a way he doesn't by other people, even compared to the rest of the team who (mostly) try their best. i think he also tends to try to be as good and deserving as possible of gideon's presence, since he definitely at least partially feels like his father left because he wasn't good enough.

on the flipside, while gideon definitely sees reid as a son, he's...not the best dad. i think we see him repeating a lot of the mistakes that drove a wedge between him and stephen with reid, and i think that had mandy patinkin stayed on, we would have gotten a larger parallel there. he holds him at arms length, trying not to get too close, although he definitely cares about him more than he lets on and the mask slips sometimes, like this moment and on the plane after ldsk.

[nsfandomdump]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 地縛少年花子くん | Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun | Toilet-bound Hanako-kun (Manga), 地縛少年花子くん | Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun | Toilet-bound Hanako-kun (Anime) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Minamoto Kou/Mitsuba Sousuke Characters: Mitsuba Sousuke, Minamoto Kou Additional Tags: Picture Perfect Arc (Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun), Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Mitsukou Swap AU, No Beta We Die Like Kou Did In This AU Summary:

School Mystery Number Three simply watched. Taking note of how Mitsuba’s entire being seemed to soften at the sight of the boy exorcist, his eyes wide with wonder and amazement and longing and so many other emotions. The way he softly whispered the name, his soft smile as he does so, filled with pure affection. Directed at the boy his face had belonged to, the boy he so badly wishes he was.

or

Chapter 47-48, except in this universe, Mitsuba and Kou swapped places

[2af-afterdark]

Son of Hell - Chapter 1

Fandom: What in Hell is Bad? Characters: Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Minheyok, MC, Original Child Character(s) Content: Post-canon, omegaverse Word Count: 1,334 A/N: This series is technically set in the omegaverse. For simplicity's sake: all kings are alphas, Minheyok is a beta, and Ra-on is an omega. The terms "Mama" and "Papa" are gender-neutral in this world, as they simply refer to the person who gave birth and the person who is presumed to be the other parent. aka, male omega can be a "Mama" and female alpha can be a "Papa".

Satan clicked his tongue. “Why are you all following me?”

“You're going to see our master, are you not?” Mammon asked. “It would be rude of us not to greet them as well.”

“It's just like when we were kids.” Beelzebub leaned on Leviathan’s shoulder. “It brings back memories.”

Leviathan said nothing as his coffin manifested from thin air. White tentacles lashed out from inside, aiming straight for the king of gluttony's head.

Beelzebub burst into thousands of tiny flies, avoiding Leviathan’s attack entirely.

Satan ground his teeth. “No one invited you.”

The flies reconstituted themselves back into Beelzebub. “We invited ourselves.”

“If it bothers you, you can go back,” Leviathan said.

“YOU-”

Leviathan ignored Satan's outburst. “Conceal your horns before you create a panic in the human realm.”

Mammon laughed at the fact that Satan’s anger did little to dissuade the others from joining him on his venture to the human realm.

After getting past Kox, the four of them easily made their way to the human realm.

The human realm was, at least in the king's opinions, okay. It wasn't nearly as beautiful as their Hell, but it was a fine place for humans to spend their lives.

They weren't here to see the sights of Earth, however. Satan and his unwanted entourage had come for one reason and one reason only: to find Ra-on.

It had been a little over a month since Ra-on had completed their deal and freed the 72 and kings of their old contracts to Solomon and left Hell. The war wasn't over, but it was certainly easier now that the strongest devils were finally at full power again.

Satan first tried Minhyeok's house, knowing that Ra-on had always been there in the past. When no one answered, though, he tried to kick the door. Mammon had to raise a golden hand to stop the impact, reminding Satan that Ra-on would be upset if they caused such damage before even greeting them. 

Beelzebub laughed. “Ra-on's not here anyway.” He couldn’t smell them or anyone else inside the house.

“Then where are they?” Satan asked between gritted teeth.

“Hmmm…” Beelzebub sniffed the air then began to walk. “This way.”

The other kings followed behind him, though few were happy about allowing him to take the lead. Still, he guided them toward the place that smelled the most of Ra-on.

It was a large swath of grass, where many humans were gathered and running around. However, the familiar sight of someone with lilac hair standing at the edge of the large area was unmistakable. Their back was turned to the kings, but each of them still knew who that figure belonged to.

“Ra-on,” Satan called to the human who was barely paying attention to anything other than what they were apparently staring at in the distance.

Their lilac hair fluttered in the wind as they looked back upon hearing their name. Their eyes blew open wide as they took in the sight of four of the kings of hell walking toward them in broad daylight.

The person who looked back at them was clearly the Ra-on they remembered, still wearing the collar around their neck to keep themselves from being claimed by some stray alpha, but a little older in years. What had been about only a month in Hell for the devils had clearly been around three or four in the human realm and it showed on Ra-on's face.

“Satan? What are you doing here?” They asked with a mixture of surprise, excitement, and concern.

Leviathan glared at them. “Is he the only one you see?”

Their heart hammered in their chest, feeling Leviathan’s displeasure at not being addressed.

“I'm sorry. Of course I'm glad to see everyone else too.”

Leviathan squinted, his anger clearly growing.

“You seem to be doing well,” Mammon helpfully interrupted.

“Yeah.” Their reply was brief and their eyes darted to the side, looking off somewhere in the distance. “I would love to catch up with you all later, but now isn't a good time. Maybe we can talk tomorrow?”

Satan pursed his lips together as his attitude quickly shifted from excitement to annoyance. “You can spend time with us now.”

“I really can't. Not right now. I promise that I really want to catch up with everyone but-”

“Ra-on, are these friends of yours?” 

They broke out into a nervous sweat as Minheyok walked up to them and interrupted the conversation.

Every single king of Hell glared at the man who they knew was important to Ra-on. It had been a few years since Satan had brought the man back from the dead and he had grown a little more mature, but he was still recognizable. The others remembered him from their brief meeting on one Halloween, even if they knew he wouldn't recognize them in return. And, with their horns hidden as Leviathan had reminded them, it was unlikely that Minheyok would be able to identify them as devils.

More than that, though, was the sight of the toddler hanging off of Minhyeok's hip. Their little eyes shone brightly as they laid eyes on Ra-on, then they broke out into a wide smile.

“Mama,” they called jubilantly as they reached out to Ra-on.

Ra-on looked at the kings of Hell with guilt in their eyes before reaching out for the child and taking them from Minhyeok.

To say the kings were shocked would be an understatement. Each of them stared at the three humans in disbelief.

“Hey baby,” Ra-on coo'd at the child with a smile. “Did you and Papa have fun?”

“He and me chase the woof dog.”

“Oh, that sounds like so much fun!” Ra-on beamed. “Are you ready for lunch yet?”

“I wan dinosaurs!”

“Dinosaurs and carrots.”

The child pouted. “No. Only dinosaur.”

“Then don't expect an ice pop. No dessert unless you eat your veggies.”

The child looked upset as they turned to Minheyok. “Papa?”

“You heard Mama. No dessert unless you finish your veggies.”

The child frowned, but seemed to accept defeat.

Ra-on refused to look the kings in the eyes. “I'll catch up with you all later, okay?”

They didn't wait for an answer before walking away as quickly as they could with the child on their hip and Minheyok at their side.

“Ra-on's child looks like them” Leviathan was the first to speak, jealousy leaking out of his words like a broken faucet.

“The kid definitely smells like Ra-on,” Beelzebub added, as if to confirm there was no doubt that the child was indeed born of them.

“Tch.” Satan ground his teeth.

Mammon was the only one who didn't have a comment. After all, if everything in the world was his, then that included Ra-on's child, regardless of who the father was. He would have to remember to give his child a grand gift to celebrate their birth, their 100 days, and each holiday he missed. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Later that night, Ra-on and Minheyok were laying Seo-jūn down to rest. The child was stubbornly kicking off their covers and screaming that they didn't want to go to sleep. They wanted to stay up to play robots and watch princesses.

Ra-on struggled to lay the child down, even after promising to read them a story to help them sleep.

Minheyok intervened. “Ah, but if you go to bed now, then you'll wake earlier and have more time for robots and princesses. Plus, there will be breakfast.”

The child stilled for a moment. “Pancakes?”

“With strawberry syrup,” he promised.

Seo-jūn pursed his little lips together, but snuggled under the blankets and screwed his eyes shut as if trying to will himself to sleep so morning – and pancakes – would come.

Ra-on looked at Minheyok with gratitude before turning to the child who now lay calmly in bed. They ran their hand through their child's hair, careful to avoid the small, hard nubs hidden in his violet locks, before leaning down to kiss his forehead and wish him a peaceful sleep.

[malkaleh]

Somewhere inside the High King Erenion is screaming but Gil-Galad has locked that in a box. He cannot afford it.

But none of this had gone well from the start.

Teithor had spotted the danger but felt as though he had no standing to intervene. The High King had been all brisk business - almost icy and it made Teithor wrinkle his nose. He supposed the peredhel had not meant much to him after all but should the High King at least make an attempt at sorrow for the sake of an alliance with the King Of Khazad Dûm. But he was doing no such thing.

“You…you’re relieved! I can tell it you gold stuck up! Bet you took some of yon fancy elvish wine to toast getting rid of that, what did you say to him ‘above your privilege peredhel’ Did you slip a note to Saur…”

Teithor wished any other were here in this moment. For Queen Disa was busy with the Lady of Eregion and Lord Cirdan with the same so it was simply the two kings. And Teithor.

“And you, King Durin. Did you come for him or did you decide there were more important matters to attend to? And think of me what you will but I would not treat with The Deceiver”

“I think you would do anything to grasp upon that…”

There was a rapid series of words in Khazad that Teithor understood not but the tone was clear.

@themalhambird @nocompromise-noregrets @plotdesigner

[landfilloftrash]

so I finished reading Turnabout Enemies and just about screamed throughout the entire thing— from delight and in baffled confusion in true ace attorney case fashion— so have this from one of the final scenes of the fic (chapter 21 to be specific!) because I am INCREDIBLY predictable

[officially-unhinged]

Freminet is fantasy pagan and worships the Sovereigns and y'all can tear that from my cold dead hands. I mean it I'm not letting this go it brings me SO MUCH joy. It's so fucking funny too in the fic's context.

[soulless-bex]

the whole forbidden children thing the pjo series has going on gave me massive The Son of Sea Foam vibes

[twicethetrouble]

I'm going to start a Daily Posting fic. Help me choose what

Explanation. I've gotten out of the habit of writing daily. I do not like this. The best way i know to fix this (for me) is to write a fic that's soul purpose is for me to write a little bit each day and post that little bit immediately.

I plan on trying this again, but posting the little bits here daily and eventually posting it (edited and formatted properly) onto AO3. and since i'm posting it here first, you all get a choice of what this project will be. in the form of a poll. (b/c why not.)

and just to make it interesting, i'm only putting the weird document names (with fandom and basic vibe)

(all of these i have a varying amount of stuff written for them already but I will post that first before going from there)

[callous-and-misunderstood]

Two weeks late, but here's the Carlos and Haunted Hell Hall fic I wrote for Halloween! Also on Ao3.

Carlos really did not like the glint in Mal’s eyes when she showed up on the stoop of Hell Hall, demanding access to the party happening in the rooms behind him.

The party was not one Mal usually frequented—it was more for the less-powerful descendants of the Isle. Those who didn’t belong to one gang or another, who weren’t children of “big” villains, rather those who were the children of sidekicks, loyal henchmen, and unnamed crew members. Those who made ends meet rather than made those meet their end, so to speak. Mal was the opposite of the current crowd. She was the leader of one of the biggest gangs on the Isle, was daughter of the literal Mistress of Evil, and had built a reputation to rival her mother’s.

Because of her mother, of her status, Carlos couldn’t deny her access to his party (his cousin’s party, more like, but still. He was playing host—and in charge of letting people into the party).

But there were two things about Mal as person that set Carlos on edge that night—one, the fact that she only did things for herself, which meant that; two, she wouldn’t respect the rules of Hell Hall that Carlos laid out for her like any other visitor.

Jay turning up a few minutes after Mal had been expected. He was Mal’s loyal guard dog, after all. Where there was one, there was always the other.

Carlos closed the heavy wooden door behind the Arabian boy with a heavy sigh, leaning against the frame and praying that was the last of the unexpected guests. He wasn’t prepared for a big party, hadn’t prepared the House for anything like that.

But people kept arriving, each of them more powerful than those on the original invite list, more influential than he was, and so Carlos was forced to allow them in, one gritted permission and reminder of the rules after another.

Then Evie arrived, a naïve smile gracing her face as she drank in the chaos of the mingling bodies and pulsing drumbeats. And she demanded entrance, as Mal had a mere hour earlier.

Evie, sheltered but genuine Evie, who had braved the cruel world for the first time in ten years just this week. Who had tasted and weathered the harsh realities of the Isle and still chose to hope for kindness. Who had been nothing but a friend to Carlos—she had given him his first and only pillow, after all.

And Carlos felt nothing but dread as he let her in, knowing something was being planned that he would inadvertently play a part in.

It took another hour for anything to happen. And, as he had expected, Carlos was too late to prevent anything.

Mal shoved Evie into Cruella’s fur closet, the closet at the end of the upstairs hallway, with a cackle that echoed through Hell Hall, sending shudders through Carlos’ bones.

There was only one rule about being a visitor to Hell Hall: do not go into the closet.

Carlos felt time sink into stillness. His heartbeat raced in his ears, each breath he drew ragged and sharp. He tried to talk himself through the fear, through the panic, but he just couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember if he’d done the one thing he needed to or not.

Had he fed the House this morning?

________________________________________________________

He had, of course. This was the one chore that Carlos never forgot to do, not even when he was stumbling around like a drunk from another concussion given to him by his Mother, not even when he himself hadn’t eaten in days, not even when the last thing in the world he wanted to do was visit the House and listen to it slurp down its meal with feral glee.

But it didn’t matter that the House had been fed, less than ten hours ago—the House was delighted by the delicacy that it had been offered. What a treat, what a treat!

The closet was the House’s mouth, its only way to feed—behind the row of pristinely preserved fur coats, the walls suddenly spongy and wet, saliva dripping from the ceiling like rain, the floor shuddering like a tongue testing each new flavor on its tastebuds. It swallowed, Evie spilling to her knees as the room drew her backwards, towards the throat, towards her death.

Carlos darted into the closet, jaw set so tightly he was sure his bones would shatter. He knew what the House preferred—the pouch of blood from a royal (Hans, this time) in his pocket; the soul of a fool (as provided by Dr. Facilier) trapped in the flickering green flame Carlos carried like a candle in the palm of his hand; and the flesh of a DeVil, his own knuckles scraped to the bone, the skin still hanging like ribbons (he had done this himself, snarling at Mal and Jay as they cowered from the noises coming from where they had trapped Evie). The only thing these three meal parts had in common was want—Hans for a throne, the soul to return to its body, and Carlos who, well, wanted Evie to live.

Even with the offering of its favorite meal, the House still resisted. It liked Evie, it liked her fear and her desires, the way to be something more than a girl stuck on the Isle, the way she wanted to live.

It had eaten so many beings—well, mostly parts of beings, these days, though the House did appreciate eating regularly instead of whenever some unlucky bastard stumbled into its mouth—so many beings in the past decade that were so pathetic. All their desires focused on survival and base instincts, wanting nothing more than what they could reasonably attain. It missed the days where each meal tasted so sweetly of wanting more than they could ever have. And, well, having a live meal was always so much better than something dead.

It could taste two other meals in the hallway, their fear flavoring them so nicely. Maybe the DeVil boy would be nice and let it feast on all three of these beings tonight…

But no. The boy was determined, brave. It had been a while since the House tasted these emotions on the boy; he was resigned to his fate in a way the House despised. He wouldn’t be good to eat until he wanted again, and well…if he cared about the girl it wanted to eat maybe she would help season the DeVil boy. It was a long game to play, but the House had nothing but time.

Finally, it agreed and took the pre-assembled offerings and the flesh off of Carlos’ hand. But even then, it was touch and go to get Evie from the entry of the stomach to the front of its mouth, the House nipping at their retreating backs with hungry snarls.

Carlos hadn’t been sure he would make it. Of all the times he’d been in and out of the House’s mouth, he had never had to fight with the House so much about its meal. He had expected the House to give up Evie only in exchange for finally eating him, and he braced himself for dying.

But he hadn’t, and he couldn’t confidently say it was because his offering to the House had been a match for what it wanted. He was sure he owed the House something, and he was more than terrified to know what he was expected to provide later.

________________________________________________________

Getting Evie out of the closet alive—and unscathed—was no small feat. It was one Carlos would prefer to never speak of again, generally, except for the three rather unwelcome guests still sitting in the living room when he finally emerged from the bathroom were waiting impatiently for some kind of explanation.

He glared at the remaining guests as he finished tying off the bandage around his knuckles and picked up an abandoned bottle from a party guest, taking a long drink, ignoring the burn of semi-filtered rubbing alcohol running down his throat. As usual, the best thing to come from hosting a party were the leftovers. Food would have been ideal, but alcohol was what was going to keep him from having a breakdown.

He was beyond grateful that Diego truly understood the threat that Hell Hall itself posed to non-DeVils. As soon as Mal had shut the door on Evie, Diego had hustled everyone out of Hell Hall, efficiently shutting down the party with the false cry of “Cruella is coming!”. The House was worse than Cruella in actuality, but unless you experienced it, you didn’t know it was there. Fortunately, all the kids at the party had trusted Diego enough to flee the premises.

Except for the three who, unfortunately, had direct contact with the House.

Mal was sprawled in an armchair, her pose aiming for nonchalance, but her blank stare was as numb as Evie’s vacant expression. She hadn’t said a single word since Carlos had plunged into the closet after Evie, and Carlos was grateful for the lack of snarky or better-than-thou comments.

Jay was hovering over Evie like a fretful mother, face twisted with anxiety. He hadn’t stopped moving since Carlos had hauled the girl out of the closet, swinging between snapping at Mal and stalking the perimeter of the room like that would protect the three of them from the House. Figures that the guard dog would have a conscience.

 Evie was sitting in a half collapsed state on the couch, her skin still as unblemished as it had been when she arrived—fully thanks to Carlos’ actions, and they all knew it.

It was almost satisfying to see the three of them so unsettled by what Carlos dealt with daily. No, it wasn’t almost satisfying, it was satisfying. He tried to ignore that part of him, the part that leaned a little too much towards Cruella’s behaviors, but oh, every warning he had given had been ignored and they had paid the price! Carlos was due for a little retribution.

“There is one rule for every guest that is not of DeVil blood at Hell Hall,” Carlos recited the speech for the three of them for the second time that night with tedious familiarity. It was the only family heirloom his Mother had ever given him. “Only one rule. One you break at your own peril. The only place you cannot go is the closet at the end of the upstairs hallway.”

He let that sink in for a moment, noting the grimaces on Jay and Mal’s faces.

“And now you all know why.”

The three of them shuddered in unison, and again, Carlos tried to overlook the flash of pleasure that ran through him at their discomfort, though it warmed his bones in a way nothing else did. His home, the House, was haunted—aggressively and violently. But he had tamed it, as much as he could, and he had survived it, feeding after feeding. He was proud of that.

“Has it always…been like this?”

That was the first full sentence Evie had spoken since she’d been put in the closet. Carlos took it as a good sign. And since they’d already seen what’d they seen, he figured he might as well tell them. The only other person he could talk to about the House was Diego, and Diego was usually too creeped out by it to converse much.

“Always,” Carlos sighed. “I haven’t been able to figure out how it survived the transfer from the Mainland to the Isle, given the ban on malicious magic that was woven into the barrier, but yeah. According to my uncle, Hell Hall’s been possessed since there was a DeVil bloodline. That’s why they called it Hell Hall to begin with.”

“You mean, on top of Cruella,” Jay said in a frantic tone. “You’ve been living with that, too?!”

His gestures toward the closet were unnecessary since there was only one thing Jay could be referring to, but the movement startled Mal out of her stupor.

“You—that—fuck,” was Mal’s only statement about her experiences with the House.

Carlos agreed with that summation.

His first experience with the House had been nothing short of traumatizing, and he had only been two or so. His memories of that visit were hazy and shaped by limited concepts of the world. But he still had nightmares about that specific visit, even though he now considered himself on…neutral, maybe even friendly, terms with the House these days, since he kept it fed in a way its previous owners hadn’t in several centuries.

He saw no need to starve the House when its needs were obvious—he’d been starved by his own Mother plenty, and well. The House wasn’t exactly “sentient”, but Carlos didn’t wish his own fate upon anyone (or anything else). So visiting and feeding the House was something he did once a week. Even though the closet terrified him beyond anything else—even his Mother, which was saying a lot.

“What…did you give to it…so it wouldn’t eat me?” Evie asked, though Carlos could tell she both knew and didn’t want to know the answer.

“The House lives off of the energy of things. Blood, flesh, and soul, usually. Whatever it can take from its victim it transfers into its lifeforce. It would have been happy to eat all of you, but…there is certain offerings it prefers over others. I keep a stockpile of its favorites for emergencies.”

Evie glared at Carlos with a sort of…protectiveness? Or perhaps it was astonishment at how weird his life was.

“Your hand is a preference?”

 “Unfortunately, one of its favorites is DeVil flesh. It prefers the flesh, specifically, because DeVil blood is…commonly spilt in these halls and thusly rather a mundane food choice. Flesh is harder to come by, and the…agreement the House has with the bloodline prevents it from consuming any DeVil souls.”

“Agreement?” Jay’s eyes flashed—in curiosity or perhaps fear. Carlos imagined he was thinking of the djinn contract his father had entered unwittingly, the one that had ended Jafar’s reign of terror and landed him (and eventually his son) in eternal, mortal imprisonment.

Carlos shrugged. He only knew so much, since he couldn’t exactly ask the House what its deal was. Carlos had a lot of theories about the House, though.

 He knew there was some sort of binding agreement, but he’d only figured out the limitations by trial and error. Uncle Cecil had no idea where or what the agreement terms were, and well. Cruella was only coherent enough to acknowledge the House once a year. But that seemed to be enough for the House, so it left Cruella alone for the most part.

Mal huffed sharply and cracked her knuckles—more out of nervous habit than any approaching threat, Carlos gathered, starting from his thoughts.

“So, what? You fed a piece of your ‘flesh’ to some whacked-out entity, and that saved Evie? Gave it some extra blood, tucked it in, kissed it goodnight? Who cares?”

Before tonight, Carlos would have reacted defensively. Snipped back at her, played her game. But tonight Mal had met something that didn’t fear her just because her mother was Maleficent. And that, more than anything else, had shaken Mal to her core. It seemed to have affected the other two as well, based on the indignant faces they both sported.

“I care!” Jay snapped.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected any push back from Jay. Neither had Mal, her mouth gaping like a dying fish. But then she snapped it shut, and leveled a glare eerily reminiscent of her mother at the other boy.

“You don’t care about anything but yourself, Jay, and don’t you tell me any different!” Mal retorted harshly.

“No, you’re thinking of yourself, Mal! You’re the one who doesn’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“Well because I have the brains to be a decent villain! Caring is for fools!”

“I care, Mal, because…you never look before you leap! You always expect something to be there to catch you and I just…I can’t always be there to catch you. To clean up your mistakes.”

“My mistakes?!” Mal hissed.

Carlos leaned against the door frame to the hallway, curious to see where this was going. Evie had been watching them like they were a sporting match, eyes bouncing between the two with a speed that told Carlos she truly hadn’t sustained any lasting damage—at least physically. Mentally, she would be affected by tonight for a long, long time.

“Your mistakes!” Evie joined in now, her eyes flashing in the same way Evil Queen’s did when Carlos slurped his soup by accident. “Like trying to feed me to an evil house! Or, maybe, I don’t know! Banishing me for ten years from the pathetic excuse that passes for civilization on the Isle!”

“Yes!” Jay picked up where Evie was going. “Do you even know why your mom quote-unquote BANISHED Evil Queen? It wasn’t because they didn’t invite you to the party! You were literally at Evie’s birthday party, Mal! I was there—and I was older than you, so I still have memories of it! You were there and you and Evie were getting along, as much as toddlers do!

“So no, it wasn’t a stupid birthday party! It was your mother’s jealousy, that Evil Queen’s kid was more behaved than her own, okay!”

Now that the three of them had started, it did not seem they were going to stop. All Carlos could do was sigh deeply, knowing why—that was another side effect the House had upon its guests.

The House loved to play with memory, make its victims admit to truths they had long forgotten. Its nourishment was not exactly from “energy” in its raw form—no, the House preferred live energy converted into greed. Sure, there were remnants of greed, of want, desire, yearning, lingering in the pieces of the dead that Calros fed it, but that wasn’t always enough.

It wasn’t enough tonight, which is why it had tried so hard to eat Evie, why Jay and Mal had only made it that much harder for Carlos to pull Evie out—because they were all so full of desire. If it was their own or it was passed down from their parents, neither Carlos nor the House cared. All that mattered was that the three of them wanted.  Wanted for more than they could have on the Isle, for more than their parents had managed to accomplish. And that was what the House liked best.

“Well I’m sorry my mother cared enough to make me someone!” Mal shouted back. “Like your dad has ever cared about you beyond what profit you bring him!”

“Oh, because your mother treats you like a person rather than an overgrown puppet! She loves Diablo more than you, and he’s been a concrete statue for fifteen years!”

“Stop!”

That was Evie again, her hands pressed over her ears. Carlos was pleased to see that she had parsed out the House’s intentions.

Both Jay and Mal froze at her words, their chests heaving as they processed what they were saying. Neither apologized, but several significant glances passed between the two, and they both relaxed their stances. Neither apologized to Evie, Carlos noted. But that was not his problem—he’d gotten what he wanted, which was Evie out of the closet, and it was time to wrap things up.  

“That’s enough,” Carlos said evenly. “The House is still hungry…and arguments like this make it hungrier. So. Get the fuck out, please.”

“Fuck your house,” Mal huffed, standing up stiffly and shuffling towards the door.

Jay and Evie both moved towards the entrance as well, glancing warily at Carlos.

“You’re free to leave. Just know if you visit again, I can’t promise the House will behave,” Carlos offered, as cooly as he was able.  

Mal sneered and grabbed Jay by the shoulder, hauling him out into the dark. Evie lingered a moment, her hands trembling as she smoothed her skirt.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and then darted out of Hell Hall.

He closed the door behind them with a soft sigh and braced himself. The wooden boards of the manor trembled and groaned softly, indicating the House’s appetite had not yet been sated. He wasn’t keen on being alone with the House while it was so hungry.

But that was his life. Beholden to the whims of a mad woman and a possessed manor.

[2af-afterdark]

Son of Hell - Chapter 12

Fandom: What in Hell is Bad? Characters: Paimon, Minhyeok, MC, Original Character Content: Post-canon, omegaverse, devil contracts and using them, childish tantrums A/N: Please remember that Seo-jūn is, like, 3 years old and is therefore the victim of 3 year old logic and whims Word Count: 2760

Seo-jūn ran down the cobbled streets of Gehenna laughing and giggling as Minhyeok and Ra-on chased after him. His legs were too short to carry him very quickly, so his parents giving chase was more akin to walking at a brisk pace. Both of them kept calm expressions as they followed, clearly enjoying their son’s antics as much as he did.

The citizens of Gehenna that littered the streets continuously turned their heads to watch the young child running by. Of course they had heard that Ra-on had returned and that they were accompanied by Minhyeok and the recognized son of his majesty Satan, but only those who had attended the welcoming event had even caught a glimpse of them. Now, they were wandering down the streets as if it was commonplace – the equivalent of meeting a group of celebrities at your local coffee shop.

The eyes of the devils they passed sparkled in wonder. Many even greeted Seo-jūn as he passed, calling him little lord or highness. He didn't understand those honorifics though, so he just waved at the devils who greeted him without any arrogance.

Minhyeok kept his face straight, but he was internally annoyed by people referring to his son as a lord because he knew it stemmed from them considering Seo-jūn to be another man's son. Internally, he knew that he wasn't Seo-jūn's biological father, but he was still Seo-jūn's dad and had raised him with love until now.

Ra-on could see the nearly imperceptible irritation on Minhyeok's face. They reached out to grab his hand, feeling him tense up with their open display of affection. For him, such acts were meant to be kept in the privacy of their home, but Ra-on was used to Hell where showing such things in public was uneventful. 

They didn’t have to say anything. They had been together for too long to need words. They would always see Minhyeok as Seo-jūn's father and the man who was always there for them.

Ahead of them, Seo-jūn kept running down the streets. That is, until he suddenly seemed to slow down. He suddenly stopped and turned his head to look at a devil passing by. He turned on his heels and trotted up to the devil.

Everyone around seemed to hold their breaths as he reached out his tiny hand to pull at the fabric bunched around the devil's ankles.

“Why do your special look like that?” He asked.

The devil looked down at him with their rainbow eye twinkling in the bright sunlight. 

Their expression immediately twisted into one of pure delight. “Oh my goshhh! Are you Seo-jūnnn? You're so cuteee.”

Seo-jūn looked up at the devil in confusion. “You know me?”

“Of courseee!” Paimon cheered. “You're the adorable baby that everyone is talking abouttt.”

His cheeks puffed out and he frownwd. “I'm not a baby.”

“And you have his majesty's frownnn!”

“I think you're trying to find aspects of Satan in him,” Ra-on said as they and Minhyeok finally caught up with Seo-jūn. “Personally, I think he gets his frown from me. His smile, on the other hand, is all Minhyeok's. He's the indulgent one.”

A wide smile crossed Paimon's face. “Oh my goodnesss! It's been so long, Ra-onnn!” He opened his arms and leaped at them for a hug.

Ra-on held up their hand in front of Paimon's face, sensing what he really wanted from them. “Hugs only.”

He jutted out his bottom lip in a way that made him look more childish than Seo-jūn just had. “No fairrr.”

“Take it or leave it. I'm married now.”

He didn't look happy, but he accepted a simple hug from Ra-on. Then he turned to Minhyeok, who wasn't expecting him, and did the same.

“He's cute tooo.” Paimon licked his lips. “If you ever need energy, I'm willing to helppp.”

“There's a child, Paimon,” Ra-on said with a tense smile but the same raging aura that followed Satan. “Also, you're making him uncomfortable but he's too nice to say that.”

“Righttt. Righttt.”

Ra-on already knew that would not be the last time they would have to give that warning. The devils of Hell were very honest with their desires and they didn't hide their wants. Plus, it had been a long time since there had been a child in Hell so none of them would know how to behave around one. Assuming they even had such boundaries to begin with.

Seo-jūn, who was still staring between his parents and the man his mother was overly familiar with, grumbled as he grabbed his father's pant leg and started screaming after being ignored by the adults around him for too long. His wailing was so high-pitched that it hurt the ears of all the nearby devils. His face began to turn cherry red. He didn't say anything or even whine. All he did was scream.

“Seo-jūn! Stop that!” Ra-on raised their voice.

Instead of listening, he began to stomp his feet as he continued to scream.

“You heard mom,” Minhyeok said as he picked up Seo-jūn. “They said to stop.”

“No!” He finally shouted something coherent. He pushed against Minhyeok's chest, attempting to free himself. “Mommy and daddy are stinky heads.”

Minhyeok bowed to Paimon with Seo-jūn still fussing in his arms. “I apologize for my son's outburst.”

“That was,” Paimon started saying with a concerned look on his face, before it twisted into a wide smile, “so devilishhh. His majesty would be sooo prouddd.”

A few of the other devils that had been lucky enough to witness the scene of Seo-jūn's childish tantrum began to clap. Not a polite clap done out of pity or embarrassment, but one an enthusiastic round of applause.

“Such a genuine reaction.”

“Did you hear him scream?”

“He was so loud!”

“And he used such a creative insult.”

But the number one comment that rang out from the onlookers was, “And the way he stomped his feet? He clearly inherited His Majesty's fine legs for kicking.”

Ra-on listened to their comments entirely unfazed. They had spent too long in Hell to be surprised by the eternal love that the devils had for their king's. However, it was becoming annoying to listen to how many of them overlooked Minhyeok's role as Seo-jūn's father. To a devil, who historically had to actively desire and ask Lilith for a child, it was likely unheard of to question the paternity of a child or to have one's desired child raised by someone else. It was also likely the case that, since devils did not lie, Satan's acknowledgement of Seo-jūn had left no doubt in any citizen of Gehenna's mind that he was the rightful father. 

But it was clear, at least to them, that everyone was ignoring all the years that Seo-jūn had been raised without Satan or anyone else in his life. They were actively ignoring the person who had been there the whole time, and that was what annoyed Ra-on.

As an Omega, their pheromones were meant to invoke a sense of protection in others – namely, Alpha's. Their natural scent did little in the way of giving off a commanding presence. However, they were also the contract holder to the most powerful devils in Hell, free to use their abilities and powers at their leisure.

Ra-on dug down deep, searching inside themselves for a certain ability, calling on a certain devil's innate skill. It wasn't the domineering pheromones of an Alpha that they invoked, but the dripping unease of something that felt just slightly off; like a cup that was a few centimeters away from where you had left it the night before. It was a deep unease that couldn't be explained but also couldn't be ignored.

They smiled at Paimon sweetly, but his and every onlooker’s hearts stopped. Even Minhyeok who was a beta and Seo-jūn who hadn’t yet manifested his second sex suddenly went rigid at the sight.

“Yes,” Ra-on spoke clearly but it somehow sounded slurred and muted, “Seo-jūn takes after his father quite a bit.”

They stood beside Minhyeok to twirl the edge of his hair. “Like these adorable curls or twinkling eyes. His smile too. He picked up all those little traits from Minhyeok here and I couldn't be happier that Seo-jūn takes after the man who raised him. Whoever donated the other half of his DNA is irrelevant in the face of that, don't you think?”

Paimon, as well as the other devils in the area, shuddered.

“Ra-on,” Paimon muttered before his smile grew wide and he threw himself at them, “you’re so coolll. You were always cool, but you somehow got even coolerrr.”

Ra-on had intended to use fear and intimidation to solidify Minhyeok’s role as Seo-jūn’s father to all of Hell, but it seemed to not even cause them to break a sweat. They had forgotten just how much the devils of Hell loved them and how, even when terrifying, they were fonded over so easily.

And, just as Paimon pointed out how little Ra-on had changed during their absence, other devils continued to provide their own commentary in the background.

“Young lord Seo-jūn must have gotten his devilish nature from Their Majesty Ra-on.”

“He’s just like his mother.”

“Don’t you think young lord Seo-jūn carries himself like Minhyeok?”

“Yes, yes! Just look at the way they are both looking at their majesty in awe right now. Lord Seo-jūn clearly takes after both him and Lord Satan.”

Ra-on couldn’t complain about the comment. At least they were finally acknowledging that Minhyeok was influential to Seo-jūn. However, it was clear that they still saw Satan as Seo-jūn’s rightful father. It would take more than two days to establish that Minhyeok was their husband and Seo-jūn’s father.

As Ra-on was thinking though, they felt a peck against their cheek.

Now, it was their turn for their blood to run cold.

They turned their head slowly to look at Paimon who was still beaming as he hugged them. “I missed youuu.”

Before they could open their mouth to tell him that it was inappropriate to kiss them, Minhyeok spoke up.

“My spouse is indeed amazing.” Even though Minhyeok’s lips were turned upward, it was clear that his eyes were not smiling. If anything, there was a cold rage bubbling toward the surface. “I am very lucky that they’ve chosen to spend their life with me.”

Which was a polite and roundabout way of telling Paimon to stop being so affectionate with Ra-on.

However, devils didn’t do roundabout.

“You really areee,” Paimon said without a hint of catching onto Minhyeok’s intentions. Then, he seemed to remember something. “Ohhh! Little lord Seo-jūn asked me something earlierrr. What’s a specialll?”

“He means your horns,” Ra-on said as they lifted their arm between them and Paimon so they could push him away. 

He almost seemed to pout as he was separated from them.

“What’s wrong with my hornsss?” He asked.

Seo-jūn appeared to finally come back to his senses at Paimon’s question, but he was still nervous after Ra-on’s display. He buried his face against Minhyeok’s chest and muttered something unintelligible.

Minhyeok, the only person who could hear exactly what Seo-jūn had said, placed his hand against Seo-jūn’s back and rubbed it softly. “It’s okay, Seo-jūn. Mama is still Mama, even when they’re scary.”

“Excuse me?” Ra-on pouted.

Minhyeok laughed, trying to show Seo-jūn that there was no threat.

“See? Mama is the same as always. Now, do you wanna ask Mr. Paimon,” he looked to Paimon to confirm that was indeed his name, only continuing when he got confirmation “your question?”

Seo-jūn seemed to hesitate before finally turning his head to look back at Paimon and quietly mumbling, “Why do they look like that?”

Before only a few days ago, Seo-jūn had never seen another person with horns like he had. Now he passed by many people on the street with horns in many shapes, but most of them were black or red. Paimon, on the other hand, had horns that naturally matched his aesthetic: a trio of pastel carotin decorated in stickers.

Paimon got a quizzical look on his face. “What do they look likeee?”

“They're pretty.”

“Ra-on,” Paimon said with a beaming face and eyes twinkling as if he was about to cry, “let me have himmm. Eligos and I can make him even cuterrr.”

Minhyeok instinctually tightened his hold on Seo-jūn and turned away slightly– enough to not be noticeable out of politeness, but also sending a clear message about his disapproval at the idea.

“No, Paimon.” Ra-on raised their firm voice as they spoke. “Now please answer him if you plan to.”

“Welllll,” he held the word out longer than usual, even for him, “Lilith thought that I would look good that wayyy. And she was righttt.” 

“Lilith?”

Ra-on had no desire to explain devil biology at Seo-jūn’s young age – they had barely explained human biology outside of telling Seo-jūn that babies came from their mother's tummies – so they stuck to explaining it as, “She’s like his grandma.”

“Oh. Okay.”

That explanation seemed to appease him for now. After all, he had a grandma and she loved him a lot and gave him presents. Maybe Paimon's grandma had given him those horns as a gift…

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Seo-jūn started to cry. It wasn't quiet either. His sobbing was almost as loud as his earlier screaming.

“I want Gramma.”

Or, specifically, he understood that grandmothers could give gifts like special horns and he wanted those. His were tiny and he had been surrounded by larger ones all day. He wanted the biggest horns! And he wanted them to be rainbow!

Minhyeok began to rock Seo-jūn through his sudden outburst.

“Oh dear,” Ra-on sighed, “I think it may be time for Seo-jūn's nap. He seems restless.”

“Boooo,” Paimon peered. “Do you have to go so soonnn? We just met againnn.”

“Sorry, Paimon, but my son comes first,” they said. “But I'm sure that you've heard we're staying at Satan’s palace again, so we'll likely run into each other again soon.”

Paimon still gave a small pout and let his eyes go wide and soft, like a small kitten begging to come in from the rain. “Fineee, but I want a goodbye kissss.”

Minhyeok cleared his throat. “We should get going. Seo-jūn will give himself a headache at this rate.”

“Yes,” Ra-on agreed. 

Unlike many devils who didn't understand double speak, Ra-on could catch Minhyeok's hidden intentions. He was telling Paimon that there would be no kiss. Ra-on had to agree.

“It was good to see you again, Paimon. Please visit us when you have free time.” Because, it was clear to Ra-on that he was on patrol right now.

Without another word, the two put an end to their stroll around Gehenna and went back to their room in Satan’s palace. As they set a finicky and tired Seo-jūn in bed and, eventually, got him settled down to sleep, Minhyeok finally turned to Ra-on.

“You don’t have to defend me like that.”

Ra-on shrugged as they drew the blanket over Seo-jūn. “They won’t understand if you don’t say it to their face. They want Satan to be his father and they don’t listen to Korean niceties.”

“But we all know that he may be Seo-jūn’s father-”

“Biological father. That’s not the same as being the one who raised him. They have to respect that fact.”

“Even so, you’ve said before that you wished you knew who his father was.”

“For medical purposes and so I can anticipate how it may affect his upbringing. I’ve heard that the human descendants of devils have strange quirks. Like the Unholycs apparently have the ability to charm people and take their desire to keep themselves young, but that’s because they’re descended from Asmodeus. I can’t imagine how the others will affect Seo-jūn when he gets older.”

Because Ra-on already knew that Asmodeus, and now Lucifer, couldn’t be Seo-jūn’s biological father. They could only assume that, whoever it was, would affect Seo-jūn in ways they couldn’t imagine.

Wrath, Greed, Envy, Gluttony, Sloth. One of them would influence Seo-jūn as he got older. Which one it was and how that influence would manifest, they had no idea.

Minhyeok grabbed onto the side of Ra-on’s head and pulled them against his shoulder. “We’ll deal with that when the time comes. Seo-jūn has a wonderful mother who will do anything for him.”

They stiffened up, then relaxed into him. “And a father who will support him the entire time.”