A/N: It feels good to finally be writing again! Hopefully this is worth the unintentional wait. As always, MC is gender neutral and it’s my usual comfort style
Today the storm would hit. All the Devildom news channels were talking about the immense storm that was brewing just outside the city walls. Storms were not unfamiliar to you, in fact, you had grown accustomed to the regular cycle of fair and foul weather that would haunt your hometown; the everchanging seasons were as natural to you as the day preceeding the night. You had been living in the Devildom for more than a year now, and you were slowly getting used to the peculiarities of this previously unfamiliar realm. There was no shortage of surprises in store as you navigated this world of demons. Everything was bigger, scarier, and more dangerous than anything you’d ever known in the Human Realm. If even demons were scared of this storm, then it must be far more terrifying than everything you’ve endured to date. A human could never survive a storm that even demons feared.
At least, that’s what the little voice in your head kept telling you.
You knew better than to listen to it, of course, and yet its insidious and malicious call was too loud to ignore. That small doubt developed into a fear, one that curled and gnarled itself in your rib cage and caused dread to creep up the arteries to your brain. The storm made you nervous. No matter how you tried to shake off the feeling, it lingered— impossible to ignore. It was only a matter of hours before the storm reached the House of Lamentation.
As the day began its inevitable descent into night, the fear’s grip on your heart grew stronger. You knew that if you had any chance of getting any sleep this night, then you would need to speak to him to finally put your heart at ease.
Lucifer
The Avatar of Pride was as predictable as he was strict. At this time of the evening, you knew that he would be hard at work in his study. You knocked gently at his door, feeling a little embarrassed that your irrational fear had brought you here. Yet you knew that if anyone was able to soothe your doubts, it was Lucifer. There was a long silence. You could faintly make out the sounds of rustling papers and the familiar scratching of his quill on parchment. What you couldn’t detect, however, were any signs that Lucifer had heard you knocking.
Should you knock again?
The anxious feeling in your stomach began to swell. It only grew worse the longer the silence lasted. You closed your eyes, breathed deeply, and resolved to knock on the door again. You rapped your knuckles against the soft surface. Wait…soft?
“May I help you?” Lucifer asked, his brow furrowed as he looked quizzically at the hand that had just knocked against his chest.
“Ah, sorry!” You spluttered and took a step back. “It’s just…that big storm is supposed to hit today, and I, uh…” You trailed off, unsure what it was exactly that you needed from Lucifer. You wanted his company, that much was certain, but what could Lucifer realistically do to help in this situation? Despite acting as Diavolo’s right hand demon, not even Lucifer was powerful enough to command a storm to bow to his will. Lucifer hummed and raised his gloved hand to his chin in contemplation.
“That was today, was it?” He asked. “Thank you for reminding me. I suppose I can count on your assistance with our preparations.” Lucifer smiled in his characteristic manner when he knew he was giving an order, rather than a request. You couldn’t help but sigh. This wasn’t quite what you had expected, but if Lucifer needed the help, then you could find no reason why you should refuse.
Debris of branch fragments already littered the path from the back door and across the House of Lamentation’s garden. The wind caught hold of your hair and twirled it skyward as it did for Lucifer, who now resembled a hedgehog more than a demon. A rogue leaf got caught in his hair and he bowed his head so you could retrieve it.
Together you walked around the garden, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist lest you should be blown over by the gale. You had to turn your face from the direction of the wind, afraid that the sheer power would rip the air from your lungs, as it relentlessly roared in your ears. It was so fierce that at times it felt impossible to catch your breath. Each time you feared the wind would overpower you, Lucifer’s steadfast form would appear at your side and grant you shelter from the elements.
Ropes were fastened on benches, small trees, and ornaments; anything that could be picked up and carried away. For everything else, Lucifer used a range of enchantments designed to cement the treasured objects to the ground. When you had finished, Lucifer wrapped his coat around your shoulders and stood with you in the doorway to admire your hour’s work.
“How are you feeling now?” Lucifer spoke in a quiet, breathy tone. You were almost surprised you could hear him over the howling tempest outside.
“Much better,” you admitted as you nestled into the warm fabric around your shoulders. “Especially now I know we’ve done everything we can to keep the house safe.”
“I’m glad…” he smiled sadly and pulled you closer to him. “There are some things in this world that we are powerless to stop, even for us demons. Sometimes all we can do is hold on tightly to the things that matter to us most and hope the storm won’t carry them away.”
Mammon
It wasn’t unusual for you to spend a quiet evening in Mammon’s room. Sometimes the two of you would hit the town, and it would take all of your patient and loving words to stop Mammon from buying out half the shop just because said you liked something you saw in the store window. These quiet evenings with you were his favourite. A special time where he can have you all to himself, away from his brothers’ glowering insults and playful prods, and free to simply enjoy each other’s company.
Mammon’s room was situated in the heart of the house. No sound of the wind penetrated these walls, no raindrop pattered furiously against the windowpanes, and no beams creaked as it braced itself against the tempestuous gale. The surround sound system that Mammon had recently installed boomed out the jaunty soundtrack of the Magic School series the two of you were binging.
You nestled into Mammon’s side and nuzzled his neck. Warmth flooded his cheeks, his grip on your hips tightened as he kissed the top of your head and sighed contentedly.
“This really is the best,” Mammon said. “Ya have nothing to worry about when you’re in the arms of The Great Mammon!” You laughed airily. The creeping doubt that had plagued your thoughts was now a distant memory. You climbed onto his lap so you could gaze into the golden depths of his azure eyes.
His lips melted against yours. All you could think about was the feel of his burning lips, the coy slip of tongue that teased a quiet gasp from your throat, and the firm grip keeping you securely against the Avatar of Greed’s chest. You lost yourselves to the intensity of this heated kiss. The raging storm outside had diminished to nothing more than the perfect excuse to spend the night with your favourite demon.
Leviathan
“The Lord of Fools—…"
"Oh, it’s you!” Leviathan interrupted before you could finish the secret phrase. “Come in, I mean, that is if you want to…"
You cautiously stepped into Levi’s room. Henry excitedly swam in circles upon seeing you. Levi unplugged his headset and turned to you. Your fidgeting hands and tense posture caught his attention first; it was a feeling that he was unfortunately all too familiar with. As much as he hated seeing you in any sort of distress, he couldn’t deny that he was a little pleased that he was demon you turned to for support.
"I hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this…I know I’m getting worried over nothing. I just…needed to see you.” You said.
Levi’s cheeks glowed a deep crimson and he tried to hide his blush behind his hoodie sleeve. In his role of Grand Admiral, he was used to demons placing their trust in him. Yet, knowing that you trusted him, you too sought him for safety just like he would seek for you, brought him a joy greater than he’d ever imagined. These excitable thoughts swam through his mind as he patted the space beside him as casually as his racing heart would allow.
You moved the second gaming chair closer to him before you took your seat. The cool fabric of Levi’s hoodie was soft against your cheek. You tentatively held onto his arm and leaned against him, feeling the muscles tense then relax beneath your touch.
Blearily you half-focussed on the large monitor in front of you. The sleep you feared would be out of reach now seemed to settle throughout your entire body, reassured by the comforting presence of your favourite otaku demon. Levi was playing a pirate simulator and had rigged the two gaming chairs to rock in time with the motion of the virtual waves. It really did feel like you were sat on a boat. The storm outside only added to the ambience of the game’s special effects. You closed your eyes and immersed yourself in the soundscape; a strong gust whistled through the creaking rigging, huge sails billowed and strained in the building gales, waves splashed rhythmically against the timber hull as seagulls cried out their piercing song above your head.
“This is my favourite game to play when I’m feeling…” Levi paused. Suddenly he felt guilty about waking you from your encroaching slumber. However seeing you sleepily smile up at him renewed his confidence to continue. “When I’m feeling overwhelmed. There’s something about being at sea that relaxes me."
You kissed his cheek and settled yourself against him again. "Thank you, Levi.” With the rocking of the chair and the low rumble of Levi’s voice, you finally felt the dread weight had melted from your shoulders. Finally you could smile freely again.
Today the storm would hit. All the Devildom news channels were talking about the immense storm that was brewing just outside the city walls. Storms were not unfamiliar to you, in fact, you had grown accustomed to the regular cycle of fair and foul weather that would haunt your hometown; the everchanging seasons were as natural to you as the day preceeding the night. You had been living in the Devildom for more than a year now, and you were slowly getting used to the peculiarities of this previously unfamiliar realm. There was no shortage of surprises in store as you navigated this world of demons. Everything was bigger, scarier, and more dangerous than anything you’d ever known in the Human Realm. If even demons were scared of this storm, then it must be far more terrifying than everything you’ve endured to date. A human could never survive a storm that even demons feared.
At least, that’s what the little voice in your head kept telling you.
You knew better than to listen to it, of course, and yet its insidious and malicious call was too loud to ignore. That small doubt developed into a fear, one that curled and gnarled itself in your rib cage and caused dread to creep up the arteries to your brain. The storm made you nervous. No matter how you tried to shake off the feeling, it lingered— impossible to ignore. It was only a matter of hours before the stormreached the House of Lamentation.
As the day began its inevitable descent into night, the fear’s grip on your heart grew stronger. You knew that if you had any chance of getting any sleep this night, then you would need to speak to him to finally put your heart at ease.
Satan
You knew Satan’s habits fairly well by now. When he kept his door open, leaving nothing more than a thin window into his room, it signalled he sought company. He was an intellectual. His thoughts had a habit of spiralling beyond his control; a crack in his otherwise private space meant that he was never truly alone to be overcome by them. He would rarely admit to it, naturally, instead opting to leave this near invisible signal in the hope that you would decipher its meaning. His message was clear: Satan was also worried about the storm.
The floorboards squeaked under your feet and alerted him to your presence.
“Hm? Oh, it’s only you.” The tension seemed to roll off his shoulders with his blossoming smile. “I thought I’d take the opportunity to place some of these books back onto their shelves.”
Books are a sanctuary, you remember Satan telling you once. To see him turn his attention so wholly to his personal library at a time like this was no surprise. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pressed your cheek against him and squeezed lovingly; the statuesque figure in your arms softened from marble into clay, relaxing into your embrace. His chest thrummed as he practically purred with contentment. He rested a single hand on yours and was still. The pressure of your body against his grounded him. You were here, with him, just when he needed you. In his other, he held a well-worn book. Its gold lettering had faded over years of handling, the delicate filigree pattern all but lost to time, yet the slight embossed lettering on the spine had survived. The title was still barely visible, but only when tilted at a particular angle which allowed the shadows to be cast in such a way for the letters to be revealed.
Satan tilted the book and smiled to himself.
“‘The Tempest’…how apt.” He placed the book back onto the shelf and lifted another book from the pile. It was similar in appearance to the last, but had evidentally seen more use, as some of the cover had begun to peel at the corners. He clutched it closer to his chest and turned his head to you. “Would…you like me to read to you?”
You nodded and reluctantly released Satan from your grip. The request stemmed from Satan’s desire to seek comfort for himself, but he appreciated the pretense your presence offered him. Unlike his brothers’ rooms, Satan’s room always felt much colder and worn down than the rest of the house; it showed every century its long lamentable existence. If Satan spent more time cleaning than reading, then perhaps the room might feel more inviting. The large window opened out onto a wide expanse of rolling cloud and crackling lightning, torrents of rain crashed against the antique glass, and a slight draught whistled through a hairline crack in the window sill. You draped his pawprint blanket around your shoulders and motioned for Satan to join you.
He nestled in beside you. Delicately, he opened the book and started to read…
Asmodeus
“Come in, darling,” Asmo’s voice warbled from beyond the door. You swung the door open with a slight shove.
A heady fragrance of rose and jasmine saturated the air. An ethereal steam rose intricately from Asmo’s exposed skin, which had been blushed pink from his prolonged soak in the bath. Asmo lay atop his covers, his favourite fleece dressing gown covered him from head to knees, and he rested his head on his arm. It was strange to see him so…quiet. He wasn’t even dressed yet. His peach hair fell in a mess of clumsy curls, haphazardly dried with a bath towel instead of his rigorous blow-dry regimen. With a simple jerk of his immaculately manicured finger, he motioned for you to join him on the bed.
You clambered onto his bed and settled beside him. You reached beneath his dressing gown to nestle against his chest. Glistening droplets dotted along his collarbone captured the light, glittered and rolled surreptiously down his torso; you were mesmerised. His skin radiated warmth and was temptingly soft to the touch. Asmo wrapped you inside his dressing gown, enveloping you in a fluffy caccoon, until your every sense was focussed on him. You lay with your cheek against his nape, breathing in the enticing aroma that seemed to be infused into his very skin. The sound of his heartbeat a constant rhythm that drowned out the storm beyond those four walls.
“There was a storm just like this not long after we first arrived in the Devildom,” Asmo said after a long silence.
Now that you were so close to him, his voice sounded almost like your own. There was a rawness to it that you’d never heard before. A grittiness in his voice that rumbled in his chest, that was repressed and filtered out of his pitch-perfect falsetto. It was beautiful.
“It was awful! The wind completely destroyed my hair and that rain—! Ugh, it was horizontal! I had mascara running down my chin, I was so wet. I remember finally getting to my room to freshen up and seeing myself in the mirror…” his grip on you tightened as he pressed countless silent kisses to the top of your head. “It was then that I realised how different the Devildom was to the Celestial Realm.”
His silence was heavy, as though carrying more sorrow than mere words could ever convey. The honesty of his trembling embrace was a side of him you’d never seen before.
“Can I stay here tonight?” You asked meekly.
“Of course, hon,” he whispered, while his arms pulled you closer. “A few more moments like this and then we’ll get ready for bed, ok?”
Beelzebub
It didn’t take you long to find him. Upon walking into the kitchen, you saw Beel sizing up three large mugs. He was evidently deep in thought as he weighed two of them in each hand, allowing his arms to mimic the balancing motion of an antique kitchen scale. He finally shook his head and replaced the mug in his left hand with his favourite gargantuan gallon-sized tankard. You had given it to him for his birthday; a tingling satisfaction settled in your stomach each time you saw him drink from it.
“You look busy,” you said as you peered into the bubbling pot on the fire.
“Belphie wanted one of my signature Devil Dark Hot Chocolate Surprises. I thought I’d make one for the two of us too, so we can drink it all together.” Beel wiped his mouth and diligently stirred the velvety elixir of molten chocolate.
The air was filled with the delectable scent of warm cocoa. Beel dipped a spoon into the mixture, blew on it to cool it down, and held it out to you. You tasted it. A deep bitterness took root at the base of your tongue, delicately balanced by the sweet thick cream, and brought to life with a surprising fiery heat. The knotty fear that had settled in your chest relinquished its hold on your heart. Encouraged by your glowing reaction, Beel deftly served the three hot chocolates into the mugs on the kitchen top. He topped it with a mountain of whipped cream and decorated them with marshmallow stars. His large hands moved dextrously while constructing this confectionary masterpiece. It was a work of art, but there was still a question lingering in your mind.
“What’s the surprise?” You asked.
“I added some 'Black Star Liqueur’,” Beel whispered conspiratorily. “I stole it from Lucifer’s drink cabinet.”
Belphegor
How was it possible to lose a whole demon? The Avatar of Sloth wasn’t exactly known for playing something as energetic as 'Hide and Seek’. You searched everywhere: the twins’ bedroom, the attic, the living room, the library, the kitchen, and even Lucifer’s private study; everywhere that was warm and cosy; anywhere that would be a perfect napping spot. After what felt like hours of searching, you were ready to give up and attempt to face the storm alone. A lonely light flickered and caught your eye.
The Planetarium rattled in the screeching wind. Its glass ceiling and tall windows provided an unobscured view of the weather outside. Silhouetted by the flashes of lightning was a solitary figure, who sat half-dozing, gazing out upon the stormfront. The storm yowled like a great cat, hissing and baring its fangs at its advesary, and flashed its electric eyes at the House of Lamentation. Belphie and you were but mere goldfish gawking helplessly from your creaking glass bowl. The great storm cat’s claws scratched at the glass dome in time with the tree branches scraping across the roof; it was a cacophony of crashing thunder, wind and rain.
You cleared your throat and startled Belphie. He looked at you, his expression wide-eyed and alert. You padded softly to his side to join him on the seat under the window. On instinct, his arm curled around your waist and held you close, until even your breaths seemed to rise and fall in perfect harmony.
“I thought you’d be asleep,” you said as you nuzzled into his hair. “I was looking for you everywhere.”
“It’s too noisy to sleep,” Belphie huffed.
His words surprised you. A pensive air fell over Belphie whilst he watched the storm’s ferocious onslaught against the Devildom. It was though you were watching a steadfast sentinel silently standing guard against the elements. His eyes never left the sky. You too were captivated by the ebb and flow of turbulent cloud currents that continually swirled into everchanging patterns.
Outside, the very roots of your beloved Devildom trembled and strengthened to withstand the worst storm in centuries. Yet in here, in his arms, you felt calm— you felt safe. It was always so easy to sleep in the arms of your beloved demon.
Summary: When the fire breaks on the roofs of Notre Dame there’s not much Ladybug and Chat Noir can do. No jewel in Master Fu’s case can assist them today. But then they are reminded that even in the darkest times there’s always hope. Hope as fragile as the wings of a butterfly, yet powerful enough to vie with fate.
A sincere thank you to @tempomental-fanfics for beta-reading this story, as well as to Tempo, @lilaflyy and Remasa for brainstorming with me.
Tears stung her eyes and rolled down her mask and cheeks, marking their path with sooty lines. She no longer knew if they came from the smoke or from her helplessness. Because Ladybug failed Notre Dame, she failed Paris for the first time in years.
Chat grabbed her hand, grounding her firmly in place when she wanted to return to the roof once again.
‘We’re superheroes, my Lady,’ he whispered hoarsely. He got his fill of smoke in the last hour or so. ‘But we’re not fireproof.’
She clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears from coming.
‘This is beyond us now,’ Chat Noir said. His thumb rubbed soothing circles over her forearm.
She didn’t notice when she drowned in his embrace, powerless and defeated. He held her and purred softly under his breath until her shoulders stopped shaking and her weeping subsided to the occasional sniff.
‘You’re almost out of time again, Bug,’ Chat whispered into her ear at the fourth beep of her miraculous. ‘Tikki needs to recharge. You both need to rest.’
