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dewinabsentia · 1 day ago

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Winter prompt 22 with dew/tempest?

prompt: “my bed is really cold, can I sleep in yours?”

i thought i took way longer to answer this but im actually surprised it was only 2 days lol thank you for requesting!!!! <3

this was a fun challenge because i really had/have zero headcanons about tempest. i haven’t even really decided on a name for her yet. this dew also diverges from the dew that lives in my head, so it was fun to write :) 2.1k of their silly dynamic. no warnings.

title from chapel gates by creeper & divider by @wrathofrats

read below or on ao3

sharp as a knife, cold as a tomb

The first winter topside is usually the hardest for newly summoned ghouls. The pits, unsurprisingly, lack the cold weather that accompanies the change of seasons. The harsh decline in temperature usually comes as a shock to those who have only ever been embraced by a comforting infernal warmth.

“What the fuck?” Tempest hisses, wrapped tightly in a blanket over her shoulders. She’s standing at the large window of her room, staring at the bare trees just exiting autumn. She can feel a gust of freezing air entering through the weathered window frame.

The ghoul wing, as old as it is, doesn’t have the best insulation– if any at all. The large gray stones making up the building allow the cold to seep in and settle in the walls and floors. The ghouls do what they can to stay comfortable– laying out rugs, lighting fireplaces, brewing hot drinks throughout the day. The chilled air finds its way in, but there’s always small pockets of warmth to be found as well.

Tempest is shivering, teeth chattering as she pads towards the ghoul’s common room, blanket in tow. She’s ready to figure out what the hell is going on and why no one else seems to be bothered.

As she enters, her frenzied state settles a bit as she feels the warmth of the central fireplace. Tension leaves her shoulders, allowing her a full breath of air. Observing the common room, she notices nearly the whole pack is present. The room is filled with a mix of bodies cuddled together under blankets, conversations over hot drinks, and naps in fuzzy robes.

Cirrus catches her eye from her spot on the couch and beams.

“Hi, doll. Do you want something to drink?”

Tempest considers the mug that Cirrus has her hands firmly wrapped around, watching steam waft up and away. A warm drink does sound good. After a beat, she nods and Cirrus beckons her to the kitchen.

“We got some more teas in this week,” Cirrus states as she starts pulling down small canisters from a cupboard. “We also have some hot apple cider from Mount’s harvest right before the cold snap-“

“The what?”

“Oh, the cider, it’s really good. It’s a little bit tart, but the cinnamon-“

“No, no.” Tempest interrupts her. She’s not confused about the cider. “The cold…snap?”

Cirrus turns to her, brows furrowed and head cocked in confusion before the realization dawns on her. It’s Tempest’s first winter.

“Satanas, you must be fucking freezing!” Cirrus abandons the tea she pulled down in favor of grabbing Tempest’s hands, “Come here, we need to get you warmed up.” Dragging her back to the common room, Cirrus sits her directly in front of the fireplace before turning away to gather more blankets.

“Cir, what are you on about?”

“It’s your first winter, your new body isn’t used to this type of cold yet,” she calls over her shoulder like it’s normal that Tempest is freezing to death. The common room is significantly warmer than her own room, but not nearly warm enough. Cirrus hauls over three more blankets and drops them in Tempest’s lap.

“You’ll get used to it in time, but your first one is a bitch,” Dew offers while stoking the fire. Tempest watches the flames grow, dancing around the charred wood. She wonders how much of this is Dew’s element at play and if the stoking is just his own fun.

Cirrus returns again with a hot mug. When Tempest takes it, the heat soothes her aching hands. She hadn’t realized until now how the frigid air settled deep in her bones. Lifting the mug, steam warms her face with the scent of apple, cloves, and cinnamon. She takes a moment to bask in it, being taken care of by her new pack.

“You have a fireplace in your room that we can get cleaned up,” Cirrus tells her. Tempest hums in acknowledgment, comforted by the thought of having this warmth in her own room after the dreadful morning she had waking up in an ice box.

“It hasn’t been used in a minute, Dew can probably get it running,” Cirrus adds. Dew’s attention leaves the fire to smile at Tempest impishly. He will never refuse the opportunity to peacock his infernal abilities and this instance is no different. Rolling her eyes, Tempest is unable to hide her own smile at his antics.

“Absolutely I can keep you warm,” He leans in close with an exaggerated purr. Scoffing, she pushes him away with a hand on his cheek. She feels him grin under her hand and can’t help the laugh that bubbles up.

This has been their dance for weeks. They’ll flirt like teenagers under the spell of a crush, playful and taunting, and always just out of reach. Dew preens under her attention. He strives to make her blush and roll her eyes with a suggestive joke that veers more into cringey than sexy, but he’ll keep doing it to make her laugh. She’s not innocent either, sultry quips masked behind an air of indifference leave Dew burning up. She teases with a wit so sharp, he often finds himself at a loss for words. He’s addicted to their game and can’t get enough.

He hasn’t played this kind of back and forth in a while. Courting is what Aether would call it. It’s weird. He just thinks they’re having fun.

Dew stands, deciding he should build her fire sooner rather than later so the room actually has time to warm up. Tempest makes a move to follow him, but he waves her back down, “You stay warm, I’ll be done before you know it.” She settles back down by the fireplace, sipping from her mug. Tempest certainly won't refuse being warm and cozy.

As Dew exits, he yells over his shoulder in her direction, “Don’t miss me too much!” Tempest’s palm meets her face, exasperated. He catches the small smile peeking out from behind her hand before he’s gone and feels that familiar pride swell in his chest.

Dew enters her bedroom and takes in the surroundings for a moment. It’s still mostly the bare bones of all of their rooms, Tempest not having much time to decorate just yet. A bed in the corner, several staple pieces of dark wood furniture, a bland rug and white curtains to match. But it smells overwhelmingly like her.

He gets to work on the fireplace, first sweeping out any dust and debris left over from months of no use.

He knows others have been here already, she’s not some modest virgin. If he focuses hard enough, he can pick up Phantom’s scent lingering in the room. Dew finds that he doesn’t really mind, for once he doesn’t feel the overwhelming urge to claim– not yet at least. He likes their game, he likes playing with her and being played with in return, as silly as it is.

He pulls over the small iron rack that holds the firewood and begins stacking them in a pile. The wood formation isn’t important for starting the fire, he has that part covered, but it’s imperative for sustaining the fire. Which is what Tempest needs if she’s braving her first winter topside.

The wood is stable and the fire is burning steady, filling the room with a comfortable warmth. Dew is returning unused logs to their designated rack when Tempest appears in the doorway, still wrapped in her blanket.

“Is it bearable now?” She peers at the fire from her spot, almost like she’s afraid to enter the formerly frigid space.

Dew waves her into the room with a grin, “Come see for yourself.”

Tempest meets Dew by the fireplace and visibly relaxes when the heat of the fire hits her. Crouching down, she inspects his work. Not that she really knows what she’s looking for, but she still wants to see. Watching the fire, a vulnerable feeling creeps in. The weight of Dew going through this effort just for her– it warms her from the inside in a way the fire can’t.

“Thank you,” she mumbles quietly, eyes still on the fire. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Oh, I did,” He answers confidently, completely missing her sincerity. “You maybe would’ve died without me.”

She shoots him an unamused look. He tries to keep a straight face under her glare, but the facade cracks and soon they’re both snickering at each other.

Tempest stands and flops ungracefully onto her bed with a groan. Fighting off the cold overnight exhausted her, leaving her muscles sore. She missed the safety of her room when it became the freezer of her nightmares. Dew watches as she lays there for a moment, just breathing. He likes being here, near her, he realizes.

Suddenly, she hastily moves up her bed and under the blankets, pulling them up to her chin. Dew cocks an eyebrow at her playfully.

“It was fucking miserable last night,” she provides with a huff. “I thought I was dying when I woke up.”

Dew stands at the foot of her bed between her and the fireplace. “Now you’ll be warm forever. You’re welcome.” He bows slightly in a display of mock arrogance.

“What would I ever do without you?” She’s playing along, staring up at Dew with a soft smile. He rests a knee on the edge of her bed and leans forward. Dew bites back a smirk, planning his next words carefully, further choreographing the dance they’ve been performing around each other for so long.

“You know, I spent so long in here, my bed is freezing now,” he drags it out, low and rumbling. “Yours seems much warmer.” If Dew wasn’t staring directly at her, he would’ve missed the way her eyes widened for a fleeting moment. She’s always been good at schooling her reactions. He’s pushing that today.

He lets the pause hang heavy, lets her writhe a little more in the suspended silence.

“Can I sleep in your bed? Keep you real warm…” He’s leaning on his hands now too, further up the bed. Closer to her.

Tempest’s mouth opens, but words fail her. Time stands still as Dew gives her the moment to refuse, to call him an idiot and laugh in his face. Instead she nods, slowly at first, but eventually more sure of her decision. An acceptance, an invitation.

Dew crawls further up the bed until he’s hovering over her. They stare at each other in silence, the crackling fire the only sound filling the space. Dew realizes she’s nervous. He can hear the increase of her breathing, feel the way she tenses underneath him. Uncharacteristically, he feels the nerves too. They’ve never been this close before, not alone at least. Not in a bed.

In an attempt to ease the tension, Dew suddenly drops his whole body weight down on her.

“Dew!” Tempest shrieks, but she’s giggling. A bright sound that fills the lack of space between them. He’s laughing too, face in the crook of her neck. Not the smoothest move, but high risk, high reward.

He reaches his arm out and pats around the bed for the edge of the blanket, “Let me in, I’m cold now.”

“I thought your selling point was keeping me warm?”

“I can do that under the blanket,” He doesn’t mean for it to be suggestive, really he does just want to be warmer. But the shy smile and blush dusting Tempest’s cheeks tells him all he needs to know.

Finally, he reaches the edge of the blanket with a little help from Tempest. He rolls off of her and lets himself under, immediately wrapping his arms around her in a constricting embrace. Except, she’s cold. So cold. Her skin is icy in a way Dew wasn’t prepared for and he has to fight himself to stay wrapped around her.

“Fucking hells, you’re freezing!”

“I fucking told you I was cold!” She snaps, not unkindly. This is still their game, poking and teasing and taunting. The bickering relaxes her, in a backwards way. It’s normal for them, this is normal for them.

Dew grumbles about her being cold, still playing his part in their game. They settle into a comfortable position. Tempest’s back to Dew’s chest, his nose pressed between her shoulders, breathing her in. His arms are wrapped tightly across her belly and when he kicks up his own body heat, he feels the full body sigh she lets out, relaxing into his hold.

Smiling against her, he realizes this can be part of their game too.

#dewdrop ghoul #tempest ghoulette #haze ghoulette #solaris ghoulette #umbra ghoulette #all of her names #writing tag #nyxisms #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #ghost band fanfic #ghost band fanfiction

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