Feelings Thawed
Character; Cater Diamond
Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, pining, ice skating (to various degrees of success)
Word Count; 650+
Author's Note; This is a present/thank you to my mutual @i-like-forgs. I hope you enjoy this ice skating scene with Cater, and that you get to skate soon!
As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist
The brisk wind bit at your nose, and you pulled up your scarf, trying to keep away the offending wind. Around you it was a winter wonderland, all made possible in the temperate conditions thanks to Cater, who was filming you skating around on the frozen pond’s surface.
“You know,” you hollered, making sure that you caught his attention, “you should join me! It’s fun!” You came to a stop by the pond’s edge, where Cater was standing with a large thermos.
Cater just shot you a wink, handing you the thermos. “This is for you though, silly!”
He was deflecting, you could tell; behind that bright and cheery smile that he always seemed to wear around others, you knew when there was something off with Cater. You accepted the thermos though, and took a sip of the spicy apple cider, still piping hot.
You gave him a look and pulled lightly on his coat sleeve. “Yes, but it’s more fun with others, come on Cater!” You stepped back onto the ice, and slowly skated near him, waiting with an eager smile.
He looked at you, and then back at the ice, but he stayed standing in the light snow, shooting you that smile. “But I can’t take photos if I’m out there with you!” He scratched at the back of his neck.
Liar. “Cater,” you looped back around and stepped onto the bank, balancing on your skates, “do you not know how to skate?”
Cater’s smile turned sheepish, and his ‘ahahaha, looks like my gig is up’ chuckle made its appearance. He had been found out. “Never got the chance to,” he hid his face slightly in his scarf, either to keep the cold at bay or to hide that his cheeks were turning pink. “So I’d just slow ya down.”
You took his hand into yours, “Well, I could teach you if you wanted. Just a warning though, you’re gonna fall on your butt a lot, might get a few bruises.”
Cater looked down at your entwined hands. Mittens and gloves separated your skin from touching one another, but Cater could swear that he could feel the sensation nonetheless through the layers of fabric.
“You would? Even if I pull you down with me?”
The last question wasn’t just about the ice skating; Cater didn’t want to force you to do anything that you didn’t want to… and that included being his friend. His heart seemed to whisper stronger emotions though, but he didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had.
You walked him out to the ice, and the both of you swiftly fell down on the ice, hard. But you just laughed and got right back up again, “Well, we did just fall. There isn’t anything scary about falling down; yes it stings and might leave a gnarly bruise, but in order to move forward we have to fall and get back up. So yes, is what I guess I’m saying.”
Cater looked up at you, the sun illuminating you and the snow glittered behind you. You were holding your hand out again, waiting for him. And Cater took your hand.
It took him a while to get the hang of it, and he fell down quite a bit, but every time he fell down you helped him back up. And by the time that the sun was setting in the west, the both of you were cold, and both were going to wake up tomorrow with some bruises. It was fun though, which is all that mattered… but that whisper in Cater’s heart was by now singing, and maybe he would listen to it, but for now, he was happy with how the way things were, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, especially with how much you had smiled today. Your smile and knowing that you had fun with him was enough.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Tags; @eynnwwyjth, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @silvers-numberonefan, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii
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The ghost distribution system has given me brain rot. I volunteer and foster for a cat rescue and have said the phrase "it's fine we're all strays here" to several animals an now all I can think of is him over hearing that and further solidifying "yep I'm here forever now"
God that kills me.
"It's ok baby, we're all strays here"
It hits Ghost between the ribs, sticks like it's barbed. You're talking to one of the neighborhood cats but it doesn't matter, it may as well be him. He watches you stroke your fingers over the tabby's head, scratching lightly behind its ears as it chomps greedily at the kibble you set out. Crouched and resting your cheek against your palm, your smile is so gentle. You're beautiful when you smile. All strays. He hadn't considered that in your infinite kindness, your ceaseless compassion, you could be like him. It didn't fit, somehow, that another stray might take him in, that the hand reaching out to him might have been looking for salvation as well.
Ghost supposes even god must have to beg for worship. Why else would they send angels to shepherds? Send prophets and evangelists? Do you beg at the same doorway, staring from the other side of the warmth and hoping your worshipers can find you in the cold? When you saved him, did you know how deeply his devotion would run? Did you know to be scared of it? Did you know he'd stay?
Did you know he'd come back?
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Player: You've spent every moment not with me in your library, Gale. I suspect they'll believe you.
Gale: Aha! But only in the pursuit of other pleasures besides the study of magic. Writing, painting, a spot of knitting... I've never been so relaxed.
gale did say that he's known to try his hand at poetry in one of his very first dialogues, but him truly taking up writing, painting and knitting after the game ends is something i didn't know i needed until now
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we used to dye our tongues on purpose using kool-aid and i stood in the sprinklers with the grass already so muddy it was starting to do that thing where your lawn is now quicksand
i think i want to kiss you because you remind me of smoothing out the chalk drawing with gentle fingers. of anthills and feeding birds our leftover lettuce. of getting covered in briars while we picked blueberries from the backyard bush. i think i want to kiss you because it's a bad idea, and i think i want to kiss you because of how water grips the side of a pitcher of iced tea.
you said your life was a toddler's art piece, with paint splatted on your floor, in your mouth, in your hair. i was delighted by that.
i loved the idea of leaving color everywhere.
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