Peach Tea

Holding their partner’s unconscious/dead body

Sobbing into their partner’s shoulder/chest

One of them is hurt and the other falls asleep in their hospital room

The other losing their mind when their partner is hurt/killed and charging into battle recklessly

“I thought I lost you” hugs

“Don’t go where I can’t follow!” 

One is mind controlled and forced to fight the other

The other refusing to harm them and getting seriously injured as consequence 

The person coming to and seeing what they’ve done

I could go on about this trope alone for 5 hours

A last desperate “I love you!” 

A tearful, hard kiss before battle, bonus points if its a confessional kiss

“Please, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

Bandaging each other’s wounds

they all have the same desire, they all desire for someone to Want it, for love to not be an accident or something that happens without recognising it, they all have the overtones desire of wanting someone to deem you worthy of love, to see you and meet you and know you and Want to love you, to make that choice and stick by it because loving you or being loved by you is something so deeply worth it and fulfilling and moving and powerful that they Want it, in their soul they crave to love and be loved

they're such varieties of the basic desire to be wanted

they say these things and they mean "love me because i am lovable" not "love me because you find me desirable/you have realised you already do/you want something from me" etc

it's "love me because i am me and you are aware of that" and it's something you can just scream to someone when you can't find another way to say "i am choosing to love you because loving you is something i want to experience no matter the outcome"

you walk in there for the first time thinkin’ I’m gonna buy some hand soap today and then some dude who smells like something impossible, like he’s being described by a YA author, he smells like lavender, leather, and the steam coming from hot pavement after a short summer rain,

That guy. He comes up to you and he asks if he can help you sample something. He leads you to a small, metal basin of water. It’s so pastoral, it’s so quaint. You can imagine it sitting beside your bed with a porcelain pitcher in your farm cottage for you to use to wash your face in the morning.

He rolls up your sleeve a bit, and you awkwardly apologize for not doing it yourself, and he says it’s fine.

Sir LeatherRain gently rinses your hand in the warm water, and then he dries it off attentively. Then he massages some of the product into your palm. It’s the cinnamon bean massage bar. He says “don’t you love how it feels warm as you rub it in?”

He’s making more direct eye contact with you than you’ve ever made in your entire life.

As he finishes, a woman who smells like coffee beans and pink-skied winter sunrises approaches and says “oh I LOVE that product.”

You know it’s about the sell. It’s transactional, but you’re in love. You can’t help it.

You’re also More uncomfortable than you’ve ever been in your entire life.

Geralt & Jaskier / The Monster Factory