#trope request

i've already recced most of these i think but here you go!

the dnf trope

— One night (or forever) by winterlighting (expl. | comp. | 65k)

George breaks his bed on his first night in Florida, then a sleeping arrangement that was meant to last until he got a new bed frame soon turned into a routine; full of domesticity and gestures that blur the platonic line.

— how to love other people by mocharex (teen | comp. | 14k)

George is far touchier than expected, and Dream doesn't know how to handle it

— What a Wicked Thing to Do (To Let Me Dream of You) by snakeinaboyband (expl. | comp. | 72k)

George finds himself often brushing his fingers over those freckles until he realizes what he’s doing and withdraws entirely. He kind of wants to shove as much distance between them as possible so he can reject the thought that he’s falling. But he also doesn’t want that, admittedly. The soothing of everything in their busy lives at the placement of being tucked into his friend’s chest, it’s just too good. And if he did want to place a platonic wedge into their closeness, there’d have to be a conversation held. Because Dream is guilty of pressing close just as much as he is, he can’t one day go stiff at hands pulling at him. He can’t go back to sleeping alone.

— this pile of bricks by orphan_account (teen | comp. | 9k)

Dream moves in with his best friend, and accidentally falls in love.

— Holding Pattern by jestbee (expl. | comp. | 6k)

When George gets to Florida, he has a hard time adjusting to all the touching.

— Walls by 24notfound (mat. | comp. | 245k)

When George is finally able to visit Dream in Florida, they start to face a lot more complications than they'd anticipated.

— Heart on the Burning Sands by orphan_account (expl. | abandoned | 83k+)

Once George is finally in Florida, he and Dream can't seem to stay apart.

— to burn with desire and keep quiet by falsettodrop (expl. | comp. | 47k)

“He dances, dances, dances

Forever to look and never to feel

Forever to look and never to feel

 Oh what bittersweet romances

Of one-sided stolen glances

Oh, whatever could be his chances

Of knowing the kiss he longs so to steal?

 Yea, how he dances, dances, dances

Forever to look and never to feel

Forever to look and never to feel”

 Geralt chugged his ale and glowered at the raucous applause following Jaskier’s last song. It could be about anybody, he thought to himself, trying (and failing) to ignore the hot burst of jealousy in his heart. Jaskier loves someone else, of course he does, it’s idiotic of me to even think that he would ever—he shook his head, banishing the thought before it could come to fruition. But what person in their right mind could ever not love Jaskier back? He could have anyone he wanted, unless… did he notice? Could he have seen me… was I careful enough?

A cold realization froze him in place as Jaskier sauntered towards their table in the back, still accepting praise and applause from the inn patrons.

“Geralt!” Jaskier dropped a substantial bag of coin on the table and plopped heavily into a chair facing Geralt. “What a wonderful evening! Don’t you just love this town? No better place to test out a few new songs! Did you like them? We could have a hot bath tonight, can you imagine?”

“It’s about me, isn’t it?”

“What was that dear?” he turned to the barmaid and flashed a toothy grin. “Why aren’t you just gorgeous? Who would have known we have a daughter of Freya in our very own inn? Two more tankards please, and keep the ale coming, and one roast goose! What a fantastic night, how I love inns that appreciate the fine arts: good music, good food, good ale! I’m positively starving, aren’t you Geralt? Geralt?”

Jaskier’s smile vanished as he read the witcher’s face for the first time since standing to perform, well over three hours ago. In Geralt’s eyes, he found a certain darkness, hurt, that shook him to his core. “What’s wrong, are you okay? Did one of these asshole villagers say something nasty again? Dear Gods do they never let up? I’ll talk to the innkeeper, where’s the—”

“Your song. It’s about me, isn’t it?” Geralt’s voice was lower and scratchier than usual.

Jaskier blushed hard, his eyes widening. “I--, uh, it’s ju—umm, well,” He rubbed the back of his neck and stammered incoherently. Could he have seen… is it really that obvious? Did I scare him away? His mind raced through every accidental brush of their hands or bump of the shoulder over recent weeks. How could I be so careless?

Geralt grimaced and downed the rest of his ale. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Jaskier’s eyes. “I can handle the jokes, getting one bed at every inn, your pretending to hold me and say my name in your sleep, but this? Another fucking ballad? Humiliating me? Because who could ever love a witcher, right?” A sick smirk broke his frown. “Whatever could be my chances, right? This is a new low, even for you,”

Tension rolled off of Jaskier’s back as he began to choke out a nervous chuckle. His smile brightened, color returning to his cheeks where it had drained completely only moments ago. Soon the villagers at surrounding tables were beginning to stare as the bard doubled over, howling with laughter. Geralt felt anger and hot tears rise to his throat, forgetting momentarily his supposed lack of emotions in the wake of bitter shame.

Jaskier’s eyes were watering by the time he was able to form coherent words. “You think—you think—no, you fucking idiot—” He gasped for breath and wiped his cheeks with a finger. “It’s about me, darling, and my—oh, you absolute dunce—my love for you, of course!”

Geralt almost preferred the shame and anger. At least he was used to that, at least he understood it, because suddenly it was as if the chair was kicked out from under him and the air whipped from his lungs. “You mean—you—”

“Yes. Yes of course I love you! Why the hell do you think I’ve followed around aimlessly for the past 6 years? Certainly not for the money! I’d make twi—“

Geralt was standing, tears flowing, pulling Jaskier’s face to meet his, and leaning into the kiss he had longed so to steal.

---

i’m going to save you from the terrible date you’re having

——

You don’t know if you should run, or fall asleep. The guy sitting next to you at this bar is, needless to say, the worst date you’ve ever been on. He can’t stop talking about taxes, or mortgages, or stocks. It’s nearly lulling you to sleep with every word he speaks.

He hadn’t let you fit a full sentence in during the whole time you were there, which mildly infuriated you. You brushed it off, not wanting to make a scene in front of a whole bar of people. The longer you were sitting there, the more repulsed you were with him.

There was a girl sitting across the bar with her friends who noticed your annoyance. She watched you closely as you cringed when your date looked away, or took big gulps of your drink to get yourself a little drunker. The smile you gave him when he looked at you was ridiculously fake, it almost made her laugh.

At around midnight, your date says it’s time to leave. He’s the only way you have to get home, so you have no choice but to say yes. You sigh and stand from the barstool, your stomach twisting at the thought of him kissing you when he drops you off at home.

Before you get out the door, a hand falls on your shoulder. You turn around to see a girl you’ve never met before, a kind smile on her face as she squeezes your arm as if to tell you to play along.

“Hey! Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in forever!” the girl says, pulling you into a hug as your date watches.

“How are you?” you ask, faking a smile to hide your confusion in the moment.

“I’m good! Do you want to grab a drink before you head out?” she suggests, eyes flickering to your date standing next to you.

“Uh—Sure, we can catch up really quick!” you say, turning to your date. “You don’t have to stay, I’m just gonna stay for another drink if you want to go home.

Begrudgingly, he shrugs his shoulders and makes his way to the door with a simple goodbye. You turn back to the girl in front of you, a wave of relief washing over you.

“Thank you for that.” you say with a smile.

“I saw how annoyed and uncomfortable you were, so I thought you’d want some saving.” she laughs, but extending her hand to you. “I’m Robin, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Robin.” you giggle, reaching out to shake her hand.

“I can drive you home if you need me to, we don’t actually have to stay for a drink if you don’t want to.” she offers, grabbing her keys out of her pocket.

you can also check out my whipped!george tag -> here

pining!george

— Apple Cider by prosehoney (mat. | comp. | 20k)

Meeting your best friend and what it means to walk into love, from a distance to an instant.

— pancakes for dinner by sweetuhcreature (gen | comp. | 2k)

George finally boards the plane to Florida, and gets overwhelmed by his feelings for Dream.

— i want you in the picture by cryystal_m00n (gen | comp. | 2k | rule 63)

5 times Georgia wishes she were dating Dream, and one time she realizes they were already dating.

— Feels Just Like a Dream by waveyjelly (gen | comp. | 6k)

George is touch-starved and in love with his best friend.

— Heartbeat by MilkWasTaken (mat. | comp. | 38k)

Pining: - To feel very sad because one wants (something) or because one is not with (someone)

— in wildest dreams (i never dreamed of this) by orphan_account (gen | comp. | 3k)