#dnf fic

[gottagetshiver]

Chapter 6 is a go!!

Read it here :)

As A Phoenix Does

Chapter 1/28, rated E, mind the tags

When a last minute fling tilts George’s world on its axis, he must learn to navigate his new normal alongside difficult and conflicting emotions.

It’s finally here!! The first chapter of my kid fic is now live!

Weekly updates every Tuesday and Friday going forward :)

[ghostdnfie]

you're the perfect lullaby

established dnf, pwp, 824 words (oneshot), rated E

Dream's broken sleep schedule has him awake and editing in the early hours of the morning, and George wants him to come back to bed.

[tellyouily]

like the sap from a cedar

dnf - fluff - 1.3k words

read on ao3 <3

-

The tornado warning has passed but the rain is still coming down in buckets. Dream can hear it tapping on his bedroom window, mingling with the hushed sound of his shower running; George inside it.

Eight days have gone by since Dream called a plumber to come have a look at the shower in George’s bathroom. Since then, the plumber has been around twice with new parts without actually managing to fix the problem.

So either Dream is getting played into paying way more than he should, or this is the universe trying to tell him something. What, he’s not entirely sure, but he’ll happily take it as some kind of sign.

The bathroom door creaks softly as it opens out in the hall, and a moment later George appears in the doorway, fully dressed.

His hair looks damp and ruffled, probably by the towel in his hand that he proceeds to drop to the floor upon entering Dream’s room.

“Hey,” he says, heading for the bed and leaving his towel in a heap.

“Come here,” Dream replies, patting the narrow space beside him nearest the mattress-edge.

Ideally, he should be getting back to editing right about now. But on the other hand, it’s so nice to be in bed doing nothing in the middle of the day. And now that George is here, well…

George rounds the bed, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“What do you want?” He asks.

Dream holds out his hand to him. “For you to come here.”

Kneeling on the mattress, George narrows his eyes at him. “And do what exactly?”

Dream’s fingertips touch the hem of George’s white t-shirt, then dip under it to brush against his skin. 

“Be here with me,” he says, like a suggestion.

Naturally, the question was rhetorical anyway and George is already maneuvering himself to lie down flush against him.

He makes a fuss about it, as he does, but he eventually gets comfortable; his back mostly pressed against Dream’s chest, and Dream’s arms wound around his middle tight enough to keep him there.

Editing suddenly seems distant and intensely uninteresting.

George smells like a mix of Dream’s shampoo and conditioner and the vanilla of his expensive shower gel. His shoulder is soft and rounded and pressing lightly into Dream’s chin. His shirt smells clean, too; fresh out the laundry.

Dream’s gaze rests lazily on George’s phone screen, because of course he has already pulled out his phone. It’s almost impressive considering their position right now.

“Are you looking at my screen?”

George turns his head to the side momentarily as if to check.

“Mm.” Dream hums into his shoulder.

“Well, look at this.”

Inside his saved folder on TikTok, he taps on the most recent video and turns the volume up a couple notches. It’s a video of a plumber—yup, showing how to fix a broken shower pipe.

Dream smiles, which then quickly turns into a laugh.

“That’s so stupid.”

George lets it play, pressing the like button for good measure. “It’s not, he’s fixing it. Look.”

“If only he could come and do the same for yours,” Dream says, letting George’s warm shoulder press against his lips again.

George shuts his phone off and drops his arms, laying them so they align with Dream’s across his stomach. He sighs.

“I kind of hope it stays unfixed forever now. Yours is so much better.”

Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world , Dream muses. He just hums.

“What would you do if I just kept using yours even when mine’s good again. Would you try to stop me?”

Dream huffs at the mental image of himself blockading the door or something to keep George out.

“Probably not,” he replies truthfully.

“Good.”

“Would you still love me if I had a shitty shower?”

George turns his head to the side, closer to Dream.

“No,” he says, using his most British accent that will forever remind Dream of late night Discord calls. “That’s all you’re good for.”

Dream smiles and stays quiet, giving in to the urge to close his eyes.

Maybe he shouldn’t find the smell of his own products so comforting but he does. George wears it like a cologne; it sits on his skin and in his hair and seeps right into Dream’s brain, occupying his senses.

“I’m not going back to my own shower, Dream. I’m here to stay.”

Dream huffs. “Yeah, so you can use all my stuff. Like you’re already doing.”

“I’m not,” George is quick to rebut. “Not all your stuff. I’ve only used the soaps that are in there.”

Dream knows this—he can smell them. He wants to keep smelling them, for this to become a regular thing and not just a means to an end.

The cuddling thing became regular in the earliest stages of George living with him, and he has hope that this new thing can progress in the same way if they let it.

Alternatively, if the universe orders George's shower to stay broken.

“Oh, only the soaps,” Dream says, laughing. “What else is there to even use?”

George’s hands find his clasped together ones and gently, absentmindedly start to loosen them.

“I don’t know, your toothbrush? Your razor?”

Dream huffs incredulously. “You would not do that,” he says.

“Why not?” George asks, frowning.

“What do you mean why not ?” Dream laughs. Because it’s gross , George.”

Just then, George succeeds in unclasping Dream’s hands and freeing Dream’s arm from under him, much to Dream’s momentary disappointment.

He waits for George to shuffle around to lie flat on his mattress, propping Dream’s pillow up behind   like he owns it, and this whole bed. Dream wouldn’t want it any other way. He lifts himself up on his newly freed arm and rests his head in his palm.

From his new position, George catches Dream with his gaze immediately. His eyes are soft and brown and how they always are, and Dream stares right back, unabashedly.

“I guess it wouldn’t be that gross,” he moderates himself after a moment.

Now that he’s considering it, he supposes sharing a toothbrush with George wouldn’t kill him. It’s gross, but in a nice, kind of human way.

“Exactly,” George says. “Because I’m pristine. Nothing about me is gross.”

Dream smiles. That’s totally the reason he’d be okay with it.

He turns his head to glance at the digital clock on his bedside table, and feels the cool touch of George’s fingertips touching the exposed sliver of skin where his shirt has ridden up.

Dream turns to look at him again, only to find him frowning.

“Uhm, where do you think you’re going?” He asks.

“I’m leaving ‘cause you’re so gross,” Dream says, grinning.

He feels very open to being convinced to stay, and hopes that George will see the opportunity and take it.

George narrows his eyes at him. “We’re spending quality time together for once and you’re leaving. Really.”

“ For once ,” Dream echoes with a laugh. “Don't pretend like you’re not just here to be on your dumb phone.”

“Yeah, with you. Being on my phone is a two person activity, Dream.”

George has bunched up part of Dream’s shirt in his fingers to keep him from leaving, in a way so tight that it will probably leave the fabric all wrinkled and stretched out.

Dream looks between George’s eyes for a moment, two, and then he scoots down in bed, placing his head on the same pillow as George with a sigh. He guesses he can spare the time to stay a little longer.

Smugness practically oozes from George as he pulls Dream’s arm back across his stomach and reaches for his phone again.

“You’re so easy,” he says, a private smile on his lips.

He opens TikTok, which takes him straight to that stupid plumber video from earlier before refreshing to something new.

“You’re easier,” Dream mumbles into George’s comfortable shoulder.

Outside the window, the rain has tapered out into a light drizzle and the sun is starting to break through the clouds, slowly lightening the room.

[demonstars]

too tired to make my general promo post so have this. 5.3k of dream being a little odd about cats and george and stuff. tap in

[dnfity]

your need grows teeth

dnf fic | 6.6k wc | rated e

thank u bellita for the title <3

[alittledizzy]

focal point of a distant gaze dream/george rated teen, 2k

Dream isn't really sure what to make of George having a new hobby that he's not a part of.

[read on ao3]

[hardtofindneuro]

25 days of sex-mas: kama sutra

Advent calendars.

Dream and George had fun trying out sex toys last year, so now they try something new.

Kama Sutra.

[intdnf]

A poem for this stream because the vibe is just perfect. 🖤💫

[scoops404]

One of my tropes guilty pleasures is when character gets turn into a pet, gets taken in by their love interest and overhears a love confession they have on them.

There's a bunch on george getting turn into a cat, but not enough about dream getting turn into a dog. Add in some concern and dooming from george about dream's disappearance, and you get a fic I would eat up

What did you do to me?

Anywhere, here's your fic

[gottagetshiver]

Puddles and Pipes

Dnf and their demons are contagious, so here's today's brainworm inspired by George's shower being broken. Just a short little ficlet before I have to head out for a family dinner :)

It’s so stupid. It’s unbelievably stupid. 

George shuts the tap off with a yelp, hopping to the side to avoid the rapidly forming puddle on the floor. This cannot be happening today. 

“Dream!” he yells as loudly as he can, scrunching up his nose as he backs across the bathroom towards his towels. “Dream, help!”

It takes a moment, but finally he hears the heavy thumps of Dream’s feet approaching. “George?” he calls hesitantly through the door. “Is everything okay?”

“No it’s not–” George cuts himself off with a hiss, throwing a towel across the bathroom at the puddle still slowly creeping towards him, “it’s not fucking okay! Get in here!”

Dream stays silent on the other side of the door. 

“Well?” George snaps, grimacing as he throws his backup towel onto the puddle as well. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

“I thought you were having a shower,” Dream starts. “Aren’t you, you know, naked?”

George rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Not yet, I’m not. Now help me.”

The door creaks open slowly and Dream pokes his head in. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his brows pinched in worry. 

“My shower fucking spit at me!” George snarls, ripping the door open the rest of the way and darting into the hall. “And now it’s leaking everywhere. Fix it for me.”

Dream looks between him and the shower a few times before sighing and heading into the bathroom. “How’d you even manage to do this?” he asks incredulously as he kneels by the faucet. “The water’s coming out of the wall.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” George whines, bracing himself up on the counter with one hand as he leans into the room as far as possibly while keeping his feet safely outside. “I just turned it on as usual.”

“Well,” Dream says, shaking his hands as he stands back up, brushing his hands on his pant legs, “I don’t think I can fix this. I’d better call a plumber before too much more water gets into the walls.”

The plumber has to order a part. It’ll take up to three weeks to arrive, and until then Geroge’s bathroom has no water supply. 

“So what am I meant to do?” he groans as Dream waves goodbye to the plumber and tucks his wallet back into his pocket. “I can’t just not shower for weeks on end.”

Dream raises his brows, considering. “Well…”

“Not anymore, idiot,” George scoffs, throwing a pillow from the sofa at him. “It was different when I lived alone and never went anywhere.”

“Just use the bathroom in the guest house?” Dream suggests, cocking his head slightly as he meets George’s eye. 

George scoffs, crossing his arms. “So I have to go to an entirely different building every time I need to piss now? No, let me use yours.”

Dream blinks at him, eyes wide. “I don’t have a door to my bathroom,” he says slowly. “What would you do if I’m in my room?”

Shrugging, George looks away as heat creeps into his cheeks. “Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you,” he says quietly. 

There’s another stretch of slightly charged silence before Dream clears his throat, also looking at the floor with pink cheeks now, much to George’s delight. “Doesn’t bother me either,” he whispers. 

“Right,” George says, slightly unsure. “So I guess that’s our answer, then.”

Finally, Dream meets his eye, his gaze molten. “I guess we do.”

“And I didn’t get a chance to shower,” George continues, stepping slightly closer, “so…”

“Better do that, then,” Dream breathes, looking down at George through lidded eyes as he passes by, their shoulders brushing. 

Swallowing thickly, George beelines for Dream’s room and nearly slams the door shut behind him. His heart is hammering in his chest and the wind feels knocked out of him. That was– that was something, right? 

Blowing out hard, and massaging his chest, George hangs a left and makes his way into the bathroom. Dream’s shower is fully stocked, and then some, so he quickly turns the water on to warm up as he shucks off his clothes. Knowing the door is right there, mere feet of open space away, sends a little thrill up his spine. Dream could walk in at any moment and see him. All of him on display, the few parts of his body not yet familiar out in the open to be studied. 

George kind of likes the idea of Dream studying his body, he decides. 

However, by the time the water is pleasantly warm, the door hasn’t opened and with a sigh, George gives up waiting for it and steps under the flow. Dream has an assortment of shampoos and conditioners, as well as half a dozen body washes of varying scents, and the amount of choices is frankly a little overwhelming to George. Gingerly, he picks up one bottle of shampoo and brings it to his nose, sniffing it. No, that’s not the one Dream usually uses. 

He picks up another, and does recognize this scent, but again it’s not the day to day smell Dream carries. 

Finally, on the third shampoo bottle, George finds what he’s looking for. It’s a pleasantly mild citrus scent, with none of the sharpness that usually turns him off citrus, that he immediately knows is the one that clings to Dream’s frame most of the time. Without thinking, he lathers his hair with it. 

Finding the right conditioner is easier, simply reaching for the bottle that matches the shampoo, but then he’s back at square one for the body wash. 

There's one bottle that looks unused, the cherry contents still filled to the top, so he passes over that one. The following two are again scents that are not the typical one Dream has. 

The next two bottles bear the same scent, according to the labels: strawberry watermelon. 

George sniffs them both in turn, switching back and forth to figure out which is the correct one. The one bottle, tall and yellow, is more strawberry heavy, he thinks. It’s not right. 

The other one however, short, wide, and pink, clicks into place in his brain immediately. That’s Dream in a bottle. 

George is halfway through washing himself when he hears it. 

The door, finally opening. 

He listens intently, his hands paused in their scrubbing, to Dream’s footfalls as he walks further away. Then he hears the creak of a bed, and the quiet hum of voices as though Dream’s pulled up a youtube video. 

Heart now in his throat, George washes the rest of his body extra thoroughly. Dream’s right there. George is naked in the shower and Dream’s right there. His stomach swipes and he catches his lower lip between his teeth. It’s a little thrilling, is it not? 

George finally shuts off the water once it begins to run cold, stepping out of the steam and grabbing for a towel. He dries himself off slowly, looking over his shoulder every few seconds to see if Dream’s appeared around the corner, but he never is. The disappointment sits heavier in George’s chest each time. 

Is this something he really wants? Of course he’s considered it before; they’ve had many late night conversations about whether they should be more, but George had never taken them all that seriously. He’d been intrigued, there’s no denying that, but does he genuinely want more? 

It almost feels like he might. Like he does? He does. 

He definitely does. He wants Dream. 

George’s eyes fall to his pile of dirty clothes on the floor. Of course, he hadn’t thought to bring clean ones down, too caught up in that– whatever that conversation was to think of it. He’ll just have to put them back on, run upstairs, and get changed. 

His eyes jump to Dream’s hamper. There’s a second option to him here, and he’s going to have to wear dirty clothes either way. 

He slips his own boxers back on, not wanting to go all in right off the bat just in case, and paws through Dream’s laundry until he finds a pair of sweatpants and one of Dream’s favourite shirts. 

Once he’s dressed, George stares at himself in the mirror and bounces on the balls of his feet. He can do this, he can walk over to the bed and– and tell Dream that he’s his. In any way that he’ll have him, he’s got him. No more talking about the weather, George has made up his mind. He knows what he wants. Who he wants. 

Giving himself one last moment to gather his nerves, George sets about strategically ruffling up his hair in that way he knows Dream likes so much. It’s time. He can do this. 

Dream’s laying back on the bed with one arm tucked behind his head and the other propping his phone up on his chest, seemingly unaware as George walks around the corner. 

George takes a deep breath. “Dream?” he asks quietly, knowing his nerves come across in his voice. 

Dream looks up and his eyes immediately go wide, his phone dropping to the mattress as his cheeks flush crimson. “Ge–George, hey.”

“I–” George clears his throat, looking down and scuffing his toe on the carpet with his hands clasped in front of his stomach, “I’m done talking about the weather.”

“The weather,” Dream parrots slowly. “As in the– the storm that’s meant to be coming this weekend?”

George shakes his head. “The weather, Dream,” he says quietly. “I– I want the weather.”

Dream’s eyes get impossibly wider. “You want– really? You’re not memeing me?”

“Have I ever memed you about something this important?” George asks, laughing wetly as he shrugs. 

“No,” Dream whispers, shaking his head, “you haven’t.”

Swallowing, George slowly steps up to the bed, meeting Dream’s eye before crawling up onto it. “Exactly,” he whispers, laying down beside Dream on his side, facing him and slinging a leg over his thighs. 

Dream rolls to face him, still looking a little like his brain is catching up to their conversation. “You’re sure?” he asks. “Because George, I– I can’t have this go wrong. I love you too much for this to go wrong.”

A smile spreads over George’s face. “Simp,” he breathes, leaning in to rest their foreheads together, “and I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

As their lips slip together for the first time, in a bed where they share scents and clothes, George thinks he has never been more thankful for an emergency plumbing emergency in his life. 

[roniisghost]

You guys get a little treat

This is a side project I've been working on. It's a selkie AU inspired by the movie Song of the Sea by Cartoon Saloon, it is possibly one of my favorites!

Planning for this to be a one shot situation. And I promise I'm working on chapter 2 of Slipping through my fingers 😩

[tellyouily]

soft all the way through

dnf - fluff - 1.4k words

yay new fic :D

read on ao3

-

As he stands in his closet digging around in his top drawer for a t-shirt to wear to bed, Dream reflects on the fact that he’ll have no need for podcasts as long as he has George around.

George can easily – and will happily – do the talking. Or, the yapping, more precisely.

“Dream,” George is saying from his spot in Dream’s bed. “How are we so out of sync?”

There’s a sullenness to his voice that makes Dream smile. His hand touches a white shirt and he pulls it out, letting the drawer roll shut on its own.

George continues, “We’re like, the most out of sync we could possibly be.”

Dream pauses in the opening to his bedroom, his eyes quickly finding George and his cocooned shape on the bed. Taking up about eighty percent of the space, as per usual.

George’s gaze meets his. “And it’s all your fault,” he says.

Dream laughs, glancing down to turn the shirt in his hand the right side out.

“It’s not, George. I promise you it’s just a coincidence. An unlucky coincidence”

“Oh yeah, that every time I ask you to go fishing with me you happen to be busy. Totally a coincidence.”

George is good at sounding convincingly annoyed even when it’s all for show, Dream will give him that.

“Also why are you literally naked right now,” George adds, making Dream laugh and start moving towards him. “That’s like– I don’t even know, salt in the wound.”

“Jeez,” Dream says, pulling the shirt over his head. “Chill out.”

When he gets close enough, he smacks George’s foot on his way to his own side of the bed. That is, the side that’s usually his but is currently mostly occupied.

“Ow!” George yanks his foot into his safe mound of blankets. “What is your problem?”

Smiling softly, Dream only says, “You’re taking up all the space.”

“I’m not.”

George is also good at being the most stubborn person in any room he’s in.

Which isn’t difficult right now when his only competitor is one of the least stubborn people in the whole world, at least when it comes to anything to do with George.

The mattress dips where Dream kneels on it, and even as his knee touches George’s cocoon, George doesn’t move. So Dream gets in bed anyway, sitting down against the headboard; his left leg hanging off the side and his right side pressing all the way close to George’s cocoon.

Even now, George stays unmoving, which makes Dream huff, though the smile hasn’t left his lips.

“George, come on,” he says.

He’s not as good as George is at pretending to be annoyed. Although to be fair, he’s rarely ever annoyed at all when it comes to George.

Dream gives him the gentlest of pushes. “Move over, idiot.”

George, of course, reacts dramatically, rolling over all the way to the other side of the bed without a word.

Taking advantage of the newfound space, Dream scoots down and gets under the spare comforter, settling against his pillow with a sigh.

It’s warm between the sheets. He likes knowing that it’s thanks to George.

Dream turns to look at him, finding his brown eyes already looking; that familiar sullenness is still swirling in them.

“Oh no,” Dream says, a new smile growing on his lips. “I upset the baby.”

He slips one hand, and then the other, into George’s cocoon and starts to pull him closer.

“Poor baby. He can’t even talk, he's so upset.”

George smiles, seemingly involuntarily, and when Dream leans in to try and kiss him, he finally breaks.

“Okay, we get it. You’re annoying,” he laughs, pushing Dream’s face away.

Under the covers, though, he’s all softness, putting up no resistance to Dream wrapping his arms around his middle and pushing his thigh between his.

“See? Now we both fit,” Dream says.

George turns to face him on the pillow they’re now sharing. 

“Not when I leave and go sleep my own bed,” he says.

Dream hums, ignoring him. Gently, of course.

He feels George’s gaze on the side of his face as he reaches blindly for his phone on his nightstand and brings it over his face to unlock it.

He opens his calendar, drawing George’s attention to his screen as well.

A lot of Dream’s recent and upcoming afternoons are blue with various activities. Because yes, he wasn’t lying when he said it’s coincidence and not unwillingness on his part that has kept him from joining George on his fishing adventures.

George hums, probably noticing the same thing.

“But look,” Dream says. “See Thursday? I’m free all that afternoon, just for you.”

He turns to George as he says this, and watches as he proceeds to pull out his own phone and open up the same app. Without a word, George navigates to Dream’s schedule, which he for some reason unknown to Dream has access to, taps on said Thursday on and types Fishing with George IMPORTANT .

Dream laughs. “Alright. Thursday, then. Are you gonna be nice to me now?”

“I am, actually,” George says, sounding pleased.

So it’s settled.

George starts scrolling on Tiktok with the volume turned down, and Dream gets to catching up on the text messages he has left to be answered when he has time.

Time that he finally has, here now with George.

He likes that they can be quiet together like this. It’s been a fact since long before George got to Florida that the two of them have this special access to each other, to their softest states.

“Look.” George tilts his phone towards Dream to show him a video.

It’s a dumb meme, something about Formula 1 that George definitely understands better than him, but it makes Dream smile anyway. Sleepiness is making his thoughts move slower.

“Funny right?” George asks

“Yeah,” Dream agrees. “You’re funny.”

Minutes pass, and he moves onto Reddit. He doesn’t get through many posts, though, before his eyes start to close on their own.

Who needs melatonin when redditors exist out there with the ability to bore him to sleep?

He puts his phone on do-not-disturb and lets it get lost in the sheets, too comfy to plug it in to charge. Within a moment, George sighs and does the same, his hand gravitating instead to Dream’s hair, much to Dream’s contentment.

“Tired?” George asks.

The answer is so obvious that no answer would do, but Dream nods anyway. 

George pushes the hair back from Dream’s forehead for a moment and lets it fall back into place.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks.

Dream closes his eyes, breathing out the day. A question like that presents an opportunity he simply can’t let pass. George must think he’s too tired to notice.

“Your mom,” Dream replies, the corner of his lips tugging upwards just slightly.

He wonders if saying that will ever stop being amusing to him, or whether they’re doomed to make the same joke over and over to each other for the rest of their lives. Dream thinks he wouldn’t mind the latter.

George makes a soft, sarcastic sound that makes Dream smile wider.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Well,” George starts. “You’ll never guess what I’m thinking about.”

Dream laughs tiredly. “I think I can, actually.”

“It’s something very similar.”

“Yeah? What’re you thinking about, George?”

“Your dad. Funnily enough.”

It catches Dream off guard enough to make him open his eyes. Fair play, he thinks, still laughing

“Weren’t expecting that, were you,” George asks, happy with himself.

“No, you kinda got me.”

He closes his eyes again, letting George’s ministrations with his hair pull him back into his thoughts. Back into the fuzzy place in between being awake and not.

After a minute or two, George’s voice brings him closer to the surface again;

“Imagine I could actually read your mind.”

Dream smiles. “Just be a slideshow of you.”

“Do you think?”

“Yeah. Just pictures of like, your face.” Then after a pause:  “And another part of you, that I won’t say.”

“I think you should say it.”

Dream doesn’t, and he won’t, but he likes that he doesn’t have to for it to be true.

George’s hand travels down to the nape of his neck and pinches the skin there once, gently.

“Your big heart,” Dream says, then.

George lets out a soft laugh.

“Nice,” he says. “You’re not tricking anyone.”

He’s right, of course. George is good at being right about things.

And Dream is good at being an open book.

In the comfort of this, of knowing that his feelings are anything but a secret, Dream finally drifts off to sleep.

[demonstars]

dreaming of a true love's kiss

15k | Rated T

Tags: Enchanted AU.

“By singing a song,” George deadpans. “Obviously!” Dream answers, like George is asking him if the sky is blue. “How else would you fall in love with someone?”

or, George is a business man and single dad who meets Dream, a fairy tale prince, by pure luck.

this was meant for nat's event and then I didn't finish it by then I'M SO SORRY. IN SPIRIT IT'S STILL VALENTINES

[dnfity]

dream wants you to read this new fic!!!!

dnf fic | 3.4k wc | rated E

[alittledizzy]

from the sea to the shore dream/george rated mature, 8.9k

George goes to London to visit his family for the holidays in December 2024, and Dream takes that moment to make his interest apparent.

[read on ao3]

[livingproofoftbd]

that familiar feeling

rated t | 1k words

tags: childhood friends to lovers, introspection, drabble, relationship study

There’s an innocence in the touch of a friend. Something calming; grounding. Dream tends to lean into it, embrace it, while George skitters away from it. Touch—specifically Dream’s touch—intimidates him to the point of terror.

or, george is scared of dream's touch but can't live without it.

--

first fic of 2025!!! thank you @baby-fever-anon for the prompt for the drabble prompt :D and i hope everyone enjoys NEW (and longer) FIC SOON HOPEFULLYYYY