#at times they're really bright and sometimes more pink and other times they're deep purple and hardly noticeable | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yanban-san · 2 years

Note

WAIT HOLD ON I HAD AN IDEA!

So with the gift giving of feathers and scales, and the way you describe Emmet’s monster form I was hit in the head with a few ideas.

So male birds are the pretty and flashy ones, so that got me thinking, he is try to be flashy and show off around his darling? Bright vibrant colors, maybe battles, and how pretty he is.

And to piggy back off that, what about gifts from darling? Like homemade chocolates, rocks, shiny things.

Would the two eldritch twins see that as their darling courting them?

And with Ingo being being lizard like and shadowy, aside from scale giving, does he try to give off a comforting scent to show he’s approachable? Or flash a bright color as a warning?

I apologize for the rambling! And possibly flooding your in box, I hope I’m not doing that. I’m very excited and in love with your writing! - noodle

Hnnnnn Noodle I love all of these ideas

I like to imagine Emmet is the bigger show-off of the two- He adores your praise and attention! He wants more! Constantly! He'll practice with his pokemon to perfect elite-rank-contest-worthy attack combos on his opponents to dazzle you. I think he also spends a lotta time grooming and preening his feathers- they're very sensitive to touch as well so they feel very refreshing after he's washed them- and he finds it especially nice if you're the one doing the grooming! And like with his feathers, he's obsessed with keeping his coat and hat and outfit as immaculate as possible- He's practically glowing every time you see him. Ingo might have to point out sometimes that actually, he is glowing- And-people-are-staring-so-please-stop-

He loves light and color and life and vibrancy- After all, he is an eldritch entity of light. ...and other things

While he prefers his light/white aesthetic for himself, His halo has prismatic layers to it that can change the intensity and hue of the radiance he's giving off, making it reflect various colors- All of the colors are fairly intense, but also all tinged with his Eldritch light; Making them, unfortunately, difficult to look at. And of course, he doesn't want you looking around the room for the cast colors- He wants you looking at him! He can flex his wings and feathers to catch all the radiance himself- Making his wings look intensely, eye-catchingly rainbow, or whatever colors are being reflected. Usually, the colors aren't rainbow- but a grouping of similar toned hues as that's what's easiest for him to make.

You'll be coddled in a shimmering feather-nest of warm glittering golds and autumn oranges and yellows and earthen browns and scarlet reds and hints of rosy pink- Or forest greens giving way to skylight blues and cerulean and cyan, flickering like emeralds and sapphires over silver- giving way to deep indigo and violets and amethyst purples and rosy maroons.

Like I said, It's only when he's really trying to wow you that he's busting out making his halo/general radiance super vibrant and prismatic and rainbowy. This also leads to Darling becoming Dazzled by Eldritch lights which Ingo will have to fix

He will gift his darling vibrant colored things and if you really like brightly colored things, he'll accessorize as well; If his hair is long enough for a ponytail, the ties binding it back are colorful. If it's cold, he's wearing a vibrantly colored scarf- that sort of thing! If you catch him outside of Gear Station on the rare occasion he is physically out of the Station, he'll be wearing mostly white/grey/black, with considerably more colored accessories/accents than before. He adores shiny things that reflect his light as well- Especially when you're the one wearing them.

He gets annoyed if you don't notice these things though; He wants your praise and attention, and if the extras aren't wow-ing you he'll move onto something else.

And to piggy back off that, what about gifts from darling? Like homemade chocolates, rocks, shiny things. Would the two eldritch twins see that as their darling courting them?

Gifts are a big thing for soulmates to share- Ingo and Emmet are aware you can't exactly do any Eldritch magic stuff on your own, and ergo can't give them what they'd consider normal gifts- But you can give them human gifts, and they love it. If it's before you're dating, then they absolutely take it to mean you're trying to court them- And they're probably right- And are responding accordingly.

They especially like gifts that take time and effort to prepare. You've been thinking of them the whole time you've been making those chocolates, pouring your love and energy into them! They may have to shoo you out of their office after you give them such treats, however- As it's difficult for them to remain human when they're so very elated.

Also, being weird eldritch-demon things, they love offerings and rituals- I can see them handing Darling a pair of Grimoires; Sucker for Love style ones that detail not how to get them to do stuff for you, but their favorite offerings, incantations, ritual-space preparations, incenses they like, etc.

One's black as night, etched with a silver insignia that has a shape vaguely like an upwards-pointing triangle; And the other one's blindingly silver-white and shiny, etched with a tar-black insignia looking vaguely like a downwards facing triangle. I also think the whole "Eldritch entities like being worshiped by humans" is partially why Emmet likes being praised so much. (On that note Ingo also likes it but doesn't really realize how much he likes it- Until Darling starts laying the praise on thicc, and from then on when he's particularly deep in the brainrot he'll beg for praise as well, if you aren't already complimenting him and showering him with your love.)

And with Ingo being being lizard like and shadowy, aside from scale giving, does he try to give off a comforting scent to show he’s approachable? Or flash a bright color as a warning?

I imagine Ingo's preferred method of courting would be to show off that he's an excellent protector and supporter. He really likes to lean over or hover around you- You'll probably feel a little hazy while he's doing this, unless it's after they start dating you, in which case he doesn't need to make you hazy-headed to get you to be blissfully unaware that he's extremely close and leaning over you in a way your boss should not be.

Also if he did give off a scent (IDK what scent to give him but I'm sort of imagining that he'd smell like incense of some kind because eldritch occult monster guy or possibly warm bread because warm bread is comforting and the only scent I can think of right now b/c I just made bread and it's the only thing I can smell) of any kind, I think he'd try to rub it off on Darling- And you can't quite remember where you picked up this lovely scent on your skin and clothes, but even after you wash you can still smell it on you.

I think Ingo would have less "warning signs" than Emmet does- Eldritch Demons normally have only one warning they issue; They'll tell the offender something along the lines of "You're not wanted here, go away," or other appropriate phrases depending on what sort of harassment they're receiving; And then go back to doing whatever they were doing.

Attempting to harass an Eldritch Entity even more after this warrants them preparing to attack.

Emmet's feathers become rigid and pointed- The fur on his body falling flat and becoming coarse and rough and sharp, and he'll drag his clawed feet along the ground- Tearing up the Earth before launching himself at his opponent in a bullet-fast flurry of knife-sharp feathers covered in thousands of needles- And burning radiance.

If someone's managed to piss off Ingo enough (Congratulations how the heck did you manage that?!) to get him ready to attack though... His coat starts fraying at the edges, dripping into shadows and darkness and his hands are curling weirdly into claws as he gradually loses more and more of his form- a shambling mass of shadows, dripping with ashen venom and malice for whomever is in front of him. And the only indications there's anything within the shadows is the strange, silvery slitted lights peering out from the depths, and occasionally, a shape of a tail or claws or the mouth from which the acrid venom is drooling out. Whatever the shadows touch melds into them- losing it's shape and it's life. Ingo does not need to move fast to take down an enemy, either. His enemy lost the moment the shadows touch them- And they'll be eaten away by the darkness until all that remains of them is nothing.

It's worth saying tho that neither of them, however, have really encountered anything in the pokemon world strong enough to warrant an old fashioned Eldritch showdown- In this realm, they both just probably issue their warnings and then if the idiot continues to bother them, they just go snap and the bother is gone. (Unless they were trying to impress you. Then maybe they'll show you how scary they can be!)

I also love love love the idea of Ingo flashing a bright color as a warning sign too adkajd that is so good; Like some enemy has managed to piss off The Eldritch Entity of Darkness so much he's giving off so much magical energy and malice that it actually turns into a bright aura around him, electrifying the air and settling over his scales in a stark contrast- The colors themselves would have a violent feel to them, if that makes sense. Looking at this entity's scales, which are naturally and meant to be dark, black voids- To see them so horrifyingly vibrant feels inherently wrong and sickening. And it is. The colors are disorienting and painful and getting worse every second the victim looks at them-

And it's the last thing they'll ever see.

#Demon AU #Monster AU #Demon Submas #Monster Submas #Emmet X Reader #Ingo X Reader #Ingo/Reader #Emmet/Reader #I have brainrot #<3

147 notes · View notes

peachmuses · 11 months

Text

@sociieties asked: 5 times yoyo’s painted on zuzu

I. the first time that ryou paints on kazuya, they're six and seven respectively. ryou's freshly turned six, and kazuya is only a year and a few months older than him. it's messy / and ryou's trying to use his opposite hand, and he's giggling as he's climbing on his bestest friend in the world. ha-chan is sad - ryou's figured that out, about thirty minutes ago - and he's decided the best way to cheer him up was to paint him in the prettiest color he could find. purple means royalty, ryou explains as he streaks the other with the very deep purple he's found -- but it's not right, he thinks. ( kazuya is royalty -- omma was explaining what royalty was the night before as she was reading a bedtime story to him about a prince and a princess, and ryou thinks, knows, that kazuya is a prince. ) he then moves onto another color -- a lighter purple called lavender. he's learned about lavender. lavender means devotion, grace, serenity, calmness and silence. he explains it and his head tilts slightly, and cheeks tinge pink. " lavender because you mean lavender. " ryou can't explain it then / there , but he means that he's devoted to kazuya too. he means it that he wishes for a calm life for his best friend. because his best friend is quiet -- because it matches ha-chan's hair. ( not that ryou really understands what a calm life is. not that ryou understands what devotion means -- but he knows that he is devoted to his best friend. )

II. sometimes, when ryou is bored, he doodles on kazuya's hands. someone tells him he shouldn't / and kazuya turns cold towards them. he doesn't get it / but ha-chan doesn't mind him drawing on him, so he continues to do so. ( ignoring adults and others because if ha-chan says it's alright, then it's alright. ) this time, he's got paints and he's been drawing outlines on the others cast to fill in later, and a teacher tells him that he shouldn't do that, and ryou pouts, and kazuya is picking up a paint brush to put it in his hand. " fill them in " he says, and ryou ignores the teacher to do as kazuya tells him to do. the teacher sighs, and moves to look at the paints and ryou sends her the dirtest look he can, at seven years old, and kazuya is giggling beside him. ryou is painting a shell on his best friends cast / orange in color, because he was thinking about starting to collect them last weekend - then decided that he wanted to practice drawing them first. the depth / the way color reflects / maybe get to where he can fill one up with water. he's not very good at painting water yet -- he wants to get there though. he explains softly, " seashells represent a protectiveness of love while orange represents happiness, love, and courage. " he remembers his mother telling him that kazuya had been in an accident and that he shouldn't mention it. kazuya eventually came back to school, arm in cast and he told ryou that he can paint on it if he wanted too - that he had chosen a white base specifically for ryou to paint on it and he thinks that his best friend is the bestest best friend in the entire world. " that way, " ryou says as he leans back, cheeks streaked in orange from where he had smeared the paint brush when he was trying to detail the shell, " you're protected ! "

III. he doesn't stop smearing paint onto kazuya / trying to color his best friends grey skies into a colorful sunrise. someone calls him "yo-yo" in ha-chan's presence / and his best friend loses it. ryou stands there, with wide-eyes, and tightly holding onto a book about angels and devils and demons in art. he didn't like it when someone else called him the name that ha-chan had bestowed upon him / but his best friend hated it more, apparently. there's a flash and ryou sees kazuya, shining bright in gold, halo'd by the sun as fists fly and the other (demon) boy coughs up red. red - ryou knows - often represents love and passion and ryou doesn't really understand that but he knows that red can also mean aggression, dominant and strength. a teacher screams, and ryou is startled out of his thoughts and he drops his book in surprise. he rushes to kazuya where teachers are pulling him off and a teacher tries to stop him and he screams for ha-chan and gets no where. later on, when kazuya comes over, ryou's dragging him to the art room that was made specifically for him. he's already got golds set aside -- gold leaf too. he climbs into his best friends lap and gets to work. his hands are steady when he applies the gold leaf to his best friends scrapped cheeks and then lips. ( it's not a band aid; ryou thinks it's better than a band-aid. ) he tries to paint a halo in kazuya's hair and his mother enters and stares at the scene. hanae breathes out softly, before she shakes her head. sometimes, she's learned, it's best to not ask questions. ryou looks over at her, excited, as hand presses in on kazuya's chest, " omma omma. look. ha-chan's an angel. he beats up the demons. "

IV. ryou can't fix things for kazuya. he sits in his bed / sullen, as he thinks about what he had heard the night before. kazuya's mother had hurt him --- had tried to drown him. no one had noticed him at the stairs listening. ( he had woken up from a nightmare --- and was going to seek his parents when kazuya had come in drenched and crying. he had rushed back to his bedroom and pretended to be asleep when his mother stood up to go get a change of clothes for his best friend. ) kazuya is downstairs, and ryou wonders who would want to hurt his best friend ? why they would want to hurt him ? kazuya is an angel / a prince, and he's scrubbing his face. there's only one thing to do. make water good. he rolls over and moves to get out of bed, finally, and when he does, he decides he's going to paint oceans and waves all over kazuya in a variety of blues. ( aphrodite emerged from the ocean, kazuya once told him, the ocean is a symbol of love too. ) besides, blue represents peace / blue represents love and truth and strength in india -- it is a sacred color there. ryou bounces down the stairs, stopping half way, and when he sees his best friend standing at the bottom of the stairs, he throws himself down onto him. kazuya barely manages to catch him and ryou giggles. " come come. " he says impatient, " i have a new idea. you're going to be an ocean. " and when he finally manages to get kazuya into his art room, he pauses, and tilts his head -- he's not suppose to know why kazuya is here anyways, but ryou's also never questioned why his best friend just shows up sometimes. " did you know that blue is a sacred color in india ? it means love and divine joy. " he scampers away to his paints, only to come back with a palette with a variety of blues, and he grins brightly at kazuya. " en -- encom-- " brows furrow, " big waves. you're a big wave in the ocean. " he says instead of the word he was thinking of -- unsure of how to pronounce it, and paint brush touches kazuya's cheek, and he speaks softly, " you're going to be the prettiest ocean ever. "

V. the last time ryou paints on kazuya -- he thinks, is in middle school. before kazuya goes off with koji - toji - whatever their name was / before kazuya kisses him and disappears into the wind without a trace. he paints him in pinks this time, brush strokes against the other's back, sculpting over muscles that are beginning to show. kazuya tells him that he shouldn't be use to this / painting on him, and ryou doesn't want to let go of his best friend. pink is grabbed instinctively --- and ryou doesn't think about it. doesn't think about his best friend whose looking towards other people, doesn't think about how he feels the other pulling away and going quiet. he knows - in his bones - that this is going to be the last time. ( don't leave, he wants to say. don't leave me behind. ) he doesn't say it but fingers smudge the paint anyways. kazuya is not perfect / there is no use in painting perfect lines on his best friend when he makes up ryou's morning and evening skies. he makes a mess of color on kazuya's skin, dirtying his hands in the paint and forgoing the brush. ryou was told once -- that paint runs through his blood / that he, himself, probably has paint for blood. ryou thinks if he smears the paint onto kazuya's skin - if it's his blood, maybe it won't wash off and maybe his best friend will have something of him to remember him by when he leaves. ryou feels it coming like a storm. it's going to unsettle him and knock him off his feet. he wants to cry - doesn't. he's a big boy -- he doesn't have to cry at every little thing anymore.

BONUS. kazuya is back in his life and it's only been a few weeks--- and ryou is sitting on top of him once again in the art room with light streaming behind him. his best friend is beautiful - but this is something that ryou has always known. he hasn't spent all these years -- painting his best friend to not know that he's not beautiful / he hasn't spent his childhood, trying to give some form of color to his best friends world without knowing how the sunlight hits him / without knowing that he makes their heart beat faster. they feel awkward and kazuya had asked him to paint on him, and really, what was ryou suppose to say ? no ??? the palette is next to him, and thin cold fingers against kazuya's skin as he tilts chin upwards. ( his heartbeat rings in his ears and he almost wants to cry, as memories pop in and out of his mind. ) he's gentle and starts with purple ( royalty ) -- and moves to lavender ( devotion ) , gold ( holy, holy, holy ) across the other's lips with trembling fingers and breath caught in his throat. his heart feels like a jackhammer currently and ryou thinks this was the worst idea kazuya has ever had. he breathes out softly, and moves, blue ( divine joy and love ), onto the other's cheek, pink ( young love ) --- and he finishes off with red ( passion. love. devotion. ) kazuya is a mess of colour currently and ryou thinks they've never seen anything so beautiful in his life. he swallows, putting finishes touches. it's such a fucked up sunrise, ryou thinks, before eyes move from the across the canvas of kazuya's face to focus on the other's face and he lets his hands drop to their side. " you've always made a wonderful canvas, " he says eventually, as he moves off of best friends lap, trying to hide the tinge of pink to his cheeks, and he gestures to the mirror. " go ahead. " he needs a moment to straighten things up / a moment to calm his heart and the way that he still feels lips under fingertips and body against his.

#♡ ⸺ haryou.#🍑 ⸺ drabble.#im going to kms.#character ⸺ ryou.

4 notes · View notes

s0ngsandstars · 1 year

Text

Colors

The colors my brain associates with Enstars characters (I have color association synesthesia). I have plans on drawing them all out, but for now, have them very poorly described in words, lol. Put under a cut for length purposes.

fine Eichi: Periwinkle blue/purple Wataru: A pearlescent rainbow, everchanging Yuzuru: A light, pinky sort of orange color (like a peach), soft velvet in texture. Tori: Orange, with spots of yellow and red-orange that make it look like anime water except orange instead of blue. Trickstar Hokuto: A blue? Deep. Floaty though? Subaru: Sparkly sunny yellow, bright. Makoto: Green mostly, but also blue. But they're not mixed. So like.. green with a sort of light blue wisps? Mao: Playful light Blue/Pink, he's cotton candy. His has text sometimes, in bright pink. Like "WOW" or "SO COOL" it's always in caps and it's always really meme-y for some reason. Ryuseitai Chiaki: Yellow-Green, bright. Kanata: Blue, but in a green way. Tetora: Red-Orange. Midori: Muted blue, like, a slate gray almost blue. Shinobu: Simultaneously yellow-orange and blue, but not mixed?. Kind of shiny. Alkaloid Hiiro: Vibrant and bright blue. Aira: Yellow-Orange, soft. Sometimes some pink hints. Tatsumi: Soft mint green. Mayoi: Deep purple. Eden Nagisa: Light gray that's tinted slightly blue. Hiyori: Vibrantly the brightest of yellows. Blindingly bright almost. Ibara: Very Red but also very Blue. Jun: Orange. Valkyrie Shu: Sparkly deep red with vibrant purple swirls. Mika: He's kinda like um.. a brown-rust covered metal of indeterminate type? Like he should be very shiny but it's covered, with little bits peeking out. 2wink Hinata: Orange, slightly red tinted. Yuta: Green, slightly yellow tinted. Crazy:B Rinne: Red-Orange, very leaning red. HiMERU: Intimidating blue. Idk, it's just one I associate with intimidating people. Like a.. steel blue?? Niki: Wisps of light gray smoke on a dark gray background. Kohaku: Silver, some bits are a bit dirty, but not much. Not shined, so it's a little dull, but still obviously silver. UNDEAD Rei: Gray in a vaguely purple way. Kaoru: there is a line, on one side is yellow-green, on the other is yellow-orange. Kaoru uses this line as a jump rope. Koga: So incredibly very extremely orange. Like, the most orange. Adonis: Blue in a green way. Like he's blue but there's green vibes. Ra*bits Nazuna: Yellow-Orange, more yellow than orange. Tomoya: Sometimes blue, sometimes orange. Depends on how confident he is at the moment. Hajime: Yellow petals floating in beautiful blue water. Mitsuru: Vibrant, bright yellow-green (more green and brighter than Chiaki). Akatsuki Keito: Intimidating blue. Sometimes green. Souma: Blue in a purple way. Kuro: Red-Orange. Knights Tsukasa: Red-Orange, sometimes more red sometimes more orange. Leo: Vibrantly Yellow-Orange that swings to vibrantly Yellow-Green without reason. Like they're two drums in a drum set and he's having a blast. Arashi: Light blue, pleasant. Sometimes orange, but not too often? Izumi: Silver. Ritsu: okay so Ritsu doesn't have a color technically? His color is the smell of plums. idk. Switch Natsume: Orange, with almost pearlescent purple swirls. Halloween vibes. Tsumugi: Blue-Green, like turquoise but darker. Sora: Bright yellow-green. More on the yellow side. MaM Madara: Orange or Green. Usually green though.

Others: Anzu: Yellow, usually? Sometimes tints in either orange or green, but usually stays a nice yellow. Akiomi: Pale violet? Jin: Kind of blue-gray. Seiya: Bright Green with little bursts of yellow. Kinda reminds me of like, a certain time in spring leading into summer. Mademoiselle: Light blue, pink tints on occasion that are like ghosted petals.

#S Posts #Enstars #Ensemble Stars #Synesthesia #I tried.#I'm not tagging all of the characters there are so many #Food mention

5 notes · View notes

rattheunloved · 1 year

Text

A Highly Pigmented Rant.

Once upon a time art was gatekept less by skill and more by the fact that pigments (being most often ground from minerals, oxidized from toxic metals, and painstakingly leeched and fixed from botanicals... or made from straight up ground up mummies) were very, very, very expensive. This is why a lot of artists had patrons.

Artists made their own paints from ground pigments, binders, etc. by hand, and it wasn't cheap or easy. Van Gogh used bits of wool to test his ideas for color combinations because paint was so fucking expensive.

For once the Industrial revolution did like three things correctly, because we no longer had to boil snail juice for purple. But... it did centralize production, which... has its weaknesses.

The thing is that if/when a color falls out of favor with the automotive industry there's a good chance (almost a guarantee) that the market dives. And in our age of dependency upon single-source overseas manufacture (for good or ill) there might only be or or two companies in the ENTIRE WORLD producing a specific pigment.

In the late 1990s the only global manufacturer of po49 (Quinacridone Gold) discontinued production and sold their remaining stock to Daniel Smith Co. About five years ago Daniel Smith ran out. "Ah" you might say "But it's only ONE color, what's the problem with that!?"

Most folks know basic color theory. Cyan, Yellow, Magenta/ Red, Green, Blue/ Red, Yellow, Blue. Some use a split primary palette that has a combination. Mix those colors in various quantities and you get basically every color in existence... in theory. Most often, however, you get mud.

Why is that? That's because most art supplies use combinations of pigments to achieve their colors. And the more pigments you add to visually get to a color, the much higher the chances of mixtures becoming sludge.

Green is actually kind of a bastard color. There aren't a lot of sources for "green" that aren't mixes. Most greens are quite blueish, though some (like Chromium Oxide - PG17) are very "green" but also very opaque. PO49 was a bright, clean, transparent, single-pigment, lightfast, inexpensive, warm yellow. So a lot of greens switched to using a combination of it and Pthalo Green (PG7, a fairly blue, but very strong and lightfast color) ... and then it got kneecapped.

They switched to PO48 (Quinacridone Burnt Orange) or PY150 (Nickel Azo Yellow) and sometimes either of the first two with a dash of PV19 (Quinacridone Rose) to try and make a substitute for PO48. You can see the problem here, right? Instead of one color, it's now three, one of which is very, very, pink. Instead of your sap green being two colors it's now four. And it looks different. And if you even touch it to another color your chance of getting mud increases exponentially.

And then... it happened again several more times.

The last few years alone we've lost several pigments including PO48 (Quinacridone Burnt Orange), PO73 (Pyrrol Orange), PO59 (Nickel Orange), and PR206 (Quinacridone Burnt Scarlet). For SOME there are alternative single-pigment colors, but they're often a little less lightfast, or toxic, or almost impossible to source. I panic bought a bunch of PR206's pinker version because it's a palette staple for me. I heard other pigments might be going the same way and bought up a few extras just in case.

Yes, there are a few companies that still have stock out there, but it's dwindling fast and really mostly left to the small artisan manufacturers to turn those liquid dispersions into usable pigments and paints. You CAN still get Quin Gold from a few sources. You CAN still scour the internet for the last few Quin Burnt Oranges and Scarlets in sticks and pans and big tubes. But one day, unless a company steps up, they'll be gone.

And it hurts something deep, deep, in my weird little soul that a color can go extinct.

0 notes

lovelytarou · 3 years

Text

the language of flowers — oikawa tooru

pairing: oikawa tooru x gn! reader

genre: fluff, flowershop!au

tags: flowerboy!oikawa, slowburn, strangers to lovers

word count: 4.06k

a/n: i finally finished this after 2536484 years of procrastination! but thanks to my moots shae and julie for showing support and giving their opinions about this concept hehe. this is the longest fic i've written wow 😳

⤷ summary: the flowershop on the street you frequently walk on going home is a wonder you didn't notice until recently when the smell of flowers caught your attention. deciding to enter it one day out of pure curiosity, you met the owner of the shop and with it, the start of a blooming romance.

life was filled with repeating patterns, certain routines and habits that everybody has gotten used to doing. like the way you always took the same path when going home, passing by the familiar faces you encounter all the time, seeing the similar architecture and landscape that brings some sort of familiarity to you whenever you see it.

your feet stopped in their own accord when a sweet smell invaded your nose. you inhaled deeply, the aroma pleasant and fresh. going a few steps back, you finally saw where it was coming from. the flower shop stood out like a sore thumb in the street with its vibrant flowers that you can see through the clear glass. the sunlight was shining down upon the beautiful flowers and they looked charming even from afar.

you thought for a moment and decided that you'd stop by in the flower shop for a little while. besides, if the smell alone has caught your attention, who knows what else can?

the soft tinkle of the bell on the door signalled your presence. you were simply in awe at the sight of the decorations inside the shop. it was breathtaking. numerous flowers, bouquets, wreaths, and some that you don't know the name about were placed neatly and elegantly inside the shop to let the customers feast their eyes (and noses) upon.

giggles and loud laughter snatched you away from your thoughts, a huddled group of women and men alike are circling over something - or someone? - and they seemed to be too entertained about it than the flowers themselves. chuckling quietly, you shook your head and decided to look around the place more for yourself.

there were buckets and baskets of anemones in pinks, reds, and purple. there were also daffodils, camellias, and tulips of many colors that you can't help but get sucked in by them. you can't think which one to go to first, there are so many! the hanging plants are wonderful as well, they can make for great decoration. the succulents look cute and adorable, it can also be manageable if you find yourself too busy to take care of a plant.

you were too deep in your thoughts, caressing a blue tulip to even notice the sudden silence in the shop and the ringing of the bell at the door that tells you the previous patrons have exited the flower shop and you're now alone. or so you thought.

“beautiful,” a sing-songy, lilting voice spoke from behind you, causing you to jolt from where you're admiring the flower and turned towards the owner of the voice.

if the flowers took your breath away, well he made you get your breath stuck in your throat. he looks like he's not from around him, and simply breathing in his space is something short of disgraceful. you took in his wavy side-swept dark brown hair, and his welcoming eyes of the same color that shone with mischief. his lips are stretched into a smile.

wow, he is really tall. you're surprised he hadn't reached the ceiling of the shop. he seemed pretty intimidating with his height alone, but there's an air around him that screams playfulness.

“ah, i meant the tulips.” he apologized as a blush coated his beautiful clear cheeks, a hand touching his nape.

“oh!” you cleared your throat, immediately bringing the tulip back where it respectfully resides, “yes, they're very wonderful to look at. you have a lovely shop, uh…”

he seemed to perk up at the inquisition of his name, he chuckled to himself before offering his hand.

“oikawa tooru, nice to meet you! and thanks, i do try hard to keep this flower shop presentable for customers like you who have taste.” he winked, walking past you and you followed suit – eyes practically glued to his form as he moved swiftly around his small shop.

“must be difficult to run a business like this all by yourself,” you wondered, fingers brushing against petals that your hand can reach.

it's odd, but staying in there for just a few minutes has brought you a sense of relaxation. as if the flowers all around you and talking to oikawa is such a breath of fresh air.

“well, you get used to it after a while. besides, i have my friends, uh...help me sometimes.” he nervously chuckled, he certainly knew that 'help' means that force his friends to carry things around while blackmailing them and bribing them for lunch, then sure, he had them help him.

you only hummed in response.

he turned around after a while, a pink lily in his hand.

“i think this suits our gorgeous customer, don't you think?” he smirked, handing the flower with a flourish which you took gently – causing your hands to touch and making you feel that slight tingle people talk about in movies and books.

you felt silly about the way your face heats up at the small gesture, your gaze not straying away from the flowers in fear of letting oikawa see his effect on you.

but you can try with all your might, nothing can stop him from already seeing your flushed face. he always does these things to entertain the customers but he found his chest feeling warm staring at you like that.

going back to his place in the cashier, he started to tidy up a bit for the next customers that will visit the shop. his brown eyes kept staring at you from time to time as you walked around, trying to see if there's anything else you could buy along with the lily – but we all know it's just to keep your attention away from him and the fact that he can make your heart race with mere flirting.

“i never really noticed your shop before, and i have walked this street for how many times now.” you droned on, playing with the cute pots on the shelf – some of them were heads of the cliché green alien and other space themed stuff which you find adorable, bringing a fond smile to your face.

“oikawa's flower shop is like a secret garden, my dear customer.” he boasted, spraying freesias on the cashier desk with a smile on his face.

“it truly looks like one,” you agreed, with one final look in the flower shop, you walked closer to the cashier and got out your wallet.

“no, no. it's on the house, lovely.” he beamed, stopping the hand in your bag.

“really? thank you.” your face flushed at the feeling of his hands – the very same one who took care of these beautiful flowers – touching yours.

he recoiled, as if burned. his face painted a deep red like the roses by the windows. both of you looked away, like two magnets of the same sign – coming in contact with each other only to repel.

“well, um, i'll see you around then.” you muttered, breaking the silence.

“yeah, see you.” oikawa smiled warmly. hopefully much sooner, he hoped.

with one last look at each other, you turned around and exited the secret garden. you walked home that day all smiles and giddy, still feeling the lingering touch he has left on your skin, how warm and calloused they felt. maybe from how hard he was working.

you wondered if you'll ever see him again soon.

the second time you visited the flower shop was when you saw oikawa in one of the coffee shops you frequented. it turned out that he usually stops by for coffee and his milk bread when the shop's particularly slow. he asked to walk you home and since you're both taking the same path, you agreed.

he turned out to be a very chatty person – not the kind that will annoy you because they only talk about themselves, but the amusing kind because he has a lot of stories stored inside his big brain full of tales about him and his friends, and occasionally asking about your life as well.

you two had fallen into a comfortable pace as you walked together, sipping both your beverages.

“hey, let's play truth or dare!” he blurted, eyes sparkling in excitement and thinly veiled mischief, a bright smile on his lips.

“really? here? now?” you asked, incredulous. isn't this something people do in parties around a lot of people?

“yeah! it'll be fun,” he shrugged.

“well, okay then.” you sighed, before sipping your drink, “you go first.”

“okay…” he pretended to think hard, eyes darting everywhere as he hummed, “truth or dare?”

“you don't really need to think so hard about that,” you chuckled.

“just pick!”

“alright, alright. truth!” you beamed at him, trying to understand what his brain will cook up to ask you.

“ah, that's easy. what's your name?” oh, that's right. you forgot to tell him back then the first time you went in his flower shop. and so, you told him.

“y/n. what a beautiful name. okay, my turn! my turn!” he excitedly chanted, eyes never losing their sparkle.

you ignored the butterflies that erupted in your stomach the moment he said your name, as if he's taking his time and tasting it around his tongue like a foreign delicacy he hasn't tasted before.

you cleared your throat, averting his gaze as they zeroed in on you, “truth or dare, mr. milk bread?”

“hey, they taste really good, i'll have you know.” he scoffed, before his face morphed back into excitement again, “dare!”

you thought for a moment, there isn't really anything too interesting to do while walking. and then you smirked.

“i dare you to greet the person who will walk this corner as if you knew each other for a very long time,” you grinned devilishly. he gaped at that, before darting his gaze towards the street corner you were talking about.

“y/n-chan, i didn't know you would be the type,” he teased, you were about to retort when a huge, buff man walked around the corner. he looked intimidating, even for you and you wondered what oikawa might be feeling right now.

but you didn't need to wonder about it any longer as he was already walking up to the man, confident and grinning. he raised his hand in the air before slapping the guy on the shoulder.

“hey, long time no see, man! say hello to the wife and kids for me, will ya?” the man gave him a weird look before shaking his head, walking past and minding his own business muttering about 'kids these days'.

once the guy was out of earshot, you and oikawa bursted out in laughter, looking at each other with relief and surprise.

“i thought he was going to pulverize you!” you wheezed in between chortles.

“i know! me too! i thought he'll get mad at me or something,” he threw his head back as he laughed. you stopped your own giggles to stare back at him. he looked radiant as he let himself go, you thought he looked attractive with the way he candidly showed his happiness.

“something wrong, y/n-chan?” you hadn't realized he stopped laughing and was left staring at him. his head was tilted in curiosity as he peered at you in concern.

“not at all!,” you catch yourself, suddenly feeling hot and embarrassed, hoping he didn't notice you ogling him, “where were we?”

“it's your turn now, truth or dare?” feeling bold, you chose dare next.

oikawa gave you a broad smile, his hand extending towards you as if encouraging you to take it, “i dare you to stay a little longer with me in my shop,”

to be honest? you expected him to get back at you and maybe make you do an equally embarrassing (if not more) dare, but you did not expect this.

what you also didn't expect is the fact that you had stopped in front of oikawa's flower shop with your back turned to it. how did you reach there so fast? it seemed like talking and walking with him made time stop. a part of you would like to keep it that way, if only it was possible.

“i would love to,” was your answer. oikawa opened the door to his shop, letting you in first. he then led you near the back of the shop, opening into a wide backyard that resembled a small, gorgeous garden with different kinds of flowers. some even you haven't seen him display in the shop inside.

the two of you sat on the two seated table. you were simply at awe with how ethereal this all looked. your eyes couldn't get enough of all the wonderful colors that it landed on.

“wow,” was all you managed to say, taking in your surroundings and appreciating every nook and cranny presented to you.

“i spent most of my breaks here,” oikawa came back with two glasses of water and placed them on the glass table.

“usually talking to myself and talking to the flowers. i heard it helps them grow faster and makes them more beautiful.” he, too, looked around his small garden with unconcealed pride and fondness. if you looked closer, you could also see the hint of sadness hidden in there.

“you talk to your flowers? that's so cute!” you gushed, hiding your smile behind the glass of water as you sipped it.

“if anything, you're the one who's cute.” he complimented as if it was nothing, eyes boring into yours as his smile widened.

you choked on your water, coughing it up out of surprise and it was the opposite of cute. but his opinions didn't change.

oikawa barked a laugh, reaching over to pat your back soothingly. once you calmed down, you avoided his gaze once again and decided to stare at the sunflowers nearby.

“we should just continue the game,” you decided to divert the topic.

“truth or dare, cutie?” oikawa bit back the grin from emerging on his face. hiding it with a palm propped up on the table.

“d-dare,” you answered without thinking. and oikawa being the little shit he is, took this as an opportunity.

“i dare you to go on a date with me this saturday,” he sincerely declared, eyes not leaving you once. your head whipped back to him so fast, you swear you got whiplash.

you're not one of these flowers and yet you felt the butterflies going wild inside of you.

your heart beat rapidly inside of your chest, pounding hard and ringing in your ears.

“you don't need a dare to get me to say yes,” you reasoned with a wide smile.

oikawa tooru, like his flowers, is a lively, blooming person. you get to know that the moment you agreed to go on a date with him. it followed a few hangouts, and frequent bumping into each other considering this was a small town, afterall. how you haven't noticed such a vibrant person in your life was beyond you.

you see him everywhere, every day in your life right now. in the small bushes that your neighbor has in their garden, the alien and sci-fi movies in the store which were his favorite every time he invited you to watch a movie, the milk bread you saw in the coffee shop you both love to go, and even the characters in the books you love to read. oikawa tooru practically invaded your life the moment you invited yourself in his flowershop and you loved every second of it.

every time you two hang out together, he never misses to bring you any flower. you'd always keep them with you until you come home, placing them in a vase and watering them constantly, taking care of them like how much oikawa takes care of the flowers. you paid no mind to it, only thinking that it was a sweet gesture from him until your friend decided to comment on the fresh flowers on top of your coffee table.

the both of you had known each other for a very long time now and that she's going to get married, she wanted you to be a part of it too. setting down the tea in front of her on the table, you sat down beside her, engulfing her in a hug.

“oh, y/n! i missed you so much! it's been busy with all the planning for the wedding and the people to invite, i still haven't tried on my dress and tasted the cake, it's kind of stressing me out!” she immediately let her sorrows and agony free the moment you let go of the hug.

“speaking of stress, is there anything i could do to help?” you reached for her hand, rubbing it soothingly in circles.

she hummed thoughtfully, sipping her tea to calm her nerves, “now that i thought about it, we still don't know anyone good enough for the flower decorations in the venue,” she pouted, sighing sadly.

a lightbulb lit itself on top of your head, making you perk up, “i know someone who does!”

“really? are they good?” oh more than good, you wanted to butt in but shake your head free of those thoughts.

“of course! he's actually the one who gave me these, he takes real good care of them.” you gestured towards the tulips in your vase. it seems like her eyes lit up and she immediately fell in love with the flowers.

“tulips?! oh, y/n, my dear, he's in love with you!” she squealed in glee, bouncing in her seat like a little kid.

“how did you know that by simply looking at my tulips?”

“giving tulips to someone means a declaration of love, sweetie.” she sighed dreamily, “you might as well plan for your wedding too!”

“don't be ridiculous!” you exclaimed, trying your best not to smile too wide.

you weren't too against on the idea, but you just met afterall. it would be too early for another wedding. even though he never failed to show his affection every time you are together, there's still a lingering doubt whether he did like you in that way.

as promised, you asked oikawa about it the next day, stopping by his flower shop with coffee and his beloved milk bread since it's his break.

“y/n-chan! it's always a pleasure to be visited by you again,” he greeted you, he was attending to a few customers in the store and excused himself before talking to you. your heart swelled with the action, not being able to hide your smile this time.

“tooru, i was just stopping by to ask you a favor. my friend's wedding is getting near and she still doesn't have any flower decorations for the venue. i mentioned you and i was wondering if you're the one who could do it instead?” you bit your lip nervously, fumbling with the paperbag containing the bread as you looked up at him hopefully.

seriously, how can he resist you looking at him that way? your eyelashes fluttering, mouth formed into a pout, eyes shining brightly. you're just asking him to devour you whole. before he knew it, he had leaned in to peck the corner of your mouth.

it completely shocked you to your core. he hasn't done that kind of thing before, always being respectful and never doing anything you didn't want to. but strangely, you weren't mad at him for it. to tell the truth, you kinda wished he kissed you more.

“i'd love to, y/n-chan.” he uttered, pinching your cheek before turning to hide his own reddened face.

that was basically the last time you saw each other since you recommended him to your friend. and since then, he has been busy and you tried to help with the wedding as well. you figured oikawa has his hands full with taking care of the decorations for the wedding, but even then, he would still message you or even facetime you after – asking about how yiur day went and craving to see your face without him being able to for how long.

the day of the wedding came and it was magical. your heart melted the moment your friends said their “i do's” as everybody clapped and rejoiced with them. the moment you stepped into the venue, everyone was amazed, speechless at the decorations being the first thing their eyes could feast upon. pink and white roses was all you could see – ranging from vine-like ones hanging from the ceiling, to arches in the doorway, and some are even placed neatly on the tables.

to sum it all, it was breathtaking.

“your boyfriend did amazing,” your friend teased, bumping her hip to yours as she walked away with her husband to greet some guests.

you were left standing there, mouth agape as you took everything in. you couldn't wrap your head around the idea of oikawa managing to do all this by himself, but then again, he has surprised you by doing a lot of things you didn't know he could do.

“you know, if you stayed here longer there won't be enough food left for you.” the familiaf voice you grew to love and got used to spoke from behind you. something tugged in your chest, the events seeming like déjà vu all over again.

“i'm just admiring your work, tooru.” you smiled, turning around to face the man behind the beautiful decorations.

he's changed his clothes into a more formal attire than his usual getup with the aprons and white button up shirt for a maroon suit and tie. he even styled his hair back, if you didn't know him long enough you might have mistaken him for someone else.

“you look...good,” you managed to breathe out, it seems like the decorations aren't the only ones that are breathtaking. your eyes drank him in, how the clothes hug his frame perfectly, the color complimenting his skin tone, and the fact that his fluffy hair is swept away really makes you want to jump his bones right here, right now.

“and you look gorgeous. i must say, i don't mind you looking like this all the time, y/n-chan.” he chuckled, a shit-eating grin blooming on his face as he eyed you up and down slowly. your face grew hot against his stare and you felt naked, as if his eyes can see through you.

“th-thanks, tooru.” you mumbled, playing with the hem of your clothes. before any of you could speak, however, the emcee spoke on stage calling out the bride and groom to give a speech.

you all gathered around the small stage as they thanked everyone for coming to the wedding, inclduing the guests, their helpers, the staff. after all the mushy speech, she declared it was time for the dance, turned around and threw the bouquet (that's also from oikawa) to the audience.

you saw the thing flying to you and out of pure instinct, you threw your hand in front of you and ended up catching the bouquet. everyone around you clapped including oikawa himself as you stared at it wide eyed. your gazed met oikawa's and as if your face couldn't get any hotter, you also felt the fast beating of your heart when you stared at each other.

everybody howled and chanted teasing remarks at the two of you. instead of paying attention to the newly weds they picked the two of you as the center of their amusement.

your friend's voice overpowered them all as she also chanted, “kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!”

oikawa looked at you with a raised brow and you can only smile bashfully in return before you felt the world turn upside down, oikawa dipping you as he kissed you passionately and deeply. time seemed to stop once again as everything blurred and all you can feel is him, and all he can feel is you. he hoped it would be enough to pour all the emotions and words he wanted you to know.

it felt like the kiss lasted forever before he pulled away, the two of you out of breath as you giddily smiled at each other, both sharing a lovestruck look.

“is it too early to ask you to marry me?”

general taglist: @chibishae34 @behan @bukojuiice (tagging you here bcs you're excited for this)

107 notes · View notes

hayleysstark · 5 years

Text

Title: Pretty Words Words: 2356 Warnings: Swearing Summary: "You know, you really should just tell them. The lucky troll. Come on, Branch, we both know you didn't make up those pretty words on the spot." Missing moment. Notes: this was not supposed to happen. i don't know why i wrote this. mutual pining is The Good Shit though.

Read on Fanfiction or AO3.

It's official, Branch decides as he stares unseeingly through the curtain of vibrant rainbow monstrosity Poppy calls Bridget's "Lady Glittersparkles" hair, and he tries to pretend he can't feel everyone's eyes on him or his heart crashing around inside him or his cheeks burning furiously in that stupid obvious purple blush spreading vividly all the way to the tips of his twitching ears. Feeling things is bullshit.

There is one thing, though. Poppy and her friends—at least they're not over there out-and-out staring at him. They're actually making some kind of an effort here, and yeah, the glances they sneak at him every few seconds from the corners of their wandering eyes aren't even in the same stratosphere as subtle, but they're—come on, they're trying, and it's decent of them. Even if they're not very good at it. Even if their eyes have begun to burn holes in him, everywhere their gazes fall, little black voids, cracks and fissures opening in his skin and he wishes he could barricade himself behind his own hair or curl into a ball or even just cross his arms a little tighter, anything to stop feeling so naked, like he just cut his own head open and let them have a look inside which—oh, yeah—he kind of fucking did.

He can still taste the words inside his mouth, on the tip of his tongue, clinging to the corner of his lip. If there was a way to—to spit them out, like spoiled food—spit them out into his hands or into the trash or—well, he thinks, as the Bergen King helps Bridget into her roller skates and she giggles and the sight makes something twinge painfully in Branch's chest and he tells himself it doesn't, at least that stupid poem did someone some good. And—the Bergen King goes to his knees before Bridget, and slowly, lovingly, laces up her skates, and Bridget looks like someone has given her a handful of sunshine and it's not a twinge anymore, it's a twist, a tight coil Branch can't breathe around—and even if she is a Bergen, Bridget deserves some good in her life.

The Bergen King and Bridget link hands, and Branch has to close his eyes, and he tells himself he's only tired.

"Sooo—"

Poppy's voice at his ear and Poppy's breath on his cheek and Branch snaps his eyes open and she's standing at his elbow with her hands clasped behind her back and bouncing on her toes and she's got a huge, obnoxious—adorable—grin on her face and she bumps his shoulder lightly with her own and he wonders if she's actually trying to kill him—

"—you've been holdin' out on us, buddy."

"I—" And maybe Branch's mind is just moving really, really slowly because of Poppy's proximity, but for the life of him, he can't figure out what she means. "What?"

She giggles, and he can't tell if the sound fills up every empty place he's got, or drags his insides out through the gash he made in his own head.

"Those were some real pretty words you were flingin', my man." She raises her eyebrows. "Who knew you were such a romantic?"

"I—I don't—" Okay, if a black hole could just open up right this fucking minute and suck him down inside, that would be great. Please and thank you. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, and he knows his voice isn't half as rough or mean as it needs to be. Romantic. Poppy called him a romantic. Death would be kinder.

"Your eyes are like two pools so deep? Come on, no need to play dumb with me, pal."

Branch can't decide if he wants to shut her up with his hand over her mouth, or his mouth over her mouth.

"I just," his tongue feels too heavy, "I just—made that up. O-on the spot. I didn't mean it."

Poppy's rosy cheeks lift a little higher as her smile widens, and he knows she doesn't believe him. "Mm-hm. Sure. Okay." She nods so hard, her frizzy pink hair quivers where it fades smoothly into green-yellow and blends seamlessly with everyone else's. Branch wonders what it would feel to twine his hair with hers. He wonders if her hair is as soft as it looks and if she'd let him touch it if he asked and if it still smells like strawberries since it's touched the other trolls' so much.

And he wonders why he's wondering things that are never going to happen anyway.

He looks away—back to Bridget and the Bergen King, and he sees the soft-spoken scullery maid is still nervously clutching the dirty railing around the rink, to hold herself up even though the Bergen King is promising he won't let go of her hand, promising he won't let her fall. Branch wonders what it would feel like to hold Poppy's hand, and not let go.

"You know," Poppy whispers, "I think you really helped Bridget. Like, a lot." Her eyes are soft, and sparkling like diamonds with a million different colors under the flashing rainbow lights of the rink, and there's no goddamn way Branch is ever coming up for air. "I mean, just look at her! She's really gotten the hang of it now, hasn't she?"

"Sh-she's stuttering up a storm, Poppy." And apparently, she's not the only one. "A-and," Branch continues, quickly, before Poppy can comment on that for herself, "I'm pretty sure she'd have gotten the hang of it without me. She's not stupid. And she had you."

Fuck.

It's way too late to save anything but Branch snaps his mouth shut anyway and isn't that just the fucking name of the day right now—saying everything he means and everything he doesn't want to mean and everything he'd never thought he would—it's like the truth about his grandma had lodged itself in the back of his throat, too big and sharp to swallow down, too horrible, too shameful, to spit out—and now it's gone and there's nothing left—he's got nothing left—no barriers, no roadblocks, nothing to stop the words coming out of him—and God, he has so many, so fucking many—he's kept them inside him so long and now they won't stop coming, they just won't stop coming and Poppy looks at him and she's never looked more like herself than she does in this moment, with her eyes shining and her mouth slowly curling up into another smile—

"That," she says, and there's the barest touch of a laugh to her voice, "just might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Can I hug you?"

"No." He tells himself his heart isn't picking up speed at the thought of hugging her, at the thought of her body pressing against his, and fucking God, Branch, get a hold of yourself. "And you'd better not get used to it." Because if we don't all die a miserable death at the hands of a horrible, bloodthirsty Bergen, I'm going to barricade myself in my bunker until you completely forget my existence because if I have to go the rest of my life with you thinking of that stupid poem every time you look at me, I might as well pitch myself off the side of Bridget's head and shatter my skull on the skating rink right now.

"Come on! You don't want to hug your bestest friend in the entire world?"

"I swear to God, Poppy, if you take one step closer to me, I'm handing you to the Bergen King myself."

"Wow, rude," Poppy huffs, but she retreats a little, and her arms fall back to her sides. "Catch you at Hug-Time, then."

"Don't count on it."

"Aww, come on, where's your way with words gone?" The corners of her mouth start to creep upward again. "Don't tell me that was a one-time thing!"

Branch is pretty sure his face is going to catch fire sometime in the next ten seconds unless Poppy decides to learn the wonderful art of shutting the fuck up. "I don't—I told you—I just—on the spot—didn't mean—"

"Branch," Poppy says, quietly now, and there's something softer about the edges of her smile, when she looks at him. She takes a step closer, and her fingers close around his wrist. His breath hitches and he prays she doesn't hear. "You know, you really should just tell them."

"T-tell—?" Fuck fuck fuck she knows okay can I die now please—

"The lucky troll, of course." She tilts her head a little, to hold his gaze. "We both know you didn't make that up on the spot. And I think if you just—if you just gave—whoever it is—a chance—" She's so close so close so close and he can count every single sparkling freckle on her round pink cheeks and God, what he wouldn't give to kiss each one. "—a chance to know you—to see what I've seen in you—" Her hand slips down his wrist until she's holding his hand holding holding holding his hand and she can feel his fingers shaking and his palms sweating and he knows she can and he should pull away he should really just pull away but he's never wanted to do anything less in the entire world. "—well—" the word's barely a breath in the space between them, "—I think they'd like what they see."

Kiss her kiss her kiss her kiss her and the words echo over and over in his mind in time with the frantic pounding of his traitorous and hopeful heart and everyone's watching them and he shouldn't he shouldn't he shouldn't—he swore he'd never—but he is—he's leaning down and leaning in and here's the crazy part—she's leaning in too—

Bridget falls. Spectacularly.

An earsplitting, headache-inducing screech of her skates against the slick tiles of the rink is their only warning, and then the world is a blur of bright lights and Bridget stammering out apologies and the Bergen King kneeling in front of her, asking her if she's okay, and the unmistakable throb of bruises forming all over Branch's body as Bridget strikes the ground, colors popping in front of his eyes and he's only marginally cushioned by the thick cloud of rainbow hair and there's a strange kind of weight on his chest—

Instinct acts for him, tearing his eyes open and ripping his head back up off the ground—and though the others haven't moved, sprawled where they fell atop Bridget's head, they're not hurt, and he lets out a breath—everyone's all right—no—no, wait, everyone's not all right—where—Poppy—where's Poppy—?

The weight on his chest shifts.

Branch snaps his eyes shut. Why didn't the fall just kill me?

"—I-I'm so sorry, I just—I didn't mean—I'm such a clumsy idiot—" Bridget's trembling voice breaks through his momentary pity party. God, the poor girl sounds like she's about to burst into tears any second. The "Lady Glittersparkles" façade has cracked clean in two—Branch tugs his eyes back open, and makes himself meet Poppy's gaze—tries to tell her, without words, to help Bridget—

"No, no, no, that's okay! It's okay!" The Bergen King smiles down at her. "We all lose control of our skates once in a while, darling!"

Poppy absolutely beams. "Ha! Listen to him! Can't take his eyes off her, can he?"

"I—" Branch tries not to notice the warmth of her breath on his neck. He's not the only one. "Great," he says, a little breathlessly, and it's supposed to be sarcastic but that gets a little lost somewhere between his mind and his mouth and yes, her hair does still smell like strawberries, and she's smiling at him and a second too late he realizes the lift, the ache, in the side of his face means he must be smiling back—

"Hey, Branch?"

His name falls softly as snow from her lips. He tells himself he doesn't care if she ever says it again.

"W-what?"

His own voice is ugly in comparison, all shaky and stuttery and clumsy, like a child still learning how to speak.

"I think you kinda do have a nice smile, too."

Branch's heart stops. Either it's finally hammered its way out of him, and flung itself as far away as possible in a desperate bid for freedom from all the shit Poppy's put it through in the last three minutes alone, or it's just given up, and died in his chest and either way, he really can't blame it. I think you kinda do have a nice smile, too, and his skin is tingling where it's pressed against hers and he needs to say something—something horrible—something that'll make her hate him—

Bridget shifts, and reaches for the Bergen King's outstretched hand—and she starts to stand, and the world is a blur all over again and Branch doesn't know who moves first but the world is a blur of he and Poppy ripping away from each other, ripping back, scrambling away like they can't ever put enough space between them—like repelled magnets, like the touch of one burned the other—and his body aches with the absence of hers and he tells himself it doesn't and now that he can't smell the strawberries in her hair or feel the tingle of her skin on his, it's so much easier to remember why he can't kiss her, why he can't love her, why he can't hold her hand in his or twine his hair around hers or go around telling her she has a nice smile or go around believing it when she tells him he has a nice smile—

"Well," she says, softly, and there's something strangely flat in her voice, in her face, "I guess that's my cue." She slides down Bridget's head, to settle right above the enormous ear, and she doesn't look back.

Yeah. It's official. Feeling things is fucking bullshit.

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #emrys' spellbook

62 notes · View notes