#i spent sooooo long washing and brushing and detangling and curling

[cadaverousdecay]

everyone tell her she’s gorgeous while we wait for her hair to dry

[lady-broppy-shipper-seriously]

Late Morning Pancakes (Trolls Fanfic)

Sooooo. Four years ago I wrote a thing and posted it on AO3, and I decided to finally have some shame and wrote the second chapter I promised. Here it is. Have at it, if you want.

Late Morning Pancakes

Branch comes slowly to himself feeling disorientated. He usually closed the blinds of his window and yet the light painted the room with its brightness, not to mention it was coming from the wrong direction.

He blinks slowly, tasting strawberry shampoo in his yawn and comes to the realization he isn’t in his room. His room didn’t have pink walls nor his bed has teal covers, and yet the room is as familiar as a room can get. He has spent a lot of afternoons sitting on the pink carpet doing homework or in front of the television playing video games with his best friend. Speaking of which… he looks down and… oh.

Poppy is in his arms.

Poppy Queen, the girl he was head over heels with since he could remember, is sleeping soundly in his arms, her own around his middle, her puffy deep breaths tickling his neck. He scoots back to see her better, trying to grasp his mind to the fact that he wasn’t dreaming a few hours ago when he followed her upstairs after he let her in her own house after she locked herself out. She makes a tiny, cute sound of complaint when she feels him move away and tightens her hold, inching closer. She takes a deep breath of his chest and sighs contently, going back to sleep.

Branch lays there, frozen in place.

“Um, P-poppy?”

She mumbles something sleepily, then snuggles even closer still and falls into a deep slumber. Which is fine. Totally fine. Peachy. The good news is that if his voice and movement didn’t wake her, it’s highly improbable that his thunderous beating heart will. The bad news is that said heart could start failing any moment now.

Mr. Dinkles, unlike Poppy, decides that they are being too noisy for his liking and jumps off the bed from his spot against Poppy’s back. He stretches and then jogs out of the room slipping through the crack of the door.

Branch takes a deep breath and wonders what time it is. The sun had already risen but it could be anywhere between seven to ten a.m. Good thing his grandma was a night owl and slept in all mornings.

He looks down at Poppy again. Her hair smells recently washed but her cheeks and eyelids still have some lost sparkles that escaped her bath last night. The tiniest of smiles curl her lips upward and he feels his chest tighten. He loves her so much.

Poppy has been his friend since forever, and for the most part of his life, she was his only friend. Nobody could blame him for falling for her smile that never failed to reach her eyes when she whispered a joke for only him to hear, or that little sound she made every time she laughed. He loved her glittery clothes, school supplies and make-up, because when he changed into his pajamas every night, he could find the sparkles in his clothes too, a living proof that she existed inside his personal space. He loved that she was always humming or straight-up singing. She had a song for every occasion, popular or invented. Other times she would change the lyrics just to fit her situation better and he had to hide his smile.

He loved her but hated that she was just so perfect. Perfect for him, at least.

He liked to think that they complimented each other. She was the yin to his yang. She was loud and cheerful while he was quiet and reserved. She was bright and colorful and he was somber and colorless, if his mostly gray and black wardrobe had anything to say about his personality.

If they were a movie, they would just have been made for each other, but…

There is always a but. Sometimes they’re too different to be good for each other. Yet, he hopes that somehow, someday… they can have a chance.

Poppy mumbles something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like his name and he caresses her cheek. He takes the opportunity to bask in her beautiful face without her noticing and settles back on the bed, falling like a puzzle piece against her frame. He squeezes her while he can and her forehead press softly to his neck. He could die a happy boy right then and there.

He lays on her bed daydreaming about her, gently playing with her hair for long minutes and never getting bored until her eyelashes flutter and her pretty eyes meet his own and his heart skips a beat.

“Branch?” She whispers sleepily, certain that the sight of his face framed with her comforter and his messy hair is one she can get used to seeing first thing when she wakes up in the mornings pretty quickly. “Morning,” she says, lips stretching into a dopey grin.

“Uh, um… Morning, Poppy” he mumbles, cheeks turning pink. Did she catch him staring at her sleeping face? Was he being creepy?

Poppy’s smile grows.

“Slept well?” she asks.

“Yeah, yeah. Well.”

She moves her foot and it lifts his pant leg, letting him feel her toes on his calf, bringing his attention to their legs, which are very much intertwined. He gets distracted by her teeth biting her lower lip, eyes awake and sparkling with mischief.

“I promised you pancakes, are you in the mood for some?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He’s not used to talking to her freckles this close. No one can blame him for not being able to concentrate.

“Okay,” she giggles and proceeds to stay very much in the same position. “Branch?”

“Hm?”

“You’re gonna have to let me go if you want breakfast” she chuckles. Of course, she could have detangled herself from him but where’s the fun in that? The more she can have him blushing and on his toes before she pounces, the better.

“Oh! Right, sorry!” He stammers and drops his hands from her like she burned him. She can’t have that, so she leans forward and steals a kiss from the corner of his lips. He gasps.

“Oh, sorry. I missed” she says, voice light and playful. She shots him a wink, despite the stuttering of her own heart and the increasing pinkness of her cheeks. She plants an elbow on the mattress and leans over him, flushing their chests together and proceeds to kiss the other side of his mouth.

He looks at her with wild, confused eyes, mouth still tingly and parted with surprise.

“Damn, I should still be ever so sleepy. I can’t seem to concentrate and my aim is all wrong. Would you care to help me out, Branch?”

“Uh, uh… I, uh…”

She giggles. His cheeks are as flushed as hers, but his eyes are shiny in a way that she can only hope is something akin to excitement.

“Or, would you like for me to give it another shot?” Her voice sounds soft and shy in a way that she doesn’t recognize, but also eager and trusting, the same way she always feels around him. Her smile widens when he nods.

She then finally leans in and touches her lips to his firmly, relishing on the feeling of having them outlining his mouth. She spent so many nights wondering about their texture, or how warm they’d be, so she finds herself parting for a few seconds just to prove another angle, to fill the other side of his mouth, coming back for another and another, always telling herself it’s the last one before she searches for a reaction on his eyes, but then his fingertips brush her scalp and she sighs and his mouth chases it and it’s the best experience of her life.

When she finally looks into his eyes, they are the loveliest shade of blue. She’s sure her own have a glaze to them, but she can’t find it in her to care. He’s looking at her like she’s some kind of mystic, magic creature who just granted him a blessing. He’s looking at her how he always does. She realizes she’s smiling when her lips try to smile wider and she can’t.

“I love you, Poppy,” he says, voice soft in the quiet of the room.

She initiated their first kiss, so she guesses it’s fair he gets to say the first ‘I love you’.

“I love you too, Branch,” she says shyly and flirty at the same time.

They don’t need to say anything else, their hearts know each other. Branch smiles too and Poppy thinks the pancakes can wait 'till late morning to be eaten.