A/N: Taking a short break from "Trolls 3.0" to work on this new collection of stories! The first few will be Broppy-related, since it is Broppy week of course.

Our first scenario will be, what if Branch used a different method to awaken Poppy instead of the bug defibrillator in "Trolls"?

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"Poppy!"

Branch gasped at the sight of the pink Pop Princess, strewn helplessly on the ground and bound tightly within the white silken cords of the spider's web. He took immediate action, rushing to her side and using a nearby bug's strong jaws and sharp teeth as a pair of scissors to cut her free from the bondage. Things, however, didn't seem any better upon doing so. The future queen was unconscious, her eyes shut, her body limp. If anything, it looked as though she were in a fitful sleep. But not to Branch. A survivalist knew that even the most innocent of appearances could be deceiving. And if this was the manner that he had found her – about to be eaten by a trio of giant, bloodthirsty spiders - he couldn't imagine what other taxing dangers she'd come across prior to his arrival.

Calming himself some, Branch held her arm up, pressing his fingers against her wrist. He hardly felt a pulse. The panic really began to grip him when he bent down, ear against her chest, listening and straining to hear the proper, rapid heartbeat a Troll was supposed to have. His eyebrows creased in worry. Was it too late for the Pop Princess? Had he been too late? He berated himself for having waited so long to pick up and leave the bunker. The first Hug Time should've prompted him to get moving. But, in an attempt to not let her have the victory so easy, he had stayed. Stubbornly. Defiantly. And now look where it had landed Poppy.

But just as quickly, Branch dashed those thoughts away, clenching his fists and setting a firm look of determination on his face. No! It's NOT too late. He ran over the facts in his head: Poppy was unconscious. She needs to become re-conscious again. First things first: she needed air in her lungs. There was no steady rise and fall of her chest indicative of regular breathing. Luckily for him, he knew just how to resolve it, in one of the most basic of lifesaving techniques – CPR.

Yes, that's it. Simple, the teal Troll assured himself, recalling the method. Head tilt back, open the airways. Thirty chest compressions. Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation... WHOOAA, wait a second... He paused as the realization overcame him for the first time. A realization of the last part of that process. Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation... He'd have to put his lips on Princess Poppy's?! The girl that he would never admit to having an insane crush on? The girl that he'd fantasized kissing more times than he believed to be good for his own sanity? But this ISN'T a kiss, he harshly reminded himself. This has NOTHING to do with romance or love, at ALL! In that same instance, however, he happened to recall the section in his health and safety book that detailed the CPR method, remembering how he'd scoffed and rolled his eyes at the 'Did You Know?' paragraph that explained that the method had also been nicknamed 'The Kiss of Life.' He scoffed again at it. It's not a kiss.

Well... not REALLY.

It had some elements that were similar to a kiss, he supposed. There was the touching of lips, the obvious one. A kiss, though, was meant as a special gesture of affection, with consent from the person involved, usually a spouse or lover. Poppy (much to his disappointment) was not his wife. Not his girlfriend. Heck, she didn't even qualify as his friend. He had himself to thank for that. And there was also no consent here. But it wasn't as though he had much of a choice. He couldn't ask her if it was all right for him to proceed with what he was going to do. The whole point of this was to get her to awaken again!

Get a hold of yourself! The voice in his head was growing agitated now. Once again, NOT a kiss. He was saving the future queen's life. There was no time to be immature or bashful. Besides, there's no one here to see. And even if they DID see, I mean, I AM saving her life. They should know that it's just THAT, right?

Branch hunched over the Princess, tilting her head back, slightly parting her lips. Step One. Check. He placed one palm on her chest above her heart, using the other to pump down his hand in a rhythmic motion, silently counting each time.

One... two... three...

... ten... elven... twelve...

... twenty-four... twenty-five... twenty-six...

Each digit closer, he felt his nerves creep in.

... twenty-nine. Thirty.

Step Two. Check.

Now, Step Three.

Branch subconsciously licked his lips, hoping that the motion would placate his nerves and moisten his suddenly parched mouth. He gently lowered his face until his lips hovered just above hers. He inhaled deeply, and then exhaled. This was it. It had to be done. It was do or die, for Poppy at least. The mantra rang in his head as he began, ever so slowly, to close the distance between them.

Not a kiss... NOT a kiss... NOT A KISS...

And yet with all his self pep-talking that he did, it turned out to be no use. For he did not expect the sudden, electrical sensation that jolted through his body when he lightly pressed his lips against hers, her sweet strawberry taste overpowering him. Not one coherent thought about that he'd attempted to convince himself of made itself known at that moment. His rationality had evaporated as quickly as steam from a kettle. Disappeared as fast as bugs scattering when a light turned on. What came instead was pure, unadulterated joy, making him delirious with the one thought that he finally, finally, had his lips pressed against the pink Pop Princess's. Not the situation that he envisioned by any means – he'd always pictured it far more romantic. The two of them having just been out on the most wonderful of dates, taking a moonlight stroll, snuggling under the stars, leaning closer and closer to each other until their lips met, timidly at first, but then morphing into passion as they sweetly kissed and reveled in the wondrous feeling.

Not Poppy passed out... waiting to come to if he would just get started in administering his rescue breaths already.

Right. FOCUS!

Branch snapped out of his romantic funk, glad that he couldn't see himself kneeling there, frozen in place and likely with a stupid expression on his face as he just sat there with his lips pressed against the Princess's, doing absolutely nothing but delaying the critical procedure with his hormonally-driven dorkiness. Branch blushed, and then got to it, pumping the air she so needed into her, once and then twice. With reluctance he wished was not there, he pulled away, glancing down at Poppy and hesitantly awaiting for any sign of life. He felt his heart thrum loudly in his chest when she still remained unresponsive. There was no significant sign of breathing. Her eyelids were not twitching, not about to open. Her fingers were not flexing at the tips. It hadn't worked.

Well, MAYBE if you hadn't waited so long in between the last two steps, things would be different!

Branch furrowed his brows. This would not be the way things ended for Poppy. Alone in the middle of the woods, a long ways from home, barely having even lived half of what her lifespan should be and in the company of the lone, gray, grump of the village who could hardly concentrate even implementing the life-saving maneuver he'd intended due to his unrequited attraction for the Princess. Uh-uh. Not by any means. Princess Poppy would live, if he had anything to say about it.

Again he went at it, vigorously pumping at her chest with his palm, counting those thirty seconds, dipping down to her face once more and pressing his lips against hers - this time ignoring the pleasant tingle that ran down his spine and throughout his body in doing so – filling her lungs with air. He leaned back when he was done, searching again for anything that was a telltale sign of her reawakening.

Nothing.

Nothing, except for the sound of the breeze rustling the nature around them. The flitting motion of a creature some distance away scurrying into the underbrush. The twitch of a pink arm.

WAIT.

Branch fixated his gaze on the Princess. She was perfectly still. Perfectly beautiful, another part of him added, but he just as quickly shut down those thoughts before they could distract him again. Had he imagined her movement?

"P-Poppy?" he asked, tentatively.

He leaned a bit closer, squinting, trying to get a better look, when all of a sudden, she jerked right up into a sitting position, eyes wide, singing "Get back up again!"

The teal Troll nearly felt as though he'd gotten a heart attack with how abruptly it had occurred. He jerked back instinctively, a hand over his chest in surprise. Poppy on the other hand, perky and perfectly back to her senses, didn't seem surprised in the least bit. She noticed Branch kneeled next to her and beamed. "Branch, my man! You are right on time!"

And just like that, things went back to normal. Branch gaped at her incredulously and frowned, already becoming mildly annoyed and unable to believe what it was that he was hearing.

"Oh, don't even!" he grumbled. "Like you knew I was coming."

Poppy disregarded his contemptuous attitude and casually picked out strands of spiderwebs that were still clinging to her hair and princess crown. "Obviously! I figured after the third Hug Time, getting eaten by a Bergen wouldn't seem so bad."

"What?" Branch said, shocked. No... there was no way that she could have possibly known that he left right after the third Hug Time.

Poppy, again, was unaffected. "All right!" she said confidently, getting back to her feet and starting to walk off. "Let's do this! The sooner we get to Bergen Town, the sooner we can rescue everybody and make it home safely!"

Branch along hurried after her. "Wait, wait, wait. What's your plan?" he demanded to know.

"I just told you," Poppy said, calling back over her shoulder. "To rescue everyone and make it home safely!"

Branch laughed dryly. "Okay, that's not a plan," he pointed out. "That's a wish list."

Poppy stopped in her tracks and turned to face Branch, her fists on her hips. "Oh, I suppose you have a plan?"

Yes, yes he did. As a survivalist, he always had to have a plan. And part of this particular plan included not mentioning certain details on her reawakening. He doubted she would ask. The Princess's mind always seemed to run 100 miles an hour with a billion different thoughts. But, if she did, he would simply divert the subject. They had a more important mission to focus on, after all.