blushing - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
There's a kind of blushing that shows the soul, a sort of compliment to the eyes and the delicate sweetness within. It shows a connection, that the smile and shyness come from some deep emotion... and that's a beautiful thing, that's something real.
Her cheeks are as round as her face, although her body doesn't have so many curves. They're always rosy, as if she's shy all the time, which isn't a lie at all. There has been only one time when I've actually seen her ashamed. Not only her cheeks, but her whole face turned red. Though the ears had been hidden among the messy curls of her hair, it was obvious that they were as rosy as her face. I hadn't known she feels more than she expresses, until then, when I saw her turn to hide in the most gentle way. Later, when we knew each other better, she said sometimes she feels her shoulders, and in extreme cases, her arms burning with shyness, and her stomach becoming a dome because of the butterflies that always remain.
I'd never seen Nancy blush, she was always stoic, in charge and to be honest, annoyingly self assured. So when I saw that pink in her cheeks I knew something serious was afoot. Malcolm had just walked in, he'd had a growth spurt over the summer and had returned to high-school north of six foot tall. He'd been working at the docks to build up a college fund and his newly acquired tan was laid over muscle. He approached the counter with a bag of apples and Nancy turned to busy herself tidying the shelf, leaving me to be the cashier. At any other time she would barge me out of the way as if I were too incompetent to handle either customers or change. So I said nothing but filed it all away for later use. Next time she bossed me I fully planned to be less pliable.
Amy's cheeks are suddenly kissed pink like a spring rose, the blooming colour so cute against her freckled skin. She looks away and finds a distraction at the sink, washing up a mug that doesn't need it. Josh hangs back, allowing her time to compose herself, fighting back the smile that wants to break out. What happens next he's going to want to remember for a long time, so while his gaze is soft he doesn't drop his eyes for a moment.
Lucy’s blush seared through her cheeks and for a minute she thought her face was on fire. She suddenly felt awkward, demure, and coy; even going as far as attempting to hide her rosy features behind her slim fingers. The blonde haired woman knew that every single pairs of eyes were looking at her – all eagerly waiting for a reaction, a response, like predatory beasts.
Her own private thoughts made her blush, a boy looking her way made her blush, being asked to hand out the text books made her blush. It wasn't cute either. It wasn't a soft pink like a healthy outdoors glow, it was beet red. Then the blushing made her blush harder until she was scarlet and roasting hot. After a time she took to wearing make-up to cover it, but it burnt through all the same. A thicker layer would only crack or age her by twenty years and so she was stuck with the tormenting blushes.
As she attempted to hide her face behind her chalky-white fingers, her cheeks became a color to rival the rose-pink hue of her nail polish, and shone through the gaps.
She turned her head to the side to avert her gaze, but the sudden rosiness of her cheeks gave her away.
Her face became the color of a bad sunburn and under that flaming orange hair it had the effect of making her head look like it was on fire.
Her blush burned through her cheeks and her face felt like a hot oven. She suddenly felt awkward as she attempted to hide her rosey cheeks behind her skinny fingers.