#▷ visage * you're a sunflower

[ownst0ry]

tag dump!

[wentdownarabbithole]

Unearth without a name

Content: TXT x reader (separate)(hyung line)

Inspired by Dirty Grass by Heretic Parfums-  Sweet secrets in spring that the hyung line carry with them - treasures with no name. Or: Txt’s favorite moments in spring they've shared with you

Soobin 

Spring with Soobin is curling around each other in the quiet solitude of transitional skies. When the sun drips watercolor hues of pink and purple until dark blues and black color over it - is when Soobin favors taking you out to watch it all fade. The cusp of sunset so he can dedicate the night to you. 

The sun going down brings a glow to your skin he’s addicted to - the way light shines in your eyes and the way your lips stretch against your teeth as you smile. It's this sight he thinks is just for him to stow away - storing your visage into his chest where only he can covet it so preciously. He’d maybe consider taking a picture - one he's sure would land in museums - if only it didn’t mean the possibility of having to share you. 

As the night cools he favors wrapping around you to share warmth. He’d give everything that makes himself up to keep you smiling - so really sharing body heat is the least of his gifts. He takes this time to press into you - to soak up your scent, the pliancy of your body. He allows you to choose how you lay in the grass, watching the sun go down. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible - because it's here when he thinks you're the prettiest, with a smile. He allows his hands to smooth over your skin to steal away bits of you for his gallery, that only he can see. 

He finds his lips loose with you, as if you're a sweet liquor that's hidden in a drink that has lowered his inhibitions, only he just needs your presence. From praises to prophecies each word that drips from his mouth is a promise to you. A promise for a loving tomorrow, for a soft future, and for a warm night where you can exist together just as lovers on a hill, watching the sun go down but losing no heat. 

This is the picture he keeps to himself to gaze at through his memory. To him there's nothing that could come close to a masterpiece as long as he has this. The way the grass curls along your skin, the way twilight shines on your lips and the lazy love tying you together as a promise. Van Gogh has his starry night, Da Vinci's Mona Lisa, and Soobin has you - his darling draped in love. Just as any other piece of artwork. 

Soobin's head is buried into your neck, arms wrapped around your waist and legs tangled. You’d almost be able to assume he was asleep if you couldn't hear the small erratic breaths near your ear. This long into the relationship - yet Soobin is just as shy and obsessive as the first time he’s ever had you in his arms. In this moment Soobin almost could swear his brain melts in his skull - spewing out his ears all so he can think about you in totality. The way you feel in his arms, your weight pressing against him - it's euphoria. Just being able to be here - it's intoxicating. Like a sort of high, his brain ceases to function but to think of you - and the very thought of you further melts him into his madness. If he’d have to label the bone deep satisfactory pleasure seeing you smile gave him, he’d call it love. 

Yeonjun 

 Yeonjun thrives under your attention - like how a sunflower seeks the sun he’s always turned towards you, to see if your eyes are on him, if your lips speak of him, if you carry him with you the way he does. He wants everything you are to himself - because he’s already given everything he is to you - neatly wrapped in ribbons and a kiss. 

He favors golden hours in spring - a weak man for the way the sun seems to shine just for you. Like he’s living in a photo - everything is picturesque and you're the most beautiful picture in the world. Oftentimes he sets the scene fr you - a picnic under a flower tree is his favorite. Like how artists often paint stars and the moon as their muse - this is his art - framing you in everything beautiful. 

He could sit for hours - he has - listening to you talk - and even if you feel quiet for the day he's content soaking in your presence. He’ll steal a kiss of two occasionally - just to be able to keep your taste on his tongue. It often tastes of sweet fruits he cut for you, of your favorite food he’s brought so he could see you smile as you eat. If you’ll allow him, he’d be prone to keeping his lips on your skin - sometimes with the intention to kiss or suck, but mostly to just keep it there as an eternal imprint on your flesh - like a knight swearing faulty to his royalty. 

Yeonjun needs you to feel full in a way - and he makes these scenes to be able to ravish you until he can feel you on his skin even when you're miles away. He truly feels as if your very presence could nourish him, he swears does better in practice if you let him savor you to himself just before - as if on a sugar rush. He swears it's because he takes a bit of you with him in his chest. It's what gets him through the day - like how a morning coffee powers an office worker, all he needs is you. 

The sun allows an alluring glow to set your skin alight in a way that reminds Yeonjun of a bonfire. A honey color painting you in a way that leaves him insatiable for a taste - he presses in again just to leave a messy kiss near the back of your ear. Your responding laugh is just as addicting as he swallows it down as well. He doesn't know how he’s lived without you before but now with a belly full of warmth and love that practically drips from his teeth he'll never let you go. Soon the sun will fall but it will take none of your glory with it - Yeonjun could write pages on how it's you who allows the sun to glow instead. He doesn't need a time or place to fall into your arms - he just needs you. Now and forever - you and your Yeonjun. 

Beomgyu 

Beomgyu is a bit of a social chameleon - he knows how to read energy- how to make people laugh. Sometimes he thinks it's all he can do - butchering his own character into a jester's clothes just so he can entertain the court. Despite this, it's not as if he despises laughter itself - he loves it, especially in your voice - the way you shake with it when he tells a particularly good joke. But most of all Beomgyu loves laughing with you, sharing your joy - not because of something particularly funny - but rather because you're having fun.  A laugher of joy, of content and warmth and love -shared between you as you drag him off the lime lighted stage and into the crowd below. 

He loves stealing you away when the sun has long settled and given the sky to its moon. The world is under a curtain - a spell and here in this world it's just him and you -just partners under the sky. His heart walking around without him - gorgeously pliant in his arms. He loves making you laugh, it's practically his heart beat - what keeps him alive. His blood dances to your breath. 

His favorite activity while the world is still warm in season is to find fireflies on grassy plains - little will-o-wisp lanterns that punctuate the night. They are beautiful and familiar - like a guiding light in the dark - it's only fighting that you're surrounded by them in a scenery that matches you. Catching fireflies takes a bit of stealth and a gentle hand - he’ll walk you through it if you need it. But if you take a quick look during your chase you’ll see him giggling to himself - pink with love and rushing blood and eyes blind except for you. 

This is what he lives for, what's keeping him in his own skin. Because Beomgyu only knows one fact for sure that's etched in his bones, Beomgyu loves you - and the joy he feels bubbling from his chest can't be anything else. I love you, I love you, I love you - his existence is a confession. 

You tumble home with grass stains on your knees and stray pieces of plants tangled in your hair - remainders form the playful tumble down a hill. Beomgyu shields you on the way down - though he barely notices his body move - it's instinctual for him, like a rib cage protecting its heat. He was far too busy listening to your laugh - allowing his own to soar free from where it was caught in his through. A joint joy or orchestral content that colors the air. Hand in hand - occasionally twirling each other on the street just to watch you smile - Beomgyu walks with you forward into the future. 

He can hear it behind his eardrums, feel it hammering against his chest so violently he's surprised it hasn't burst out yet. His heart responded in boisterous beating to the joy that ricochets out of his chest in a laugh, trying to break free to be next to you. He’s sure you can feel his heartbeat from where he holds you, your head is close to his chest and Beomgyu is conveyed all his body serves to do is act as a speaker yelling on how it loves you. Each pump is another steady confession like the night he first asked you out - cheeks ruddy as he stuttered out a confession. There's nobody else on the street to see him pull you into a tacky dance lit only by the moon, no audience to your resounding laughters adding together as if built to be one. There's no one else to share the sight of Beomgyu holding two hearts - one in his chest and one he presses a kiss to in the secret of the night. 

Author's note: ACK. We are doing our best with questionable results. Anyways - sudden TXT brain rot hit at like 3 am. Also! Their recent comeback is based on the little prince and I was OBSESSED with that book. 

[yulafilms]

⊹ 훈 ⨾ OOPSY-DAISY, BABY!

≡ ⌂ ⌕ 𝐘𝐔𝐋𝐀's masterlist. navigation. latest work. ⌨︎

wherein . .⃗ . it was love at first crash. or perhaps not. five minutes before the school bell rang and the student council president detained the late students, park sunghoon's bicycle crashed into you—and irreversibly, your life.

tropes . .⃗ . highsch romance, first love, pathetic pining, shameless flirty banter, sunshine reader x sunflower sunghoon, fluff

❛ ༄︎ ❜ SPRING. SUMMER. AUTUMN. WINTER. ᷦ᷼ ᷦ ᷦ♡

❘ ❙ ❚ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑,

⠀⠀⠀SUNLIGHT STREAKED THROUGH THE GRIDDED WINDOWS, ILLUMINATING THE FLOOR INTO A KEYBOARD OF SHADOWS AND LIGHT, AND YOU FELT AS THOUGH YOU STEPPED ON THE WRONG KEY AS YOU STOPPED BEHIND A TALL FIGURE, FLINCHING AS YOUR NERVOUS VOICE CRACKED: “DOES IT STILL HURT?”

It took Sunghoon a full minute to pivot around.

When he did, the afternoon sun clung onto his visage, softening the edges of his face. Amidst the overlapping conversations and shifting bodies in the hallway, his gasp of realisation was the sole clarity you heard. It surprised you too—how you were crossing paths with him. What more talking to him.

“Is that question addressed to me?”

You laughed. Though it may sound forced due to your bashfulness, the amusement you found in his doe-eyed expression was genuine. “Is there anyone else who twisted their ankle?”

His gaze fluttered towards his wrapped wound, and in so, reminded you of his crestfallen expression when the nurse told Sunghoon he wouldn't be able to engage in any strenuous activity, much less his ice-skating competition.

“To be honest, it’s not the worst I’ve experienced.”

Sunghoon was supposed to compete in an ice skating match the day he twisted his ankle. The reason he woke up late was because he spent the prior night practising. If it weren't for your miraculous timing, Sunghoon would've made it to school in time and probably snatched the gold medal. Though he was quite confident in his healing abilities, claiming he was insusceptible to any injury lasting longer than two weeks, your guilt festered like an untreatable wound.

“Are you heading to the library?” It was self-study time and you noticed the stacks of books clutched to his chest. “I'll go with you, so let me help you with that.”

Sunghoon shook his head.

“You don't have to do this. I don't blame you.” He sounded offended that you wanted to help, which ticked you off because frankly, everything was your fault.

“Sunghoon, please. I've been wallowing in guilt since that day,” you said. “If it makes you comfortable, think of it as hanging out with a friend.”

His mouth parted. “We're……friends?”

“I mean—” You fidgeted with the hem of your uniform. Technically, you two were the victim and perpetrator. In your head, you silently cursed yourself for speaking so carelessly. Who would befriend the stranger who slammed their car door into his face? “If you're willing to let me make it up to you, we can be.”

Then there it was again. That gentle smile. The very smile that stole the air from your lungs.

“If you're this persistent, I have no choice, do I?”

“Yes.” You flashed a cheeky smile. “You've got no choice, baby.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀SUMMER SWEPT IN WITH A HUMID BREATH, NURTURING THE BUDS OF SPRING INTO TALL TREES AND ENDLESS FOLIAGE. BY NOW, YOU HAVE ADAPTED TO THE HEAT OF JUNE AND THE THURSDAYS WITH PARK SUNGHOON.

“You look like a corpse.”

The familiar voice made you tense your shoulders, briefly loosening your grip on your water bottle before you composed yourself. It has been a week since you last spoke to him, due to your different classes. You were planning to catch up with him tomorrow at your promised library meetings, but you found yourself incredibly lucky. Delight threatened to ooze out of your existence, but you refused to show it. The water dispenser's water was warmer compared to your cold tone.

“Thank you baby, you always know how to earn a girl's heart.”

You didn't have to look at Sunghoon to sense his smirk. During your first encounter, you thought him a boy of kindness, but really, he could be so blunt.

“Give yourself some space to breathe,” he said, this time softer. “Don't stress yourself out. You're a bright kid. There's a reason you are ranked in the top 50 of our school.”

Once your bottle began to brim, you stepped aside, allowing Park Sunghoon to effortlessly step in. Instead of returning to class, you propped your chin upon your bottle and raised your brow at him.

“What's your rank?”

“High enough to be speaking with you.”

“You know that's not what I mean.”

“I'm just teasing you.” It puzzled you how he was enjoying himself. He was like a pervert who loved teasing others. “Don't worry, I'm not some dumb delinquent, though I almost failed chemistry.”

You clicked your fingers.

“But you will never fail to sense the chemistry between—”

Sunghoon shut the faucet. “I'm leaving.”

“See you tomorrow!”

You didn't know when or how, but you wanted to give Park Sunghoon all your tomorrows. He became a silhouette you'd spend minutes hunting for each day. Your eyes would search the entire basketball court, in case he was playing. You would peek into his class whenever you passed by, eager to catch a glimpse of him. Usually, you would be satisfied with meeting him at the library, however today was a special case. Today, you couldn’t wait for Thursday to come.

The confusion surrounding Sunghoon was palpable, but you paid his furrowed expression no mind as you sat across him in the cafeteria.

You cleared your throat.

“There's a volleyball tournament coming up in September.” You licked your lips, darting your eyes between Sunghoon and your classmate beside him. The anxiety made you parched. “It's a mixed match. Jake is part of my team.”

Sunghoon swallowed his food, staring at you without blinking. You could see the gears in his head work as he tried to form an appropriate response. “Goodluck?”

“Right, thank you but I don't actually need luck right now. What I need is a libero.” You glanced around the cafeteria. “Speaking of which, aren't you the perfect candidate?”

“But I'm terrible at volleyball,” Sunghoon deadpanned.

“Lie. Jake mentioned you were their best libero in middle school.”

At your words, Sunghoon cast a glare towards his best friend. Jake feigned ignorance as he stood up. “You two, keep talking. I'm going to get myself a drink.”

After Jake left, you abandoned all senses of pride and became shameless.

“Just help me out, please? I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but I'm begging you.” You clapped your hands together. “Baby, you know I'd do anything for you. Won't you return the favour?”

Knowing Sunghoon, he would give in once you called him that toe curling nickname. Never once did your trick fail. You've managed to drag him into doing so many favours, which was why you were left aghast by his lack of a response. He just sat there and continued chewing his food. He wanted a bargain, and you knew exactly what he wanted.

You sighed. It was time to use the last resort.

“Sunghoon,” You extended your palm. “I'll buy your favourite coffee-flavoured ice cream for a week.”

Within a blink, Sunghoon grabbed your hand and shook it.

“Two weeks. I look forward to our collaboration—” he smirked. “—baby.”

That was the first time Park Sunghoon called you baby, and for some disgusting reason, it made your heart skip a beat.

✉ reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[rom-e-o]

The Sun and Her Star (Constance/Ebenezer)

@quill-pen I got to thinking more about Starry's birth, and oof.

Trigger warning for birth-related descriptions and semi-graphic imagery. Nothing tooo intense though.

A nurse stood in the doorway to the master bedroom, hands splayed outward defensively to fill the doorframe as best she could. “Sir, please, it’s not customary for you to—”

“To hell with your bloody customs!” the man beyond the threshold said, his voice deep yet string with panic. “My wife is giving birth! I hear her screaming!"

"I understand you're upset, but Mr. Scrooge-"

"'Upset'? You think I'm ONLY upset?"

Constance felt searing pain down her midsection. Pain surged like fire behind her eyes, and whenever she opened them to try and find her husband, blinding whiteness made her whimper. The pain she felt was worse than when both of her femurs had snapped in half after being pushed down the stairs years before.

The pain was blinding. Every passing second felt like a thousand-year war to stay awake. Then, worst of all, there was the smell of blood. Blood and bile. All hers.

“E-Ebenezer…” she whispered as another incredible flood of pressure tore through her. She tried to extend a hand in the direction of his voice.

She heard frantic footsteps. Seconds later, a familiar hand gripped hers like a vice.

“Connie, my sunflower…” Scrooge whispered. His voice was feather-soft but frayed at the edges with a terror she shared. He placed a kiss atop her knuckles, pressing his lips hard into her skin. “I’m right here.”

She turned her head in the direction of the voice. This time, when she opened her eyes, she saw his visage over her.

As expected, he looked about as swell as she did. He was still handsome – she’d always find him handsome, but he looked haggard. The labor had gone on for hours, and neither of them had slept. The birth had started shortly after midnight, and now, the rays of dawn were starting to warm the room and fill it with the telltale, rosy glow of early springtime.

The once serene bedroom was now filled with nurses and medical professionals bustling about. Magda, who would have normally been preparing breakfast, now sprinted back and forth bringing the midwife with all the hot water and towels she could possibly need.

“Constance, you need to push again,” one nurse said, her face buried beneath a bloodied swatch of cloth that was draped over the woman’s knees. “Nothing’s happening.”

Push again? She could barely stay awake.

“I…I…” Constance stammered, the ability to make words leaving her. “Y-Yes, I’ll push.”

Bracing herself, she rose to her elbows. Filling her lungs with air, she ground her teeth and tightened her muscles with all her might.

Seconds later, the midwife chirped up merrily. “Good! The baby is crowning! We’re head-first – good.”

Despite the excellent news, Ebenezer remained focused on his wife and trying to comfort her through the very obvious pain she felt.

He dabbed her forehead with a cold cloth, knowing she hated the feeling of being sweaty. She gave him an appreciative smile that, while beautiful, he knew was forced. Her strength was waning, and she was trying to be strong.

The only panacea was Ebenezer at her side, squeezing her hand and stroking her sweat-drenched hair.

As she gazed into his slate-blue eyes, she felt tears well up in hers. With no voice left to speak, she hoped he could read her mind.

I don’t want to leave you yet. I want to meet our baby. I’m not ready. I love you. Can you hear me? I love you. I love you. I love you I love you love you love you so much.

All other sights and sounds faded into white noise around her. The pain she felt deafened her and made her vision cloudy. It felt like the world was drifting away from her, or perhaps that she was drifting away from the world.

“Connie, can you hear me?” he asked, his voice breaking as she gently shook her. When she didn’t respond, fear gripped his chest. “Connie? Constance? Constance!”

“Sir,” a nurse piped up, her voice measured despite the situation, “Keep your voice down—”  

“Help me get her upright!” Ebenezer pleaded. He jumped up and slid his arms down Constance’s back, lifting her torso off the mattress so it could rest on his chest. Gravity would help, right? Why the hell did women give birth laying down, anyway?

When he felt how cold her skin was, he let out an inadvertent sob.

No. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not to her.

“Sir, she—”

“She’s unconscious!” he cried. Tears poured down his face now. The man was white as a ghost, his eyes red and hands trembling. He looked like an embodiment of fear itself. “Please, please help me!”

Her body moved on its own. Unable to voice her confusion, she could only focus on her breathing as she felt her body lift from the mattress and slip into a kneeling position on the bed. He felt weightless and lead-like all at the same time.

Almost immediately, a wave of relief washed over her. Ragged breaths escaped her, and her choked sobs of pain turned choppy and frantic.

The baby was coming. It was coming, and she didn’t have to push as hard.

Letting gravity aid her, the surges of agony shifted into a sensation more akin to cramps. Strong aches radiated from her abdomen and all the way to her thighs, sides and buttocks. There was pressure on her bladder, and a stretch in her vagina that rendered her speechless with pain.

Watery voices around her pleaded for her to stay awake. Not to push, not to fight, just to stay awake. To stay alive.

Then, minutes later … euphoria.

A loud gasp escaped her as the pressure evaporated, her knees went slack and … she heard the sound of crying. A baby crying.

Two strong, familiar arms embraced her and kept her from toppling over and off the bed. Constance felt she familiar shape of Ebenezer’s chest, his aftershave and soft pajamas sensations she pinpointed as unequivocally his despite being on the brink of sleep.

“It’s a girl!” one bystander cried merrily.

“Red hair, just like her mama.”

“Hurry, bring me a clamp!”

Magda let out a sob of relief, and Prudence whimpered from beyond the door.

While joy radiated around the room, Constance felt weak. Empty. Achy.

Thankfully, the person holding her sensed her discomfort, and immediately laid her down. She lay supine, breathing steadily, her cheeks streaking with silver trails from her tears. She felt dizzy and too warm all at once, and all the noise in the room made her nauseous.

Then, she felt him.

His hands cupped her ears, helping to shield out some noise, as she felt his forehead press to hers. The brush of his muttonchops was undeniable, and she felt his nose press into her cheek.

“Constance. You did it. My brilliant, beautiful girl…thank you.”

He repeated her name like a mantra, arms holding her close despite the blood and bodily fluids that soaked her and the bedspread.

“Are you with me?” he asked, his voice soft and afraid. “I’m sorry I moved you. I-I…are you hurting? What can I do?”

The redheaded woman stared up at him in a daze. Then, her dry lips formed a smile. She kissed his cheek gently, which took more strength than any feat of strength she’d ever had to accomplish before.

“T-Thank you…” she croaked. "I-I'm here."

At hearing her speak, it was as if a spell of terror was broken. With a cry of elation, all the emotion he felt poured forth. He squeezed her tightly and kissed every inch of her face.

The onslaught of affection went on for half a minute until he realized she probably needed space. He stepped away briefly to dry his eyes and collect himself. Magda went to the man’s side, rubbing his back and whispering sweet words to him.

While they talked, another nurse began to help her change out of her soiled bedclothes and into a fresh nightgown. The gown was long and white; a little austere for her tastes, but so comfortable that she actually moaned as she was tucked in. Ebenezer laughed from the other side of the room, still shaking with relief.

Once she was cleaned up, the nurse came around the bed carrying a bundle in her arms. When she saw tiny hands stretch out from the bundle, the skin as pink and wrinkly as the belly of a newborn kitten, all the pain from before was forgotten. She found the strength to lean forward, but to the nurse’s chagrin, and opened her arms. ��I-Is that…?”

“Yes, this is her,” the nurse said. Her professional medical decorum from before had melted into something more gentle as she stared down at the recovering woman. “Congratulations, dear. You’re a mother.”

A mother.

A small, swaddled baby with reddish-brown hair was deposited into Constance’s arms. She reflexively tucked the baby close to her chest, patting her protectively.

Now beaming from excitement, she mouthed for Ebenezer to join her, as well as Magda. The two edged closer, Ebenezer taking the lead.

When he drew close enough to gaze into his daughter’s eyes, he shivered and drew in a steady breath. “Gods, she’s so beautiful.”

The small baby was barely a minute old, and already looked entranced by the world around her. Wide, crystal-clear eyes glanced around the room with evident curiosity.

“She’s gorgeous, love,” Magda said while using the corner of her apron to dab her tears. “Just like you.”

The newborn's cheeks were flushed bright red, and her tiny nose had an owlish shape that Constance knew would give her a Roman profile as stunning as her father’s.

“Welcome, you amazing girl…” Constance whispered. The redheaded baby, her eyes large and crystal-blue, stared back at her mother like a mortal glimpsing a goddess.

“My beautiful star.”

[minhosimthings]

TO ME YOU'RE A LOTUS 🪷

Because it's a symbol of purity of soul and spirit that perseveres, and the power of good over evil. Just like how it rises with grace and beauty out of the murky water, it shows your strength to triumph over any adversity. You show me that inner courage gives a personal transformation, your pristine petals of talent untouched by the harsh swampy conditions it arises from. ALSO the heavenly beauty of a lotus can hardly be paralleled .... I MEAN ITS THE NATIONAL FLOWER OF INDIA FOR A REASON!!!! and I see the visage of a lotus in you, Momma 😁😁😁

JASMINE BABY OMGGG I LOVE LOVE LOTUSES they're legit so pretty I can't believe you think I'm a lotus im honoured

You are definitely a sunflower. They symbolise happiness and youth and just like you they deserve to be in my pocket 😚😚

[venusdcmilo]

@valorinclined liked your post “venusdcmilo: yo like this post if you want me to draw our muses...”

honestly venus getting mom vibes from anyone is perfect and worth my life to protect ?!?!? so here’s to two sad gorls i guess lmao

[jrnalst]

tag drop !!