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#mysme hyun ryu
just-mysme-headshots · 2 months
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I just got back on my mystic messenger hyperfixation and your art was such a treat to see when I opened the tag again♥️✨💕 could you please do more emt happy for Zen pretty please? Thank you!
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It’s distracting how cute you are today~
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fourth-wall-rebuilder · 7 months
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Can you tell I'm farming for the after endings rn
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huneyseven · 7 months
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Zen: People who sleep with their phones on silent or dnd really don't give a fuck about anybody's life.
Jumin: If you have a problem after midnight, it's between you and god.
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wendy-606 · 11 months
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Belated Happy Birthday Zen!!🌹🌹
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Please Click For A Clearer Image ^^
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brighteststar707 · 5 months
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OMGGG CONGRATS ON 2 YEARS OF THIS BLOG !!!! I can't believe it's been that long already, I'm so excited for you and I'm SO excited your requests are open !!! 💖💖💖💖💖
I would love number 18 : hello/goodbye hugs that linger with Zen and an afab Reader 🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖💖 if that's okay !! Thank you for everything you do, and we're all so excited for you !!! I hope you have an awesome day bestie !!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊
Mandieee! Thank you so much for the congratulations <333 Seeing you on my dash is always such a highlight to my day, I'm so grateful for you <33 I hope this fic is everything you hoped for and more!
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Hugs That Linger
✦Zen x fem!Reader ✦ Words: 1310
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Zen is a touchy person by nature around people he cares about. It’s something he’s often teased about by the other RFA members and something often speculated about by the members of his fanclubs. Was the arm he offered to his latest castmate as she descended the stairs on those treacherous heels chivalrous or romantic? Surely it had to have meant something more (it didn't). It didn’t stop the speculations running wild, though.
He loves to throw his arm over his friends’ shoulders when they’re laughing over something ridiculous. After a few drinks, he always slaps Yoosung’s shoulder and gives him life advice that he insists is important (despite Yoosung’s protests). He hugs everyone in greeting when he sees them and throws around affectionate nicknames like it’s nothing to him.
She is no exception. From the day she started working with the RFA, he has been calling her cute nicknames and hugging her and patting her head when he’s proud of her. Little things that have slowly accumulated into a little collection in her mind that she often runs through (most often subconsciously before she falls asleep).
But she is sure that she isn’t making things up when she catches him looking at her with a warmth and affection that makes her cheeks burn, or when he holds her hand when they’re leaving the theatre after another successful show. It can’t just be his playful nature catching her off-guard, can it?
She wouldn’t know what to do with herself and her growing feelings if it turned out to be true.
The crowds at the stage door every night are getting bigger. Everyone is carrying little gifts for Zen or photographs they’d like to be autographed. She stands in the middle of the crowd with everyone else, hoping to surprise him. She managed to get tickets for tonight's show by chance and didn't have time to tell him she'd be there. She’s holding a bouquet of flowers, just a small token to show him how proud she is of him.
When he finally emerges, the crowd cheers his name and she can just about make out the bashful pride on his face as he greets his fans. This is what he was made for, the life he was always supposed to lead, she thinks. And yet, there’s something flat about the look. As if there is something he’s missing.
He starts greeting the fans at the front of the crowd one by one, taking a moment with each to ask for their names and to sign an autograph for them (she remembers just a few days ago he was absentmindedly signing a piece of paper during an RFA meeting, trying to get the flourish of his pen just right).
He hasn’t spotted her yet – she doesn’t blame him. The crowd is big and everyone makes the most of the time they spend in his presence. And to his credit, he gives everyone their moment to shine. He thanks them individually for supporting him, repeats their name back to them (which never fails to make them smile) and flashes them the unforgettable Zen smile.
He also gives each of them a quick hug or a shoulder squeeze. A quick touch of contact as if to say this is real. She finds herself mentally taking note of these moments as they pass. How strange.
Eventually, he gives the crowd a quick scan again and spots her amongst the fans.
All at once, his expression brightens up and turns into a look of unbridled excitement. It fills out that last thing that was missing from his expression, makes it look finally complete. He calls her name and urges people to make way for her to get to him. She quickly joins him at the front of the crowd and, without hesitation, he pulls her into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around her waist, palm holding her body close to his, and the other behind her head, supporting her as he lifts her off the ground slightly. She still holds the flowers in one hand, but he hasn’t noticed them yet.
All she can do is wind her arms around his neck and hold on and enjoy the warmth radiating off of him. She feels safe, wrapped up in him like this, trusts that he will hold her safely until he chooses to set her down again. And then, absentmindedly, as she is noting the smell of his shampoo still lingering in his hair, she realizes that for all the hugs he has given today, none have been like this. He holds her like she is something precious.
“I’m so happy to see you, babe,” he murmurs into her hair.
She pretends that his statement doesn’t set off a million tiny fireworks in her stomach.
She isn’t sure for how long the hug lasts, only that it is over too soon, and that it felt like both an eternity and like a second (and that she wants to hug him again the second he sets her down).
Finally, she is able to present him the flowers, and he beams as he takes the bouquet gently from her hands. Before their exchange ends and he has to go back to greeting his fans, he turns to her and says, “Will you wait with me until it’s time to go?”
As if she can say no to those eyes.
“Of course, Zen.”
He grins. “Great, then I’ll walk you home!”
The rest of the crowd passes surprisingly quickly. You exchange a few words with some fans before they leave (and dodge some questions about your relationship to Zen that you don’t yet have the answers to). Every so often, he will turn to her with a look of disbelief on his face as if to say can you believe that this is happening? It’s contagious and by the time he is greeting and thanking the last fans, his smile is mirrored on her face.
Once the last fans leave, he throws his arm over her shoulders to pull her close to him again. It seems like second nature, as if he doesn’t even have to think about it. She, on the other hand, is thinking about it (a lot). Though, she tries to play it cool. She reaches for his hand that is resting over her shoulder and holds it there securely so he can’t slip away from her.
The walk back to her home is quiet, comfortable. They talk about the show, about her day, about everything they had missed out on since the last RFA meeting. Time passes without either of them seeming to notice and, even though they took the long way back to her house, they seem to arrive at her door all too quickly.
“Well…” he says, not yet pulling away from her.
“Well…” she replies, clinging to his hand harder. “Thank you for walking me home.”
“Anytime, Princess.”
He finally moves, but it’s not to pull away. He turns slightly, and pulls her close to him again, both his hands draped across her waist. Where the last hug was firm, this one is soft. Gentle.
She responds in turn, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and holding him tight. This hug definitely goes on for longer than hugs usually do, but neither of them seem to care. Before he pulls away, she takes a leap of courage. She is spurred on by the warmth of his embrace, by the lingering scent of his cologne and the realisation of how right it feels to be held by him this way. It all gives her the boost she needs to angle her face slightly and murmur into his ear, “Zenny, would you like to come inside?”
He shivers, and she feels every movement against her body.
"Yes," he replies, his voice husky.
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spicy-jmh · 8 months
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morganathewolf · 5 months
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dream-effect · 11 months
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I wanna post more old stuff I've drawn here, so here's a Zen from last year, where I did the six fanarts challenge thingy.
i think he just carries a rose/flower backdrop with him everywhere he goes also omg those flowers were so fun to draw i should draw more
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medu707 · 1 year
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<zenny>
*gasp* are they doing a school concept?? nice!
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dennavanhossen · 1 year
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Mysme boys
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hetablerg · 1 year
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just-mysme-headshots · 2 months
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Expression question for Zen? I feel like that’s how he’d look when MC chooses Jumin over him lolol
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HUH?!?!! HIM???
Request from the current prompt!
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tsun-toast · 2 years
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Zen!! Handsome as always!
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huneyseven · 8 months
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Jumin: Stop pouting.
Zen: I’m not pouting.
Jumin: Oh, please. I don’t even have to look at you. I can feel you pouting.
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cloudiilink · 1 year
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More mysme stuff 💞
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I finished Jaehees route and Zen gets so nice by the end of it, I ALMOST feel pity with the whole having to buy 7 gas for his cars lolol.
I wanna play his route eventually but. My sleep schedule is messed up (unrelated to mysme, promise).
I just wanna squish him tho
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brighteststar707 · 8 months
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Compact Mirror with Zen! 🤍
Love ya!!
Hello hello! Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy the fic 😊
I've taken this one as another excuse to ramble about my own personal Zen lore hehe
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✧ Compact Mirror ~ Self-reflection and growth/progress
Zen's trailer is roomy, rigged up with anything he might need while on set. It's bigger than any other dressing room he has had while working on previous projects and certainly more lavish than the rooms he used to have while working on theatre productions.
It's surreal.
Unchanged from those days though, are the pictures he has tacked up on the walls around the mirror. Of his friends back home, of audiences full of fans, and of her. If he’s being honest, they’re mostly of her. His driving force, his biggest supporter, his great love. She’s in nearly every picture, smiling down at him as he gets ready between scenes.  
On days like today, it’s those pictures that bring him comfort. He is a long way away from home working on this film (his biggest role yet, as she often reminds him). A few hours earlier he had phoned her to chat before he had to get back to work. At this moment, he’d guess that she’s at home in the living room, winding down after her own day of work.
Home. Over the past few years, the two of them have worked hard to turn their first house together into a proper home. They had moved out of the basement apartment not long after she became his manager, due to worries about their safety and his career taking off after the RFA party.
Now, despite how much luxury he has been exposed to while filming, he misses home more than ever.
Feeling homesick is a new experience for him. His parent’s house never really felt like home. His space was often invaded, he was never allowed to let go and be himself for fear of disappointing them and being told off. His most prized belongings were often hidden away to prevent them from being found and confiscated. As a child, his school music room often made him feel more comfortable than his own bedroom.
Then, when he left, he spent some time crashing on peoples’ sofas and leaky inflatable mattresses. Till this day he is endlessly thankful for the generosity of the people who took him in, but those spaces weren’t his to begin with. There wasn’t much to miss when he left.
That was the time he had started landing roles and found himself spending a lot of time in the rooms backstage. Before shows, warming up and resting and spending time with his fellow castmates.
He might not miss his couch surfing days, but he definitely misses the feeling of performing in theatre productions. There was something special about the communal feeling of a group of actors preparing for a show together, especially when he was still landing smaller roles and didn't ever get his own dressing room. The chaos of the last-minute costume changes, dashing around backstage to make it to places on time. The inside jokes the actors had between each other and the familiarity of old faces in new productions. His eyes search the pictures around his mirror for them now, pictures taken on a banged-up camera he had bought at the charity shop with one of his first pay checks.
The memories of the ambiance in those pictures forms a startling contrast to the silence of his trailer now. He’s the only one here, in a room that could fit so many of his friends and colleagues. While the peace is calming, it also serves as a reminder of how lonely he can get.
Landing film jobs has been a dream come true for Zen, and he is forever grateful for all the people who helped get him there. That being said, making the jump away from a scene he has been a part of for ten years was bittersweet. He knows he wouldn’t be where he is now if it weren’t for the people he worked with back then.
He can still remember the director of the first production he worked on. The one who gave him the job that would eventually allow him to rent his first apartment. He was kind, and saw what talent Zen had before most of the industry did. The job he gave him was the one that allowed him to leave his gang days behind and establish a real home for himself.
He will always be fond of his basement apartment. The box of belongings he had managed to bring with him when he left home, the letters from fans he had put up on the wall, his little keyboard (another gem from the charity shop) and the slow accumulation of things that were his. Nobody could tell him what to do with that space except for him.
Over the years, that apartment became the monument to his personal and professional growth. A few years in, he managed to buy himself a computer. His bedframe is one he bought and put together by himself. He even managed to afford a decent TV a year after moving in.
In the living room there was a stack of CDs from some of his favourite artists, a collection that stretches back to when he was still a teenager. Beside it, there was a stack of DVDs from his performances that were recorded. The day he got the first one, he put it next to the CD stack and then sat on the sofa, just to look at them side-by-side. His own performance, recorded for ever, bought by so many people to live in their homes forever.
It was the first time that he felt like he was leaving a mark on the world.
Since then, the stack has grown to include official cast recordings, performances, and now even the movies he has starred in.
He is fond of that apartment because it was his in every way. Paid for by his own hard work, furnished the way he wanted it to be. By contrast, he loves the new house because it is something he built together with his partner. The space is not his, made to accommodate her, but theirs in every detail.
He can find her touch in the paint on the walls (a job she insisted on doing herself) and the pattern of the bedsheets. Her belongings sit next to his on the shelves and their photos are clustered together on the walls. It's a home built on their love, and it's the one he misses the most when he's in this strange space.
Sometimes, in quiet moments like this, it's easy for Zen to lose himself in how far he has come and how much around him has changed. He stares at the pictures he has hanging up and loses himself in the memories.
He can vividly remember what he was feeling through each of those moments in his life. On the upper corner, there’s a picture of him sitting on stage surrounded by castmates, taken during rehearsals. His hair is messily tied back and his face is flushed but he’s smiling widely along with the rest of them. They had just worked through a big dance number and this was the first time they had gone through it properly on stage. He remembers how badly he wanted to do a good job and impress the actors he was working with.
Next to it, with the corner slightly overlapping the first picture, is one from the first RFA parties. Everyone looked terribly young and they were all posed so stiffly. They were still strangers then, without a clue of what they had stepped into. With some difficulty he remembers Rika calling out to them from behind the camera, reminding them to smile.
Then, there’s one where he’s surrounded by a group of fans. They had waited until after the show to ask for pictures and of course he had agreed. He remembers them giving him small gifts and flowers and he returned home with his hands (and heart) full. Then, when he finally made it back into his apartment – opening doors with your hands full of trinkets is harder than it looks – he was hit with a wave of loneliness. So many people liked the work he did, and they were so kind. But he still ended up at home alone every day, without anyone to share the joy with.
Little did he know how soon after that moment he’d meet the love of his life. It’s funny how those things work out. He wishes he could reach out to the person he was at each of those moments, when he was struggling and unsure and scared, and tell them that it would all lead to this moment.
His phone screen lights up and he is momentarily distracted. It's as if she can hear his train of thought, he thinks, as he answers her call.
"Honey! I was just thinking about you!"
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