8 Works by dazedonut
Listing Works
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Summary
Jisung shrugs, all too casual. “Just for fun. You know, for the bit.”
“You want us to pretend to be a couple…in therapy. Just for fun.”
“Yeah!” Jisung nods enthusiastically. "Just until the therapist figures it out.”
Minho gives him a long, slow look that suggests he is currently measuring him for a straitjacket. “So. Two sessions, max.”
It’s supposed to be a joke– two best friends and roommates walk into a therapist’s office, and pretend they’re a couple until the therapist figures it out.
But old feelings die harder than old habits, and when everything they’ve been avoiding for five years finally catches up, Minho and Jisung start to realize they may not be pretending as much as they'd like to believe.
or: Minho and Jisung are not a couple– or so they think.
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Summary
There he is– Lee Minho, in crisp 4K HD. His face looks normal– polished, polite, borderline charming even, if you don’t know any better. But he does know better. He knows the anatomy of his own disasters. He knows what’s coming.
Because right there, timestamped and screen-recorded by at least ten fan accounts, is the exact moment he fumbles the question. His smile flickers for exactly 0.5 seconds, a tiny glitch in the matrix before his brain visibly crashes.
“Ah,” says Minho-on-screen, expression blank, eyes screaming, “...Like the other members… you can say we met through business.”
Business.
Business.
or: Minho says he and Jisung "met through business"– and Jisung makes it his entire personality.
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Summary
Minho stares into those eyes– deep blue, bottomless as the crushing depths where light has never reached. There is hate there. Pure, unadulterated rage. But underneath it– something else. Something impossible. Something wrong.
Something that shouldn’t be there. Not in a siren. Not in a thing.
Something about those eyes makes Minho falter.
He tightens his grip on the knife. His muscles are taut, everything in him– blood, bone, memory– screaming to finish the job, to end this creature beneath him, to end this.
He should kill him. He needs to kill him.
Minho was raised to hunt monsters. Jisung was born to hunt humans.
When Minho chooses to spare Jisung on a siren hunt, his choice becomes a fracture in everything both of them thought they knew about monsters, mercy, and love.
or: Between sea and land, Minho and Jisung find themselves bound by blood, salt, and something impossible to undo.
Series
- Part 1 of tidebound
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Summary
“No.” His eyes glitter with challenge.
Minho raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “No?”
Jisung pouts, lower lip jutting out in a way he definitely knows is unfair. “Come on, hyung, I just got back from the gym! My legs are still trembling.”
Not trembling enough, if you’re here. “I don’t care, Han Jisung,” he deadpans. “Come here. Now.”
Jisung shakes his head, playful but stubborn. “You can’t make me.”
There is a pause. Just a second. Just long enough for Jisung to realize he’s said something very stupid.
or: Jisung twerks for his boyfriend during peak cat reel hours– and gets spanked on a very soft bed for it.
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Summary
A sniffle.
Minho turns, confused, and catches Jisung wiping at his cheek.
“…Are you crying?” he asks, frowning.
Jisung blinks at him, glassy-eyed and a tiny bit miserable. He doesn’t even pretend to deny it this time. He lifts his head with the devastated honesty only the heartbroken and intoxicated can manage.
“Yes,” he admits simply. “I’m crying. Because I’m drunk.”
“Oh.” Minho blinks, then lets out a startled laugh. “Oh, no.”
or: Jisung is drunk and can't stop talking about Minho's voice– until he starts talking about love.
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Summary
He’s calm. He’s cool. He’s not thinking about the shape of Jisung’s mouth, or how well the suit fits him, or the way his eyes lit up just now, or whether he still smells like bergamot and broken dreams of a lifetime.
He’s fine. This is fine.
This is totally, completely fine.
At least that’s what Minho tries to convince himself about until, from the corner of his eye, catches Jisung starting to walk over.
Now, he is not so sure. Now, he might actually die.
Four years of yearning. Two years together. One year apart.
Minho thought he’d buried the what-ifs– until a wedding, a slow dance, two best men and strawberry champagne remind him just how unfinished some stories can be.
What begins as awkward glances slowly unfolds into painfully familiar tension. But before they can even think about something new, Minho and Jisung have to untangle everything that pulled them apart.
or: Minho thinks it’s over between him and Jisung– but some knots simply take longer to tie.
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Summary
“Call it a deal,” Minho says, leaning casually on the bar, enjoying the easy flow of the conversation. “You can come to the bar after a bad date, and I’ll be the one to listen. One drink. One rant. I’ll mix something different for you every time.”
Because you’re different. And I’m interested. And I really, really want to see you again.
Jisung has a type: hopeless. From the guy who talks about his ex to the omegaverse influencer and the one who brings a ferret to dinner, every week is another romantic disaster. Enter Minho, the bartender who knows just how to turn bad dates into the perfect drinks.
It starts as a joke– one drink, one rant, every time. But somewhere between The Mansplainer and The Lovers, between doodled coasters and unspoken glances, Minho starts to notice the problem isn’t that Jisung can’t find the right guy.
It’s that Jisung keeps coming back to the bar.
or: Every bad date deserves a good drink– and Jisung deserves the bartender who makes it.
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Summary
Jisung doesn’t move– doesn’t breathe. He just stares.
His voice, when it comes, is quiet. “What did you say?”
His eyes search for Minho’s, wide and unsure and a little stunned. Like something has cracked open inside him.
He could take it back. Laugh it off. Play it cool. Change the subject. But something in the way Jisung looks at him makes him want to take the step. To jump. To finally just fall.
“I said”, he whispers, “Maybe I was born to meet you.”
The air goes still. So does time.
or: Jisung doesn't believe in fate. Minho believes in everything that doesn't make sense– until suddenly, it does.