frogfriend
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"do you miss it?" he blurts.
minho tilts his head, confused. "the blood?"
"no, the–" he huffs. "being... you know." it feels too big to say aloud, here in the middle of the city where normal, everyday life happens. magic– life saving and forever altering magic– is reserved for the mountains, the patch of wildness jisung had always thought of as theirs, the one they hadn't been able to find since the day he brought a changed minho down off that mountain.
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Jisung loops his arms around Minho's neck. “Talk to me?”
“I fucking hate that other people can look at you,” Minho bursts. He puts his hands on Jisung’s ass to press their bodies together. “I hate the way they look at you, I hate that they can approach you, I hate that they think they’re, like.” He shudders a little. “Picking you up, or something. I hate that they think they can have you, I hate that they can think about you at all, I hate that they want you, I hate that they can even try to have you, I hate it all."
Jisung pets his hair. “They can’t have me, though.”
“I know that,” Minho retorts, snippy and short. “But I hate that they can think about you at all."
Jisung is constantly being flirted with. Minho hates it.
Bookmarked by frogfriend
18 Dec 2025
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“Seriously though, Ji,” Hyunjin continues as if the conversation hadn’t just unlocked Jisung’s worst memories of walking in on his best friends in various compromising positions. “If you really want help, why don’t you try out a heat assistant?”
“A what?” Chan chokes out.
Jisung can feel Hyunjin’s eye roll without looking in his direction. “A heat assistant, hyung. There’s rut assistants too, you know. It’s totally normal.”(or: Jisung's heats are becoming unbearable, and at Hyunjin's suggestion, tries out an app that assigns heat assistants. His assistant is the last person he'd expect.)
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Bookmarked by frogfriend
01 Dec 2025
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Jeongin was completely comfortable with the fact that his dad’s love came in the form of cheese buldak and mint chocolate chip ice cream and silly little gifts and bags upon bags of home cooked food and cups of coffee and lighthearted scolding, he always has been. But apparently, he actually does express his love in other ways. A lot of other ways. Through pet names and hand holding and hugs and arms slung around shoulders and kisses on foreheads and by saying it. He says it all the time.
Just not to Jeongin.
Jeongin's dad's new boyfriend invites him on their couples trip to Mexico. He sees a side of his father that he has never seen before.
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Bookmarked by frogfriend
29 Sep 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
how we show love and the ways in which we fall short even when trying our best, and the fragile, vital work of vulnerability, and trusting the ones who love us will meet us and keep us upright when we close our eyes and trust fall into them
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Changbin puts both of his hands on his hips to stand with his arms akimbo and cuts them off by loudly exclaiming: “Well? Is this what you wanted, hyung? Are you happy now?” It doesn't get the response Changbin had anticipated. Neither of them laugh. They just stare in complete silence, Hyunjin with his jaw dropped open, Minho blinking his big eyes in apparent surprise, both of them gawking right at Changbin's ridiculous pink panties. The longer they look, the more Changbin begins to regret this decision, but he has always had a stubborn streak in him. He’s not going to back down so easily. So, he simply squares his shoulders and stares right back.
Minho seems to snap out of his stupor first. A slow, vaguely ominous smile stretches across his face. The cat that got the cream. “Yes,” he drawls. “I'm very happy, actually.” With each passing second, the petulant indignance drains out of Changbin to be replaced by something else that he can't quite figure out what is. Dread, maybe. Embarrassment. Or... Minho rests his head on the hand he has propped up on the back of the couch. “Why don't you give us a twirl, Changbin-ah?”
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There’s a solid line of warmth running down the length of his back; gentle, rhythmic puffs of air against the crown of his head; an arm across his upper body, holding him steadfastly.
He groggily tries and fails to remember how they ended up like this. It wouldn’t be the first time Minho has snuck into his bed, but Jisung usually tends to be awake for that.
—
or, Jisung wakes up to what he thinks is a regular Friday — and then he does it again, and again, until each Friday is less regular than the last.
Bookmarked by frogfriend
22 Jul 2025