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Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh

𝙫. 𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙨

! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !

「Contents List」 「Act 1」  「© Sept 2023 by jl-micasea-fics」

After a shower and light breakfast of hangover soup, Minho is rather more chipper than his waking state suggested he had any right being.

He’s curled up in the single armchair, laptop balanced on his knees, earbuds in. From teen emo fantasy to domestic dream, he’s all fluffy ash-blonde and clear skin, freshly washed loungewear and warmth. Make-believe boyfriend. He’s also content to let you dominate the television, taking an earphone out when the drama peaks; it’s never in short supply where Christine is concerned. You rather like that Crishelle doesn’t take her shit lying down. The jury’s still out on Mary.

Much of the morning passes in comfortable silence, his humming and occasional dance ticks catching your attention when the lives of the disgustingly rich and famous fail to.

“Oh,” he suddenly emotes, blinking at his phone.

“What?”

“Jisung texted me.”

You drop the duvet thread you were fiddling with. “What?”

“Han Jisung. Texted me?”

Struggling with the weight of the duvet, you manage to sit upright, stoked enough to mostly ignore the way your head smarts in protest of the movement.

“3racha?”

He nods.

“What did he say?”

He squints at his phone, purses his lips. “He’s, uh...” He cocks his head. “He invited me to a show tonight.”

“A show?”

“Their show.” His phone buzzes again. “They’re playing Sinner’s.”

Huh. It’s not quite jealousy. You don’t think, anyway.

“That’s awesome. Look at you going up in the world. Remind me to ask for your autograph.”

He flicks a gaze to you, dark and unimpressed. Your tummy throbs.

“What?”

“You’re coming with me.”

You wave a dismissive hand. “I wasn’t invited. Besides, I’m not feeling well. I’m better off staying—”

Before you can finish, he tosses his phone to the pillowy mass of duvet. “Read.”

The screen displays Jisung’s thread of texts.

>> yooo it’s jisungie. last night was lit. not feeling so hot today though lol

>> we’re doing sinners tonight. u and hot roomie should come

>> be awesome to see u again

“Oh.”

Minho hums.

“Hot roomie?” you ask.

“That would be you.”

“Naturally. And they think I’m hot because...?”

He catches his phone when you toss it back to him. “Because I told them so.”

Something in your frontal lobe implodes.

“Oh.”

“I have seen you naked.”

Right. That happened. Apparently? Fuck.

On your stunted silence, he puffs a breath. “I thought you hyped them,” he says.

“Bitch, please. You know I do.”

He laughs, a smirk lingering on his mouth. He rises from his chair and moves to you, veined, strong hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Warm. If only they weren’t so wide of your throat, you could be wearing them as a necklace.

He stares at you. The world is white noise and pixels.

“You know they’re fucking, right?”

“I— What? The fuck?”

“You didn’t?” He blinks, all feigned innocence. “They told me. Kind of had my suspicions anyway; they triggered my queer-dar to no end.”

“3racha...” You fall to silence, the mental images conjured so disgustingly salacious even the little black box struggles to contain them, because it’s the stuff of delirium made tangible and that simply isn’t—it can’t be—safe for consumption. There’s not enough room in the little black box. Nowhere near enough with what already lives there to comprehend the three of them. 3racha. Them. So beautiful and untouchable and all over each other in the aftermath of a concert or in the back of their tinted transit or in the steamed-up studio or—

Hysteria bubbles at the back of your throat; Minho giggles, thumbs a stray strand of hair from your face.

“Sorry. Probably shouldn’t have dropped that on you,” he says. “Some confidant I am.”

“N— No, it’s…”

Fine? Because it’s not fine. You’re so far from fine you’re no longer sure how to spell the word. Minho searches you, the weight of something unreadable behind his eyes. He wets his bottom lip, swallows and steps back.

Everything screams.

“So, you’re coming, yes?”

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙨𝙠 ♡ 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙠𝙤-𝙛𝙞 ♡

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