#had to sit up and type on my computer sdfksjdkf

[seokmins]

HELLO MISS JACKIE :3

I think this is my first fic I've read from you (sorry, will go through your masterlist soon) but omg - I'm not that good at feedback but this - this.

First off, the title and the summary: incredible, re-reading it after finishing the story - it all clicks! I'm not that much of a horror girl but ofc I had to read this because !! seokmin !! and jackie !! best combo !!

Also, I'm loving how you sectioned this. The back and forth between the present and the past, the waver between fluff + angst + horror + smut (heheh) actually had me crying like idk how to put this in words but it hit just right 😭

I've read several ghost!au's but none really seemed to get it like this. The sweet, oblivious ghost seok mixed with the knowing, dead-at-the-scene ghost seok + the horror imagery *chef kiss* almost like whiplash but not quite. The fluffy, lovely past scenes (crying @ the future proposal that never happened) and the symbolism of the house (seokmin always being there no matter what and then suddenly - gone - but not really) fit so well with the concept and the title and summary like I mentioned earlier. The angst!! hfdksjfdk I love angst sm and the grief aspect really got to me. When I read the title/genre/warnings I was really curious what you were going to do w/ Mr Seokshine and you did not miss the assignment, queen!

My thoughts are incoherent I'm sorry but just know I really loved this and I'll prolly re-read this many times (maybe in the daytime though I am a silly, easily spooked girly) sdkfsjddjfksdj

house that eats and pleads and kills

lee seokmin x reader

genre: horror

warnings: there’s sexually explicit content (minors dni!!!). please read the other warnings carefully — gore, decay/rot, grief, vomit, blood, major character death

words: 3.4k

tagging @neonun-au

strange house we must keep and fill. / house that eats and pleads and kills. / house on legs. house on fire. house infested / with desire. haunted house. lonely house.

tracy k smith, ash

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#1761:

There’s a ghost that lives in your house.

Tonight, you wake up, 4am, thirsty, and when you get yourself a glass of water from the kitchen, he’s perched on the counter. He’s wearing a loose pajama shirt unbuttoned over a baggy tee, shorts, and bright orange socks— so comfortable and relaxed, you almost forget. Here in the moonlight, he looks so solid, you think you could almost reach out and touch him.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks, casually leaning forward.

The tap water tastes stale and metallic. You briefly consider grabbing some painkillers, but then you remember that you had emptied the ibuprofen two nights ago and you still haven’t picked up a new bottle.

“It’s okay,” he says, laughing. He looks like sunshine. “I can’t either.”

He seems to appear everywhere in the house— sitting on the couch, staring out the windows, reading the mess of papers on your desk with his tongue between his lips and eyes squinted in concentration. Sometimes you ignore him, pretend that he’s just a hallucination, and he never seems to mind. But sometimes when it gets too much (the grief? guilt? loneliness?), you talk to him.

Tonight, maybe it’s the nightmares, maybe it’s the chill that creeps into your large bed, but you decide to ask. “Still haven’t figured out what you need to do?”

He shakes his head. “I feel like it’s something here. I’m so close to cracking it.” 

And then he’ll pass on, the unsaid conclusion. 

“I’m sure you’ll get there,” you reassure him with no real conviction behind your voice.

“Here’s to hoping.” He raises his hand like he’s holding an invisible glass, and he laughs when you raise your own glass half-filled with tepid tap water.

“Clink,” you say. “Here’s to hoping, Seokmin-ah.”

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