#hes usually nicer if you set out a cup of tea or cigs for him before bed

[lunarw0rks]

buying an old, secluded house in the scottish highlands, intending on renovating and reselling it. but you find out quickly that it's haunted. like, haunted haunted.

at first, you refuse to believe a man that pretty would be dead. let alone, a nefarious spirit with... questionable intentions.

but, compared to the (literal) horror stories you've heard, spirit!johnny is pretty cordial in his ways of messing with you. always picks up the books he knocks over to startle you, or when you scream at him to give you back your keys, or quit hiding your glasses, dammit

sometimes, when you're in the right mood, you find it comforting to know you're not all alone out in the middle of nowhere. it's not like you can tell your friends and family any details of this. you'll sound downright insane.

you learn to deal with the strong scent of his cologne or the creak of his footsteps (which you only hear because he wants you to, of course).

and—naturally—the feeling of large hands smoothing along your spine, down to your hips, a thumb strumming your lips. possessively, right as sleep engulfs you. the first few times you chalk it up to an erotic fantasy that only surfaces when you're exhausted and bordering on delirium.

however, it proves difficult to rationalize the voice. especially when he knows your name.