Thomas Sharpe with Obsessed
Obsessed
Pairing: Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader
Warnings: stalking I guess..
Everything Taglist – @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @suchababie @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @fanofalltheficsx @ladyburberry @chickensarentcheap @dontmindmyname123 @old-enough-to-know-better73 @buendiabebeta @princess-jules47
Allerdale Hall seemed like a page right out of a fairy-tale book.
It was old and grand, monumental in appearance even though it was dilapidated and withering.
It had a certain charm, that you couldn’t deny, it almost felt…alive.
And maybe it was.
Ornate frames and pictures that told a thousand stories, you found yourself wanting to know more about what the manor was offering, perhaps aching to tell.
Ghosts embedded within the crumbling walls eager to be amongst a living, breathing soul.
Given the rich history and folklore attached to the place, you were certain to experience something.
You had found yourself asleep on the chaise one evening while reading and woke up to find a warm blanket draped over your body.
Another time the windows and doors shut themselves automatically during a thunderstorm. The fireplace crackled and hissed on its own to bathe the room in a golden glow.
That was just the beginning though.
The constant feeling of being watched never seemed to cease. Every move you made, every step you took, a pair of eyes followed.
A pair of crystal blue eyes that found you hard to resist. They bore into yours when you’d stare into nothingness, rake over your naked form as you wandered about the space before deciding on a choice of outfit.
It was like a presence that could be felt, sometimes heard in the wee hours of the night.
Knocks and thuds that could clearly be heard coming from a room that had been locked for decades.
Your favourite books would be laid out for you, every single night without a clue as to who did it.
Your habit of singing in the shower stopped when one night a faint chuckle was heard echoing right next to you in the tub.
You had found yourself an admirer in the big, empty mansion.
An admirer who despised another presence other than yours.
And it was none other than the last known resident of the place, Sir Thomas Sharpe.
Spooktober Prompts 🍂☠️