requests open!

So because starting a new blog after one was hacked is like criminally hard to do, I decided to go ahead and compile a masterlist between both the new and old one to hopefully motivate me to be more active on this one :) this certainly isn't everything but I'll try and put some of my best ones out there!

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Widows Bay

Tom Loftis Ghost on the Shore {1} {2} {3} {4} {5} 🩵 {next part: 7/5-7/6} Don't Look Out the Window The Driftwood

The Pitt

Jack Abbot Home Run Don't Be Cruel (multi??)

Harry Potter

Tom Riddle The Lion and the Snake Monster Fix the Broken

Regulus Black Winter Sun New Years Resolution

Felix Rosier Every Breath You Take Don't You (forget about me)

Avatar: TLA & LoK

Mako The Real Threat (4/?) The Last Stand

Zuko When the Sun Met the Moon

Ghost

A Prophecy (ongoing?)

Star Wars

Poe Dameron Undercover Jealousy Balance (1/? someone give me motivation to finish this) Mandalorian It Can't Be the Only Way (12 parts) Don't Be Stupid I Can't Protect You

Stranger Things

Billy Hargrove Beach Boy (8 parts)

Henry Creel dream lover (masterlist)

Steve Harrington Run Away (2 parts) Mistletoe and Spiked Hot Chocolate

Shadow and Bone

Kaz Brekker Tides Saint of the Shadows (2) (3) Break a Leg id kill for you

The Witcher

The Witcher and the Sea (multi?)

Gladiator

this was so fun to write i hope i didnt get carried away and that u enjoy it my liege <3

~~~~~~

Weathering the Storm (and One Bed)

The thunderstorm wasn’t that bad. Widows Bay has seen much worse, in your opinion.

Tom Loftis’s car rolled to a stop; ahead were flailing red and blue lights streaking across the windshield from the wipers that were struggling to keep up with the onslaught of rain. 

“What the fuck,” Tom muttered.

You glanced over at him with your brows raised, then turning your attention to Bachir who came to the driver's side window with an unimpressed look. Tom rolled his window down and the rain sounded heavy even with the surrounding forest cover. 

“Can we get through at all?” he asked. 

Bechir shook his head. “Nope. Trees are down. Gonna have to head back down.” he spoke loudly.

Tom and the Sheriff went back and forth over different routes to take, all of which were now flooded or closed from debris; none of which would be cleared til the morning if they were lucky. Finally, Tom rolled the window up and you let out a sigh.

“Don’t even start,” he warned.

Your head whipped over to him. “I told you to take the road into the South Point but no…”

Tom rolled his eyes, backing up to make a u-turn as swiftly as he could. There wasn’t really anywhere else to go now, at least no road that would be safe. You stayed quiet, opting not to throw any more “I told you so’s” in his face. He was already stewing when you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, hands clenched firmly around the steering wheel so tight you could make out the sharpness of his knuckles. You blankly stared out the window, the island shrouded in darkness and everything blurry from the downpour outside. 

Thunder rolled loudly enough that you could feel the car vibrate from its sheer strength. 

Maybe it was that bad. 

Before you knew it, you realized Tom was taking the two of you back into the town’s main throughway. Almost everything was closed and boarded up for the night, the power to the streetlights already beginning to wax and wane, swaying with the harsh winds this storm brought. Tom somehow knew his way through this mess better than you ever could; which is partially why you agreed to let him drive you home.

Not that he gave you much of a choice. 

Tom parked by the Shoreside Inn, a place that sat high up enough on the main street to be untouched by flooding and still had some power on. Although, the washed gray wood that kept it upright made you wary as you looked at it. 

“Are we going in there?” you asked, a little dumbfounded. 

“Yep.” Tom said, fully cutting the engine. “I need somewhere to call Evan and get on the radio to find out what roads are open or else we’ll have to stay here the night.” 

Those last words stumped your thoughts. You opened your mouth to refute, to ensure there had to be a way home, but he was already jumping out of the car to get to your side. You were practically yanked from the comfort of his passenger seat, wrapping your arms around your bag and trying to find coverage under his arm as you two ran to the entrance lit by a flickering lamppost. 

You immediately put distance between the two of you when you approached the front desk. 

The quaint lobby’s pale blue walls were filled with nautical decor that was probably hung before you were born. Behind the white desk, sat a man who almost looked older than Ruth, and reacted concerningly slow to the soaking wet messes that just burst into his inn. You looked at Tom, who shared the same thought at the same time as he looked over at you with his brows pinched together.

“Oh, hello!” the old man jumped. 

You also startled, but smiled at the innkeeper. 

“Yeah, hi, Mayor Tom Loftis” Tom quickly stepped forward. “Can I get two rooms for the night?” 

You crossed your arms, slowly turning to Tom. “Oh, use that line on everybody?” you muttered.

The inn keeper looked over at you. “What was that, sweetheart?”

“Oh, nothing!” you chimed, avoiding the glare Tom sent your way. 

“I’m afraid I only have one room left tonight, folks.” he said, holding up the key and the room number attached to it on a piece of paper. 

The dread you felt cooled the room around you, and you tried not to hide how frustrated you exponentially became, but your shoulders dropped a little too quickly and Tom noticed too. He clicked his tongue and sighed, running a hand over his face. 

“Jesus, okay…” he said under his breath. “Are all of your rooms really that full? It’s not even peak season!” 

The old man didn’t quite hear him and before Tom could blow a gasket in his head, you reached forward to take the key. “Thank you, sir! That’ll be perfect!” you politely said. “Let’s go,” you directed to Tom, a little more animosity in your voice. 

The inn was much larger when you left the small lobby that was the equivalent of a small living room. It was three stories of pale blue wallpaper and white trim, subtle tracings of seashells and sanddollars within. Old smells of briny, wet sand mixed with mildew lingered in every turn, but it was a damp, earth-like one that felt a lot like your own home. 

“I just can’t wrap my head around all of these rooms being filled.” Tom shook his head in disbelief.

You glanced back at him. “Are you happy or unhappy that your island is getting business?” 

Tom’s lips thinned into a line. “Happy.” 

On the second floor, you and Tom reached the room the innkeeper gave the keys to. The thought of sharing a room with Tom was a complicated one. But when you opened the door to find that there was one queen sized bed sitting in the middle, it actually grew into a much bigger mess in your head. The two of you stood there, neither of you acknowledging the single bed, staring at it absolutely dumbfounded. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

That stung a little. You exhaled through your nose, letting your bag drop to the bed a little harder than it should have. 

“I’m actually just appalled by everything being wicker.” Tom nervously tacked on. 

“Oh, it’s the wicker you have a problem with?.” you asked, slightly astonished 

“Absolutely.” he nodded. You hummed in response, knowing very well that the one bed situation wasn’t going to be put to rest with that. 

You sat down on the bed, creaking almost a little too much for your liking, while Tom hung in the doorway with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

“Alright, well, I’m going to try and call Evan. Then get a hold of the Sheriff again.” he rocked on his heels. 

“Have fun.”

Tom awkwardly turned on his heels and left you in the silence of the rain that battered your side of the inn. The walls felt thin, like the rain would come through at any second. You rose from the bed to look out the window, the surrounding establishments all sitting in the dark save for the lightening that lit up the sky for a second. 

But your eyes narrowed on a speck of light just across the way and you saw two vending machines outside of one of the gift shops. 

The decision to run out in the storm with nothing but your rain jacket and wallet didn’t take long. While Tom was distracted by the phone call with Evan, you slipped out through the front and ran across the street. Thankfully, there was some cover from the awning but the wind swept everything towards you anyway. 

Tom finished the phone call, a nagging feeling at the back of his mind as he approached the room you two shared. He wasn’t that surprised when he didn’t find you in it, letting out a frustrated sigh. 

Then, the light of the vending machine caught his eye through the window, blurred by the rain that washed down the glass. He crossed the room to get a closer look and to no surprise, the shape of your figure stood out there. 

“Of course…”

One by one you picked out snacks. 

But through the raging storm around you, someone called out your name. 

“What the hell are you doing out here?!” Tom yelled, running up to you. 

“Getting snacks,” you answered loudly over the rain. 

“You’re insane!” 

“Help me carry something!” 

Tom didn’t argue after that, instead grabbing your elbow to make a start back to the inn. Halfway across the street, a gust shoved sideways hard enough to sting against exposed skin. Without so much as looking at you, he shifted closer than before, tall frame taking the brunt of the rain. 

You didn’t stray far from the warmth it gave you though even as you two made your way back inside. Back in the room, there was less animosity towards the one bed situation. Stealing some towels from the bathroom, you shed your coat and took a seat.

“So, I take it there’s no way we’re leaving here tonight?” you asked, laying on your side with your legs dangling over the edge. 

Tom sighed, picking out the sour candy option. “Nope.” 

Slowly nodding, the bed felt smaller now as you started to chew on your candy of choice. He shifted so that he also mirrored you, propped up on one elbow. You wanted anything to distract yourself from this right now. 

“How’s Evan holding up?”

He let out a huff of a laugh that sounded more like a scoff. “Oh, he’s having the time of his life being home alone right now.” 

You grinned knowingly. You were privy to the many times Tom had been in distress over his son sneaking out or the trouble he’d get into with his friends—and the pot thing to which you had to remind him the two of you had your fair share of that at his age too. 

“Well, we can have our fun too. If you still know how to do that.” you remarked. 

He raised a brow at you. “Of course I can still be fun. Why do you think I can’t be fun?” 

You were biting back a laugh and nonchalantly leaned back against the headboard. 

“I never said you didn’t. I just said if you remember how.” 

Tom shook his head at the handful of candy he held onto, and if you didn’t know any better, he was grinning a little. While you were momentarily distracted by your next snack selection, Tom reached for the TV remote to flip the old box set up on. First, there was an ad fishing supplies and some static, then he flipped to the weather channel which fazed in and out as the report talked about the storm. 

Optimistically, you reached for your phone and looked at the zero bars you had. 

“Hmph,” you frowned, expecting that anyway.

“What?” Tom asked.

Your gaze shifted towards him through your brows. “So…”

His curiosity faded, and his face went flat. “No.” 

“What exactly are my tax dollars paying for?” you continued anyway, waving at the lack of service on your phone. 

Tom laughed crudely, waving off your phone. 

“They’re paying for this stay at the inn, that’s what they’re paying for.” 

You tried not to laugh with him as he shook his head at you, and pressed on further to push his buttons. 

“I’m just asking. It’s a fair thing to ask the Mayor about when the WiFi situation is going to get better.” 

Tom scoffed and looked at the TV, where the weather report was still drifting into static and he beckoned out to the window. “The cell towers are being hit by fifty mile an hour winds! I don’t think the storm cares about your cell service.” 

The grin started fighting its way through the seriousness you tried to convey. 

“Listen, Tom,” you stifled a giggle, which grew harder the more his smile widened. “I know the roads are flooding, trees are down, and the power is drifting but you should absolutely prioritize the cell service right now.” In a fit of laughter, Tom stole the sour candy right from your hand to savor the last few pieces of it. 

“I’ll take the candy tax and we can talk about all of your problems tomorrow.” 

You raised your brow, tilting your head. “Well, by the sound of it we have all night.” 

Suddenly, the lights in the room flickered and you jumped slightly. 

“Should probably make sure that guy downstairs isn’t replying on a CPAP machine to go to sleep.” Tom said warily, glancing back towards the door. 

You burst into laughter, covering your mouth. 

“Tom, that’s terrible,” you gasped. 

He shrugged. “What?” he chuckled. “I’m serious! What if we’re the only ones here tonight who can do anything about it.” 

You readjusted again to give your arm a break, and lay flat on your back. Your laughter settled in your chest and you turned your head to face him, still finishing off the candy he stole from you. The room settled into a comfortable silence, the rain setting a constant tempo as it steadily drummed against the building. Tom reached behind him to offload some of the candy wrappers and started rummaging through the drawer of his nightstand. He made a curious sound.

“What is it?”

He held up a box containing a deck of cards and you grimaced at the yellowing of the package.

“Those have probably been here since Reagan was in office.”

Tom snickered. “You’re probably not wrong, but it’ll pass the time.”

Tom turned back to you as you sat up in bed, opening up the deck of cards. Unsurprisingly, neither of you knew any real card games so you settled for something simple: Go Fish. The game itself didn’t even matter and despite there only being two of you, half the time you didn’t remember whose turn it was because you talked too much. Topics wandered from stories from today's work, some paperwork, and even some old retellings about previous thunderstorms they’ve endured on the island. 

“Oh, you’ll appreciate this,” you giggled, already struggling to compose yourself. “Mrs. O’Donnel came into the office yesterday–” Tom was already frowning, looking uneasy. “I already don’t appreciate this,” he said. But you continued anyway: “She wanted to know if she could send an invoice to whoever ‘owns’ the seagulls on the island for the damage to her tomato plants.”

“What?” Tom gawked, face scrunching up in confusion. “Do seagulls even like tomato plants?”

You laughed, nearly sending yourself rolling back. 

“That is so not the point!” you cried, tears pricking your eyes. 

“Alright, alright,” Tom exhaled. “So what did you say?”

Somehow, you found your composure again. “Oh, I sent her invoice to you and told her to follow up with you.”

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose as you broke out into another laughing fit.

“You did not.” he groaned, trying his best to be peeved with you. “God, what else have I missed that you haven’t told me that’s been happening?” 

You paused, looking at him to ensure he was ready to hear the things you had loaded in your recent memory, and he already looked exhausted by it. 

Starting with Rosemary trying to get a permit to sell CBD infused baked goods at the bakery to which you quickly told her no to, all the way to the drama from the Town Hall meetings themselves with one of the high school interns getting caught making out with another intern in an old office room. There were other mundane things that came with the job, but Tom had zoned out by then, something clearly on his mind as he absorbed all your stories.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know all of this.” you said. “I guess you really haven’t been around much.”

That brought his attention back, eyes drifting up to you just before you quickly found interest in the duvet cover. You caught the slight frown on his face. It was a lot to dump on him, but that was only because your lunch breaks and coffee runs were fewer and fewer each passing month. You used to tell him everything and vice versa.

“I’ve been busy.” 

“I know.” you said, the pitch in your voice slightly hitching.

“All this stuff with Lee and the ferries, the power grid, and the article…” he rambled, the frown apparent in his tone.

“You sound annoyed.”

“I’m not,” he said, sharper this time.

Your face softened towards him; he knew that you knew him better than to believe that.

“I’m…” Tom sighed, his composure deflating as he inched himself to lean against the headboard where his gaze stared out at the weather report. “I just realized we haven’t even had lunch in what…”

You didn’t expect to hear him acknowledge it, let alone pick up on the comment you made about him not being around. Your skin started to warm under the thought.

“A couple months.” you said, quieter now, almost fearing the shame that would come with it being said out loud.

Those few months felt like forever. For being so bugged by that stretch of time, you really hated when those feelings were brought to light. The silence in the room was enough to dissect it, leave it open between the two of you until it made you want to crawl away from your own skin. Somewhere between meetings, approvals, and trying to get this reporter out here, your schedules became less and less aligned. Or maybe making the time wasn’t worth the effort.

It grew to a point where you’d linger in the breakroom a little longer, waiting to see if Tom would swing by to refill his coffee–because the few times you tried to bring him a cup, he was busy or gone. You didn’t want the sadness to dwell, so you severed it completely and stopped trying. 

Tom fumbled with the cards left in his hand. Yours sat idly on the bed. 

“I didn’t think you noticed.” 

An indistinguishable sound escaped you.  

“You didn’t think I’d notice the cold shoulder?”

Tom looked at you like you should have known better. Maybe you should have.

“It’s not that.” he mumbled. “I just…I don’t think I was scared, I just didn’t know how to manage everything I had to manage and still have enough time that…I don’t know, I guess enough time that would make you happy.”

The confession struck you. It lingered in your chest while you debated whether you should have been angered or maybe even feel flattered. Nothing about your initial reaction was good, leaving you stumped for a moment with the inevitable hollowness that followed it all.

“I hope you know that any time I have with you is enough to make me happy.” you finally said after a long silence.

Now your own confession was out there and that same, exposed and dissected feeling swallowed you whole. You were too nervous to look at Tom who had stopped fumbling with the cards. 

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, lightning struck so loudly that the walls shook, and all the light in the room went out without so much as a flicker, the old TV popping as it went out too. You bolted upright in the darkness, scrambling to find your phone and turn the flashlight on. The silence was much more unnerving than before, save for your heavy breathing from being so startled. 

“That’s not good.” Tom groaned. “I’m gonna go check on everyone and make sure they’re alright.” 

“Do you want me to come with you?” you asked, the light from your phone guiding him towards the door.

He paused, looking back at you, something hopeful in his features before he simply smiled and shook his head.

“No, I–I’d rather just know where you are.”

Deep in your chest, a certain warmth blossomed, and you smiled too.

“Afraid the storms going to sweep me away?” you teased.

“No, I’m afraid you’ll want to go to the vending machine again when I’m not looking.” 

That, you didn’t argue. You couldn’t really do much to pass the time until he came back other than let that conversation mull over in your head. Part of you wonders if any of this would have ever came to light if you didn’t end up stranded here for the night, but the other part of you was relieved it did anyway.

Footsteps neared the door and it was Tom who knocked, whispering your name before he came in.

“What’s the verdict?” you asked, turning the flashlight back on. 

He had his hands full. “No verdict. No power and the landlines are down too. But I found some candles from the kitchen.” 

“That will add to the ambiance of this storm and room that hasn’t been updated since the nineties.” 

Emergency lights filled the hallway and just barely illuminated the space around the door. But with the candles lit, one for each side table, it was much warmer than the occasional flashes of lightning that would give way. 

“I hope you know I’m not sleeping in my work clothes.” you said, noticing as he started to kick off his shoes.

Tom did a double take, stammering over his words. “Uh, that’s fine–I was going to sleep on the floor anyway.”

You put your hands on your hips. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tom. We can just put a pillow barrier between us.”

You could see the rise and fall of his back through the t-shirt he was left sitting in, and he turned his head back to glance at you. 

“Yeah, that’s…that’s fine.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “As long as you’re sure you don’t care.”

“If I cared, I would have found my way home hours ago.”

Tom snickered under his breath. As you two kept your backs to each other to get changed out of your clothes from the day, lightning flashed through the room once more with another roll of thunder. You slid under the covers now in just your undergarments from the day, the sheets cool against your skin. Taking the second pillow behind your head, you put it in the space where the deck of cards once sat.

“Alright. Barrier is in place.” 

You could still feel the shift of his weight sinking in under the covers, and your heart seemed to race. Keeping your back to him was becoming harder than you thought, your eyes wide awake as you watched the rain trickle down the window from above the flickering candle at your bed side.

“This is a good barrier.” Tom said, his voice not filled with an ounce of sleepiness.

His words made you squeeze your eyes shut, finding any attempt to stop yourself from thinking about removing said barrier. But it was sending your mind into a frenzy that not even the storm outside could quiet. Your eyes opened again, honing in on the singular flame that danced on the small wick. It should have been easy to fall asleep after today, especially to the rain and the subtle warmth of the candle. What may have been mere seconds felt like several minutes and you still couldn’t quite get comfortable.

“Tom.” you said into the quietness. 

“Yeah?” he replied a lot quicker than you anticipated.

“Can we…” you slowly started, the words already making your face burn with embarrassment. “Get rid of the barrier.” 

Tom didn’t answer, and for a split second, your heart sunk further into your chest. But then you felt the plushness behind your back lift and the pillow was thrown to the floor. Your chest lurched while you slowly turned back to face him. He lay his head on his own pillow, the small candles giving the faintest light to his face where you saw a curve in his lips.

“Come here.” he ushered quietly.

The two of you joined somewhere in the space where the pillow was, the space cool but his skin searing hot against yours. Your heart was thundering with the storm as your arm came around his abdomen, legs tangling together like they were always meant to fit in place as such. When your head came to rest at the junction of his shoulder and neck, you finally let out a breath of relief. 

Tom’s pulse thrummed against your skin, and you tried not to take joy in the fact that his heart was racing too. 

His arms wrapped around you, a feeling that you didn’t know you’d ever need as much until now. Remnants of his cologne and the rain that coated him today became intoxicating to breathe in, making you subconsciously inch closer against him like your life depended on it.

One hand came up against your back in gentle strokes, fingertips sliding along your spine. It was as comforting as it was electrifying. 

“I’m sorry I gave you the cold shoulder.” Tom said softly, his voice reverberating throughout you.

“It’s okay.” you whispered back into his neck. “Aren’t you glad there was one bed now?”

Tom didn’t answer, and instead he laughed quietly, holding you a little more tighter in response. 

I desperately need Tom struggling to talk dirty. Reader is trying to encourage him and he's so painfully out of practice and awkward but eventually finds his stride 😘

first of all, I love your name and copia <3

second, I LOVE THE IDEA OF HIM BEING OUT OF PRACTICE AND AWKWARD and I got a similar ask about headcanons with him so I may combine the two it just may take some time and TLC bc I haven’t written like this in AGES and I fear I am out of practice LMAO

pairing: tom loftis x f!reader summary: the vacation finally starts to feel like a vacation! that is until Patricia's cocktails comes around and you get to pick between facing a Sea Hag or being possessed. word count: 6.5k note: i may have gotten a little carried away with the asks and put part 5 on the backburner but here we have it!! i cannot express enough how much i have adored everyones interactions with this story and my one shots i love u guys forever in case u didnt know!!

{1}{2}{3}{4}

Chapter Five: Caught in the Deep End

The nights on the island were becoming more restless than the last. 

I woke with my cheek stamped by the spiral rings of my notebook. The moment I actually fell asleep was a blank space in my memory, one that I could only tie to being incredibly late in the night. I didn’t think much of it, until I went to close the book only to see a thick smear of black ink cut across the bottom of my notes. 

I nearly dropped it. The writing wasn't mine–at least, not any version of mine that I remembered.

an: so this was SO fun to write, i feel like i keep saying that but everyones asks are so interesting! this one actually reminds me of the vibes of part 5 (whenever I finish it) so i hope you enjoy it!!

~~~~~~

Don't Look Out the Window

Sleep came quickly for you when you returned from a girls night at Patricia’s; laughing, listening to the radio, and wine all made the perfect concoction to tuck you to bed. 

But your sleep was ripped away just as easily when the sound of a ferry horn jolted you awake like it was your own phone alarm inches away from your ear. You scrambled to sit upright, snatching your phone to ensure it wasn’t just that, and suddenly, you were left in a silence that only your thundering heartbeat could fill. 

Checking your phone again, you looked for the time through squinted eyes. 2:17 am. 

You laid yourself back down, going still in hopes of slowing down your heart rate that made everything from head to toe feel like a shaken can of soda. When you found some semblance of peace again though, a metallic groan started low and far, then started to reverberate through the walls of your home. 

Sitting up, all hope of sleep was gone now. You threw the sheets off and made your way to your bedroom window.

All was dark outside save for the harbor a few miles down where specks of lights poked into the night. You normally could hear the ferry and its accompanying sounds, especially when shipments were coming in. But nothing looked out of the ordinary. Nothing could have made that sound that close to her home. 

It was also the middle of the night 

Another light caught your eye, on your very street where the streetlights were always buggy.  They started to blink. One by one trailing from the harbor and closer inland. 

“Whatever,” you whispered to yourself. 

But just as you turned back to bed, three soft taps echoed from the front door downstairs. 

The sound made you still, but the most rational part of your mind told you it was most likely Ruth who heard the noise as well. She was your neighbor and it wasn’t the first time she’s knocked on your door at various times in the night.  With half lidded eyes and your t-shirt swallowing you whole, you made your way downstairs, but everything was quiet. 

Not a single thing was out of place. Almost unnervingly so. It made you realize you couldn’t even hear the wind outside.

You approached the door, the rising suspicion only still in the shallow end of your thoughts, and you moved on your tippy toes this time and much slower. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You froze. It was too gentle, too evenly spaced with a split second pause between. It was enough to make the temperature drop substantially, your muscles locking.. The peephole in your door dared you to look, but part of you was scared of what would be there. 

Maybe it was Ruth. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was something else entirely. The fear started to swim deeper.

Then, the three taps sounded on your back door, and you whipped around so fast that you nearly lost your footing.

This time, your heart exploded in your chest and something gripped your core. 

You finally forced yourself to look out the peephole and when nothing waited on the other side, the ice cold grip seized your core . If you thought the silence was loud earlier, it was roaring now. You weren’t sure if your ears were ringing or if that churning metal sound was creaking through your floorboards again 

The home you stood in felt like a bubble, one that was ready to pop with whatever loomed outside. 

But nothing came.

Except for a rotting smell that came slowly and then all at once. It was worse than the bay on a hot summer day, when low tide was at its peak and everything from the depths worked its way up. 

You covered your mouth, disgust wrenched in your features as you looked around the darkness of your first floor. 

There was something more morbid about its pungent scent that almost made you gag. 

But as you turned, a movement hung on the periphery of your vision. You froze again, and unlike before, every hair on your body stood achingly sharp. Despite everything in your evolution that screamed at you to run, you couldn’t move. 

A guttural sound started low and then the voice raised, like the dead taking its first breath of air. It croaked and groaned, louder, and you could hear the way its jaw moved around the sound. It started to get closer.

Slowly, you turned towards the thing at the corner of your vision.

The moment you saw the silhouette of the figure, its coated jacket catching in the faint moonlight, its gnarled and bony hand reached for your shoulder. Its grip brought you back to reality, and you ran out of your house without looking back.

~

You didn’t grab shoes. You didn’t grab your keys. You just ran until your lungs were on fire to the only place you knew by heart; Tom’s house. 

“Tom!” you shouted on borrowed air, gasping as you caught your breath. 

Finally, you reached the door. Every muscle fiber in your leg contracted and screamed as you climbed the stairs to his porch. 

“Tom!” you cried, banging on the door. 

You looked behind you, swearing whatever brushed your shoulder in your home was still lurking, like its hot breath from a plane beyond your understanding was still in your ear. 

The second the door cracked open, you pushed your way through both out of desperation and the weakness in your limbs. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Tom mirrored, panicking too  as you rushed into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

You had no words, not that you could formulate them as the air finally recirculated. Tom’s arms tightened around you, but one loosened so he could shut the door and lock it with haste. His arm quickly came back around your shoulder, squeezing tight and piecing together the parts of you that unraveled on your way here. 

Ragged breaths poured from you in faint wheezes, the whimpers dragged out with them muffled from where you buried your head in his chest. 

Tom pleaded your name again, hand coming to the back of your head to gently stroke your hair. You could hear his own heart racing beneath your ear. 

“There was—“ you panted.

The moment you tried to recall everything was when everything unraveled in your chest. Your throat tightened, an impossible lump forming at the back, and you squeezed your eyes shut. Tears inevitably slipped through, stinging against your dry eyes. Tom didn’t notice at first until your shoulders started to shake. 

“There was—“ you began again, lifting your head to look at him. 

Tom's brows furrowed, eyes softening down at you with a deep sadness. His hands came up to clutch your face, thumb striking away the tears that spilled. 

“What is it, honey? What happened?” Tom asked softer now. 

“There was something in my house.” 

Tom’s hands tensed, the sensation going all the way up to his shoulders. He let out a sigh, eyes flickering up to the ceiling before looking down at you. 

“Do you want me to radio the sheriff? Send someone by?” 

You immediately shook your head. 

“I-I don’t think the Sheriff can help with this.” 

Tom looked at you with a suspicion you didn’t know you feared until now; one that held skepticism, doubt even. It was a look you knew all too well, but you chose to ignore it. It seems he did too when he pulled you back against him. 

But after standing for a moment, the aching of your bare feet started to surge through your legs. You tensed, hissing at the pain.

Tom drew back and followed your gaze to the floor. 

“You ran here?!” 

“No, I flew.” you frowned, the tears still sitting in your eyes. “Of course I ran! Something was in my house!” 

“Right.” Tom nodded, lips forming a thin line. “Come on.”

Tom’s hand snaked around your waist for support as he guided you to the bathroom on the first floor. Every step felt like a fire on the soles of your feet, shooting up every time your foot came down. He sat you, slowly, at the edge of the white tub and quickly turned the water on.

You swung your legs over, feet reaching the warm water that started to fill with relief. 

Tom leaned down, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’ll be right back.” he said, a firm kiss planted on the top of your head. 

He first returned with his green hoodie to serve as some comfort over the t-shirt you chose to sleep in. 

Then, he came back with a warm mug of tea. 

Your eyes stung, yearning for sleep the longer you sat here. The tea would surely drive the last nail in. But you took it, gratefully, and tiredly smiled up at him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “I’m sorry for coming here like this.” 

Tom sat beside you on the same edge of the tub, his legs facing out instead of in. The hand closest to you came to rest on your leg as you took a sip, and he looked at you with concern etched in his tired face. 

“Don’t ever apologize for coming here if you don’t feel safe in your house.” Tom sighed, shaking his head at you. “Only you would try to apologize for that.” 

A weak tug pulled at the corner of your lips. You leaned your head on his shoulder. 

“You must think I’m crazy.” 

Silence followed for almost a beat too lung, but then he snickered. 

“No, I knew that when we first met.” Tom said, the fondness warm in his tone. “So you’re going to have to try harder than that if you want to scare me off.” 

You laughed; whether from somewhere genuine or out of delirium, you laughed until tears pricked your eyes again. The feeling that bubbled in your chest felt so foreign given the sheer terror you felt tonight, but that was what made Tom so special to you. 

“I know what I saw, though.” you shuddered. Your thoughts lingered on that sound, that feeling of something bony latching on. “I know how it sounds but—“ 

“You can tell me tomorrow.” Tom softly interjected, hand leaving your leg to cup your face still damp from tears. Your chin was pinched between his thumb and finger to keep your eyes locked on his. “And I will be making a call to the sheriff whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t think–” 

Tom shook his head. “Whether the thing is still there or not, it would give me some peace of mind.”

Nodding, you relinquished any and all thinking you had to do on your end. Whatever ghoulish figure lingered in your home was nothing short of a weekly occurrence on this island. They always came and went, giving another story for an islander to pass on one day. 

You two sat there on the edge of the tub until you finished your tea; Tom offered silence, his hand still gently stroking your thigh.

“Did I wake Evan?” you finally asked.

Tom snickered softly. “He’s sleeping at a friends–allegedly.” 

You nodded with understanding, head returning to his shoulder. 

“Good, because that would have been embarrassing.” 

When your mug was empty, you dried off and let Tom guide you back upstairs to his room. You tucked yourself in while still wearing the forest green hoodie and when the bed sunk in beside you, you wasted no time before latching onto him. Tom’s arm quickly came over you, squeezing you closer against his chest.

Your head moved with the motion of his deep breath, a sound that would lull you to sleep no matter where you were.

“Thank you,” you tiredly spoke, muffled from the fabric.

You felt his smile deep in his chest and the hum of his voice. “Don’t thank me. Thank the ghost. I like this sleeping arrangement.” 

A soft bit of laughter escaped you, something to unwind the last of your nerves before drifting off to sleep entangled with Tom. You wouldn’t even acknowledge that he used the word “ghost”, instead just grateful that he listened and didn’t bat an eye before trying to just make you feel safe. 

~

Sleeping at Tom’s house was always a feat to escape in the morning because he had a grip of steel with one arm snaking around your midsection and a strong reluctance to let go. More often than not, you didn’t fight it. But this morning, you were slightly anxious to see if what happened last night was real or if it was a ghost. 

Tom drove you home where the Sheriff inevitably found nothing. 

Of course, your neighbors peaked their heads out their windows to see what all the commotion was about, and it became even more embarrassing that the Sheriff also doubted your ghost story. 

But someone else joined you on your front lawn, almost passing for just another stranger walking by. When you glanced behind you, you saw Wyck standing there scrutinizing your home.

“Said you heard a ferry horn, did ya?” 

Tom sighed at your side. “Wyck, don’t–”

“Yes.” you interjected. 

Wyck made a look at Tom and then back at you. “And you looked out the window?”

You nodded, hesitantly. “Yes? There was another sound too afterwards.”

“You met the ferryman.” Wyck affirmed. 

Tom threw his arms up and turned away, but you tilted your head out of curiosity. 

“He’ll return to shore and look for lodging, the first to look out their window and he’ll come knocking,” he recited.

It all hit you at once; the knocking, the glisten of a polished raincoat, and the horrible stench of the sea. By the time you looked back at Wyck, a shade lighter this time from the realization, he was already walking away. Tom was relieved but you were left slightly more shaken than before. 

an: this was SO cute and I hope this was at least somewhat close to what you had in mind!! I was also kicking my feet and grinning while writing this hehe

~~~~~~

The Driftwood

The Driftwood diner was a permanent fixture in Widows Bay and soon enough, Tom Loftis’s presence with it. You don’t know when the Mayor started making his visits more frequently but for years, it had been a routine you followed like clockwork. 

You sorted through the receipts of orders called in during a busy lunch rush, your ears having gone numb to the sound of the kitchen and the bell at the front door. Most fishermen were trickling in from the morning and schools were out early today due to a buggy air conditioner so the place was going to turn upside down one way or another. 

But despite the commotion, a familiar voice pierced through the noise. 

“Kathy, you took my order over the phone, what do you mean you don’t remember?” 

Tom’s tone was easy to recognize, especially when talking (or bargaining, mostly) with Kathy. You might have even moved too fast the second you recognized it. You swiped up his order that was bagged and ready to go and came out through the swinging door, a cheeky grin already established in your features.

“I prepped your order knowing you’re always going to be here fifteen minutes later than you say you will.” you chimed, placing the bag on the counter.

The contempt he'd worn while arguing with Kathy dissolved almost instantly the second his eyes landed on you. The corners of his mouth twitched upward before he could stop them, and instinct you felt all too well.

“I’m not late.” Tom defended with a shrug. But then he blanked. “At least not all the time.” 

“If you’re not late, then this order…”you leaned back, eyeing the receipt on the bag with scrutiny. “Must not be yours.”

You pulled the bag away, catching his lips parting as he tried to stop you, hands reaching out with  an unsatisfied groan. 

“YN!” Tom tried to discreetly call out. 

“No, no,” you assured, walking inside along the length of the bar. “Silly me. I will get your order right away!” 

Tom tried, and helplessly failed, to get your attention until he finally wrapped around the very end of the bar where there was a small gap to move in and out of. He waited with his hands expectantly out before him and you didn’t put up much of a fight after that. After willingly handing it over, you lingered and leaned against the counter top. 

“Thank you,” Tom said in all seriousness this time. 

You bowed your head. “Anytime.”

“And I’m sorry for being late all the time. I will get better at timing out when I call in for my orders.” 

I placed my hands on my hips, looking up at him with one brow raised. “Mhmm…Sure, Loftis.”

Tom let out a soft chuckle, the crinkle of his eyes defeating even the strongest of barriers you kept up to avoid being so flustered around him. Years of being at this diner taught you that well with the cheeky fishermen and visitors from out of town tried to make you smile. It honestly gave others the impression you were nothing more than a wall of stone. 

But Tom Loftis would come in and you would never smile more than when he was around.

"You know, if I start showing up on time..." Tom said, taking a reluctant step toward the door, "you’ll have one less thing to hold over my head."

You scoffed, unintentionally leaning away from the bar as he gravitated away.  “I promise you that I will find something else.” 

Tom was practically out the door by now when he waved, and through the glass of the door, he started pointing to his ear and mouthing that he couldn’t hear you.  The faint laugh bubbled out from me, relieving some of the tension in my chest as I watched him leave the lot, and I stood like a fool at the end of that bar for a few minutes even after he had gone. 

~

Other times, the Mayor swung by on slower mornings on his way to Town Hall. 

The island was hit with cold, spring showers that made the world outside of the diner look washed in gray save for the richness it brought out in the dark pines that surrounded you. It was actually peaceful, sitting in the diner to the lull of the morning radio and rain patterning against the old roof. No customers cruised in yet, leaving you and your crossword on the newspaper in peace. 

But a pair of headlights pulled into the gravel lot and you recognized them right away. 

Before Tom Loftis could run in, you already poured a to-go cup of black coffee for him. 

The bell rang over the door and with it, the brief noise of the downpour outside. You turned to see him shedding his rain coat, hanging it on the hook by the door where a puddle would inevitably form below it. 

“Tom," you sighed dramatically. "Why did you bring the rain with you?”

He looked at you incredulously, and it made you laugh. “Me? Is that why you put my coffee in a to-go cup? To send me back out there?” 

Your chest bubbled as he crossed the space between the two of you to have a seat. Finding the seat across from you was second nature to him at this point, like his name was written on whichever chair lined up with where you stood. It also lined him up to take the newspaper you were working through.

“Yes, now shoo.” I waved, paying no mind to him as I took my newspaper back. 

Tom leaned back slightly, his pale and icy hands wrapping around the cup of coffee in search of warmth. He took a long sip.

“Only someone so cruel could get a coffee pot from the fifties to still work so well.” he commended, taking a sip. 

"That things' been through a war or two."

"Three, if you ask Rosemary." he tacked on.

As you settled into a comfortable silence, you glanced up through your lashes, catching the relief settling across his features as the warmth of the coffee spread through him. He looked tired today. The faint shadows beneath his eyes hadn't escaped your notice. But he caught your staring, and your eyes averted back to the paper. 

“Did you poison me?” Tom asked suspiciously. 

“No,” I grinned into my palm. “Just admiring the view.”

Tom’s face changed the slightest color of pink, but you chalked it up to the coffee bringing heat back into his face. 

“The rain, obviously.” you quickly added.

A sheepish laugh passed through his lips, eyes dipping down with the shake of his head. You couldn’t help but look up at him again, this time being more discreet. Neither of you acknowledged whatever comfort blossomed between you two in this place as you sipped morning coffee over a crossword puzzle. The radio station already cycled through the morning weather and traffic reports once now and the puzzle was nearly done. Time was passing suspiciously fast.

“Don’t you have to go be a mayor or something?” you asked coyly. 

Tom’s eyes were narrowed in on the last word he needed to find.  If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was pretending he couldn’t figure it out so he could stick around. 

“I’m just gonna wait for the rain to ease up a bit.” Tom answered. “Plus, I need to get this last word–”

“It’s ‘anchor’.” you interjected.

The pen fell from Tom’s hand and he slowly looked up at you with awe and disappointment all at once. You couldn’t help but giggle at his expression. You picked up the pen to write in the letters for him.

“Something to keep you from drifting.” you continued on, digging the wound deeper. “You already had the H and the R.”

“Well,” Tom heaved with a sigh, quite dramatically before his eyes settled back on you. “I guess you just really want me out of here then, huh?” he said with a subtle taunt to his tone. 

“You can’t stall your day and stick around on a word that’s that easy.” you remarked, taking the newspaper away now. 

Tom was still stumped. You turned back around with the coffee pot, signaling him to remove the lid. As you topped off his coffee, Tom watched you carefully, capturing all the details he could before you would turn back away. You felt it too; like there was something small sitting in the back of your head that weighed heavier when you knew he was watching. It was something you’d grown accustomed to, welcomed even as it made your skin warm from head to toe. It made you inevitably smile like a secret was just whispered and only you could hear it, but Tom had no idea. 

“I suppose I should go.” Tom admitted, his body showing no inclinations of getting up. “I can’t let Patricia try to run the meetings this morning.” 

A slight flash of horror piqued in his eyes at the thought of it and you shook your head. “Be nice,” you warned. 

Finally, he stood up, and you could already feel the emptiness in his wake before even walking out the door.

“You know, you could work at Town Hall instead.” Tom proposed as he threw his coat on. 

You raised your brows, already knowing what he had up his sleeve with this idea of his.

“Oh, could I? I think I’ve heard this before.” you hummed, leaning your elbows against the counter. 

“I’ll make a whole new position.” he beamed, with the same excitement as an ambitious mayor trying to sell a new idea. “Crossword puzzles and whatever you want.” 

Your thoughts betrayed you before you could even voice them, making a heat spread underneath the surface of your cheeks. “I think you and I both know we wouldn’t be doing crossword puzzles.” you laughed.

The laugh escaped him before he had a chance to swallow it back, shoulders loosening as his head dipped with a sheepish shake.

He was always so busy trying to keep this place together that you didn’t often get to see something so pure expressed from him. But in quiet mornings like these, when you said the right words to get under that skin of his, you got an entirely different side of him–one that laughed and blushed and did all the things that made you do the same. 

“No comment,” Tom finally said.

You longingly stared as he hung at the door, and he looked like he wanted to say something else but the gears were fighting it behind his eyes.

“Have a lovely day, Tom.” you smiled, giving him an escape. 

~ 

Other nights, you were lucky enough to see Tom bring Evan around. It was obvious how much happier it made him when his son would come out with him, something that happened less and less as he got older. It was a busy evening since the Red Sox were playing on the big old box TV’s that hung up in the corners, hence why you put the duo in the best seats in the house. 

You drifted over to their table some time after they got their food, heads craned up to the TV. Naturally, your hand fell on the back of Tom’s chair.

“How did everything turn out?” you ask, startling them both a little. 

Their mouths were nearly full as they hummed out positive sounds and nodded fervently. You laughed through the grimace on their faces as they urgently tried to swallow their food.

“It’s amazing. As always.” Evan politely answers. “Thank you.”

“I don’t do much other than bring it over to you guys.” you said modestly. “I just bring it over with love and hope for a good tip.” 

Tom looks up at you, the corner of his lip pulling in the slightest, and you realize then there’s only a few inches of space between your hip and his shoulder. But neither of you recede in the slightest.

“I always tip good, don’t I?” he asks, slightly self conscious in his thoughts now. 

“I was not referring to you when I said that, and you know it.” your voice lowered when you looked down at him with a knowing grin, hip slightly bumping into him. 

Tom actually never left tips. You told him not to or else you would start making donations to the organizations he likes the least in the town in his name. He quickly obliged after that. 

But as Evan started to stare at the two of you with an inkling of suspicion, a couple of others started knocking on the window outside of their booth. Your head whipped over to see Evan’s friends, eagerly waving and trying to get him to come outside. The hesitancy in Evan’s eyes did not go unnoticed as he glanced between his friends and his dad, and you knew Tom would tell him it was okay to go so as not to keep his son trapped at the diner. 

“Dad, is it okay if I go?” Evan asked.

Tom’s eyes looked just noticeably sullen as he started to nod. 

“Wait,” you quickly said, clutching your hands in front of you as you turned to Evan. “I don’t want to keep you, but I did kind of have a surprise desert made up for you.” 

Evan’s eyes widened slightly. “For me? Really?”

You shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you! Plus, I know your dad orders you two tons of food when you watch the games at home so I prepared in advance.” 

Tom tried to interject, lips hanging open with the words of trying to tell him it was okay and he could go hanging in the void. But Evan, whose teenage brain was trying to figure out the ever impossible task of telling his friends to wait up for him, already turned to look at you with an eager nod.

“Sure, I’ll stick around for a few more minutes.”

Relief flooded Tom’s face and you turned away like nothing was different. 

When you returned to the table moments later, in your hand was a monstrous desert that you hadn’t made in years; it was a freshly made waffle topped with whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and crumbled up candies scattered on top. With Evan’s back towards you, Tom’s eyes widened slightly and he covered his mouth to hide his smile.

Evan did a double take and nearly gawked. 

“Oh my god, you did not have to do this!” Evan laughed as you placed it in front of him.

“You used to get that all the time.” Tom said in awe, staring at the plate with his cheek bones permanently set from his smile. 

“It’s been a while since I made it.” you tacked on, looking down slightly proud of yourself for remembering. “But I don’t know when you’ll be back in here again so I had to jump on it.”

As Evan dug in, you slowly started to back away to tend to your other tables. But you caught a quick glance at Tom who mouthed a quick “thank you” as you made your exit. It was nothing special, something you would have done countless times without anything in return. 

Eventually though, Evan did leave with his friends. Tom was in brighter spirits that he stayed a little longer, even if they didn’t finish the game together. But as the diner emptied out and the kitchen started to close, Tom still sat at his table and looked up at the TV but his eyes weren’t really watching whatever played. 

You scooped up a bit of ice cream for yourself and him before joining him at the table.

You sat with a resounding noise of relief, sinking into the chair like your legs were to give out any minute. 

“I am exhausted.” you sighed.

Tom was barely moved by your presence, something still weighing on him. 

“You doing alright over there?” you asked.

You craned your head slightly to see where his legs rested as he sat perpendicular to the table, and lifted your feet to rest on top of them.

He snickered softly, hand coming down to the top of your calf. 

“Does being your ottoman count as a tip?” Tom jokingly asked. 

“Yes, but here is some ice cream for your troubles.” 

You slid the cup over to him and he leaned back in his chair. After a few bites, he finally seemed open to talking.

“I just…” he began, faltering again and taking another bite of ice cream. “I don’t know. I’m worried he’s getting older and getting more eager to leave. I mean, he can’t even sit through a night out to watch the game.”

You watched Tom meticulously, heart warming up by the second as you watched the sorrow he tried to hide creep up in his eyes and his voice. It made you sad to see it, but also made you smile at the way he just simply loved his son and wanted him to be happy. All of which was while he ate ice cream like a sad kid who just left the doctor’s office.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Tom asked, ice cream in the corner of his cheek.

“Because, you are a great father.” you answered simply. “Evan is going to feel that way and peel off with his friends anyway and not because he doesn’t like his dad, but because that’s what we all do at that age when we live on an island.” 

Tom’s shoulders rose and fell with a sigh of defeat.

“I know.” 

You tilted your head at him, unsure if he believed it or not.

He caught sight of it and passed the cup back to you. “I’m serious, I hear you.” he said, sounding a little more believable now.

As you took your share of the ice cream, sinking in the uncomfortable chair with your legs lounging over his, Tom melded perfectly to the circumstances you made around him. Without thinking, his thumb traced a slow path along your calf before drifting back again. It wasn't deliberate enough to feel strictly affectionate, nor absent-minded enough to be ignored by you. It was simply Tom, giving you the comfort he always made you feel.

“It’s going to be alright, Tom. He’s not going anywhere other than to cause a ruckus with his friends.” you added.

He let out a humorous huff, glancing at you sideways as you both immediately knew that was another problem in and of itself. 

“I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

You smiled. “You would have much shittier coffee.” 

~

On early mornings and late nights, Tom Loftis would you at the diner like he committed your schedule to memory. A natural occurrence that ebbed and flowed for so long now you couldn’t imagine going a week without seeing him. It felt like the only place that made sense.

But tonight, as dusk settled around the tall pines and the roads were shadows in the distance before the street lights came on, Tom pulled up to the diner while you were locking the front door.

“What’s going on? Is everything alright?” Tom asked, nearly jumping out of the car before it was fully parked. 

You turned, raising a brow at him. “Yes? I’m closing early tonight. You should know this.” 

Tom stood dumbfounded in his headlights, even going as far as to double check his watch. You proceeded with locking up and turned back to face him, still clearly not understanding. 

“What do you mean? It’s only seven thirty?” 

You also checked your watch and nodded at him. “Yes, and the moonrise is in about half an hour. I never stay open past moonrise during full moons.”

Tom’s face scrunched even more. “Since when?”

“Since forever.” you shrugged. 

“Why?”

You simply laughed, shaking your head at him. “Come on, you know why, Tom.”

Realization dawned on him. You nodded, confirming the thoughts that crossed his mind. The sky was getting darker by the second and you rocked on your heels, patiently waiting for him to make the next move. 

“You don’t really believe in that, do you?”

You were unsurprised by his reluctance to believe in your reasonings, one that the rest of the town followed with ease. You nodded in response, and now, you two were left standing under the spotlight of his car.

“You know, just because the diner is closed, doesn’t mean you still can’t spend time with me?” you suggested.

Tom pointed at you. “You’re changing the subject.”

You raised your brows, further emphasizing his own ridiculousness. 

“Alright, get in the car.” he sighed.

Something giddy rose within you, and you nearly skipped to the passenger side that Tom Loftis opened up for you. He quickly hopped in and all you could do was stare at him, heart thumping in your chest.

“Took you long enough to finally take me out of this place.”