tom hears a scream

Okay but Peter, Ned, and May getting Greek food and Ned and May both pointing at the pita bread and going “Hey, that’s you, Pita Parker”

Pita Pita Pita Pita Pita Pita

What’s My Name? (Tom Holland Smut)

Originally posted by tom-holla

request: “Hey I loved your Tom smut I was wondering if you would write something where the reader accidentally calls him Peter during sex and is super embarrassed but he’s kind of into it” (requested by anon)

short summary: ^^

length: 1.3k words (sorry it’s kinda shorter than i envisioned tbh :/)

warnings: none it’s p straightforward

A/N: i’m ngl i laughed as I was writing this like this whole concept just busts my chops lol enjoy (also i kept listening to what’s my name as i wrote this hah shoutout to rihanna my queen)


The time that you’d been spending with Tom in New York was everything you dreamed of and more. Having never been to the city before, it was quite the adventure and you were always happy to be with your boyfriend before one of you had to jet off for work or school.

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Touch | NSFW

Summary: You needed a study break, and let’s just say things got touchy.

Characters: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: smut, cursing, d*ddy kink

Word Count: 989

A/N: 18+ only please!! Since y’all were being nasty the other day, here’s a quick one that y’all inspired me to write.

“Babe,” Tom had said, but you didn’t hear him, “(Y/N)!” he screamed making you jolt away from your school work.

“Sorry. I was blasting the music. What is it, Tom?” you said.

“Come lay down for a while. You’ve been studying all day. You need to relax.”

You thought about it and didn’t fight against it. You took the ear buds out and placed everything on the desk, and crawled into bed with Tom.

“You seem tense, love. Take your shirt off and lay on your stomach. I bet you have knots from that horrid desk chair,” he said, kissing your head.

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Tom Holland Imagine: Broken

Summary: after getting out of a toxic relationship, you meet a very handsome boy on your train. (Loosely based off of both Yes Girl and I Can’t Breathe by Bea Miller)

A/N: sorry for being gone for so long… writers block kicked in…😤

Warnings: physical and mental abuse

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I let out a sigh of relief as the train took off down the tracks. I watched as the town I once knew and loved flew passed me. I wondered what He would do when He came home from work to find me gone. I fidgeted with the strap of my duffle bag before deciding to pull out my book to help the time pass.

“Hello? Sorry to disturb you, but would you mind if I sat here?” A voice said.

I shook my head without meeting the stranger’s eye. Yes, I would prefer to be sitting by myself but considering I bought the last ticket for this train, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I heard the stranger let out a heavy sigh as he placed his bag under his seat.

“Whatcha readin there? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Uh, it’s called Ordinary People. By Judith Guest. It’s my favorite book, I’ve read it like 10 times.”

“Huh, maybe I’ll read it sometime.”

“Oh you definitely should, its incredible.”

I finally looked up from my book to see a very handsome boy smiling at me.

“I’m Tom by the way.” He said as he extended his hand to me.

“Uh, I’m Y/N.” I said as I shook his hand.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

I blushed at his compliment and closed my book and looked back up at the him.

“So what’s bringing you to the city? And by train? Not many people go on these anymore.”

Tom smiled and looked out the window.

“Well, I do a lot of traveling. I’m always in the air and so I just wanted to see the trees for a change. And I’m staying in the city, actually. I just felt like I was going insane from only seeing buildings and angry people everywhere I went and I need some time to figure things out so I found the smallest town I could find outside of Atlanta and left for the weekend. What about you?”

“Uh, that’s a story for another time…”

“That’s alright. Let it be yours.”

“Well, your accent gives it away that you don’t live here, so why are you in America?”

“I’m an actor. Filming a movie.”

“Oh, I love movies! What movie are you filming?”

Tom let out a light laugh as he looked down and fiddled with his thumbs.

“Uh, Spider-Man, actually.”

“Wait, really!? I love Spider-Man! Are you the guy that plays him in Civil War? I haven’t gotten to see it yet but I want to so bad. See, my boyfri- ex boyfriend wouldn’t let me go see it.”

I looked down to avoid Tom’s confused face, hoping it would give him the hint to not ask any questions.

“Well, maybe I can take you to go see it sometime.”

“Uh, yeah! But if you don’t want to you don’t have to. I’m sure you’ve already seen it like 500 times…”

“Yeah, but never with a girl as beautiful as you.”

“Pft, are you kidding me? Have you seen Scarlett Johansson!?”

Before Tom could reply I heard my phone go off. I reached into my bag to pull it out and felt my heart stop.

No.

He wasn’t supposed to be home this early.

I felt my heart drop to my stomach as I looked at His name written on the screen.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned my phone off before shoving it back in my bag.

I felt Tom’s gaze on me. I looked up and gave him a weak smile, trying to get him to drop it.

Luckily, he did.

—3 months later—

I laid on the couch, wrapped up in Tom’s arms. We started dating shortly after we met. I didn’t think I would be able to date anyone for while after what happened with Him but, Tom was different. I knew he was different because he cared.

Unlike Him. I knew He was searching for me. I had been forced to ditch my phone and buy a new one to get Him to stop calling me and leaving hurtful voicemails.

Now, 3 months later, the thoughts of Him felt like only a distant memory of a childhood nightmare.

But that quickly changed.

Tom and I were watching The Way Way Back when it happened.

First there was the pounding on the door.

“I’ll get it, love.” Tom sweetly whispered in my ear. He kissed the side of my face and got up from the couch.

I instantly missed the feeling of his arms around me. I turned my attention back to the film, thinking it was just Harrison who forgot his key again.

But then I heard it.

I heard Tom’s angelic voice asking who they were but getting cut off by a punch to the jaw.

And then His voice calling out my name.

I sat up immediately and felt my self beginning to hyperventilate.

But while I was breathing hard, it felt like there was no oxygen in my body at all.

As His figure walked into the room, I felt myself black out from fear.

I didn’t even feel Him pick me up by my hair and throw me into the glass coffee table.

I didn’t even feel the blood begin to fall from my skin from where the glass had cut it open.

I didn’t even hear Tom scream my name.

I didn’t hear Tom tackling the guy.

I didn’t hear Harrison come in and call the police.

I didn’t hear the ambulance as they asked me questions.

But I watched all of it.

I could see everything.

I could see Tom attacking Him.

I could see Tom as he stood over me, crying.

I could see his lips saying words like, “Please say something, love” or “Please don’t leave me” as tears slipped from his eyes.

I woke up hours later. I looked around and saw Tom sitting to my right, holding my hand tightly as he cried into my side.

“Tom?” I asked.

His head whipped up and let out a sigh of relief when he saw me awake. He immediately began to pepper my face with kisses and held me tightly to him.

“Thank god you’re okay. He’s gone, Y/N. They’ve locked Him up. You never have to worry about Him again. I have you and I will always protect you. I love you, Y/N. So much.”

And those words, those few words, put every little broken piece in me back together.

2

(Requested by Anon) (Part 1 to this imagine here)

Warning: USE OF ALCOHOL AS A COPING MECHANISM. It doesn’t turn out bad due to the alcohol, but just a warning that alcohol is used.

You weren’t sure how you managed to find yourself in front of the Cullen household.

You had been driving while on autopilot, your mind reeling from the image burned into your mind.

Tom, your fiance, beneath a very… gifted woman. From the look on his face he didn’t have a problem with the fact that a woman who wasn’t his fiancée was on top of him with her tits in his face.

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I can imagine how the conversation between the directors and scriptwriters went with this scene.


Director: Hey, let’s make Julian take off his necktie in front of Barry!


Scriptwriter: Yeah, and we’ll just make it subtle so he’d say something like “I was never interested in learning how to knot a tie.” bla bla bla.


Director: Imagine all the Julian-Barry shippers.


Barry, out of nowhere: Allenbert*


Scriptwriters: Imagine all the fanfictions.


Both: Imagine all the fan edits.



Julian: Pfft, that’s ridiculous.



Julian, under his breath: I love it.

Originally posted by cuddlymalfoy

Dating Tom Holland:


- talking about each other’s day

- hand holding

- poking at his cheeks bc so cute

- lil hand & cheek kisses

- randomly messing with his curls

- cute I love you’s

- caring about your mental health

- bringing you home flowers

- caring about his mental health

- having a drink

- going shopping together

- Holiday greeting card photos with Tessa

- calling you pretty

- holding you tight when you cry

- movie nights

- welcome home party for him w/ Tessa

- ha sEx

- his family loving you because he’s happy

- Wednesday date nights

- your family loving him because your happy

- laying his head on your lap

- seeing how he acts with kids & dogs

- looking at you with love

- self care days with him & Tessa

- looking at him with love

- waking up to his face every morning

- going on walks on snowy days

- lots of fucking blushing from both sides

- supporting each other

- knowing marvel secrets bc toms big mouth

- lil nose kisses

- his friends loving you bc you are great

- being dorks

- FaceTiming when he’s gone filming

- being in love


Originally posted by tom-hollcnd

anonymous asked:

One day they hear Matt scream, and Tom and Edd go to where he was, but he's just gone. Sometimes Edd swears he can see Matt in the mirror.

Edd had only left him alone for a moment.
“I’ll get you some water,” Edd said before he stepped into the kitchen. Water was all Matt could keep dowm anymore. The fear and constant anxiety clutching his gut didn’t allow for much else.
Matt took a deep breath. Inhale…exhale. He’s okay. He’s gonna be okay. Edd and Tom were going to get him help. Whatever it took, they were gonna nake the man in every mirror go away. He just had to keep his eyes closed.
Last time he saw the man, he was in the screen of Edd’s phone as it went to sleep. He was so close, Matt felt like the glass wall would break and let the evil it contained free.
He was getting tense. Breathe in, breathe out.
Matt heard water running in the next room. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, Matt could see the man rippling in glass, staring right through him.
“Edd,” Matt whispered. He was having trouble breathing. The water stopped, but Matt heard the fridge open.
“Open your eyes”
Matt’s eyes flashed open. The voice was too loud, too close, too full of malice to be Edd, and it was right next to his ear.

Edd was used to hearing the screams, but unlike the others, this wasn’t a sharp cry of surprise, quickly suppressed, this was one of pure terror, and it dragged. Edd dropped the water glass in the floor and made a break for the living room. The scream stopped just as the couch entered his line of vision, and Matt wasn’t there.
“Matt?” Edd called, panic quickly seizing him. He frantically looked around the room, but there was no sign of his companion.
“Matt!”
Tom dashed into the room as Edd called a second time.
“ What happened? Where is he?” Tom asked quickly.
Edd didn’t know how to respond.

It was painful to see his face on missing person posters. It was painful to see him described with words like “mentally unstable”. It was painful to see all the mirrors and pictures of his face around the house broken, covered, or thrown out altogether. Two weeks had gone by with no sign of him, and its like his memory had already been erased.
Edd found himself in Matt’s old room. It was trashed as it always had been, but rather than junk lovingly collected being strewn about the floor, it was covered in blankets and face-down photographs. The room was eerily dark. Matt always kept the curtains closed because he swore he could see a man in the window. Edd sighed and pulled the curtain back. The weather was dreary and raindrops speckled his reflection in the glass. As he lifted his eyes, Edd saw another figure in the reflection. He was tall, dressed in his favorite green jacket, his ginger hair a wild mess, but something was wrong. His posture was slumped to one side, he had dark rings under his eyes, and he stared right through Edd as if there were something paralyzingly horrifying behind him. Edd spun around to face him but of course, there was no one there

Imagine:

“Come on, baby, we’re late!

You hear Tom’s hurried screams coming downstairs. You roll your eyes and continue your makeup calmly.

Finishing with a neutral color on the lipstick, you get up from the dressing table and walk to the bed, where the blue dress gala is awaiting to be dressed by you. Before you wear it, you tidy up the tweezers that held your socks on the garter belt.

"Y / N, love, what you…”

You turn around when you hear your name, and gives a small smile when see the reaction of your husband, who practically devours you with his eyes.

“Enjoying the view, Daddy?”

You knew how excited Tom was when he was called that way.

Delighting and feeling the most beautiful woman in the world, you walk towards him, raising your hands through his black shirt, reaching his tie, playing with it seductively.

Tom’s hands readily grab your butt in a dominant way, pulling you closer to his body, making you feel his erection pulsing beneath your belly.

“Does that answer your question, my sweet little slut?”

You feel your pussy get already soaking wet. Your hand slides down the man’s bony chest that even after a long time together, still gaves you the same excitement the first time they you spent the night together. And wow, what a night! Reaching the waistband of his pants, you squeeze his cock, tearing out a hoarse groan from him.

“Yes, Daddy, that answers!”

You massage his cock a little over your underwear, but you walk away, going to bed and putting on the dress.

“Now come on! We’re late … Daddy!

theemoestdemon  asked:

I have a tomco angst fic idea. Maybe one day Star, Marco, and Tom are watching a scary movie and something in it reminds him of something bad/scary in his memory so he runs and hides. And Marco pretty much has to calm him down. (Or get him to fall asleep :3)

Awwww! This was such a sweet idea! I hope you like the story! I really enjoyed writing it! It was so much fun! I love Tom and Marco being all sweet together it’s the cutest!!!!


It was fine. The movie was fine, Tom just heard it on in the background while he played with the string on Marco’s hoodie. It didn’t mean much to him until that noise started. It was loud and piercing, like a motor being held right next to your ear. Tom jumped and his ears stuck up straight, as that sound grinded its way into his head. It kept playing over and over, louder and louder. Even when the movie stopped.

“Tom, are you okay?” Marco asked, pausing the TV. Tom couldn’t hear him over the noise in his head. It got louder and louder and Tom began to hear the screaming. “Tom! What’s the matter!?” A cry cut through and Tom realized he was shaking and crying at this point. He didn’t know when this started, it just happened. Marco said something else to try and offer help, but the noise kept coming through. Tom’s shaking grew worse and he darted off out the back door. “TOM!” Marco called, and he ran after him.

“Tom, where did you go?” Marco asked. He looked around. “Please? I know you can hear me. What happened? Was it something you saw?” Marco called around. He knew Tom could get easily upset about some things that reminded him of past happenings. Usually Marco was good at recognizing Tom’s triggers, and would steer them away, but sometimes it would be the most random thing he didn’t expect the demon to get worked up over.

“Tom, please come out.” Marco begged. Tom wasn’t in his right mind like this, and Marco always stressed that his demon would hurt himself. Marco turned around when he heard a little noise like sticks breaking under the deck. He put his head down and saw three glowing red eyes a few feet away. Tom was snapping sticks in half. “Tom, what are you doing?” Marco asked gently.

Tom just kept snapping sticks and then grew frustrated. His eyes lit up angrily and he threw the sticks. Tom had a ring of fire around him that kept burning hotter and brighter. He then resorted to putting his hands over his ears and shutting his eyes, trying to drown any noise out. “Tom, come on out.” Marco called.

“No.” Tom whimpered.

“Come on Tom, just take a breath.” Marco coached. “You’re not in your right mind right now, but if you just take a breath and relax, you’ll realize you’re okay.” He assured.

“No! I’m not okay I’m not okay I’m noT OKAY I’M NOT OKAY!” Tom started yelling and he wrapped his head up in his arms and rocked back and forth. Marco crawled under the dirty deck to be next to the demon. When he came to the ring of fire, it seemed to let up for Marco, like Tom knew he meant no harm. He wrapped Tom up in a hug and hushed him.

“Shhh. You’re okay. I promise you’re okay.” Marco soothed. Tom latched onto the human and Marco held him for a long moment. He let Tom fall apart in his arms for a while before pulling back a little. “Hey, can you look at me?” Marco asked. “Can you answer me this?” He asked. Tom swallowed hard and nodded. “Do you know where you are?” Marco asked.

“I-I’m next to you.” Tom stated.

“Where?” Marco asked. Tom looked around and then it clicked.

“I-I ran under the deck. The-the noise scared me.” Tom admitted. Marco nodded and gave him a kiss on the head.

“What noise?” He asked.

“It-it’s stupid… I shouldn’t have done that I didn’t mean to.” Tom rambled. Marco hushed him again and gave him another kiss, before repeating his question. “I… the noise from the movie. It was… some sort of motor and… I remembered it and there was screaming I remembered… I got scared.” Tom mumbled. Marco hushed him again and held him close.

“It’s alright, it’s alright.” Marco hushed. He looked around. “Let’s get out of here.” He decided. Tom nodded and Marco led im out from under the deck. Tom crawled onto the grass and pulled his knees up. Marco sat down next to him. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” He promised. Tom looked away.

“I thought I had this under control.” He mumbled.

“You don’t always.” Marco broke the news. “It’s something that takes time.” He added. Tom nodded and wiped away a few of his stray tears. Marco took the demon in his arms and Tom rested his head on Marco’s shoulder. Marco looked down at the demon and sighed. “Close your eyes.” He told him.

“Why?” Tom asked.

“Because you get burnt out after a panic attack. Some rest will do you good, it always does.” Marco explained. Tom yawned and nodded, closing his eyes and letting Marco wrap him up in a protective hug. He lifted the demon up and felt Tom hold onto him tighter. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you go.” Marco promised. Tom seemed to relax a little and the human brought him into the house. He set Tom down on the couch, but Tom kept his arms wrapped around the human. “Tom, can you let me go for a minute?” Marco asked.

Tom shook his head and Marco laughed a bit, unlatching himself from the demon. He brought the blanket from the other side of the couch over and wrapped it around the demon protectively. He the resumed holding Tom as close as he could until he felt Tom go totally limp, signaling that he was asleep.

“You’re okay now.” Marco whispered. He made a mental note about the motor type sound that upset Tom so much. He would ask about it later, only if Tom wanted to talk about it. But right now Tom needed some rest to get his thoughts together. “You’ll be okay.”

TomTord Week Day 3 - Redemption AU 
This may have ended up more of a post-The End fic than a true Redemption AU…. 

- - - - - - - -

               Everyone thinks he’s dead. When that harpoon pierced through his robot, they assumed he’d been destroyed in the crash. He survived. He tore himself out of the wreckage and flopped down on that bloody earth to observe the aftermath of his failures. He allowed himself to be dragged away, patched together, and propped back on his feet like someone’s Frankensteinian art project.

               He didn’t want forgiveness- didn’t deserve it anyway. It wouldn’t change what happened, and it sure as hell wouldn’t fix anything. Tord never had a family, but the boys in that house had come the closest. They were the family he’d never asked for. He’d never wanted to get so attached, and had hoped (like a fool) that those feelings would dissipate in their years spent apart.

               I. AM NOT. YOUR FRIEND!

               The declaration still echoes through his mind at the worst opportunities. It should not hurt as much as it does, but something shattered that day. His friends made him week.

               In the years following the disaster the Red Army has completely fallen apart. Tord lost his passion for the fight, and despite his best efforts everyone could sense the change. It’s hard to lean an army of renegades when your heart isn’t in it. Paul and Patryk stuck around for a while, likely as a result of some displaced sense of duty or obligation. Tord didn’t have the energy for it- for them. They expected things of him that he could no longer deliver. He had already proved that he wasn’t fit to lead the army, and having his right-hand men around only served to pour salt in the wounds. They deserved better than a broken shell of a leader.

               Recent history has found Tord spending more and more time lurking in the areas his former housemates frequent. He knows it’s likely some sort of masochistic desire he should have squashed a long time ago, but he can’t be bothered to care. Watching them heal from the disaster- to mourn and laugh and move on- it hurts. It’s a pain he deserves, but it still hurts.

               It’s a cliché horror movie night when Tord is forced from observation to action. It’s dark with clouds blocking the moonlight, rain falling in sheets, occasionally broken up by flashes of lighting. He’s watching the blurry figure of Tom stumble his way out of some back alley bar, clearly well on his way to black out inebriation. Tord cringes somewhat watching him take another swig from his flask before stumbling down the steps and into the rain.        

               Tom looks up at the sky like it offended him, and Tord tries to find amusement, although he’s never really enjoyed seeing his friend steadily drink himself to death. He tries not to think about how much fuel he’s personally added to that fire with his mistakes. He’s so lost in thought that he nearly misses the burly figures emerge from the door and start gesturing at Tom. They appear to be yelling, but Tom just flips them off and finally starts walking away.

               One of the cowards jumps down and clocks him upside the head once his back is turned, sending him sprawling onto the dirty concrete. He doesn’t move right away, and Tord leans forward from his vantagepoint, squinting to try and better make out what’s going on. He’s too far away to be able to tell if Tom’s still conscious, and he feels the moment wrench anxiety in his stomach. He forgets to breath until Tom struggles up onto his hands and knees.

               His breath is abruptly knocked out of his lungs again when one of the goons throws a knee into Tom’s exposed gut. He barely has time to flop onto his back before both men are throwing kicks at every inch of his vulnerable body that they can reach. Tord can’t quite remember deciding to intervene, but he finds himself with one assailant unconscious at his feet and the other staring down the barrel of his gun. “Take your friend and run,” he chokes out, voice gritty from lack of use. The man doesn’t move, so Tord makes sure he can see him cock the gun. “Now!”

               The man was sizing him up- Tord knows he doesn’t possess the most threatening physical presence- but the oaf isn’t quite stupid enough to challenge a loaded weapon. Thankfully, he finally relents and gathers his now half-conscious companion, leaving Tord to re-holster his weapon and rush to Tom’s side.  

               “Come on Thomas, we have to go.” Tord slings an arm around Tom to support his weight and drag him to his feet. “The police will soon be on their way. Come on!”

               Tom’s half-conscious, drunk and bloody, but he starts walking with Tord to the end of the alleyway. It’s then that he stops, much to Tord’s frustration, and blinks blearily at him. His eyes narrow and he leans in closer before leaning back again. There’s a pause before, “Tord?” It’s quiet, slurred, and marked with disbelief.

               There isn’t time for this right now. Tord hoists Tom up by the waistband of his pants and half-drags him the rest of the way into the street. He’s staggering under his weight, but forces himself to move briskly to his car. Tom protests everything with a few garbled curses and groans, but he’s too weak to put up much of a fight. Idiot.

               Tom is passed out cold by the time Tord makes it to his apartment, which is all well and good except it means Tord trying to sneak him in when he’s all dead weight. Tord is panting, clearly out of breath when he finally makes it to door, luckily able to find the key and make it inside before anyone took notice. He flops Tom onto the couch and goes to grab the first aid kit.

               It’s as he’s dabbing at a split lip that Tom flinches slightly, and the tension in the room skyrockets when his eyes blink open. Now that they’re no longer obscured by darkness and rain, it’s harder to hide. There’s a long silence where neither of them moves, Tord too afraid of setting Tom off and Tom- Well. Tord can’t begin to guess what’s parading through that vodka-addled brain right now.

               “You’re dead.” Those two words drop like a sack of bricks and Tord finally lowers his arm and rests both hands on his knees. He can’t bring himself to meet Tom’s eyes, so instead busies himself studying the differences between metal and flesh.

               “Apparently not,” he finally mutters in response.

               “You blew up the house.” There’s no emotion behind the words- they’re merely statements. Either Tom is still too drunk to fully grasp the situation or things are about to get very ugly very fast.

               “Yes.” Tord does his best to keep his tone neutral.

               “I loved you.”

               Oh. The confession had been delivered with the same flat tone as the rest, but it echoes in Tord’s ears like the aftermath of a gunshot. His head whips around and he stares at Tom, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Surely he misheard. “What?” it’s barely a whisper, so he’s not sure Tom even hears it.

               “I miss you.”

               Tord wants to scream. Words like these should never be spoken like this. It feels sick- he feels sick. They churn in his stomach like burning acid, and he hates Tom for speaking them like facts instead of feelings. He can feel it welling up in his throat and isn’t smart enough to prevent what comes out next, “What is wrong with you?”

               Inky pools flash dangerously, and Tord knows with absolute certainty that he’s messed up. “What’s wrong with me?” There’s a growl in his voice, and Tord briefly regrets wishing for an emotional response. “You almost killed us and you’re asking what’s wrong with me?”

               “Thomas I’m sorry, I-” he’s cut off by a hand fisting in the front of his shirt.

               “You don’t get to be sorry you commie fuck!” he’s much closer to shouting now, practically spitting the words in Tord’s face. “You don’t get to be sorry when you come back and pull that shit! You don’t get to be sorry for lying and turning them against me! You don’t get to be sorry for bruising Matt’s face! You don’t get to be sorry when you destroyed our home! You don’t get to be sorry when you killed someone and would have killed us if I hadn’t shot you out of the air!”

                He’s breathing hard. Tord tries to focus on that, but he’s dizzy. His heart is pounding so hard that he can hear it in his ears. After all this time, he never realized. They really think- Tom really thinks-? “I never would have killed you, Thomas!” he exclaims in disbelief.

               “Bullshit.” There are tears welling in Tom’s eyes. His voice is shaky, but his face is still contorted in absolute fury. “That’s fucking horse shite and you know it! You would have killed anyone who got in your way you fucking psychopath! You wo-!”

               “Stop.” He can’t take it anymore. It’s every nightmare he’s ever had all mixed up in a single moment. He knows he fucked up, but to have his failures thrown in his face like this? He wants to be angry, to fight back like he used to, but he’s too tired. He can’t play this game anymore.

               Tom’s eyes are narrowed into thin slits. “Don’t tell me what to do, asshole!”

               “Okay.” Tord’s defeated tone apparently pisses Tom off more, because it earns him a bruised cheek. He tries not to see the irony as Tom lands hit after hit on an unwilling opponent. Finally Tord lightly grabs his fist and asks gently, “Are you done?”  

               He catches him as Tom falls forward, sobbing into the fabric of Tord’s shirt. Tord is startled to say the least, unprepared for this change of mood. He does know what to do, so he starts rubbing circles on his back like Edd used to do when one of them was sick. He doesn’t have any other options- doesn’t know what to do or say. He can’t fix this. He was a fool to come back, but he’d known that from the start.

               It isn’t clear who moves first or how exactly they end up pressed together, blood mixing with clash of lips and tongues. It isn’t love or passion; it isn’t really what either of them want. It’s anger and sorry and pity and regret. It’s all of the things neither of them have the words for. It’s tearing each other apart bit by bit in the most excruciating way possible, because throwing punches is no longer a sufficient means of punishment. It’s destroying their entire world all over again.

               Hours pass and finally things are quiet. The city is quiet in the way it only is after a storm and just before the dawn. It should be peaceful, but while the tension may be gone, all that’d managed to take its place is the flat sort of exhaustion that comes after a truly horrific loss. Tord is wrapped up in Tom’s arms, marked and spent. They’ve been silent for some time now, and he isn’t eager to shatter it just yet.

               He feels Tom press a kiss to his hair, and the gentleness of the act cuts deeper than a blade ever could. “I want you gone before I wake up,” he whispers softly.

               Tord’s arms are wrapped around his waist and squeeze tight for a moment before going slack. “Okay,” he agrees.