TomTord oneshots

Docile Tom

WARNING: mentions of rape. also, it's kinda old, but I'll post it nonetheless.

If there was one thing Tom wasn't, it was docile.

It took a year for Tom to agree to come to Tord's base. Even then, he refused to give his territory to just Tord, demanding that it had to be split with the Green Army and the Purple Army.

It took even longer for Tom to calm down at the base. He still hates Tord and most of his soldiers.

Needless to say, he was not submissive whatsoever.

Therefore, you can image Tord's shock when there was a small, quiet knock on his door, the Norwegian opening it to reveal Tom.

Yet, something felt off.

He couldn't quite pinpoint it; it was just... the expression on Tom's face, the way his posture had suddenly changed. Tord knew something was wrong.

"Thomas?"

That was the only thing he could really say.

Tom didn't answer, he just stepped inside and was reaching for Tord.

"Thomas? What's wrong?"

The door slid close behind Tom, and the Brit practically tackled him with a hug, the silence replaced with sobs.

"T-Tord!"

Tord was stuck where he was, utterly shocked. Not only had he called Tord by his real name and not something rude, but he was sobbing. In Tord's arms.

"Tom, what's wrong? What happened?" the questions spilled out of his mouth as he wrapped his arms around Tom, eye widening in panic.

"Your- y-your soldiers-" Tom didn't finish his sentence, just continued to cry as he clutched Tord's shirt.

"What did they do?" Tord's grip tightened, already feeling the upcoming anger.

"There were three of them, and they- they-"

Tom couldn't seem to get the words out, but to be honest, Tord didn't mind. If it was making Tom like this, maybe he didn't want to know.

"Do you need to go to the medical ward, Thomas?" Tom froze up, immediately shaking his head. "Well, whether you're going to report this or not, the soldiers are in huge trouble."

"You don't ev- you don't even know who- who they are," Tom stuttered, pulling back slightly.

"Once I get you cleaned up, you're walking around with me and pointing them out," he explained.

"W-what? But what if they-"

"I'll bring Paul and Patryk," Tord interrupted. He watched as Tom's resolve dwindle into nothingness, the Brit nodding gently.

*-*

When Tord finally made it seem like Tom didn't just cry his eyes out, he called Paul and Patryk to his room, explaining the situation. They seemed to be just as pissed as him, Paul scowling and Patryk clenching his fists.

Tom followed the trio out the door, Paul and Patryk falling behind Tom and Tord. Tom was biting his lip gently, gaze sweeping through the rooms they passed. Tord, on the other head, kept his stare hard and straight-on, the menacing look making some of his soldiers step back.

Suddenly, Tom froze, hand grasping Tord's sleeve. Paul and Patryk rushed to stand next to Tom, postures stiff.

"Which three, Tom?" Patryk whispered, eyes narrowing.

"Th-the three... the three in the, uhm, in the middle table. They're alone." Tom was already beginning to shake.

Tord cleared his throat. "Attention, soldiers!" Everybody's heads shot up. "I need everyone to clear out of this room, now."

With that, the soldiers stood and rushed out of the room faster than lightning.

Except for the three.

"We assume you want us, sir?" one of them said as they stood, moving to stand in front of Tord.

He ignored the three, turning to Tom. "Them?"

Tom only responded with a meek nod, taking a step over so half of his body was hidden by Tord's.

"I hope the three of you know you're in trouble." Tord's stare moved disapprovingly across them.

The middle one snorted. "The bitch liked it." Tom flinched, taking a step back.

"I'm... sorry?" Tord asked slowly, blinking in confusion.

"The bitch liked having three guys at once—"

"S-shut up!" Tom stuttered, cutting off the one on the right. His shoulders were raised, muscles tense.

"Yeah, Liam, 's-shut up'!" the left one mocked, earning laughter from the other two.

"Maybe we should shut Blue up, hmm? Maybe shove a dick down his throat, like last time, right, Alex?" Liam crossed his arms.

"Right," the right one, Alex, agreed. Tom was beginning to grip Tord's arm harder than he meant to, but the Norwegian didn't seem to care.

Paul was the only one who could speak up. "You... raped Tom?"

The question was so simple yet held so much power.

"We didn't rape him— he didn't say a single thing!" Liam protested, rolling his eyes.

"Y-you know t-that's a lie!" Tom shouted, tears already slipping out from his eyes, letting go of Tord and stepping back a few feet. He was hyperventilating.

"Come on. You're the Red Leader's little bitch, so you obviously like to be dominated. We thought you were playing!" the middle one objected.

Tord paused.

Tom was his 'little bitch'?

How much of the base were so thick that they believed that?

"I-I'm not!" Tom snapped. Patryk was rushing up to the Brit, placing a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him down.

"Chris, maybe you should stop," Liam said in a warning tone.

"Oh, no, no," Tord interrupted, "continue, Chris."

"The whole base knows that you and Blue fuck. Blue acts and dresses like a whore, so why not treat him like it? The way he was choking on Alex, how tight he was—"

Tord pulled out his gun, clicked the safety off, aimed, and shot Chris quicker than Tom thought possible. The fucker let out a scream, toppling onto the ground, hands flying to grab his knee.

"Paul, Patryk? I want them executed publicly and in the most painful and humiliating method we can think off," Tord ordered darkly, putting his gun away, watching as their eyes widened.

"Sure," Patryk agreed maliciously, Paul leaning to talk into his walkie-talkie.