Leather Liberation// Thomas Hewitt x reader

chapter 18: Wounded Animal

Thomas, with a pained grunt, tosses the man's body down the basement stairs. His hands then fall on his leaking wounds, staining his hands red.

A deep yell scratches his throat as he grabs a chair and throws it to the ground in anger. The movement hurts him further, sending him deeper into the red anger and pain.

He falls to his knees at the ground, clutching his side and arm. He hears feet run down the stairs as Y/n, eyes wide with terror, sprints towards him.

She falls to her knees at his side, but hesitates, fearing him in his panicked state. Thomas proceeds to growl and snarl like a wounded animal. He wasn't far from it.

"Thomas, calm down!"

The back door slams open,  and a soaked Hoyt stomps inside. He kicks aside the chair Thomas threw, before turning to the two of them.

"Shut him up, will ya? I can't hear myself think!"

Y/n softly grabs Thomas's uninjured arm. He looks at her, brows furrowed and face red.

"Thomas, calm down! Get up on the chair, let me help you."

He complies, not letting go of where the bullet grazed his skin.

"Take off your shirt." Her voice is stern.

He let's go of his side, taking off his blood soaked shirt. Y/n chews her lip nervously at the sight of his wound.

In any other situation, Thomas would not have taken his shirt off so easily. But the pain was daggers in his bones. He grabbed the tables edge roughly as Y/n's fingers traces the gash.

He grunts in pain, his teeth mashing together.

"Shit, sorry. I need my sowing kit, and some alcohol. . ."

"I got it." Hoyt says, stomping into the kitchen.

"Thomas, what happened out there?" She asks him.

He only groans in pain, knuckles turning white around the table edge.

Her eyes trace over to them, then the wounds on his arms. The puncture room from the screwdriver, and the deep nail marks.

Hoyt comes back in, a package of bandages, a sowing kit, and alcohol in his arms.

"Tommy's not gonna like this."

Hoyt sets them down on the table.

"This is gonna hurt, okay?" Y/n says, opening the bottle of alcohol.

Slowly, she pours it over the wound on his stomach.

Immediatly, he screams in pain, hand slapping y/n's away. She steps back,  biting her lip.

"I'll hold him down, you finish cleaning him!" Hoyt says, grabbing Thomas's arms and holding them at his sides.

As Thomas proceeds to snarl and struggle like an animal, y/n douses his other wound in alcohol.

With quick, shaking hands, she pats them dry with a towel.

"Thomas, I'm done cleaning them so I need you to calm down, okay?"

He nods, breathing heavily.

Hoyt lets go, backing up and putting a hand on the back of his head.

Y/n starts dressing his puncture wound, his breathing slowing down and his pained snarls dying off.

"Those fuckin' kids. Unbelievable!" Hoyt starts shouting.

"They fucked us up! And that bitch got away!"