He accidentally hurts you
Thomas Hewitt x GN! Reader
You woke to the sound of heavy breathing. You rolled over, eyes squinting in the dark as you tried to make out what was going on.
“Tommy…?” you called out hesitantly, extending your arm until it bumped into the mass of him.
As you ran a gentle hand along the muscle, you realized a few things that made you immediately alert. He was drenched in sweat, his shirt clinging to his back in a way you were sure was uncomfortable, but more importantly – he was trembling.
You sat up, taking in his hulking form in the moonlight seeping through the window. His head was tossing and turning, hands fisting the sheets next to him in a grip so tight you feared he might tear the fabric. Cold sweat beaded along his forehead too, making his hair stick to his skin.
But what broke your heart were the noises he was making. Distressed grunts left his chest, interspersed with the occasional unintelligible mumbling. Then he let out a whimper. It was a sound you’ve never heard him make, so pathetic and full of fear; it awoke every protective instinct in your body.
“Tommy, wake up, darling, you’re having a nightmare,” you coaxed, but he didn’t seem to hear you.
Usually, he would have jolted awake by now. He had bad dreams from time to time – considering his childhood and upbringing, it would be a miracle if he didn’t –, but calling out to him would bring him back to reality most of the time. This wasn’t the case tonight. Thomas was a light sleeper, waking at the creaking of the floorboards or you moving around in your sleep. Now, however, no matter how many times you said his name, his consciousness remained buried deep in whatever terrible scenario was causing him so much distress.
You couldn’t bear to see him like this. So, without really thinking about your actions, you reached out to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle shake.
The next moment he startled awake, grabbing after your hand blindly, his fingers wrapping around your arm in a vice grip. You yelped, out of surprise and pain, which only caused his hold on you to tighten.
Looking into his eyes it was clear that he was still halfway in his dream. He didn’t seem to see you as his chest heaved, his shoulders squared as he tried to look threatening even in his confused state. He was sensing a threat, and so he was lashing out.
“It’s okay, Tommy, you’re safe. You’re here with me, at home, in your bed. No one is going to hurt you.”
You tried to keep your voice soft and calm despite the pain he was causing you. However, your soothing words didn’t seem to have much effect. For a moment, you were honestly scared that he might snap your arm. He had the strength to do so. And even though you consciously knew he wouldn’t do anything that would harm you on purpose, his dark expression and wild eyes still managed to strike fear in some deep animal part of your brain. Despite your better judgement, all your instincts were screaming at you that you were in the sight of a predator.
He was certainly that. But he was also your Thomas, your loving, gentle Thomas who would linger close if Hoyt got rowdy while drunk, who would always come to you when you needed him, who would sit so still and patient while he let you fuss over all his scrapes and bruises, who would pick you wild flowers and present them to you with a sheepish look, clutching the slightly crushed stems in his big hands.
And it’s because of that that you tried to hold in your pain as much as you could, but his bone crushing grip was getting too much. You let out a whimper, your hand grabbing onto his arm that was holding your own. “Tommy, you’re hurting me…”
The sound of your broken plea finally snapped him back into reality and back to you. He blinked a few times in confusion. Then his eyes widened in horror. His hand immediately let go of you and he jerked back, stumbling out of bed, almost tripping in his haste to get away from you. You tentatively massaged your arm, wincing at the pain and the thought that it will most likely bruise.
Thomas watched you from the other side of the room, and when your eyes met, you could see they were filled with guilt and sadness. And although you were the one that was physically hurt, you knew he needed reassurance more than anything.
As you slowly approached him, he hunched his shoulders and turned away from you, wanting to disappear into himself in shame. You didn’t dare touch him, not wanting to overwhelm him, even though all you wanted was to gather him up in your arms and tell him everything was alright.
“It’s okay, Tommy, I’m okay. It was an accident, I’m not mad,” you said softly, as if talking to a scared child.
He didn’t look at you, he couldn’t. You knew him all too well to know what was going through his head.
“I know you didn’t mean to. You would never hurt me.”
You thought back to your earlier moment of weakness, and your gut filled with bitter guilt. So you said what he needed to hear the most, and you meant every word.
“I’m not afraid of you, Tommy.”
At that, he slowly, finally, turned to you. His expression was one of desperation, wanting to believe you so badly it was physically hurting him. All his life, he was looked at with disgust and fear. He couldn’t bear to see that look on your face too, he couldn’t bear it if you looked at him like he was a monster.
But all he found on your face was gentle, reassuring love. Tentatively, you reached out toward him. And when your soft hand caressed along his cheek, he didn’t flinch away. Instead, a broken sob left his chest as he instinctively nuzzled into your touch.
You stayed like that for a while, whispering soothing words to him in the dark until he calmed down enough to get back to bed. He still didn’t dare touch you himself, but the tension in his body eased just a bit as you nestled up against his side just like you always did.
The next day, there was indeed a nasty looking bruise on your arm. Thomas looked absolutely devastated when he saw it, and you spent the morning cuddled up in bed, reassuring him with soft kisses and gentle words that you were fine. That is, until Hoys started pounding his fist against your door demanding Tommy start on with his work.
You put on a loose long sleeve shirt just for good measure. Both of you knew the bruise was there, but at least he didn’t have to see it. Still, you caught him eyeing you with guilt all day. And every time his gaze lingered on your arm, you would make sure to be extra cheerful to reassure him you were fine. You knew it would take some time for him to believe it – probably until it fully disappeared from your skin –, but that was okay. You forgave him the moment it happened. And if he was especially gentle and attentive with you in the meantime, you weren’t complaining.
