childhood best friends AU but every out of towner sees the reader and Thomas and assumes that Thomas is the one they should be scared of when in reality almost everyone in town has gotten their ass beat by the reader for being mean to him aka Thomas has scary dog privileges
>>>tw: canon typical insults; aka use of r-slur - also not a tw but f!reader ok thank ily bye<<<
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It's secret to no one. It's no surprise, no new revelation.
It's common knowledge, something no one even bothers to mention, like how the Browns got their money from a hospital scandal, or the Miller's daughter is on drugs. Just another unspoken rule, like how you shouldn't go to the desolate dirt road just outside of town after 9 o'clock, or into the woods around the farm land when the thing no one sees starts screaming into the night.
Or at least, it's common knowledge in town. So, it really couldn't be his fault, could it?
He was new, just some common Joe that had transferred over from a couple towns over to work at the slaughterhouse when demands got high.
He managed to make friendly with the older generation still running the factory and got along with almost all of the younger men that had joined straight out of high school.
He caught on quick to the unspoken social hierarchy around town, already having a similar one in his own hometown.
He knew who to stick with, and he knew who to avoid, but the one thing he didn't know, the one unspoken rule he didn't catch onto, is that no one bullies Thomas Hewitt.
He had never met him, not formally. He heard his name in passing, and it only took one look at the towering masked man to figure out who he was, and even less time to realize that he didn't want to meet him.
No one spoke to him, and he didn't speak to anyone. He was avoided, and feared. It was easy to see why.
Not only did Thomas look like he could snap a grown man in half with his bare hands, but he was quiet, and weird, nobody seemed to like him. And what better way to get on everyone's good side than by targeting the person no one liked?
So, he starts talking about Thomas behind his back. It's easy, and most people will join in after checking the corners and making sure he's no where in sight.
Damn, He thinks, People must really be afraid of him.
And that leads to another thought. Another very stupid, soon to be regretted, thought.
Let's see how tough this guy really is.
So, one day, in the late afternoon of the scorching Texas Summer, while everyone from the first shift is heading out, back to their respective houses, he sees an opportunity.
There sits Thomas, all alone, on a bench in front of the factory. He seems to be lost in thought, staring at the ground while he apparently waits. For what, the man doesn't care enough to think about.
He stops in his tracks, tapping the arm of one of his buddies, and gestures to Thomas, who either hasn't noticed them, or simply hasn't acknowledged the group.
"Look at this guy," He smirks, his voice well loud enough for Thomas to hear, "He waitin' on his Mommy to come pick him up or some shit?"
The other guy doesn't really react, seemingly uncomfortable with his joke.
"Don't tell me that retard done gave whatever the hell he has." He comments on the man's silence, failing to read the room completely.
Thomas shifts in his seat, letting out a discouraged sigh as he continues looking at the ground, this time looking farther away from the group, his fists clenching in his lap, flexing in frustration.
"What? Cat got your tongue?" He shoves his friend in the arm a bit, looking between him and Thomas, "Or you afraid that freak's gonna get a hold of it?"
"Drop it, man..." He waves him off.
"Why should I? He ain't gonna do shit--"
"Tommy!" He hears you before he sees you, looking over just in time to catch glimpse of you happily jogging over to Thomas, "You waited for me!"
Thomas seems to relax at your presence, nodding as he stands to his full height.
"How was your day?" You ask, standing on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck.
He meets you halfway, leaning down and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck and letting out a sigh of relief.
"Oh, Tommy you stink." There's a playfulness in your voice as you scrunch your face, hit with the stench of the slaughterhouse that will most definitely linger on your clothes.
He lets out a small chuckle as the two of you pull away, looking down at you.
The man is stunned, completely caught off guard by the sight of someone like you even associating with a man like Thomas.
"Holy shit," He looks back to his buddies, "Who the hell is that?"
"That's Thomas'." His friend simply replies, already knowing what's going through the man's head. He doesn't seem to catch the underlying warning that came with those words.
"What is someone like her doing with something like him?"
"I'm tellin' you man, drop it. She ain't worth the trouble."
"Oh, yea? What's that big freak gonna do? Stop me?"
Finally having enough with his antics, the other men dismiss him, heading back to their own vehicles to head home after a hard day's work.
He, however, takes it upon himself to saunter his way over to your side.
"Well, hey there, Missy..." He starts, clearly ignoring the way Thomas' hands are currently resting on your hips, and yours on his chest, "What's got you so far out this way?"
You blink for a few seconds, looking at the guy is disbelief. Was he really asking why you're here?
"...To walk home with my husband." You deadpan, not missing the way Thomas' grip tightens on you, or the small growl that escapes him.
"Husband?" He raises an eyebrow, looking between the two of you, "Come on, girl, you don't really expect me to believe you actually married a thing like him." He paints his last word with disgust.
It's your turn to raise your eyebrows, tilting your head as you look at him, "A 'thing'?"
"Well, yea..." He seems caught off guard by your reaction, "Don't tell me you actually like him?"
You let out a sigh, your hand tapping Thomas' chest once as you look back up at him, "Thomas, baby, can you go inside and call Charlie? I think I'd like to get a ride today instead of walking."
He gives you a knowing look, shaking his head a bit.
"No, no, it'll be fine, I promise. Just go call him for me please?"
Thomas looks between you and the man, and pulls away with a sigh, walking back into the slaughterhouse.
Now even more confused, the man watches Thomas walk away, completely bewildered by what just happened. Was he missing something, or did he just get really, really lucky?
"Let me ask you something," You catch his attention, your hand coming up to brush over his hair briefly, "...Did your Mama ever teach you manners?"
Thomas isn't even surprised when he comes back outside to find the man sprawled on the ground, crying out as you stand bent over him, his ear caught between your fingers.
"Don't you know it's rude to call people names?" You ask him sternly, "Do you want me to call you names? Is that what you want? Do you want me to start calling you names too?"
"Let me go, you stupid bitch!" He yells, gripping at your wrist, each move he makes only twisting his ear harder in your grip.
You push down a little more, rubbing his face in the dirt, "That's not what I asked."
"No, no, I don't want you to call me names--!"
"Exactly! So what made you think it was okay to start calling him names? Did you think it was funny?"
"Y-Yes, I thought it was funny--!
"Do you think this is funny?"
"No!"
"Say you're sorry."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just let me go--!"
"Like you mean it."
"I'm sorry--!"
A hand on your shoulder catches your attention as you look up, seeing Thomas giving you a deadpan look.
"Okay..." You sigh, letting the man's ear go and standing up straight.
"Oh, you fucking bitch..." He clings to his burning ear, pushing himself up.
"Did you call Charlie?" You ignore him, turning back to Thomas.
He nods, looking back to the man still seething on the ground.
"Ok, let's walk up the road til we see him." You take his hand, pulling his attention back to you.
He nods again, giving your hand a squeeze as you start walking away, continuing on with your day as if nothing had happened.
After all, it's common knowledge, right?
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