#i havent written in a while im nervous asaaaaaahhhhaggg
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disclaimers/tags: female oc. written as a reader insert but reader has a lot of backstory. slowburn. angst. no fun spin on misogyny, just the bad one. implied domestic violence but nothing too graphic. minors dni.
a/n: the plot of the show is not relevant to this story, i’m just using the characters, who are likely ooc. i’m hoping to end it within 3-4 posts but like i said, it’s a bit of a slowburn. i pulled the wattpad tropes out for this one and i’m not sorry, it is cheesy. if you’ve seen the show, the boyfriend shares similarities with the tillerson boys. it’s purposefully ambiguous, up to you if it’s one of them or not. rhett is not a fuckboy in this, just a boy who fucks.
lmk your thoughts :)
part 2
right cowboy, wrong time
rhett abbott
summary: you’re not home and your boyfriend’s a dick. thankfully, not all cowboys are bad.
The humid air makes your nose itch, adapting to the change in weather. Your head is held high, however, trying not to look too out of place and dare draw any attention.
"You're not fooling anyone."
"Excuse me?"
He leans in by your side, arms crossing in front of him as he looks over his elbows, pretending something in the mud caught his eye.
"Most girls from the city who try to pass as locals at least dress up the part. You couldn't find any boots that fit your taste?"
Blue eyes squint at the pair of Vans perched on the wooden fence, matching your dark 'mom jeans'.
It was bold of this guy, you thought, to come up to you with so much snark after falling from a bull so badly the audience audibly winced. But there was something soft in his features, non malicious. You decide to risk being honest with him.
"The cowboy hat is a demand from my boyfriend. So is the push-up bra." You point to your pronounced chest with your chin, smiling when the stranger next to you follows the movement with a lazy gaze. "It's funny, he said something similar. He wants me to look more like the girls from around here."
The stranger finally looks you in the eye from under his own hat. Unfamiliar warmth fills your belly and you fight the urge to clear the hair away from his face.
"Why doesn't he just date them, then?"
A loud bitter laugh escapes from your lips right into his ears, and he straigtens up instantly, like a shock.
"Million dollar question, isn't it?" Thin lips reciprocate your smile. God, you thought you hated all cowboys. "Uhm, he says they bore him. He wants my brain, but their look. If you ask me the truth, I just think he went through all of them already, so he went looking for an idiot to appease him somewhere else. And he found me."
Amusement crosses his eyes despite the frown in display on his face.
"He sounds like an asshole."
Unkown nice cowboy has a lovely, deep voice.
You're about to lean a little closer and agree, when someone cuts you off.
"Who does?" Blinding white teeth bite into the cold night air, the strong arms of your boyfriend crushing your side into him, akin to a predator protecting his meal. "Abbott."
Your new friend acknowledges the tall blonde possessively separating you two with equal contempt in his words.
Suddenly, you're invisible. The nice boy leaves without so much as a glance.
These will be miserable months.
------------------------
"So, Abbott, huh?"
Maybe you shouldn't have followed him into the grocery store, but it was hot outside.
"What, interested? We might have a name, but that name doesn't have much money attached to it anymore."
He doesn't look at you, simply puts what he needs in his basket and keeps walking. You trace his steps from a distance, enjoying the refreshing breeze from the AC.
"No danger of that. As you've seen, I'm taken."
His arm freezes above his head, shades of blue boring into you inquisitively, before he grabs a can of beans and checks the expiration date on it.
"I'm just looking for a friend. I'll hardly survive here if I don't have any of those."
"What about your guy? He won't like this friendship."
You shrug innocently, dusting the shelves with the tip of your fingers.
"It's his fault I can't have any girl friends in this town, seeing they are all his exes and consequently dislike me at once. Plus, who said I want you to be my friend? I'm just banking on the fact that your family is known around here, and you'd be an easy shortcut to meeting people."
"So you're using me." He speaks over his shoulder, walking to the freezer section.
"Sure am. But at least I'm honest about it."
His back is still turned to you when he speaks again.
"Is that a big thing for you, honesty?"
Your skin grows hot. This random cute boy can't read your mind, relax. He's trying to get to know you. It's small talk. Not everyone wants to hurt you.
"It is. Count on it."
Hopefully, how vulnerable it is to admit as much doesn't come across.
Abbott side-eyes you, with a genuine smirk. It forces you to look away, intimidated.
Maybe it was mistake to target him. You should leave.
Before a rude goodbye can leave your lips, the young man turns to you.
"Why are you here, if you don't know anyone?"
Short fingernails picking the label off cheap frozen veggies, you try to smile but it certainly doesn't reach your eyes.
"Taking some time off university."
How embarrassing. You have no problem poking and probing until they do it to you, and then you're avoiding eye contact and looking for an exit.
"What do you study?"
"English. In Boston. I'm a writer. Allegedly."
You can tell your joke entertains him from the small exhale that comes out of his nose.
"Do you like it?"
"I love it." The truth finally forces you to look up. You notice the confusion on his face, anticipating his question with a shrug. "My boyfriend. He wanted me to take a break."
Abbott looks disappointed, and, for whatever reason, it hurts. A silly desire for him to think highly of you.
"I don't mean to overstep, but I wouldn't peg you for the kind'f girl to go where a man tells her to."
A terrible habit, you cover the purple spot on your jaw with your hair, pretending to smooth non existent knots.
"It wasn't an easy choice, but it was for the best."
Thin brows furrow and dirty fingers brush the strands away, gently. Of course he would notice.
"I'll get out of your hair now, sorry to bother. I was really just trying to cool off. See you around!"
Trembling hands push the grocery store's doors, curse words mumbled under your breath. Great fucking job, idiot.
------------------------
He approaches you next.
You saw him earlier when you got to the bar, drinking with another guy, but kept your head down and continued walking next to your boyfriend and his friends.
It was going to be hard to get to you, since you weren't allowed to be alone unless you were going to the bathroom. Which is how he got you.
As soon as you step out to wash your hands, he's in the corridor, chewing on his bottom lip.
"Stranger." Eyes meet and you try to ignore the hair in the back of your neck standing up. You do your best to not get your sleeves wet without having to push them up too high. "Men's room occupied?"
He doesn't miss the suggestivenes on your tone, copying the smirk you're struggling to hide. For all you know, he might have some pretty blonde freshening up in there.
"You city folks and beating 'round the bush."
His voice rumbles through you, tongue busy tsking at your poor attempt at avoiding the elephant in the room.
You take him in through the mirror's reflection. Hands in his pockets, leaning on the plastic divider failing to pass as real wood. Looking determinedly at you.
If you said so, would he beat the shit out of your boyfriend and make sure he never calls again?
Tossing the crumpled handtowel in the trash, your back touches the soaked and sticky counter, commanding him to listen by returning his direct staring.
"Okay. This is not your problem to fix. I'm sorry about what you saw, it wasn't a signal or anything. I'm fine and you don't need to get involved. Good?"
He nods and you move to leave, stopped by an unsure hand grabbing your elbow. It quickly retracts to his side, wiping against his jeans.
"Do you need a job or something?"
"I thought your family didn't have much money."
A shy smile takes over his features, breaking the restraint that always seems to reign over. Another small chuckle escapes him, making his Adam's apple throb and your eyes drag not so subtly.
The smell of hard vodka hits your nose when he inches closer, stuttering.
"My brother, uhm, has a friend who owns a diner nearby. It's smack centre of town, busy enough that he always needs more help and most of the creeps avoid it. Probably not what a fancy writer from Boston dreams of but if you plan on sticking around, it'll help you get some of your own cash."
The promise of independence.
You give him a warm smile you haven't gifted anyone with in a while.
"Can I get the name of this magical place?"
------------------------
It's early, too early, his head feels like it weighs three times its normal and all he wants is for his family to lower their voices.
Until your sweet ring, sharpened for customer service points, breaks through his morning suffering and drowns the sour taste in his mouth.
"Hello, beautiful people. What can I get you?" The apron is neatly tied with a bow on top of your stomach, clearly tightened around your back and then the front again, with more effort than he's ever seen in this diner. He can't help but scoff, and you finally look up from the old school notepad in your hands. "Oh, hi."
Everyone at the table shoots him a glare, assuming what they always did. One more girl they'll never learn the name of, and it's possibly better that way.
His mother, in particular, has a scowl on her face, looking out the window and avoiding dealing with whoever her son messes with.
"Happy to see you here."
The sun bothers his eyes, one of which is closed when he acknowledges you. He has no idea how his mom can have her head turned that way without wincing. Although she coughs, he's sure it's in response to what he had just said.
It was innocent, but she didn't know that.
"Wouldn't be if it wasn't for you." That gets his mother to look. "Thanks, by the way."
He puts his fist in front of his lips, elbows glued to the recently wiped table, a bit embarrassed of all the attention you dumped onto him.
"I didn't do nothing, Perry is the one who talked to his friend. You should thank him."
You throw a small smile at him, almost teasing, barely whispering an 'oh'. He sees very little of your teeth, rosy lips and dimples provoking him for a brief second before you redirect your kindness to his brother on the other side of the table.
"I am very grateful, you basically got me the job." Perry extends his hand for you to shake, and there's a little spark in his eyes that's been gone since Rebecca. Maybe it's your effect on people. "Let me return the favor and get you guys a good breakfast, what do you say?"
When you leave, he takes a page from his mom's book and stares at the brightness cascading down the trucks in the parking lot. His head hurts again but at least he's definitely not thinking about the lines around your eyes when you grin or the flowery smell you left behind.
"Who is she?"
"Drop it, ma." The question comes in a much more unpretentious manner than usual and it doesn't go unnoticed by him, even if he's not looking at her. "Some girl from outta town who needed help settling in. That's all."
At the last word, he tips his hat over his eyes and decides he's better off daydreaming about the attractive outsider committed to being nice to him than fending off his family's suspicions.
You leave them to it after serving their plates, and he misses your eyes on him but doesn't say anything.
When they're leaving, Amelia dettaches herself from her father's grip and pokes you in the leg as you're cleaning a different table close to the exit. He holds the door, intrigued by what on earth this kid is up to now.
"Uncle Rhett says you're from out of town." He almost knocks his forehead on the glass as he realizes he offered you a job but never a name. You nod at his niece, sending him a questioning look. "You're just as pretty as I thought they'd be."
He feels like bolting out of the diner and running home. What if you thought he told Amelia to say that to you? You'll think he's a fucking loser.
Not that he should care this much.
Instead, he's frozen in place watching another breathtaking smile blossom on your face as you think about how to react.
"Well," You sigh, and look straight into the little girl's eyes. "Takes one to know one."
With a wink, you exchange introductions and he might have to thank his niece later for that, because he never asked for your name either.
You go straight back to wiping the table so he walks away, but not without a weird feeling someone's watching as he climbs into the back of the truck.
------------------------
It's a while before he sees you again.
He doesn't bother you at work, too shy despite his curiosity to go in alone and too hungover to wake up in time to follow his family for breakfast.
You don't go out much, or at all, apparently. He's at the bar every night, you're not.
He sees Maria though, stunning as ever. And like most nights, she makes him too nervous and he does nothing about it.
Perry calls in a favor and now he's parking the truck in the back of the diner with a couple of boxes of fresh produce on the passenger seat.
It's you who comes out to greet him.
You're awfully quiet and evasive, taking the boxes inside without making eye contact.
When you come back with the money, you accidentally skip a step, heel of your shoe sliding off the wood and causing you to land a little harsh on the concrete.
He's quick to steady you, ready to joke about your useless sneakers when he realizes the contorted look on your face and how you're grabbing at your left knee.
"Ok there?"
Like you remembered yourself, your back straightens up and you shove the money into his hands, pushing him away in the process. The distance is not enough that he doesn't see the tears welling up in your eyes.
"Fine. Here you go. Lenny says thanks."
Turning to climb back inside, as soon as your left leg rises, you audibly wince and stop.
He's not too sure of what do, until he hears shaky breaths.
"I'll take you to a hospital, let-"
"No hospitals, I can't."
It's an automatic response and he understands immediately.
"How bad is it?"
He can't really see through your jeans.
"He- I fell. I think it's just bruised, I don't know."
"My mom can take a look at it, she's had plenty of practice with my brother and I, she won't mind. Don't protest, just get in the car. I'll tell Lenny you're not feeling too good."
Before you can stop him, he's putting the money on Lenny's palm and stammering out an excuse. He's surprised by how fast he sprung into action too.
During the ride you don't cry, but stubborn hiccups give away that you're holding the tears back really hard. He wants to tell you it's okay, he doesn't care if you cry, but he's scared if he opens his mouth he'll end up saying something that'll make you more upset, choosing instead to white-knuckle his steering wheel.
His mother is washing the pans from lunch when he gets home, you following behind uncertain, making yourself small. It's a stark contrast from the day you followed him into the grocery store, mindlessly striking up conversation, and it bothers him.
She remembers you, surprisingly, but still asks menacingly what he thinks he's doing.
"She's hurt, and I thought you might help, Ma.”
You look so uncomfortable, ashamed to impose. He tells you to take a seat on the couch and moves to grab you a glass of water from the kitchen, stopping by his mother to put a hand on her shoulder and whisper who's your boyfriend.
A look of understanding quickly crosses her eyes, and instant compassion takes over, huffing as she crouches down to get the first aid kit under the sink.
The two women fall into comfortable silence. The knee is simply sore, the skin a little dark, but he knows you probably didn't give it any time to heal, waltzing around the diner for days without taking care of yourself.
You're given pain killers and he finally hands you the water, fingertips wet from nervously gripping the bottom of the glass, trying not to curse out the man responsible for your situation.
This kind of thing wasn't entirely unusual for smaller, conservative towns, but times have gladly changed. No one here likes to see it, the cuplrits are pointed out wherever they go, sometimes being denied service and shunted from the community. Still, no one's forward enough to put themselves in between 'husband and wife'.
It's a pity, he thinks. All you had to do was ask, and he would get his father and his brother to kick an entire generation of blonde little pricks out of their town.
Alas, you never did.
He thinks you don't want to ask, analyzing closely how apologetic you are to his mother, scared to sit back on the couch and take space that isn’t yours.
The older woman gets up, glancing between you and him.
"Don't worry, kid. I'm quite happy to meet you. I usually don't get to tell Rhett's girls they are welcome to stay."
She manages to be endearing to you and venomous to him in the same breath, and he chuckles lowly through gritted teeth, looking up at the ceiling. Of course she would say something like that.
Wondering what you're probably thinking of him at his mother's revelation, he finds you biting back a grin, dimples digging into your cheeks. Once more, he loses control of himself and returns - actually, no, gratuitously hands you a wide smile in a silver platter. His reaction is five times bigger than yours.
"His girls, plural, you say?" There's something infuriating about your energy towards him. You're fucking with him, no doubt about that, but it's not mean. Well, maybe a little bit because you seem to enjoy the way he changes his footing back and forth, blushing at his damn boots. Somehow, however, it fills him with giddiness. He has no reason to be so certain about it, but he knows it's lighthearted. If you had evil intent, maybe he would've already had you crammed into his truck and drooling around his cock. Unfortunately, seems like you were truthful that day at the store. You want a friend. "'Fraid I'm not of them, ma'am. I have my own guy to worry about."
You're looking back at the matriarch now, arms hanging on top of cushions, green blemishes hidden underneath your biceps.
"That's never stopped any of you before."
It's a test.
You're quicker than her.
"I don't think the size of a district interferes with someone's morals. I might've been raised by a big city, but I'm not and have never been that kind of girl."
His mother snaps back your way, spine straight, slowly breaking out a smile. You passed with flying colors. She likes folks who can stand up for themselves, means they think they're good enough to start a fight over, and that's good enough for her.
At that moment, Amelia bursts through the door, already rambling to her grandmother about something she learned in school that day.
When she sees you, she freezes in the middle of the kitchen, out of breath from all the talking. Fast hands roll your pant leg down before she can see anything.
Amy can barely contain her smile, fixing herself up and dropping her school bag on the floor. "What are you doing here?"
You brush off the older members of the family reprimanding her lack of manners.
"Paying a visit. On my way out, though, I should be getting back to work."
Trying to stand up without a fuss is a disaster, and he's right by your side in case you need to lean on someone. Of course you reject it, though.
"Are you okay?"
"Just fine. I slipped at work and your uncle offered to help, that's all."
Shooting the girl a reassuring smile, she betrays it with a suspicious laugh.
The two of you stare at her, confused.
"Yeah, Uncle Rhett is such a helping hand."
Sarcasm is dripping from her words and he knows immediately that you two will get along. Dangerously so.
Ignoring the brat, he turns to you, hand still hovering behind your back.
"It's late, there's like, what? Forty minutes left to your shift? Twenty after we finally get there? I'll just take you home."
Your eyes widen at the mention of home. Of course he, an Abbott, can't drop you off at your boyfriend's property, where he assumed you were staying.
"Wait, can I show you around before you go? I want you to see something."
Amelia butts in before he can signal that he understood and he'd give you a ride to town, at least. You nod at the smaller figure, letting her take your hand.
He's debating whether or not to follow you two, until you look back from the doorway.
"Aren't you coming? If we get lost, we might need your savior complex."
It's another dig at him. This time, he has a comeback at the tip of his tongue.
"I'll stop saving you when you stop needing me."
He knows his mother is smiling.
Whatever confident spirit possessed him, it pushes him out the door, chest grazing yours as he tips his hat your way, boots digging into the humid grass and whistling for one the dogs to accompany you.
He hears you laugh for the first time since he saw you at the rodeo. It's really, really nice.
------------------------
You begin seeing each other more often after that day.
Rhett comes in at least three times a week, usually with Amelia, paying for her milkshake. They sit at the counter so they can talk to you when you're not attending to any tables.
You don't think much of it. Your boyfriend's the only one you go home to every night, no matter what. You have no intentions of changing that, for now.
Aside from the Abbotts, Danielle who works with you is the only other friend you've made. You like it that way. Lenny, not unlike the patrons at the diner, asks too many personal questions so you keep your conversations to a minimum.
Work, then to your boyfriend's mansion.
The house is usually quiet, so after being stuck for so long in a writer's block, it's a relief when you pick up your laptop and start something new. It could be worse.
On a slow Wednesday, Amelia convinces you to let her help wipe the tables.
Bending down to pick up an abandoned spoon on the floor, something strange nags at the pit of your stomach. Rhett is talking to a girl with long, dark hair.
It happens. But with her, you notice, his body language is much more insecure. Spilling his coffee accidentally.
"What am I looking at?"
Amelia barely spares them a glance before scoffing. "That's Maria. Uncle Rhett has had a dying crush on her since high school. That's what my dad says."
"She's beautiful."
She really is. When she leaves the diner, most pair of eyes, men and women, follow her.
"I guess. Too beautiful, my dad says, and that's why my uncle never does anything about it. It scares him."
What you wouldn't give to feel like that for a day.
Dating a man who is constantly requesting that you look different, like other people, is terribly exhausting. And some got to walk around effortlessly desirable to everyone. It's hardly fair.
With his credit card, you buy new clothes and more make up. It's a good few weeks for the two of you, best you've had in a while.
------------------------
On a day off, you decide to tag along for the rodeo.
Maria is there too, with one of your boyfriend's brothers, which you find weird. In a sea of options, she can definitely do better. You'd tell her, but under his eagle eye you have no time to introduce yourself.
Rhett is riding one of the bulls, and you see how her eyes never leave him, even when he's standing in the sidelines waiting for his turn. She wrings her hands together when he mounts, and claps excitedly when he marks a good time despite the pointed looks from the boys.
Your hand is in a tight grip as you walk into the bar, and the minute you do, Maria frees herself with two strong strides. Your feet almost follow her, wondering if her group of girlfriends would let you sit with them and just listen.
She spends her night laughing, dancing, and talking to Rhett as the bartender serves her a new round. Yours is spent watching in envy.
A hand possessively squeezes around your thigh, drawing your attention away.
"Sorry. I need air."
Three minutes is all you get to yourself. Heavy boots make the wood creak, awkward step causing you to stifle a tipsy laugh.
He's not gonna forgive you for that.
You're pressed against the wall, his arms trapping you as he snarls his complaints, hair flying into your mouth as you yell back. It's bad, and loud, but fuck it.
He talks about how boring you are, how the other girls don't mind growing their hair in the heat, their nails are still manicured, their asses still full despite not eating much. You talk about feeling overwhelmed and homesick, out of your element. It's not the same. It's not fucking fair.
The Abbott siblings walk out when he's calling you a stuck up bitch, your answer dying in your throat.
You're so fucking stupid. Incapable of controlling yourself. He notices the look you exchange with the younger brother, quietly crossing your arms and swallowing your tears, flustered cheeks pointing at the ground.
In no time, he's scoffing and turning towards the entrance.
"Abbott, you got something to tell me?"
Rolling your eyes, you push yourself to sound annoyed and confused, calling his name.
He shuts you up with a finger to your face.
"Don't play dumb." Looking between the pair of you, the lewdness in his next sentence makes you nauseous. "I can't let your whore ass out of my sight, can I?"
Rhett steps forward and you know this is not going to end well.
They're talking over each other and your attempt to be heard is pathetic, trying nonetheless, pulling by his shirt and begging him to let it go.
Knowing exactly how to put a stop to this nonsense, you put your body in between the men and, reactively, an elbow makes contact with your mouth. The blood is still not as sickening as your boyfriend's remarks.
It doesn't take much to assure you it was him. Perry and Rhett are more careful than that, probably raised well by their mama (in a brief moment of dizziness, a smile comes to your bloody lips). But he stopped yelling, and moving. Throwing scared glances between the people outside.
People knew, but to deal with it man to man was different.
Spitting out the dark liquid, you look up at your boyfriend. "Can we go home now?"
Cursing under his breath, he shoulders past the other boys and walks away to wait for you by the truck.
If you stop to breathe, you might crumble. So you turn and walk back inside, poignantly avoiding the two pairs of eyes bugging out at you.
Determined steps take you to the table you were sitting at minutes ago. If you had just kept your emotions under- nevermind that.
The girls, Maria especially, are terrified to see your red teeth. Her eyes question something behind you, and you assume Rhett followed you inside.
Anticipating his hand on the small of your back, you take a step closer to the table, fully under the white light hanging above. The boys are unphased by your state.
"Keys." Met with a wave of grunts at the thought of losing their friend this early in the night. "He wants to go."
A blonde head pokes out, challenging. Drunk out of his mind, slurring his words. "C'mon, I thought it was your job to, howtoputit, mellow him out? Did you even try? Let me look down your throat, say 'Ah'."
A couple people laugh. Rhett growls behind you, and before he can make things worse, you square your shoulders, then shrug.
"Why do you think he wants to go?" You could puke right then and there. Instead, you extend your hand. "Keys."
You bump Rhett on the shoulder on your way out, just like your boyfriend. The regret and the image of those crooked repulsive smiles at the table cause you to throw up as soon as your shoes hit the dirt. Perry looks away, respectfully, until you're climbing inside the truck.
--
part 2 is finished and will come out soon :)
#rhett abbott#rhett abbott x reader#reader insert#i havent written in a while im nervous asaaaaaahhhhaggg
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