#blackcat!reader

he was the most handsome boy you had ever seen in your life. messy blond hair, soft blue eyes and sharpening features, you was sure you'd faint on the spot. you yourself had hair so messy to this date it couldn't even pass as aesthetic with braces so big it almost covered your teeth. and yet when you smiled at him, he grinned pioitely back, then to your mother, and you almost thought you had a heart attack.

however, being siblings to your brother, you understoood that topper only hung out with one type of people, exempt from his family: spoiled rich assholes, which as much as you hated it, rafe was apart of.

whenever the pair would spend some time at yours, all you would hear was brags about beating up kooks and shit about girls. almost most of it you didn’t care for or couldn’t bring yourself to, but you soon realised that topper and rafe were probably the worst pair to be around on Kildare because they were exactly the same person.

you couldn't remember exactly why you hated rafe. you both were young, but all you really remembered was a loud blond boy with a permanent scowl and an ego the size of figure eight.

and after that, he just looked perpetually ugly in her eyes. their first real interaction, which she didn't even remember, ended with her calling him stupid to which his response had been to throw a teenis ball at her head.

from then on, it was war. you stole his sunglasses, poured gatorade into the driver's seat of his golf car. he replaced your phone wallpaper with a photo of a rat.

and at every single damn family barbecue, every beach day, every birthday party, uoi shifted towards eachother like gravity and immediately started arguing.

"you're annoying."

"you're ugly."

"your face bothers me."

"that doesn't even make sense."

"because you're stupid."

you hated how cocky and arrogant he was and you could tell he hated how you never backed down.

as you got older, the fights also only got worse. at thirteen, you punched him in the shoulder hard enough that it left a bruise. at fourteen, he laughed when you threatened him and got a bloody nose for it. fifteen, you got into a sceraming match so bad topper physically had to stand between you while he dragged you away.

everyone assumed that eventually you two would grow out of it. but you didn't.

hating rafe felt like routine. normal, because if you walked into a room and rafe wasnt there to ruin your mood, something felt off. you never noticed it happening, how the insults got softer and the arguments lasted longer because neither of you two wanted to walk away first.

admitting that would've been worse than admitting defeat. neither of you two had ever lost a fight. and especially not to each other.

the first time it happened, it was a mistake.

that's what you called it: a mistake, an accident and a lapse in judgement. something that definetly, absoloutely, could never happen again.

it happened after a party, where you'd been avoiding him all night and he'd spent the entire night pretending not to notice which would've worked better if you didn't hear kiara telling you that he'd been looking for you every five minutes.

by midnight, you was already irritated, and by two you both were standing outside, drunk and exhausted, throwing insults at each other just as they had been like since they were kids.

"you're insufferable."

"you've literally said that every week since we were twelve."

"because you keep proving me right."

"and you keep talking."

you rolled your eyes, and he grinned. irritated once again, you snapped, "what?"

"nothing."

"then stop fucking staring."

"make me."

that was the worst thing he could've said, and the worst thing you could've heard, becaus eten seconds later, you was kissing him.

or maybe he kissed you. neither of you had ever agreed on that part.

all you knew that one second you were fighting and the next you was walking him into an empty guest room. you remembered how he tasted too much like alcholo, but something about kissing him was so addictive you didn't stop. both of your hands were everywhere and you very distinctly remember thinking this would've been eleven year old you's dream before rafe turned into such a spectacular asshole.

but afterwards was the real disaster. rafe sat on the edge of the bed, trying to catch his breath while you stared at the ceiling, the feeling of his lips on yours still present.

you could tell he, too, realised that you had just crossed a line neither of you could uncross. so naturally, "this was a mistake."

"obviously."

"never happening again."

"yeah." there was a pause. "good."

"good."

you guys didn't even make it two weeks. so after that, it became a secret one. a stupid one, the kind everyone probably knew about (the one where you ignored topper's knowing looks) except them. you'd spend the day arguing, and the end tangled together at night, laying against his chest and listening to his heartbear while his hands ran through your hair, breath heavy on your temple. you'd tell each other it meant nothing, then get jealous over things you supposedly didn't care about.

none of that even meant to happen. friends with benefits had rules, atleast thats what topp told you. feelings weren't part of the deal at all.

you've always been good at leaving first. you can tell it's one of the few things rafe hates about you: you never slam doors, never make scenes and never, ever beg people to stay.

you just go, quietly, acting like they never mattered enough for a goodbye.

but the worst part about this whole thing is that you know rafe knows you better than anyone. he's the same boy who met you at eleven, before all your guards were up, so he know that it's a lie. he knows you care too much, knows every careless shrug and slightly-forced laugh is calculated which is probably why this whole situation is way more complicated than it should be.

"you leaving already?" his voice follows you across the room, and yet you don't turn around, hiding your face in the darkness as you nod. "it's barely midnight."

you grab the bag from the counter. "and?"

silence. you can feel him staring, imagine the expression on his face. "you've been weird all week."

you laugh coldly. you can't help it. "that's rich coming from you."

when you finally glance over, he's leaning against the kitchen island, jaw tight and gorgeous eyes fixed on you. and for just a second, even if you're so dizzy from the way he fucked you, he looks nervous. it's so strange its almost laughable: rafe cameron never looks nervous. it almost makes something twist painfully inside your chest.

"did i do something?"

you nearly laugh, again. that's the funny and heartbreaking part: he genuinely doesn't know, has no idea, that you spent years teaching him exactly how much he could take from you that now you're surprised he keeps taking. "no." lie.

"then what's wrong?"

everything. nothing, in between. the fact that you probably know more about him than his own mother. which, given, isn't probably that difficult, but still.

he calls you when he's drunk. he calls you when he's sober. you can identify his fottsteps without looking and he looks for you in every room and yet this all supposedly "means anything".

if it meant what you so desperately wanted it to mean, he would've said so by now.

years, it's been fucking years. years of almosts, years of pretending, and you are so tired. "nothing's wrong, rafe."

there's silence until he sighs, voice dropping, "hey." you hate whenever he does that.

"don't act like you care."

his forehead creases, before it disappears, all smoothened out. "there it is."

you blink. "what?"

"i was wondering when we'd get to this."

"the fuck are you on about?"

"you know, the part where you pretend you're above all this."

the words taste sour in your mouth: "i'm not pretending anything."

"right." he nods mockingly, the same way he always does when he's angry. "because you've always been a fucking saint, haven't you?" there it is: rafe, holding that metaphorical fucking knife, twisting it exactly where he knows it'll hurt. "go ahead, baby. tell me how terrible i am. tell me how i'm the bad guy and you've never wanted this."

"that's not what i'm saying."

"then what are you saying?" his voice breaks, just slightly. "i'm getting real tired of you acting like i'm the only one here. you think i don't care, don't you?" when you're silent, he laughs bitterly, "that's fucking insane."

hope sparks, stupidly, like a slight ember. for one second you think: finally. finally, finally, he's going to say it.

but then you see that fucking expression on your face, and you just know. he isn't. of course he isn't. he's rafe cameron, golden boy of kildare. instead, he just shakes his head and looks away. "if i didn't care, you wouldn't still be here."

your chest caves in. that's all he has, all he's ever offering and ever will be. not love, committment or a future, everything that your whole friendgroup has told you you deserve. just access, proximity, just enough to keep you around but never safe nor loved. "okay."

"i didn't mean —"

"yeah." your voice is flat and empty. "don't worry, i know exactly what you meant."

he looks fucking terrified and you know he knows he's just confirmed every fear you've ever had. that no matter how much he wants you, he'll never actually choose you. and no matter how much you love him, you're finally starting to choose yourself.

"don't do this." it's almost pathetic, the way he says it.

"do what?"

he gives you a knowing look. "leave."

who's he kidding. you do anyways.

the next time you see him, you two are in another party because you only ever really see him then.

"who's that?"

you don't evne look up from your phone, "who's who?"

rafe leans back against the couch, arm stretching across the cushions behind you. you have to duck your head so he doesn't see your jaw clench: never touching, only when other people are around, but close enough to remind everyone he could if he wanted to. "that guy."

you glance towards the kitchen, where some random guy from the party is talking to sarah. you shrug, "i don't know."

"bullshit."

you finally look at him, already exasperated. "what?"

"he was staring at you."

you stare for a second, then laugh. actually laugh, because it's so stupid that you don't know how else to react. but you immediately regret it, because something in rafe's face shifts. "what's funny?"

"nothing."

"clearly it's sometjing."

you shake your head, looking back at your phone, because if you don't, he'll see the smile, and if he sees the smile, he'll get worse. "you're jealous."

"of him?" there's genuine offence in his voice.

you bite the inside of your cheek. "see? that's exactly what i mean."

"the fuck does that mean?"

you stand. mostly because you're smart enough to know where this conversation goes and you're not interested nor energtic tonight. "nothing, rafe."

he grabs your wrist before you can walk, just enough to stop you. "don't start whatever game this is."

"i'm literally standing here, babe."

"exactly."

"don't get all possessive over me."

his jaw flexes, "possessive?"

"you know, that thing where you act like im yours?"

he quickly lets go of your wrist. "i don't act like you're mine."

you hum, which is somehow worse than arguing, because now it sounds like you don't care, which rafe hates. "okay."

"okay?"

"mhm."

he stares, waiting, and you don't give him anything.

you know exactly what you're doing. you know exactly how much it bothers himL the same way he knows exactly how much it bothers you when he disappears for days and then walks back into your life like nothing happened.

the same way he knows you'll answer every single phone call. the same way he knows you'll always make room for him. "you're being weird."

"you say that every week." you deadpann.

"because you are."

"maybe you're just observant."

"and maybe you're just annoying."

"there he is."

the corner of his mouth twitches, "there who is?"

"the rafe i know."

for a second he looks guilty, and you don't like it. "what?" you prompt.

he blinks back, "what?"

"that look."

"i don't know what you're talking about."

you know every version of his face, and that one was bad. you just stare at him and he scoffs, looks away.

conversation over, just like that, and everyone else goes back to talking, laughing, living.

something between you cracked then, you could tell. not enough to really mean anything, but just enough that you spend the rest of the night thinking about it, and enough that rafe spends the rest of the night watching you from across the room, every single time you aren't looking.

you don't think about it. you don't think about the way he left without saying goodbye, because that would imply you care, and you don't. obviously.

except that three days later, you're still thinking about it, which is exactly why you're annoyed when your phone lights up. rafe.

you stare at the screen, which rings thrice before stopping. a second later another call comes through, and you roll your eyes before declining it immediately.

silence, the calm before the storm, before your phone buzzes.

rafe: answer the phone

you snort.

you: no

the typing bubble appears immediately.

rafe: where are you?

you: weird question

rafe: where are you?

you: why?

the typing buble appears appears, disappears, then appears again. nothing. you stare at the screen, frowning. that's strange, because rafe never shuts up once he starts.

your phone buzzes again, except this time it's not him, it's topper. you answer immediately: "what?"

"where are you?"

"you sit up slightly. "why does everyone suddenley want my location?"

"answer the damn question, y/n."

"home." something cold settles in your stomach. "topper. what happened?"

"nothing happened."

silence. then: "rafe got arrested."

for a second, you think you heard him wrong. "what?"

"he's fine."

what bullshit. nobody says he's fine unless things are very not much fine. you stand so fast your chair nearly tips over. "what happened?"

"i don't know everything."

"topper thornton."

"i'm serious." a pause, then: "fine, i just know there was some fight."

of course there was. it's rafe. there's always a fight. you're used to it by now, but something about this feels different. you odn't know why, it just does. "where is he?"

"y/n."

"topper —"

"y/n thornton. don't go down there. seriously."

"bye."

"don't you dare hang up on me."

you hang up anyways, grabbing your keys. your heart is beating too fast, because he's fine.

please.

your phone bzuzes just as you're about to slide into your car. a text, from kelce, which is weird enough on it's own because you and him aren't exactly friends.

kelce: where are you?

you: home

kelce: don't come to tannyhil.

your eyebrows pull together.

you: wasn't planning on it

kelce: i'm serious. he's losing his fucking mind

you: what happened

kelce: i dont know. just don't come over

unfortunatetly for him, that is exactly what guarantees you will. twenty minutes later, you're pulling into the driveway, house lit up with cars everywhere, music blasting from somewher inside. a pary, of course, except something feels off. people are standing outside, and the second you step out of your car, every single head turns.

what the hell?

you start toward the house, while someone mutters something and another person laughs nervously. you ignore all of it, until you hear your name. stopping, you turn around.

two girls are standing near the porch. one immediately looks away.

"what?" you bark.

the girl hesitates, winces, "you seriously don't know?"

"know what?"

when they dont reply, you push past them, straight through the front door. standing in th emiddle of the room, surrounded by half of the island, is rafe.

and he's staring right at you. not even relieved, or guilty, like he's been waiting.

and that's when you see her, standing beside him. close enough to touch, wearing one of his hoodies.

your hoodie. the one you left in his truck three weeks ago.

© BITTERSWEETLYBLUE. do not copy, translate, edit my work then claim it as your own, attempt to plagarise or repost it on any other website nor feed into AI. you will be blocked.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who will always just take something out of his hand. whether it’s a drink, his keys, anything, without asking, just because you can, and he knows you can. he’ll just watch you do it. pressing his lips together, deciding if he wants to check you or let you keep going, and in the end, he always let’s you keep going. 

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who never raises your voice, even when he does, your voice stays controlled, which somehow makes him louder, before he forces himself to match your tone.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who will look him up and down in the middle of an argument, then go “you done?” and it hits his ego so hard he steps closer, his anger rising, instead of backing off, because you don’t argue for long, and that’s what drives him insane because he needs the back and forth with you

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who’s favorite color is a maroon or wine red, because you think it embodies the exact aura you give off. 

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who definitely has black hair blindness, always dying your hair using loreal black onyx and black sapphire, so the undertones are dark blue, and not that brassy red undertone. 

sultrytoxicblackcat!readerwho makes rafe’s anger rise so high, he has no choice but to chill out knowing you’d not care either way. and he hates that. 

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who doesn’t get jealous in obvious ways. you just go cold, and get a little meaner, and rafe will notice immediately. he’ll get restless, hovering around you like he’s trying to pull you back into orbit.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who lets him show you off but never plays fully into it. you’ll stand next to him, he’ll call you his ‘pretty girl’, his hand resting on your waist, but your face will always give it away. blank and borderline bored, like you’re tolerating it, and that makes people stare more, only because you allow it, and that balance seems to keeps him hooked.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who calls him out in private without hesitation, “you’re doing too much” and instead of arguing, he just stares at you for a second, then smirks like he likes that you said it with a simple “okay.”

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who makes him work for your attention even when you’re already his, even if he already has it, and rafe doesn’t hate it. not even a little, instead he’s so incredibly infatuated, and he’ll never stop chasing after you. 

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who always looks put together, hair flawless, nails done, heels clicking, and even when you’re arguing, you’ll fix your lip gloss, because not even he, is worth messing up your look over. 

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who is so privileged with rafe, you don’t respond when he calls your name. you’ll fully ignore him until he corrects himself with a gruff “baby” and then only maybe, you’ll acknowledge him. 

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who will straight up walk out in an argument if he crosses a line. no yelling, no making a scene, just a “fix your tone” before you grab your bag and leave him standing there. because he’s used to control, but you hold your ground so naturally that he ends up adjusting to you instead.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who doesn’t answer his calls right after. you let him sit in his decisions, letting him spiral just a little, because if he wants you, he can come find you.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who always makes him come to you after a fight. he shows up irritated, ready to argue again, and you’re just sitting there calm with your legs crossed, and hit him with a unimpressed “you came here to continue the same bullshit?” when he’s going off, and it completely throws him into a spanner because you’re not matching his energy at all.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who tilts your head and smiles a little when he gets jealous, not reassuring him, most definitely not denying anything, just letting him sit in his jealousy because he started it anyway.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who will text him something simple like “hi hottie” out of nowhere, and rafe, with no questions needed, just responds with an apple pay of $2250. Simple, and quick, like he always does. you reply with a calm little “good boy”, and he stares at his phone because he hates how much he likes being used like that by you and you only.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who never has to outright ask him for anything. You’ll maybe imply or hint, or simply glance at something a second too long, and somehow it always ends up yours. when it does, you don’t even thank rage properly, just give him a “took you long enough,” which should irritate him, but instead he’s rolling his eyes, knowing he wants to do it again.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who will cancel plans on him last minute if he’s been acting up, no explanation besides a dry ass “not in the mood for you today.” and he’ll show up anyway, knocking on your door like he’s got something to prove, only to find you already dressed, halfway out, looking way too good for someone who “wasn’t in the mood.”

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who will take his phone out of his hand, scroll through something random, then lock it and keep it, not even to snoop, because you know he’s not doing anything worth ‘snooping’ for behind your back. but because you felt like it. and he’ll let you. he might tease and say something like “you gonna give that back?” but there’s no real demand behind it, because if you say no, he already knows he’s not taking it from you.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who will look at him dead in the eyes when he’s trying to intimidate you, completely unshaken, and go “don’t confuse me with those other bitches, you don’t scare me rafe. ” and it does something to him, because everyone else fears him and you just don’t.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who makes him wait because you’re “not ready yet,” even though you’ve been ready. and when you finally finish up, and his eyes land on you, he completely forgets why he was even annoyed in the first place.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who will ever so casually adjust his collar if it’s sticking out, fix his shirt, or brush something off his shoulder, while he’s speaking because he’s yours to handle. And he’ll pause everytime, letting you. His eyes watching the small amusement in your face as you do it, like he’s memorizing the moment. because he loves when you soften with him. 

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who doesn’t really react when other girls try to get his attention, because you’re not the type to beg for his attention no. you’ll just glance, giving him that knowing unimpressed look, then look away like it’s beneath you. and that reaction? or lack of reaction makes rafe shut it down faster than if you’d caused a scene.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who will sit in his passenger seat, scrolling on your phone, his hand on your thigh while he’s driving, and every once in a while, he’ll glance over, just to look at you, and say “fuck you’re the baddest bitch i’ve ever laid eyes on.” and although you smirk to him saying “yeah?”, it adds such a confidence you never knew you had. 

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who says “be useful” instead of “please,” and rafe doesn’t even question it, he just does whatever it is, faster than he would for anyone else, because when it’s you asking like that, it feels different. 

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who doesn’t give him affection when he demands it, but the second he drops the attitude, you’ll lean in, and press a quick kiss to his cheek or jaw, like a reward. and he clocks that pattern immediately, like the obedient man he is. and starts chasing that version of you more.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who will sit on his lap at a party, with your arms resting loosely around his shoulders, legs over his thighs. One of his arms is around your waist, while the other is slung over your thighs holding his beer. Your face is so stoic, and relaxed, but his grip on you is so reassuring, and he fucking loves being able to show everyone you’re his, but more importantly he’s yours. 

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who can read him too well, and calls out what he’s about to do before he even does it. “rafe, don’t start,” you tell him before his melt down actually begins, and he actually pauses staring at you, because you’re the only one who can shut him down with just those soft two words.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who doesn’t say “i miss you.” instead you say things like “you’ve been quiet” or “you bored of me?” and it’s so subtle, but rafe hears what you mean every single time, and he tries to be with you more, to satisfy the need you so crave. 

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who keeps little things of his without telling him outright. Like his hoodie, his rings, even something small like his favorite lighter. and when he notices and asks, you just shrug like “it looks better on me”. but he knows you keep them because you like having pieces of him with you, without admitting it, and you do. 

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who remembers everything he says, even down to the things he forgets he told you. And you love to throw it back at him at the most random times. not to start an argument, more to subconsciously make him aware that you do listen to him, despite the bitchy act. Saying something like, “thought you didn’t like that” or “you said the opposite last week”, and he just stares at you like “ oh so you really listen huh?” and it makes you blush in the stupidest ways.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who gets meaner and loses your patience when you’re worried about him,”be fucking careful. You love to drive like you’re in an f1 race, but you’re not dumbass.” and he clocks it instantly. “you only get like this when you care too much,” he mutters, and you just roll your eyes like he’s wrong, even though you both know he’s not.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who doesn’t say “i love you” often. so when you do, it’s almost like it slipped out. no eye contact but a soft “i love you, you know that right?” while doing something else. and rafe smirks, stopping himself from being a giant giddy idiot, because you never say it unless you really mean it, and really want him to know how you’re feeling.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who will get him things he mentioned once in passing, never making it obvious it’s a gift. you’ll just drop it in his car or hand it to him like “you needed this, right?” and he knows you went out of your way, even if you act like it was nothing.

sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who lets him rest his head in your lap when he’s exhausted, but you’ll still be scrolling on your phone, occasionally tapping his cheek like “don’t fall asleep on me.” but your fingers will drift into his hair anyway. sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who lets him see you tired, and it’s so rare because you’ve been forced and taught to be so independent. So relying on another is so hard for you already. So when you’re exhausted you’re way quieter than usual, leaning into him more, acting so much more touchy and needy, and rafe gets so protective instantly. Checking up on you more, making sure you’re comfortable, cause he knows this version of you isn’t for everyone. sultrytoxicblackcat!reader who doesn’t beg him to stay, but when he’s about to leave, you’ll catch his hand, holding it for a second longer than necessary, then let go. and that tiny pause is enough to make him doubt even the thought as to why he was leaving in the first place.