#kittykatinc

[kittykatinc]

inspired by request | rafe unintentionally makes you cry

“Can you just—fuck, I said right there,” Rafe snaps, pointing aggressively at the engine while you fumble with the flashlight.

You shift your grip, trying to get it where he wants, but your hands are shaking a little now. It’s hot, and his tone is making your chest feel tight.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Dude, just—why is this so hard for you?” he says, frustrated, wiping sweat off his forehead. “You’re literally just holding a light.”

You go quiet. You don’t say anything, just stand there blinking fast because if you speak now, you’ll cry. And you really, really don’t want to cry in front of him over something this dumb.

But a second later, your eyes are already watering. And he sees it.

“Wait,” he says, eyes narrowing. “Are you—are you crying?”

You quickly look away, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

“Babe,” he says, quieter now. “Shit. I didn’t mean to—hey. Hey, come here.”

You still don’t look at him, just hand him the flashlight and step back.

“Don’t do that,” he says, sighing. His voice is softer now, not angry anymore. “I didn’t mean to yell like that. I’m just pissed at the truck, not you.”

You shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he mutters, walking over to you. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest. “I’m a dick. I know. I’m sorry.”

You stay quiet, but your hand grips his shirt, and that’s enough for him.

“I’ll be nicer next time,” he says, resting his chin on top of your head. “Promise. Just don’t cry, okay? Makes me feel like the biggest asshole alive.”

You mumble against his shirt, “You kinda are.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. But I’m your asshole.”

[kittykatinc]

How Rafe reacts when you get catcalled

The sun’s starting to set as you two walk out of the grocery store, the air is warm and sticky. You’re having a tub of some random, cheap ice cream that Rafe definitely didn’t want to buy.

“Why do you even want that?” he muttered, tossing the pint into the cart when you begged. “This shit’s not even real dairy. I can take you somewhere nice.”

But he paid for it anyway. Because you smiled at him. Because you called him Rafey in that voice and he’s weak for you.

“Who needs all that fancy stuff when this works just fine?” you tease, digging your spoon into the cheap chocolate fudge.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Rafe grumbles, adjusting his sunglasses as he walks beside you, making a show of eyeing the parking lot.

You laugh, ignoring the way his eyes flicker to a man leaning against one of the nearby cars, the guy’s attention glued to you as you take another bite. It doesn’t hit you right away, but Rafe’s posture stiffens, the smile on his lips turning into something harder, more dangerous.

To you, it was just another car, just another guy lighting a cigarette. But Rafe noticed. Noticed how the guy was looking at you. Noticed how his eyes dipped, too long, too low, to your shoulder where your bra strap had slipped.

And when you licked your spoon again, “Hey,” the guy called out, slow and gross, eyes never leaving your skin. “That ice cream lookin’ real good on you, baby.”

Your heart drops, suddenly you’re too aware of your surroundings. You try shrug it off but your hands are suddenly shaking, your eyes meet Rafe’s, only to find him already locked onto the guy.

The tension in his jaw is sharp. His fingers twitch, then curl into fists, and before you can even ask what’s going on, the bags hit the pavement and Rafe is already there, grabbing the guy by the hair, yanking him forward with a force that makes the man stumble.

“You like looking at her?” Rafe shouted, driving his knee into the guy’s stomach. “You wanna talk to her like that? In front of me?”

The guy choked, trying to scramble, but Rafe wouldn’t let him move. He fisted his hand in the guy’s hair and yanked, hard, forcing his face inches from your shoulder.

“You see that strap?” he growled. “That what got your attention, huh? You want a closer fucking look?”

“Rafe–” you tried, but his body was wound like a livewire.

He shoved the guy’s face toward your shoulder, snarling. “Look at it. Go on, since you’re so fucking curious.”

The guy whimpered something, but it was cut off by Rafe’s uppercut, bone-cracking and loud. Blood splattered everywhere. Then another punch. Then another. And another.

The guy dropped to the ground, but Rafe didn’t stop.

He straddled him right there on the hot asphalt and beat the shit out of him, fists raining down fast and merciless. You heard people shouting in the distance, maybe someone yelling to call the cops. But you didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“You don’t get to fucking look at her,” Rafe spat, blood dripping from his knuckles. “You don’t get to breathe around her.”

The guy coughed, barely conscious, twitching under him. And finally, Rafe stood panting, bloody, trembling with adrenaline. He looked at you like he just remembered you were standing there. His jaw clenched, and then he stalked toward you, his hand finding yours, leading you away from the scene to his truck, grocery bags forgotten.

“Anyone fuckin’ talks to you like that again,” he mutters, lips pressing against your knuckles. “And I’ll finish it.”

You didn’t say anything. You just let him strap you in the passenger seat, kiss your jaw, and drive you home with a bloodied hand on your thigh. Because in his own, crazed way, he always made you feel safe.

[kittykatinc]

rafe shows up to your house with blood on his face

You hear the knock before you see the time. Three soft taps. Even. Unhurried. You don’t even have to check. You already know who it is. Your stomach turns, but your feet move anyway.

When you open the door, Rafe’s standing there—bruised and bloodied. Again.

There’s a smear of red across his jaw, some dried at the corner of his mouth. His nose is still bleeding a little, and his knuckles look like he punched a wall, or a person.

His eyes lock onto yours, and the second he sees your face, he exhales. “Hey, baby,” he mutters with a scratchy edge to his voice.

You don’t say anything. Just open the door wider.

He steps inside, brushing past you like this is routine. Like this isn’t the third time this month. You shut the door, slowly.

He leans against your kitchen counter, swiping the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand. “It’s not mine,” he says casually, like that’s supposed to comfort you.

It doesn’t.

Still, you don’t say anything. You head to the sink, grab a washcloth, run it under warm water. You hear him chuckle softly behind you. “You’re mad.”

You’re not. Not really. Just scared. Worried. But you don’t want to give that to him right now. You don’t want to feed whatever this part of him is.

When you turn, he’s already watching you. Waiting.

You walk over. Hold the warm cloth to his face.

He flinches, just a little, then lets out a breath and leans in. His eyes flutter shut, like your touch calms him down. “You always take care of me,” he murmurs, lips brushing the air near your wrist. “Even when you look at me like that.”

You pause. “Like what?”

He opens his eyes, smirking. “Like I scare you.”

You don’t respond. You just keep cleaning him. Careful, quiet. His hand drifts to your waist at some point, fingers resting there like it’s normal. Like this is just your thing now—late nights and blood.

“Still love me?” he asks after a beat. You roll your eyes, but your hands get gentler. He smiles, “You do.”

And even though you don’t say it out loud, you think he knows.

Because a few minutes later, he’s dozing on your couch with his head on your shoulder and your fingers are in his hair, quietly tracing circles. You might be mad. You might be scared. But when he’s here, with you, it's when you feel the safest.

[kittykatinc]

requested | after fights with rafe

Your house felt too quiet after the shouting stopped.

You sat curled up on the couch, eyes fixed on the TV but not really watching. The glow of the screen flickered over your face, washing everything in pale light. Your arms were folded tight, not out of comfort but out of sheer will, because if you didn’t, you might give in and go to him first.

In the kitchen, Rafe sat at the island, elbows on his knees, head hanging. He raked his hands through his hair, trying to steady the storm still brewing in his chest. The argument had been ugly. Words neither of you meant spat in anger, voices raised too high. But now it just felt hollow. Heavy.

His stomach twisted when he glanced toward you. Even from across the room, he could tell your eyes were glassy. His girl. His girl who he hated seeing sad, even when she was pissed at him.

Without really thinking about it, Rafe stood. The plate of food he’d made sat untouched at the table. He grabbed it, then grabbed another fork. Quietly, he crossed the room, the sound of the TV covering his soft footsteps.

You felt the cushion dip beside you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him set the plate down between you, offering you a fork without a word. Your throat tightened, but you took it. You couldn’t help it.

For a while, neither of you said anything. You just sat there, sharing bites, watching whatever was on.

Slowly, so slowly it felt almost accidental, you felt his thigh brush yours. His knee knocked gently into your leg. You didn’t move away. Neither did he. The next bite, your fingers brushed when you both reached for the plate at the same time. You didn’t pull back fast like you might have earlier. You just let it happen.

By the end of the episode, your head had found its way onto his shoulder. His hand rested on your knee, thumb stroking back and forth. The fight still hung there between you, but so did everything else. The care. The history.

Rafe let out a long breath, like he’d been holding it the whole time. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice low.

You nodded against him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Me too.”

[kittykatinc]

thinkin abt → those rare moments of softness with rafe . . .

Rafe’s arm rests on the back of the couch, his fingers playing with a strand of your hair as the movie plays on the screen.

“You even watching?” you ask, turning to look at him.

His gaze flicks from your hair to your eyes. “Yeah,” he says, his thumb brushes over your cheek, like he’s looking at you for the first time.

You raise an eyebrow. “The movie or me?”

A soft chuckle escapes him. “Both.”

You shake your head, amused, and settle back against his chest. He tightens his arm around you in return.

“You’re clingy tonight,” you murmur.

Rafe presses a kiss to your temple, barely more than a breath. “Just makin’ sure you’re real.”

[kittykatinc]

inspired by request | rafe being protective over you at coachella

You’re waiting in line for drinks with Rafe, Topper, and Kelce. The sun’s setting, your glittery crop top catching the light, and Rafe’s arm is slung casually around your shoulder, fingers tracing your skin like it’s second nature.

It’s chill—until someone behind you bumps into you hard, making you stumble a bit.

“Watch where you’re standing,” the guy mutters like it’s your fault.

You turn, thrown off. “Sorry?”

He scoffs. “Whatever. Glitter bitches think they own the place.”

Rafe’s head snaps up.

“What’d you just say?” he asks, calm but sharp.

The guy shrugs, looking smug. “You heard me.”

“Nah, say it again,” Rafe steps in front of you now, shoulders squared. “Say something else about her. I fucking dare you.”

You grab his arm lightly. “Rafe…”

He doesn’t budge. “You don’t talk to her like that. You don’t look at her like that.”

The guy glances at the group—Topper’s arms crossed, Kelce looks way too happy to have an excuse to jump in—and decides it’s not worth it. he backs off without another word, clearly realizing he picked the wrong group.

Rafe finally turns to you, eyes soft again. “You good?”

You smile. “I was fine. You’re the one getting heated over glitter.”

He leans in, lips brushing your temple. “You look hot in glitter. Doesn’t mean people get to be assholes about it.”

“That was, like, romantic… but scary.” Topper says from beside you.

Kelce mutters “He's in full boyfriend mode.”

Rafe just shrugs, pulling you closer. “Nobody fucks with my girl. Glitter or not.”

[kittykatinc]

requested | jj pays you a visit before your graduation ceremony

You were adjusting your cap in the mirror when a knock sounded on the back door. The staff-only one. You frowned, opened it a crack, and there he was.

JJ Maybank, in a slightly wrinkled button-down and crooked tie, grinning wide and holding a chaotic bouquet of wildflowers. “JJ,” you hissed, “you’re not supposed to be back here!”

“Yeah, and yet…” He slipped inside, “Couldn’t wait. Had to see you.”

He held the flowers out with a shrug, sunflowers, daisies, a few with roots still attached. “Don’t say I never get you anything classy.”

You took them, laughing despite yourself. He softened instantly, eyes scanning your face. “You look… wow. I mean, you always look like you, but right now you look like the version of you I always pictured getting off this island. I’m so proud of you, baby.”

You smiled at him. “I graduate in like, twenty minutes.”

“I know. I just… I didn’t wanna be in the crowd the first time I saw you today.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Needed you to know it’s a big deal. You are a big deal.”

And then he kissed you slow, like he had all the time in the world. He pulled back with his forehead resting against yours.

“Now go walk that stage, sunshine,” he whispered. “I’ll be the idiot screaming the loudest when you do.”

You smiled, cheeks warm. “You always are.”

[kittykatinc]

thinkin abt → sitting in jj's lap . . .

jj’s arms wrap around your waist, his chin rests on your shoulder as the bonfire crackles.

"comfy?" he murmurs.

you hum in response, and he squeezes your sides and lets his hands drop to your thighs. his fingers trace lazy patterns, not thinking about it, just touching mindlessly.

"you’re quiet," he notes.

you smile up at him. "i'm happy."

he smirks. "yeah?"

"yeah."

jj gives you a kiss on your temple. "i love you"

you nuzzle closer to his chest. "love you too"