rafe taking puppy reader on a flight n he has to ask the flight attendants for the kiddie bags bc she gets jealous of the other kids and he knows she’ll start crying
WINGS AND WHINING
rafe cameron x puppy!reader
WARNINGS: puppy!reader behavior (touch-starved, clingy, pouty), mentions of whining/crying, age play implications (dd/lg dynamic vibes), soft dom!rafe, grumpy!rafe, airplane setting, light language, fluff, borderline embarrassing behavior lol, daddy kink (don’t like don’t read) and let’s pretend rafe wouldn’t go on his private jet
you were bouncing. like, literally — on the balls of your feet — in line at security, clutching rafe’s hoodie sleeve with one hand and your cinnamon bun with the other.
“baby,” he muttered, shifting the bags on his shoulder, “you’re makin’ people stare.”
you gasped, looking up at him like a kicked golden retriever. “but i’m excited,” you whispered, almost as if that made it okay.
“yeah? try bein’ excited quietly, pup.”
he was already annoyed. not at you, not really — more at the fact that you’d refused to check your bag and insisted on dragging your little hello kitty suitcase all through the terminal, only to get tired halfway and make him carry it. it had sparkly wheels. and a fuzzy charm. and little bows. and rafe swore it squeaked.
you squealed when you saw the plane, jumping up and down next to him. “rafe! it’s so big! are we gonna go so fast?! can we sit by the window? i wanna sit by the window. do you think there’s snacks? maybe the flight lady will give me a cookie or a—"
“baby,” he cut you off gently, “we’re not even on the plane yet. relax.”
but you couldn’t. your legs were twitching. your fingers were twirling a piece of your hair. and the moment you were in your seat, you were pressing your face to the little window, making soft awe-filled noises every time you saw the tarmac move.
rafe just shook his head. “this is gonna be a long-ass flight.”
but then— a few rows ahead —a flight attendant handed a toddler a kid’s bag.
bright blue. filled with crayons. a little plastic airplane toy. a tiny coloring book. plastic wings.
you watched the handoff like it was life-changing.
your eyes widened. your lip started to tremble. and you tugged at rafe’s sleeve, voice small and broken. “rafe? how come he got one and i didn’t…?”
he blinked at you. “seriously?”
“i want one.”
“you’re not five, baby.”
“but— but he’s not even coloring!!” you whined, tears threatening to spill. “he doesn’t even care about the wings! i want the wings!”
rafe groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “jesus christ.”
you pouted. sniffled. made the tiniest whimper.
and then—
“sit still,” he muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt and standing up, walking down the aisle like a man on a mission.
you watched him with big watery eyes. and when he came back, he dropped the little kid’s bag in your lap with a grunt.
“happy now?”
your whole face lit up. like a puppy who just got a new toy.
“thank you daddy i was gonna be so sad,” you whispered, hugging the little plastic bag to your chest. “can i color now? will you color with me? pleaaase?”
rafe sighed, clearly resigned. “give me the damn crayons.”
you passed them over. he opened the coloring book. “which page you want?”
you pointed eagerly. “this one. the puppy one. that one’s me.”
rafe rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. and he colored. carefully. a little too well, honestly. you giggled, swinging your legs as you colored in your puppy pink with glitter pen accents.
the flight attendant passed again and gave rafe a look.
he just muttered, “don’t ask,” while handing you your juice cup and pulling your head onto his shoulder.
and by the time the plane took off, you were fast asleep — drooling a little, coloring book clutched to your chest, puppy page marked with a bright gold star.
rafe looked down, smirk tugging at his lips.
“fuckin’ ridiculous,” he whispered. “but so fuckin’ cute.”
