plushie protocol ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡
rafe cameron x bunny!reader
content warnings: suggestive tension, naive!reader, fluff, light teasing
authors note: divider by @cursed-carmine
you always forgot about the plushies.
it wasn’t until rafe was halfway through kissing down your neck, one heavy hand planted beside your head while the other rested warm against your waist, that your eyes would suddenly flutter open wide.
rafe freeze immediately, lifting his head just enough to squint down at you. his hair is messy from your fingers, his expression already edged with irritation.
your cheeks burn as you glanced over his shoulder toward the headboard.
all of them were sitting there.
your stuffed bunnies, your little bears, the pink strawberry plush your grandma got you when you were seven, all lined up neatly against your pillows with their stitched little smiles pointed directly at the bed.
you press your lips together, mortified.
rafe stares at you for a second, dead silent.
then he’d let out a slow breath through his nose.
“i’m serious,” you whisper, squirming under him. “it’s embarrassing.”
his mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh, but your already be nudging at his shoulder, wide eyes pleading.
and because rafe could never say no when you looked at him like that, he pushes himself up with a groan.
you sit up quickly, smoothing down your pink pajama top as you carefully turned each plushie around one by one, making sure none of them were facing the bed.
“there,” you murmur, satisfied. “now they won’t feel awkward.”
“they’re stuffed animals.”
you glance back at him with that little pout he secretly hated because it always made him cave.
rafe dragged a hand down his face. “right. sure they do.”
sometimes, though, if he was already feeling impatient, he wouldn’t bother waiting.
he’d just grab a whole armful of them and toss them dramatically onto the floor.
that was always his mistake.
because the second the soft thumps hit the carpet, your whole face would crumple.
your glossy eyes would dart down to where they’d landed, horrified.
the way you said his name would make his stomach drop instantly.
you’d already be scrambling off the bed, dropping to your knees to gather them into your arms.
“mr. berry landed face down,” you’d whisper, sounding genuinely devastated. “he could’ve gotten squished.”
“bunny, it’s a damn pillow with a face stitched on it.”
you’d look up at him, lower lip trembling.
and just like that, he’d lose. every single time.
with a muttered curse, he’d climb off the bed and crouch beside you, helping collect every last plushie while you directed him on where they belonged.
“daisy goes by the lamp.”
you’d let out a tiny offended gasp, clutching mr. berry protectively to your chest.
“you don’t know them at all!”
“didn’t realize i was expected to memorize your stuffed animal roster.”
still, he’d put them back exactly where you wanted.
and once every plushie was safe and properly arranged, you’d crawl right into his lap, all soft and warm and smelling faintly like strawberries from the lotion you always used.
your arms would loop around his neck, and you’d press a sweet little kiss to his cheek.
“thank you,” you’d murmur. “they’re not upset anymore.”
rafe rolls his eyes, but his hands would settle on your waist, holding you there.
“good. was real worried about what the damn strawberry thought of me.”
you smile, completely missing the sarcasm, and nuzzle closer.
“i knew you’d help. you’re nicer than you pretend to be.”