Guys, Nicholas Alexander Chavez Is Fine, Trust Me, I Know !! But We Need To Have Actual Respect To The

THIRD TIME - 06. conundrum

pairing ☆ rafe cameron x reader

WARNINGS: rise of toxic rafe..

WORD COUNT: 1.9K

TAGLIST: open! comment or send in an ask

series masterlist. previous

conundrum. (noun) an intricate and difficult problem

Rafe Cameron was never one to second-guess himself. At least, that’s what he liked to believe. But this morning, as he sat in his truck just a block from your house, the usual persona he carried felt.. wrong. Last night’s event played on a loop in his head – from the moment he touched your shoulder to the kitchen, and well, to the couch. (And the small talk in your room but he doesn’t want to think about that.)

He hated how much he seemed to want your attention, seemingly deprived of it; your presence was wanted. Needed. But more than that, it wasn’t even in his own control – which pissed him off.

It was your fault.

If you hadn’t been so… you. He wouldn’t have been sitting here, going mental in his truck for the past ten minutes. He pulled out of the spot and drove aimlessly, needing a place to just forget about you, and his confusing emotions. (As if it was going to work.)

While Rafe was in his truck near your block (which you were completely unaware of), you were trying your best to forget everything. Everything from last night was quite haunting and traumatizing, as it resurfaced when you woke up. 

You woke up with a wince from a sharp feeling near your pelvic area. Too rough last night. Sighing, you registered that you had to forget at some point – so you spent the time doing every little thing possible. Hopefully, you could put aside the heavy feeling that had settled in your chest since the moment he left your house last night, but obviously: it didn’t work.

After a few moments of moping here and there, you decided to get ready to go to the cafe again. Partly hoping the serene place could keep you at bay from such loud thoughts, but also hoping that you could run into him again.

Meanwhile, about a good 20 minutes ago, Rafe found himself at the exact cafe before he even realized where he was headed. He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room instinctively. Maybe you were there ordering or sitting down and already taking sips.

But obviously you weren't there. (You were busy muttering to yourself about the still-damp floor from last night’s piles of towels.)

The disappointment that followed made him scowl. What was he even doing here? Chasing after someone who he clearly mentioned he didn’t want to go further with? He ended up ordering a drink and sat at one of the corner tables, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he tapped his fingers impatiently against the cup.

Time was passing and his frustration grew. He hated waiting. If anything, people were supposed to wait for him. Not the other way around. He hated feeling like he was on the losing side of whatever game this was. (In your mind, he already lost.)

Heavily disappointed, he left the cafe with his now-cold drink in hand – climbing back into the truck and yelled at himself, punching the steering wheel. (It gained him a few staring eyes, so he yelled at them, too.) However, he didn’t drive away. He sat in his truck, hopeful that you would appear.

And indeed you did.

You arrived about a good five minutes after he had another truck meltdown in the parking lot. You ordered your usual coffee and found a seat by the window. (The one where he sat, but you wouldn’t know that.) The sunlight streaming through the glass was warm, but it did little to thaw the cold knot in your stomach.

You started to realize that you don't mind spending a day without his presence. It was back to silence. Peace. And much needed solitude. (Alas, note that this was a partial lie to yourself.)

But Rafe’s peace was disturbed. He saw you enter the cafe, book in hand and a smile to your face. Oh, that smile. He ignored it. He made it clear that he did not have any interest in you, but seeing you again was making his chest tighten with a mix of irritation and something he didn’t want to name.

Repetitively telling himself to leave, and that he didn’t need to see you, he couldn’t do much except to groan to himself and stay put in his truck.

But then he started getting angrily irritated. Fingers clenching the steering wheel tight, his toxic streak was soaring. Why were you able to be unaffected while he was stuck feeling like this? 

You sat at the place for nearly an hour, flipping through the book you brought with you, but you weren’t really reading it. Your gaze wandered to the door occasionally, a flicker of something you wouldn’t admit to yourself, sparking every time it opened. You wanted to see him. Badly.

Eventually, you checked the time to see that you’d spent almost an hour in here, and left. Deciding a walk might help untangle the thoughts in your head, you walked forward with no particular destination in mind.

In the meantime, Rafe didn’t know why he waited until you were halfway down the block before he started his truck to follow you. His first thought was to get out of the truck and start a conversation with you once he saw you (finally) leave the cafe. But then his pettiness overcame him. So he wanted to see if you noticed him, if you cared enough to turn back.

You didn’t.

He ended up driving slowly and cautiously, his irritation building with every step. What were you even doing? (How you haven’t noticed his loud ass truck following you for the past three minutes, is the more important question.) Wandering around like you didn’t have a care in the world, like you haven’t been knowing that you were completely torturing him through levels of emotional pain? (You didn’t know.)

He almost called out to you but stopped himself. You wouldn’t want to hear what he had to say right now. And he understood you. Not really.

You stopped at the docks near your house again, sitting on one of the benches near a tree. You tilted your head back, letting the cool breeze wash over you with closed eyes. For a moment, you let yourself imagine a life where things were simpler – a life where things would’ve been different. Where you would’ve never met Rafe Cameron.

But the image of him kept creeping in, uninvited and unwelcome. Letting out a dramatic sigh, you kept your head back and eyes closed. You felt at ease, and this is what you wanted.

Rafe was watching you from across the street, openly leaning against his truck. He felt like an idiot (and a creep), just standing there. But he couldn’t really seem to walk away.

He hated how you made him feel last night – raw, exposed, like every part of that you touched felt so fictitious.

Reaching in his pocket to light a cigarette, he didn’t notice how you saw him after you got up from the bench to go back home. He’d forgotten that he was even there, until he looked up and his eyes stayed locked on yours across the street. 

It pissed him off. You weren’t supposed to look this pretty. He hated how you made him feel. He hated you now.

The sharp sound of your voice cut through his thoughts, startling him.

“Rafe?”

His stomach twisted (in delight and resentment).

You were already crossing the street, approaching him and his truck. “What are you doing here?”

Rafe straightened, putting back his lighter and cigarette away, tossing it into the truck from the open window. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You stared at him incredulously, with your arms crossed. “I live near here.”

He snorted, a humorless sound. “Well good for you. But I didn't realize I needed an excuse to be here.”

“You do when you’re lurking in the street, staring at people like a creep,” you snapped. 

“Staring at people?” He let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/N. I wasn’t looking for you.” (Cue the realization that there was not a single person at the docks this evening, so he looked like a pathetic liar. But you didn’t mention it.)

Your jaw tightened, the personal defiance sparking in your eyes. “Right. So it’s just a coincidence you’re here, watching me?”

“Believe what you want,” he shot back, his voice sharper than he intended with a slight croak to it. “But I wasn’t.”

“I will,” you said, stepping closer. “Because all you’ve ever done is prove me right about you.”

His smirk faltered, replaced by something colder. “Now, careful. I thought we already talked about knowing that you clearly don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to me.”

“I know enough,” you countered, making sure to emphasize how your voice was laced with disdain. “I know you’re too petty and angry to deal with your own mess, so you make it everyone else’s problem. Like last night.”

He took a step forward, closing the gap between you in a heartbeat. “And you’re so perfect, aren’t you?” he hissed. “Always acting like you’re above it all. Well guess what, you’re not.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. “At least I don’t waste my time going around trying to intimidate or fuck people into getting everything I want, just like you do.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might snap. “You don’t know a single shit about me,” he growled. “But every single time, you act like you know shit.”

“Well I know enough to stay fucking away from you,” you fired back, voice heavy with restrained anger. You forgot that he was still Rafe Cameron. The infamous, ill-mannered boy in town.

“Then why don’t you?” he challenged, his tone venomous. “If I’m so toxic as you claim, why the fuck are you still talking to me?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You weren’t even sure why you came over to talk to him in the first place. The air felt suffocating again, heavy with unspoken truths and lingering resentment.

Rafe’s gaze softened, just for a millisecond, but it was enough to make your chest tighten. He shook his head, as if trying to clear whatever thought had crossed his mind. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, stepping back.

“You’re unbelievable,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less cutting.

“And you’re exhausting,” he snapped, climbing into his truck and slamming the door shut.

You stood frozen, watching as he started the engine. The roar of the truck engine echoed, but he didn’t drive off immediately. Instead, he rolled down the window, his expression unreadable.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out?” he said, his voice low but steady. “You don’t even know half of it. Was trying to find you to talk ‘bout last night, but I don’t even want to see your fucking face anymore.”

Before you could respond, he sped off, leaving you standing there with a storm of emotions you couldn’t untangle.

Anger, hurt, confusion – the undeniable pull you still felt toward him had dissipated. Leaving you only in disgust.

And as you turned back to walk home, you just couldn’t shake the feeling off.

You had officially gotten under his skin.

And he’d gotten under yours.

NOTE. oh someone save yn.. 😞 so sorry, but chapters will be less frequent now since work is loading up on me. but anyway!! tell me your thoughts.. love reading everyone's comments :')

TAGS. @urbrunettebombshell @rafesfavouritegirl @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @percysley @wtfdudesblog @fratbrochrisgf @rrosiitas @powpowjinxlife @ltristessedureratoujours

Everyone in this town acts like Cole losing quarterback is worse than Jackie losing her entire family like wtf 😭

jff th killah

Mr. Bennet: Sure, I haven't taken care of my daughters' financial security, but have I at least taken care of their education? No. But have I taken care of their emotional needs? Also no. But have I been a good protector and supervisor? I'm afraid not. However, have I been a good example for my children of being a kind and respectful spouse, parent, and all around human being? No again. But through it all, have I nailed being funny? Yes. And isn't that the most important role of a father after all?

Pride and Prejudice 2005 ☼ dir. Joe Wright

yeah I don't think so

i do have to hand it to the actors on the monster show, especially the two brothers. they were appropriately over-the-top and silly when they were supposed to be, and they were both given their time to let the characters be legitimately emotional and sympathetic. they also pulled off some difficult acting jiu-jitsu during the trial testimony that was really strange but effective. in recreating those moments, they were imitating real emotional anguish from the real brothers, but narratively in the show, it's fake and forced. so it had to be recognizable as a recreation of the real testimony, and believable enough for the courtroom characters to buy it, but also juuuust at the edge of being over-the-top where we as the audience can tell they're forcing it. it's like a level of meta-acting. very strange. the actor playing lyle especially was phenomenal at it.

Are not gonna talk about the fact that when she was in her coma Lois saw ppl in her dream as how she perceived them. Like her daughter (forgot her name sry) was weak and insecure and ashamed because Lois saw her that way, but in reality she is a very successful smart woman who's very confident and self-assured blah blah blah. But how would she come to the conclusion in her mind that Charlie was a super freaky priest and that Megan was a horny nun. Like where did that come from??? Did Megan and Charlie do some super freaky bdsm preist/nun roleplay whilst Lois was maybe 10 feet away in a coma? like smth isn't adding up bc she could've just seen them as a freaky doctor hooking up with a freaky detective there was absolutely no reason for the priest/nun crap.

I find it comical thinking about Megan and Charlie getting it on in a hospital doing some sort of sexy priest/nun roleplay while Lois is just laying there listening to it all and including it into her little coma dream. Like ik Ryan Murphy is outta pocket like that and it wouldn't surprise me if that was what was going on but still.

from this tweet

so persuasion (2022) was not enough torture????