How did mean!pogue!reader and rafe met? I feel like even when they get tgt she’d def be #ihatemybffinalboss 😭 I love her characterrrrrr
⠀ ⠀⠀♯┆Mean!Pogue!Reader Meets Rafe.ㅤ ۪ ୧
ᰋ. she is the pioneer of the #ihatemybf movement : WARNINGS . . . violence, drinking, smoking. ̼ ₊
THE BONFIRE CRACKLED, orange light dancing along the ground, casting shadows as it collided with the bodies of kooks and pogues alike. Music blared through the clearing, vibrating the ground as people danced and chatted. You were stood by the kegs, watching JJ do a kegstand with Kiara.
You snorted as JJ came down from the kegstand, stumbling slightly before throwing his arms up like he was a champion as he whooped loudly. "That’s gotta be, like, a world record or something," he slurred, grinning.
You scoffed, arms crossed as you shot Kiara a look that said you'd both be dragging his ass home by the end of the night. "Yeah, for killing the most brain cells in under a minute."
Kiara rolled her eyes, passing him a half-empty Solo cup that he'd bestowed upon her before attempting his stunt. "I give him ten minutes before he’s face down in the sand."
"Ten?" You raised a brow, eyeing him. "You’re being generous. I say five."
JJ pointed a finger between the two of you, swaying slightly. "No faith. No respect. I am a... legend—" He took a step, tripped over a log, and went sprawling into the sand.
You exchanged a look with Kiara before bursting into laughter. "Thirty seconds," she corrected, shaking her head.
"I just don't see what she sees in you," a nasally voice sneered from behind the three of you. JJ rolled over onto his back in the sand with a groan, looking towards the voice, your eyes following his.
You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes as you saw Topper sauntering toward you with a cup in his hand, Rafe and Kelce watching from behind him with smirks on their faces. “And yet, here you are, breathing the same air as us. What, Figure Eight not fun enough for you?”
He scoffed. “I just don’t get it. Kiara could’ve had everything, but she threw it away to hang out with trash.”
There it was. The word that had you seeing red—trash.
Your fist swung before you could think twice, knuckles colliding with his jaw in a way that sent a shock up your arm. Topper stumbled back, cursing, but before he could even react, you shoved him, making him fall back due to his already unsteady feet, his back colliding with the sand and sending his beer all over him. "Run back home to mommy, Thornton.
Laughter rippled through the crowd, people gathering around to see what went down. Pogues cheered on, egging on the violence with shouts of "Fight! Fight! Fight!" while Kooks looked on with sneers, as if they'd expect no less from a Pogue, even though Topper was the one that had technically started it by running his mouth.
Topper groaned from the ground, rubbing his jaw as he glared up at you in a mix of disbelief and anger. "You crazy bitch!"
"Oh, shut the fuck up, Topper," you sneered, shaking out your hand. "You had that coming."
"The fuck is your problem?" A second voice cut through the crowd, stepping into the little circle that had been created. Rafe Cameron's blue eyes, filled with disdain, looked onto yours as he adjusted his backwards hat on his head.
"Got something to say, Cameron?" You asked. tilting your head and daring him to insult you like his little lapdog had. "Don't think I won’t knock you on your ass just like I did to your little boyfriend over there."
Rafe scoffed, taking a step closer into your personal space as if testing your boundaries. "You got a real mouth on you, Pogue," he spat the word "Pogue" like it was poison on his tongue, like it was a dirty word.
Your lips curled into a grin, unaffected by the venom in his voice. "And you got a real ego on you, Cameron." You your eyes scanned him for a moment, sizing him up before meeting his again, unwavering. "What, mad I hit your little bitch first?"
Rafe's jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. He'd never hit a woman, but you made him really really want to. You two glared at each other, both of you daring the other to make the first move, your faces inches apart.
"Yo, are you two gonna fight or fuck!" Someone yelled, making the people snicker around you. The comment made your jaw clench, the idea of sleeping with Rafe of all people absolutely revolting.
"Sorry, I don't do charity work," you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Your knuckles hurt like a bitch. You'd definitely have to ice them as soon as you got out of here, but you were determined to not show weakness in front of Rafe.
"Trust me, even if I was desperate enough to fuck a pogue, it wouldn't be you," he rolled his eyes, though his ego took a little hit at your words. He wasn't used to being rejected by women, especially not Pogues, and especially not in front of a crowd.
Your fists balled up, opening your mouth to fire back a comment before Kiara grabbed your arm, tugging you away from him. "Let's just go. He's not worth it." You hesitated but nodded, knowing she was right. Topper was probably gonna run off and tell his mom about the fight, so it was in your best interest to get out of there without any more altercations.
"Yeah, that's right, run off!" He called after you, a victorious smirk on his face as he watched you retreat. It took everything in you not to turn around and punch that look off his face, but you somehow managed.
"This isn't over, Cameron," you spat, holding up your middle finger as you and Kiara helped JJ up and out of the crowd toward The Twinkie, which already had John B in the driver's seat.
Neither of you would get over this, and you both knew it
notes .ᐟ and so began the mean!pogue!reader and rafe rivalry... not edited again 🙈
cherry bomb .ᐟ certified kook hater. 111. lipstick stains. cigarette smoke. brass knuckles . cheap jewlery. rum and coke. saltwater hair. cracked lips. cherry lipgloss. chipped nail polish. stolen sunglasses.
.ᐟ mean!pogue!reader who grew up having to fight for everything she had, nothing was just handed to her, and she learned from a very young age that softness wouldn't get you anywhere unless you were trying to charm a man out of his wallet.
.ᐟ mean!pogue!reader who hates kooks and everything that they stand for. not only did they grow up with silver spoons in their mouths and the world at their feet, but they have the audacity to hate the actual working people of the island who make their cushiony figure eight lives possible.
.ᐟ mean!pogue!reader who smells like cigarette smoke, salt air, and sweet perfume. she leaves lipstick stains on the rims of stolen beer bottles and makes herself impossible to ignore. she's bold and unapologetically herself, always hanging around the wreck with her best friend, kiara—whose parents hate her—leaning against the jukebox with a cherry lollipop between her lips.
.ᐟ mean!pogue!reader who doesn't believe in fairytales and happy endings and all that shit. to her, love always comes with conditions. it's a game of soft words and empty promises that eventually leave people broken and bruised. she keeps her walls high, never letting herself get emotionally involved with the occasional one night stand because love is a game of chance, a game that's easy to lose, and she never loses.
.ᐟ mean!pogue!reader who sees rafe as the worst kind of kook. he's entitled, arrogant, born into money that he didn't earn but still believes he has the right to. he walks around the island like he owns it, hiding behind his daddy's last name as he does whatever he pleases without any regard for the consequences. she hates him.
.ᐟ mean!pogue!reader who fights with rafe like it's foreplay—heated arguments and venom-laced insults, standing a little too close to each other than need be. the air is charged with what the two would call pure hatred but is really something more akin to sexual frustration.
meanpogue!reader visiting Barry cuz duh that’s her home girl and then sees rafe and then boom they’re at each others throats and Barry have to get them to stop fighting?
ᰋ. barry is sick and tiredddddd of them : WARNINGS . . . drugs, suggestive content. ̼ ₊
THE MUSK OF weed and sweat hung heavy in the air of Barry's trailer, surrounding the two of you like a perfume as you sat on his couch with your legs slung over his lap. A joint was settled between his lips as you two mindlessly watched a comedy movie, occasionally passing the joint back and forth.
“You hear what went down at the bonfire?” you asked, glancing over at him as he took a drag before passing it over to you. You took it, the movement natural. Barry had been your friend—and fuck buddy—for years. He was a dick sometimes, but he gave good advice and was always there to hang out when you were having a bad day. Plus, he was better in bed than one would expect.
Barry grinned lazily, his head rolling to the side to look at you, gold tooth glinting in the dull light. “Yeah, heard you dropped Thornton on his ass. ‘Bout time someone did.”
“Your little kook boyfriend was there," you teased, blowing out a puff of smoke as Barry ran his hands along your bare legs, trailing upwards.
Barry scoffed, shaking his head and reaching over to snatch the joint back. “The fuck you talkin’ about?”
You smirked, watching him as he placed the joint back between his lips. “You and Rafe Cameron spend a whole lotta time together for two people who don’t fuck.”
Barry rolled his eyes, giving your thigh a squeeze. “Only person I’m fuckin’ is sittin’ in my lap runnin’ her mouth.”
You laughed, your head falling back against the pillow behind you. The warmth on your thigh was familiar, comforting even. Your high was making you feel more relaxed, your body heating up as his hand ran slightly higher in a way that was extremely welcome.
Just as Barry's fingertips grazed the edge of your shorts, the sound of a purring engine rolling up outside cut through the air. Barry groaned, head lolling back. “Fuckin’ hell. Who the fuck?”
“Your customers are real cock blockers,” you huffed, rolling your head to the side to see who would come barging in. Your relaxation seemed to completely evaporate as the door swung open and Rafe Cameron walked in, wearing that same entitled demeanor.
Your eyes narrowed as you sat up, pulling your legs from Barry's lap, so you could properly glare at him. “The fuck you doing here, Cameron?" You scowled.
“I wasn't aware you were fucking the local drug dealer,” Rafe snorted, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Don't let me stop you," he smirked.
Barry's eyes flickered to you, a warning in his gaze. You weren't supposed to interfere with business, then Barry wouldn't be so kind, but when it came to Rafe, you couldn't help yourself. “Like you don’t come crawling to him every time you need your next fix,” you shot back, tilting your head, daring him to deny it.
That hit a nerve. His smirk fathered, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Watch your mouth, pogue.” That word. That fucking word. Like it meant you were beneath him. Like he wasn’t standing here, in the Cut, doing some shady shit with a shady dealer.
You stood up from the couch in one smooth motion, your body coiled with tension, every nerve in your system screaming at you to put Rafe in his place. You felt the heat of the high mixing with the anger rising in your chest, and you weren't going to let him get away with talking down to you, not in your friend's home.
Before you could take a step forward, Barry's hand closed around your wrist, tugging you back onto the couch. “That's enough,” he warned you, his voice sharp—a tone he hardly ever took with you.
“Yeah, call off your bitch, Barry," Rafe sneered, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Alright, get the fuck out,” Barry told him, standing up. Your eyes widened. Barry had defended you to nosey and leering customers before, but he never dared kick them out. It made your panties damp as you watched it unfold. “Come back when you've cooled the fuck down, but you're not gonna disrespect my girl in my house.”
Rafe's jaw clench, clearly not having expected Barry to take your side. He took a breath, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Look, just give me my shit, Barry. I need it,” he said, fishing some hundred dollar bills from his back pocket.
Barry's eyes narrowed as he watched Rafe, his stance tense, but his voice remained calm. “You think I’m just gonna give it to you after you come in here talkin’ like that?” He took a step forward, towering over Rafe, his presence demanding authority. “Nah, man, you need to learn some fuckin' respect.”
“Fuck you, man,” Rafe scoffed, his hands balling into fists at his side. You half-thought he might push it, maybe start a fight, but everyone in the room knew that Barry would pull a gun on his country club ass faster than he could throw a punch. “Whatever,” he mumbled, turning and storming out, letting the door slam behind him.
“Fuckin' junkie," you muttered, leaning back against the couch and crossing your arms, your mood obviously soured.
i feel like mean!pogue!reader would definitely be the guitarist and lead vocalist of a band, and she would book a gig at the country club just so they can play in front of rafe and annoy him
