welcome ! @lovingobx - Tumblr Blog

WELCOME !

mainy obx. pink + blue. summer time. jean shorts. comedy movies. cotton candy. green, crunchy grapes. fruit on the beach. sad songs in a good mood. the glass is half full. triangle bikinis. the beach. summer bike rides. the boardwalk. happy, kind, bubbly, sunshine type people.

rach, she/her, 19

masterlist moodboards

#welcome #navigation #obx #welcome post #intro post #introduction #pinned intro #introductory post #blog intro #pinned post #outer banks #obx moodboard #obx masterlist

THROUGH THE YEARS

weird!pogue!reader x rafe cameron s1-s3 DOES NOT INCLUDE S4 (seasons are years for this)

warnings: angst?

season one

rafe barely knows reader, sure, she was in a few of his high school classes. but, he of all people wouldn’t associate with someone like her. aside from the fact she’s a pogue, she’s also a weird nobody, a loner.

occasionally, his friends would laugh at her in class, whenever she would raise her hand to ask some question. he would chuckle, too. but, truthfully, he was too busy talking to random kook girls and inviting them over to tanneyhill to know why his friends were laughing.

he’d heard rumors from people around school that reader has a silly schoolgirl crush on him. that she was always looking at him in class when he wasn’t looking at her. which was always.

in an odd way, hearing that fed his ego.

to know that the class-called ‘weird girl’ even relates to other girls in one way. having a crush on rafe cameron. but, now, he has no ties to her other than occasionally seeing her around the island, each time his friends laugh in her direction, obviously at her, but without actually laughing at her.

season two

rafe would be soo mean to reader in season two — specifically around his friends. he could invite you to a little get together at tanneyhill, insisting that he would actually be nice, then play along with his friends, telling her she needs to leave. vouching to his friends that he would never invite reader of all people to his house.

sure, when rafe actually invited you he was sober — of drugs and alcohol. but, obviously, when you show up to his house, he’s higher than the empire state building with a girl on each of his arms.

the next day rafe would text you, beyond hungover, and unable to remember any of the events last night. other than reader running out crying.

when you don’t answer is twenty-something texts he groggily drags himself to his car and over to your side of the island. not before stopping at the supermarket and showing up with a bouquet of hyrangeas or dahlias, rafe can’t remember.

his fist taps on the rickety door, gentler than usual.

when you don’t answer he jingles the doorknob, no expectation for it to open. however, the door creaks open, you must’ve forgotten to lock it amist your hysterics last night. sure, you can hear him wandering through your rundown house, but can’t quite bring yourself to care. your bedroom door creaks open, his eyes looking, peeping through open the small crack. and, trailing up your form on the bed. all you want to do is scream and yell at him, telling him to leave, kick him out, anything to not have to see him right now. but, you can’t bring yourself to speak, like you’re under sleep paralysis.

that was the same story, him coming to her house and apologizing for being a douchebag but never changing.

season three

rafe and readers dynamic change a lot over season three, with rafe distancing himself from his snotty friends, more of his free time was spent with reader. alone with her. private time with rafe was the only reason reader still stayed by him, he was just different. softer, maybe.

when ward died, rafe clung to reader like a baby.

staying with her, in her house, on the cut. as, tanneyhill was now empty, and lingering with horrid memories.

with him rotting in her house, reader learned to cook a few nice meals, as rafe would throw his credit card towards her for groceries. she’d nurse him throughout the week, pans clanking in the kitchen, bathtub faucet running with warm water, buying his favorite movies on cd.

rafe clings to reader from the moment she walks in the front door to when she’s tying her shoes to leave once again.

when he wakes due to pans and pots clapping together and realizes reader is no longer in her bed with him, he drags himself to the kitchen. sweatpants hanging low on his hips, biceps wrapping around her waist from behind, nose nuzzling her neck.

occasionally, when he manages to drag himself outta’ her house, he’ll make a pitstop at the mall to buy her something nice. or going to some fancy, rich people, arts and crafts store.

WEIRD!POGUE!READER

WEIRD!POGUE!READER who messily slops on silver, glittery nail polish to the sound of punk rock blaring into her ears — through her still corded earphones. the freshly thrifted nail polish smothers over her cuticles and onto her skin, but, she doesn’t bother cleaning it off. weird!pogue!reader thrashes her hands through the air, attempting to dry the polish asap.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

WEIRD!POGUE!READER who spends most of her free time either at the thrift store or soliciting random animals on the island — or sleeping. most folks on the island ignore her, simply looking the other way when she walks by, rather than smiling at her. even fellow pogues.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

WEIRD!POGUE!READER who bumbles around town, ignoring the depressing scene — to most, at least. to her, it’s normal, her life for as long as she can remember. thats what happens when you’re an outcast, and there isn’t a lot of them on kildare. most people are involved actively with one group, kooks or pogues. sure, weird!pogue!reader was a pogue, economically at least. but socially? she’s a nobody, thats known by everybody.

through the years weirdo x rafe cameron

SWEETHEART!POGUE!READER

SWEETHEART!POGUE!READER who lives in a small shack on the beach — on the cut of kildare, obviously — it’s considered ‘the hangout spot’ for her and the rest of the pogues. when her friends aren’t over at her shack and she’s alone, she spends her time crafting up little pink and blue pieces to go around her shack. wether thats wood carving, knitting, sewing, or painting, thats how sweetheart!pogue!reader spends her alone time, other than working at a surf shop.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

SWEETHEART!POGUE!READER who is always surrounded by her friends, not only pogues, but also kooks. everyone on the island loves her, regardless of how they feel about pogues. sweetheart!pogue!reader loves to host, yes, her shack is small, the party remains outside, while she makes fruity little martinis for her guests. mock-tails for herself and the other non-drinkers. the sea breeze keeps everyone cooled off while all the sweaty bodies are against each other.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

SWEETHEART!POGUE!READER who picks up odd jobs anywhere and everywhere, for kooks in their multi-million dollar houses, pogues small businesses, hell, even uber eats or door dash during tourist season. anytime there is a job available she wants it, partially because she gets bored of she doesn’t do anything for more than 5 minutes and also because who couldn’t use some extra money? especially a pogue.

#obx #outer banks #obx moodboard #obx season one #obx season 2 #obx season 3 #obx season 4 #!reader #sweetheart!reader #pogue!reader #sweetheart!pogue!reader #moodboard

MY TUTOR

bunny!reader x pope heyward

warnings: none

reader’s pov

the doorbell ringing echoes through the foyer and upstairs, the sound carrying to my room. i groan, as i don’t want to get out of my bed, however, a pit of excitement bubbles in my belly as i know that my tutor is here.

i scurry my way out of my room and my sock adorned feet pad down the stairs, my hand gripping the pillar of the railing as i swing myself around the landing of the stairs and down the rest of them.

i reach my hand to the lock, after turning the lock to the left, i gently crack open the door with a small smile. “hi!” i greet with a higher-pitched voice than intended.

he coughs and raises his eyebrows, slightly, but i still notice.

“uhm — hey,” he greets back, his voice sounding much deeper than normal.

i motion my head back, implying for him to follow me when i step out of the way for him to enter my house. shutting the door behind him, i turn my back to him, facing the stairs. we both jog right back up the stairs, pope a few steps behind me. once we’re both in my room, i shut the door behind us and head over to my freshly-cleaned vanity-desk.

i grab my vanity chair and roll it over to the desk side, next to my desk chair. sitting down in my vanity chair, i motion for him to sit in my desk chair while i grab my school supplies and stationary.

pope has been at my house for maybe 30 minutes, he’s been going over my calc bc formula’s and concepts. but, i can’t say i’ve learned or understood anything all that much better.

its not his fault, i mean, he’s a good teacher — a good-looking one too.

“you understand that?” he asks, abruptly in my mind, but, i assume that he just finished another concept.

i shift uncomfortably in my seat under his gaze, crossing my legs, i force out a cough, “yeah, yeah, i do.” i over-confirm to make up for my lack of paying attention, sure i might be staring at his lips, but i have no clue what he’s actually saying.

he raises an eyebrow, unconvinced, but moves onto another subject.

uncrossing my legs, i shift in my seat again, this time my knee collides with his, i suck in a breath, but don’t move my knee away from his. he doesn’t either.

as we continue to go over every subject, for next week — finals week. i just can't focus. his lips look a little to nice and plump, but its not just his lips, it’s his face in general.

i can’t help it, i mean, who would be able to focus when you have this smart and attractive boy sitting here, attempting to tutor you.

pope’s pov

i continue to mindlessly ramble through all of reader’s curriculum, my eyes automatically fall to her lips, her bottom lip drawing back between her teeth. and then fall from her teeth, now looking plumper, pinker, and fuller than ever.

i stutter and trip over my words and inevitably stop talking, but, reader doesn’t bat an eye, her eyes looking down. which, i assumed were on her notebook, but, following her eye-line, they lead to me.

my lips.

my tutor bunny x pope heyward

#bunny!reader #!reader #pope #pope heyward #obx #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #obx fanfic #outer banks fanfic #obx season 4 #obx season one #obx s1 #obx fic #outerbanks fic #obx season 2 #obx season 3 #!reader x pope heyward #bunny!reader x pope heyward

BUNNY!READER

BUNNY!READER who isn’t a pogue, but alas isn’t rich enough to be a kook. she’s in the middle, never fit in quite right with anybody. a lot of other folks who are in ‘the middle’ end up acting more like a pogue or a kook. choosing one side of a scale that they’re not even apart of. not, bunny!reader, she’s just comfortable with being herself. even if it leads to a lack of a social life.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

BUNNY!READER who loves ceramic dishes of thrifted jewelry to be sitting in every corner of her room. who enjoys walking down the boardwalk in the height tourist season, but has no clue what to do when someone talks to her. she loves the feeling of fluffy socks under her just as fluffy blanket, watching a movie, even during the summer time. her truthfully favorite thing to do is window shop with her mom during the spring time, going into every store that has something catch one of their eyes. almost always buying multiple new trinkets for every nook and cranny — in her already very adorned bedroom. just to head home and force her dad through the torture of a haul.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

BUNNY!READER who takes every class that could possibly lead her into a fashion career. art class and fac’s ( particularly for the sewing and cooking ), are on her schedule every year, semester, and quarter of the school year. and during the summer, she teaches sewing classes at a small shop right on the coast. majority of her free time — aside from window shopping, thrifting, and watching cheesy rom-coms ( rather than actually finding a lover ) — she’s sewing her own outfits on the mannequin she got two christmases ago.