Trumper HC: AOT CHARACTERS AS TRUMP SUPPORTERS
I'm not in Amurica or nothin so idek the guy. All I'm sayin is I think he's a funny man so lets go baby yeehaw
CHARACTERS??: CONNIE AND SASHA, MIKASA, ERWIN, REINER, BERTHOLDT, HISTORIA, PIXIS, FLOCH
Warnings: Racism, Sexism, ageism, STEREOTYPING, homophobia, transphobia, swearing, soft porn, guns, terrorism, mentions of violence and molesting. (istg im nitpicking here)
A/N: pls don't report me.
CONNIE + SASHA 🥹💃🕺 (Cowboy conspirators)
-I have to group them together Im sorry
-"We juhst tew keids werkin togeyther on ower dayddies raynch in teyxas"🤓🤠
-Sashas fam are a few hardened Trump veterans (it's in the braus bloodline) can you imagine her father NOT being a republican smth
-Connies fam is the same.
-Both of their dads are those weird uncles u only see @ thanksgiving once a year. NOT WEIRD IN A PEDO WAY. They the ones who talk abt the flouride makin the rats n frogs gay an whatnot. its a whole thing.
-BAsically con man🧍♂️ and sack nut🧍♀️ spend their days chewing on straw and standing outside abortion clinics. 👫
-They're probably like 12 or somthing idk
-But yes they really like trump. Hail trump✋. Worship trump🙏. Trump trump trump. Donald J trump💋. Love trump🫶. want trump👀. lick trump🫵. kiss trump🫵. Trump 4 life💪. Trump all day baby🫦. Trump👨🏽🦲.
-Honestly they wanna see trump more than trump wanna see them.
-Actually trump don't want to see them.
-He'd get molested, turn around and there'd be two skanky ass lookin children standing behind him how horrific.💀💀💀
-These children aren't normal
-God bless murica ✊✊ yeehaw
Mikasa es tu casa (Chilled out chad)
-Mikasa is one of them chill ones that just mind their own buisness
-Unproblematic chad😌
-She sets an example for the rest of society and shes ripped so lets all take a leaf out of mikasas book shall we
-This aint aot fr this is america 🦅🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸 so she lived happily ever after with her mama and papa ok. no weird human traffickers or nothing🖕🖕. Her parents would've been quite traditional and conservative
-I think she'd believe in the nuclear family and gender roles and what not but her beliefs would be very mild
-You can't get her fuckin forearms from making sandwiches all day babes ❤️🔥💪
-but yeah shes a sweetheart ilhsm💋
-And lets just say her being a trumpee is like Gods way of containing this woman
-she wouldn't have missed fr🔫
-And God forbid if she did miss cuz otherwise she'd have gone up there and done it with her bare hands baby
-casual Trump enjoyer
Erwin👱♂️ (Facebook warrior)
-He's one a them grandaddy Trumps💪👴. There from the very beginning.❤️🔥❤️🔥
-You really think old people are bad at using technology?? WRONG.
-Levi helped him set up a facebook account 💋
-And It's the only fuckin thing he knows how to use on his computer. And he plays around on with his face this🤏 close to the screen, like gurl u don't need to do that 🧍♂️💀💀
-just use ur monacle or whatever🤷♀️
-But yeah whenever he comes upon gay 🌈🌈people posts on facebook my man has a heart attack. He clutches his chest falls outta his chair as he tries to get his breathing in control. 🤯😵
-Erwin will come across a post of two girls kissing an fickin collapse istg
-And then he'll get his talons out and start producing some juicy ass hate comments👹. He can't control himself, he's like a wild beast🥴😮💨, its like his arthiritis stricken claws have a gravitational pull towards that keyboard
-And he doesn't understand the whole algorithm thing either
There he squats with all these gay daddies on his facebook, hate spamming ALL of them AND HE STILL DOESN'T UNDERSTAND WHY FACEBOOK KEEPS SHOWING HIM THESE POSTS🤬🤬😡🫣🤷♀️
-He suffering multiple heart attacks a day people get this man off facebook🙌
-And then Levi will come over and see that Erwin has been writing hate comments under pictures of mens bulges on his computer🧍♂️
-Who gave this guy the tech knowledge to b able to cyber bully but not to close his damn tabs sheesh
-He's also become a top poster on one of the Trump groups that he follows ✊✊
-Also he uses the N word a lot 🧍♂️
Mr big tits (Bible, BBQ and an AK47)
-Oh my dear lovely big breasted Reiner Braun🍒🍒
-tells everyone abt how his papi went to 'nam and died when in reality his papi waz just a bich and left early🤫
-Not enough valour for him ig
-Even tho homeboy aint in the army 🫡 anymore he still stocks up more ammo than his local police department. 🫶🫰
-Hes just a🔅 cutesy little😻 hoarder with a cuetsy little collection of firearms too. 🤤🥰💖🩷🩵💙
-he will also wear cammo vests to the supermarket just to buy himself some spinach. He's a cammo boy. It's all he wears. 😮💨
-Aside from his gun collection and cammo obession, Reiner also loves a bit of BBQ here and there.
-believes the Founding Fathers’ original intent included God, guns, and smoked brisket.💪💪🦅🦅
-And country music of course.
-He's just a casual guy nothing too extreme😎🤠
-He owns a pair of american flag speedos tho, is confused as to why people need so many pronouns and passively aggressively competes in lawn care comps with his neighbor
-Somebody make this guy a father pls🥵😳🫃
Bechtolsheim :))))🦒🦒(Wall enthusiast)
-Oh my berty boy whom i love love love😤💕
-Let us b true with ourselves guys mr daddy long legs🕷️here has all our hearts and souls encaptured in his nice ol sweaty palms. I can tell ya now he's a man of the lord. He's down on those knees for j-dawg night'n day bro 🙏. He daps up the homeboy holy spirit on his way to bible study wit Reiner. ✝️✝️🫰
-Boy sure knows how to resist those temptations. Satan who? Sorry, B-dawg doesn't know him
-Everyone just thinks he's a nice guy 🧍🏽... which he is obv 🙄
-(In the daytime🌞, he's bertholdt, just a normal gurl💅🫦, living a normal life😸😝... but theres ✨something✨👁️👨❤️💋👨 about him🧌🥸😱 that, no one ⁉️knows yet⁉️.... 🤨🧐cause he has secrets🤭🥵🥵👹👹👹......)
-he used to b part of a terrorist group.
-☠️
-BUT HES IS(IS) A NICE GUY HE WAS JUS A LIL BIT CONFUSED BACK THEN an thats okay baby everyone gets a bit confused sometimes.
-AND this was before he met God mkay.
-But yeah, now bertholdt has a burning descrimination against muslims.
-Its the trauma man.
-His stereotyping and racism is like a festering cancer, he fights it everyday like a champ 💃💃✊
-And what does this have to do with being a trumpee you might ask?🧐
-Immigration.
-He wants em' all deported
-SOMETIMES Berts inner darkness wins out. He wants to forget his past, he wants to throw it right outta his window!... and out of his country....🦅🦅🇺🇸🤠🍟🍔
-This boy has seen some stuff🙇🏻🥺. And he's slowly getting better with his muslophobia. He tries. The lawd is his chemo, slowly trying to vanquish this dark dark part of himself 👿🦹, bit by bit.
-Never underestimate the power of the lord. Amen.😗
(All u christians go hard tho fr, mad respect. And all u muslims out there we buddies, go snatch that Quran and be a boss kachow)
Historian Reiss (Progress? Don't you mean bull-kaka?)
-SOMEBODY CALL THE TRAD WIFES UP IN HERE👰♂️👰♂️👰♂️👰♀️👰♀️👰♀️👰♀️👰♀️
-Girly says that the 1950s were PEAK even tho the closest thing to diversity back then was whether or not u liked jazz 🎶🎶😎
-Oh yeah she sure misses them polio days 🤤😻
-But in all seriousness she probs wears those big pantaloon undies😱🥶 like gurl u aint going parachuting thru the clouds just wear normal ones
-She's always googling how to make her child rearing hips bigger🤰🤰
-Not a single pair of pants in HER wardrobe. Not that she'd be able to wear them with her double storage solution underpants. Dresses and skirts ONLY.
-Also they must all be FLOOR length to hide those temptatious ankles🥵🥵😩
-Our modest queen🫡
-She aint trust no supermarket ultra processed shit food either she gets her eggs straight from her own chickens ass🦆 and she grows her own veggies n stuff. Good for her 🤙💪💪
-Although she did once collapse ffrom an iron deficiency cuz she couldn't find her own meat source poor girl
-she hit her head and was unconious for lik 3 days
-Her neighbors saw her undies before they saw her🪂🪂🪂
PIXIS (Mommy, can we put grandpa back into the retirement home now?)
-Bros worse than the braus and springer daddies👹👹👹👹
-He could not only write an entire 500-chapter-50k-words-per-chapter-ten-part book series abt gay frogs🫦, fake moon landings🙀, reptilian politicians🐸, 5G towers, Big pharma, chem trails🥵😷 ect ect ect but he could fact check the entire thing with blurry memes off facebook sent to him by his cousin randy
-He's a fuckin conspricay chad, unstoppable, admirable, irrestistable, alcoholic, crazy, cute🥺, chic, chadilicious bald man👨🏽🦲👨🏽🦲
-His children shipped him off to a home as soon as he turned 60 and his knee vaguely started hurting
-Hes too powerful
-Pixis does gets invited to special occasions tho cuz his family feel slightly bad
-He be an anti-science, pro magic, potter grade, wizard baby🧙♂️. Of course the government control the weather, of course climate change isn't real. 🤷♀️
-And he tell everryyyboodddyyy @ the dinner table baby👨❤️💋👨
-There are actually 8 wonders of this world. His offspring. How the. frick did they turn out so normal?🤨
-Anyways he managed to manipulate his son in law once and accidently caused a divorce
-Now he only gets invited to christmas
-And somehow he sneaks flasks of whatever into his nursing home illegally seals them out to all his nursing home pals.
-He's got an army of at least 15 of them that he's planning a coup with.🥳😏
-He also owns a MAGAs hat and suffers from mild heartburn because he only eats steak
Floch (LIBERATE THE MEN, WOMEN ARE THOTS)
-Another country boy but hes a skinny country boy who doesn't own a diesel guzzling man truck or get high blood pressure from eating steak 24/7.
-He lives wit his mama and eats the pasta salad she makes him for sunday lunch. 🧑🌾
-But yes he's still a freaky lil fanatic👹🧑🌾
-Imagine he lives in a world without pimp-dawg Eren Tate-ger. Whose Floch supposed to follow??? huh??? Donald thats who. Donald trump💪🦵.
-And andrew tate of course👨🏽🦲
-He's one of them red pillers who can sniff out a womans virginity from a mile away
-"Wats ur body count???"
-and hes very patriotic too:
-TRUMP IS JESUS 2.0, MY MAN THONG HAS AN EAGLE ON IT,CKAWW CAWW CAWWWW SAY YOU CAN SEE BY THE DAWN EARLY LIGHT WHAT SO PROUDLY WE HAILED AND THE TWILIGHTS LAST GLEAMING🦅🦅🏈🏈🇺🇸🇺🇸???!!!!???? DADDY TRUMPS TAN IS NOT FAKE GUYS WTFFF😡😡😡😡🤬🤬🤬🖕🖕🖕
-He's like a freaky little jehovah's witness guys
-he's so alpha dont you think?🐺🐺🐺
A/N: Sorry I think i fell off a bit at the end but I couldn't b bothered. Also yes ik the bertoldth one was a little wild but dont report me babes thank u very much. later losers.
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(Don't You) Steal My Thunder
my tyler owens playlist 🤝 inspiring fic titles
Tyler Owens x fem!reader
7k words
summary: Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's set on getting you on his good side. And the more you get to know him, the less you can resist.
a/n: i had to research sm car stuff for this it's not funny. i now know exactly how to describe a truck bed though, so. that's fun.
again, my inbox is wide open <33 i don't guarantee anything, but you can always come talk to me or request smth
masterlist | twisters masterlist
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met.
He prints his face on t-shirts, writes his autograph on mugs, comes up with ridiculous sayings ("Not My First Tornadeo" and "If you feel it, chase it" are really just the tip of the ice berg) and most importantly, he costs you the best shots of tornadoes every goddamn time.
Tyler Owens is a problem.
And Tyler Owens seems to have actively decided to make himself a problem too.
Which would be fine, if he flipped you the bird or told you to fuck off or threw his paper towels at you. Unluckily, those are rather examples of what you have done to him. Because it's not fine, not at all - no, Tyler Owens has decided that it's not enough to be in your way all the time, he has to seek you out and rub your nose in it.
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's arrogant and he's entirely too full of himself. He brags too much and calls you "weather girl" too often. He gets under your skin more than you would ever admit.
And, as if all of that isn't enough - Tyler Owens is the very epitome of handsomeness.
It's like god didn't just have a good day when he created Tyler Owens, no, god must have still been in the post-haze of the best head he'd gotten in his whole immortal life when he'd created Tyler Owens.
Because Tyler Owens has the body of a greek god and the face of a Hollywood actor. He's not a pornstar, he's who pornstars worship. He's the Prince Charming little girls dream of and the Christian Grey grown women lust for.
Tyler Owens looks like everything you've ever wanted.
But he's just such a fucking asshole.
You wish you could say you didn't care. You'd love to be the kind of woman who didn't even acknowledge him. But you're not. You're not. You watch his videos when you can't sleep, you chuckle when you happen to overhear his jokes, you ogle his back when he's turned away from you. Sometimes, you get so lost in staring at him that you realise too late when he turns back around, and then you have to act unbothered when he grins his fucking grin at you. That's mostly when you flip him off, desperately fighting to ignore the heat in your cheeks.
Not like it stops him. You honestly feel like it only spurs him on.
Something has to seriously be wrong with him. It's not his face. But something is seriously wrong with him, you're sure of that.
Something has to be wrong with him. No sane person would ever go tornado wrangling. No hate to the rest of his crew - they're nice, you've managed to hold a few pretty normal conversations with them here and there - but none of them are sane either.
Storm chasing is different. You keep your distance. All you need are a few well-placed photographs - and those you can get from a rather safe number of miles away. The weather channel doesn't care about close-ups (not really, anyway). They want something to show the people on their comfortable couches, up in New Hampshire or Maine, so that all of them can say to each other "What poor folks, wouldn't wanna live there" and nod in pity as they switch the channel to watch another blockbuster.
You're just doing your job.
The only problem is that it's hard to do your job properly when there's always that fucking red truck in the way, driving down empty roads right into the heart of the tornado. And because no one on the news wants people to see that and go "Well, can't be too bad if there's still cars on the streets!", in the last few months - ever since you'd volunteered to move back to Oklahoma 'So that we've got someone right in Tornado Alley and don't have to fly people out there every time' - the weather channel has only shown the first few minutes of tornadoes forming. The rest of your pictures and videos lie abandoned in the trash file on your laptop. Except for a few - a very, very few, very, very good pictures of Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers. But those won't ever see the light of day either.
You'd be damned if you let anyone know that while Tyler Owens is busy disturbing your actual work, you're busy taking pictures of him shooting fireworks into tornadoes. Pictures that would make for some damn good headers (if you hadn't buried them far, far down your gallery).
This time is no different. You get a few amazing shots of the tornado forming – surely an EF2, maybe even an EF3 - before you settle in the driver's seat again, your window rolled down and your camera hung around your neck as you push down on the gas. Then, a few miles further, you get even better shots of the full tornado, of the first few minutes of destruction, right there, in the middle of an empty field.
And as always, of course, just as the tornado takes on full form, you spot that familiar red truck through the lens of your camera. It speeds down the pavement right in front of where you’ve swerved onto the side of the road and you snap a few pictures, just because you’ve got the trigger right underneath your finger. Honestly, something about that dirty red paint against the grey skies just looks too good not to capture. But then the truck comes closer and closer and starts to slow down and you let your camera sink.
Tyler has his window rolled down already when he stops the car. There’s that annoyingly handsome grin on his lips, the one that makes you want to slap him across the face.
“You’re too far away, weather girl”, he calls out above the rumble of distant wind and thunder. “The good pictures are down that way.”
“The good pictures are right here.” You lift your camera at him. “Maybe you just need to update your equipment.”
Tyler’s grin widens, but before he can throw another of those obnoxious retorts your way, Lilly’s voice rings out through the car.
“Hey, T, looks like it’s changing course. You should hurry.”
His eyes are still glued to yours, still glued so firmly to yours that it makes your skin crawl. You can’t look away, couldn’t possibly look away. Tyler Owens might just be a cocky asshole, but you’re only human. And the weight of his gaze on yours is enough to keep you stuck in place, clutching at your camera.
“We’re on our way, Lilly”, he drawls without looking away from you. “See you around, weather girl.”
The rest of the pictures you take land in your trash file with all the other pictures of the last few weeks. You’re laying in bed, your laptop propped up against a pillow, the empty plate from dinner on the mattress next to you as you sort through today’s work. That’s the good thing about the time difference – you’ve got until seven to send the channel the day's results.
By nine, you’ve showered, put on a dress you feel confident in and settled on one of the chairs at the local bar. You’ve been telling yourself you need to get out a little bit more – you’ve been living here three months now and you haven’t really made any friends so far. To be fair, your job has kept you out and about most of the time. You’ve spent more hours at gas stations to fill up your tank than you have in your own home. But now you’ve decided to put an end to that. You're a young woman in a new town, you can meet more people than just the cashier at the local supermarket.
So for the past twenty minutes, you’ve been nursing a mojito at the counter and talking to the bartender. She’s nice, she’s your age, she’s extroverted enough to keep sidling up to you after every time she has to excuse herself to do her job. That, and she tells you she’s grown up here, so she knows most of the people around. She’s just serving another customer – a long-haired, brown-eyed, hat-wearing country guy who’s already shared a smile or two with you – when someone rests their arm on the countertop next to you.
“Didn’t expect to see you here”, he drawls, all low, deep Southern accent and you recognise his voice before you’ve even tilted your head up and looked at him. His grin drips down onto his words and wraps itself around your mind.
Tyler Owens isn’t just annoying – he’s unbelievable. He's unbelievable and he’s here.
“So you’re stalking me now”, you say, as drily as you can possibly manage. You've been doing that a lot around him. Dead-panning everything. Schooling your expression into fake neutrality.
"I'm here all the time, weather girl", he grins. "If anything, you're stalking me."
You snort, but it's rather unfunny when you think of all the videos you've watched, hours after they'd been livestreamed, cuddled up in your bed until midnight just to stare at his face. He's not that far from the truth.
"In your dreams, Owens", you say anyway, dragging your eyes back towards your almost empty cocktail glass. You wrap your lips around your straw and drain your drink entirely. What you say and what you do, none of that matters in the end. All of this is just show. Every conversation you've had with Tyler Owens in the last three months has been nothing but a performance. Other than your name, you don't think a single sentence out of your mouth has been honest. Not when it comes to him.
"Let me buy you a beer" is the only answer you get.
His grin widens when you look back up again - so cocky, so unbelievably cocky.
"I don't drink."
You push your glass an inch further down the bar top. Tyler raises his eyebrows. Fuck, someone really needs to kick him in the face. You can't keep having all these little heart attacks whenever he's close enough that you could touch him if you wanted.
Not that you want to.
"You're drinking right now", he says. You rest your palms against the bar top and blink at him.
"I don't drink with you."
He lets out a chuckle, one of those deep ones that settle right in your chest and make it hard to swallow.
"Just this once?", he asks and in all honesty, for just a second there, you actually consider giving in. He's too handsome for his own good. You really need to get it together. He's an ass (what an ass, goddamn). And he's insane. He's an insane ass. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that - those times like now, when his piercing eyes and his kissable lips and his rugged stubble and his broad, broad shoulders and his drawled voice overshadow everything else.
"Don't you have some livestreaming to do?", you ask, hoping it still comes across just as sarcastic when you're the slightest bit distracted by how gloriously tight the sleeves of his flannel are. "Go chasing tornadoes, not me."
His grin widens inexplicably further. You're sure that if you were in a comic, there'd be a lightbulb flashing above his head right about now.
"Well", he drawls, "if you feel it..."
"Don't you do that shit to me, Owens."
He's raising his eyebrows again, raising his eyebrows as you clasp your hand around your empty glass so hard your knuckles turn white. But you're serious. Just as you'd lost yourself in the view of him, that angelic, sinful view of him, he'd gone and reminded you why you were so adamant to keep your distance. If you feel it, chase it. Ridiculous. Obnoxious. He's an arrogant, know-it-all, suicidal job-wrecker. He's the guy with cameras pointed at him everywhere he goes. He signs mugs and selfies and hats and shirts and bras. He's the reason you haven't gotten a single un-edited shot of a fully formed tornado in the last three months.
"You're not a fan of my catchphrase, weather girl?"
He can't even pretend to look wounded (even though he tries) with how big the grin on his lips still is. You stare right at him, dead-eyed and unflinching.
"I'm not a fan of you."
Lies slip off your tongue so easily by now that you wonder when you'd become morally compromised enough to not even care anymore. It must've happened somewhere along the way, sometime between the first conversation you'd had with him and the one you're having with him right now.
"You wound me", he grins, his palm pressed to his chest.
For the first time tonight, you allow yourself to grin back at him.
"I try."
With that, you slip off your chair and wave the bartender goodbye. You're already two steps away when Tyler calls after you.
"I'd still buy you a beer."
"I'm still not drinking with you", you call back. You don't turn around again. You just make your way back to your car and mark the evening as a half-successful night of socialising on your to-do list.
...
You see him again first thing the next day. Of course. Because there's no tornadoes without the Tornado Wranglers on their tail. By now, you're used to it. You wave at Dani as they come back out of the store at the gas station you're waiting at. They've got both arms full of coffees and for a second, you consider offering your help, but then you hear Tyler shout something out of his car and you suddenly don't feel any desire whatsoever to get up. You've sat yourself down in your truck bed, your camera slung around your neck and the radar on your lap. If all goes right, you're hoping for a tornado to form a little to the east from here. And as much as you dislike Tyler Owens, the fact that he's here soothes your nerves. Where he goes, there's sure to be tornadoes close by.
The few times you hadn't seen him had never ended well for you. You'd missed an EF3 your second week here just because you'd followed the wrong hunch. Meanwhile Tyler, of course, had been in the middle of it.
This might just be the one singular situation that you welcome seeing his red truck around. As long as you can manage to overtake him on the road after.
It's not that you need to be faster. You don't need to reach the tornado first. You don't even take the same way as him most of the time. He wants in there, you just want a sensible picture. Still, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment every time you hit the brakes and jump out of your car, miles away from the actual cell as Tyler speeds down towards it. You've been telling yourself that it's because he ruins your pictures. It kind of is.
"Hey, weather girl!"
You let out a resigned breath as you tilt your head up and squint against the sun. He's still in his truck, his window rolled down, his elbow propped up against the car door.
"What do you want, Owens?"
Your fingers itch to reach for your camera. It's a visual, him in that fucking car, leaning out of his window with the sun peaking out behind him. But you can't, you can't take a picture of him this openly. Even if you were to argue that it's just the light you'd wanted to capture.
"To give you some advice", he calls out, his lips pulling into a grin. You raise your eyebrows at him. "East isn't gonna work out. Wind's changing. Go south."
He throws you a mock salute and hits the gas before you can say anything else.
Not that you'd been about to.
Instead you just curse to yourself, jump off the truck bed and throw your treacherous technology into the passenger seat with a little too much vigor. Fuck this. You sit at the steering wheel and stare out at the sky for exactly two seconds before you make your decision. Then you start your car and drive south.
You may not be a fan of Tyler Owens, but you've long since admitted to yourself that this man has got a gift. He has an unbeatable instinct when it comes to storms. And sure, you have your fair share of knowledge, but in the end, you're a photographer, not a meteorologist. You won't miss a day's work just because you're too proud to listen to Tyler.
You're a little further behind, but you can spot his truck and guess that he's driving straight on into the cell today, so you take a right and decide to try your luck with the side of the tornado. Not being right in its path doesn't sound too bad anyway.
You actually manage to snap a few well-placed pictures. You don't know what Tyler's doing, but it seems like he's not shooting random shit up the cell today. You'll watch the stream later - you're just the slightest bit curious now what's happening with them. Maybe they're doing some old-school chasing? Or maybe they're doing a challenge. Maybe Tyler is driving blindfolded. At this point, who knows.
It's good for you though. It's a considerable tornado today, an EF2 at least, and you only spot Tyler's red truck again when the cell moves further down the fields, away from him. It doesn't look like it's gonna disappear anytime soon. Maybe today's your lucky day.
Half an hour later, you're sure you've got at least a dozen pictures of the fully formed tornado, long touched down and without the red truck in the way.
You're just packing up your things, already sifting through the photos on your camera, squinting against the sunlight, trying to both tug the zipper of your bag closed and hit the right buttons at the same time when Tyler pulls up next to you.
"You look busy, weather girl", he says, already grinning that damn grin again.
"I am", you say - truthfully, for once. You let go of your bag and lower your camera. You're hesitant, but... "Thanks for the tip."
"Anytime", he grins. "Just do me one favour."
You already know this can't be good. Not with that cheeky look on his face. But he'd just saved you from chasing hot air (quite literally), so he deserves a little treat. And you don't want unsettled scores with Tyler Owens.
"I want to know what favour that's supposed to be before I agree", you say anyway, because with him, you can never be too careful. And in the end, you're only willing to do so much. (Though for him, you'd already do a lot more than you'd admit. A lot more than you hope he's aware of.)
"Let me buy you a beer", he says, and for once, he sounds serious.
The memory of yesterday night flashes before your eyes, of those same words at the bar. With him so close, way too close - with that grin and that stubble and that voice and those shoulders. You cross your arms and stare at him.
"If you're livestreaming this, I'm gonna sue your ass so hard."
He just lets out a chuckle and raises his hands in surrender.
"Cameras are off, I swear."
You stare at him for another silent ten or so seconds. At him in that fucking truck that looks just a little too good in your pictures. At him and his fucking face. That fucking face that you certainly wouldn't mind sitting on, if just to shut him up.
God, he's asking you to drink something with him. He's asking to buy you something to drink with him. You're stupid.
You're so, so stupid.
"Alright, cowboy", you say, uncrossing your arms and reaching for the handle of your car door. "I'll humour you."
...
You're in the bar again by nine that night, the same way you had been the day before. You're wearing a different dress and there's a different bartender, but you've ordered the same mojito and chosen the same place to sit.
Only this time, you're actively watching the door. And when Tyler strolls in, you've got to shift around in your seat and cross your legs. You don't even pretend you're not staring. You just ogle him openly. Not for the first time ever - you'd checked him out very obviously when he'd strutted towards you to introduce himself three months ago - but definitely for the first time in a while. And god yeah, he's a hunk of a man, alright. If you had your camera here right now...
But you don't. So instead, you drop your eyes to his feet (brown leather boots), drag them up his legs (blue jeans), over his chest (red checkered flannel), over his face (god, what you wouldn't give-) and finally rest them on the cowboy hat on top of his head.
When he's close enough to hear you, already grinning, of course, probably at how you're actually sitting there in the same spot as yesterday and hadn't just lied to his face about coming here, you raise your eyebrows at him.
"A cowboy hat?", you ask, your voice as unbothered as you can possibly manage (even though you're very, very, very much bothered right now). His grin only widens.
"Ladies love country boys", he drawls with a shrug.
"Now that's straight out of a song", you say. "You're getting lazy, Owens."
"A song?", he asks. "No, that's an Owens Original."
You pull your eyebrows even further up.
"Ladies love country boys? Trace Adkins?"
"Nope. Not familiar."
But his grin tells you that he's lying. He's a liar. He knows very well where he got that line from. And he knows just how easily he got under your skin with his simple trick. As if his face isn't enough already.
You just shake your head and turn away from him.
"Put your money where your mouth is, Owens. Buy me a beer."
...
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also a great conversationalist.
The hours fly by as you're talking. One beer turns into two, then into an uncountable number of soft drinks. You both agree that you need to drive home, neither of you is willing to risk a run-in with the police. You need your drivers license for your jobs.
Tyler talks to you about the pictures you've taken today, then about the pictures from last week. He laughs when you blame him for ruining half of them and almost spits out his coke when you slap his arm for laughing at you. He tells you about his crew, about the people they've helped with the money from their dumb t-shirt sales. You think you hate him less by the minute. You're not sure if you're okay with that. But he gets you talking about your childhood and your parents, about school and college and about how you've wound back up here in Oklahoma. That effectively distracts you.
That, and how his cocky grin morphs into a genuine smile the more you open up.
Not that you didn't love the cocky grin. You did, just a bit. As obnoxious as it was. But the way he smiles at you all sweet has you melting right in your spot.
It's not the first time you realise that beneath all that rough exterior, there beats a heart of gold. You've known what those t-shirt sales are for, that he offers food and water after a tornado hits a town, that he carries the injured out of the ruins of their houses and helps find lost dogs. The more you've been around him in the past weeks, the more you've seen of his soft side. Of the way he cares and supports. But in the end, it always is easier to go back to the status quo - to fall back onto mindless snark and fleeting first impressions.
You'd clung so desperately to the image of him as this arrogant, smug, holier-than-thou influencer god for the sole purpose of keeping your own sanity. Because you'd known that without despising him, you would fall head over heels for Tyler Owens, and you just couldn't have that.
But now, with his arm brushing against yours and his hat discarded on the bar top and his smile, that beautiful, beautiful smile on his lips...
"Five bucks", he drawls, already reaching for his wallet.
"What?"
"Five bucks says there won't be a tornado tomorrow."
You raise your eyebrows at him, your glass hovering in mid-air between the two of you. You'd meant to take a sip, but now you're setting it right back down on the bar top.
"You're shitting me."
Tyler just shakes his head. He's grinning again, but it's much softer this time around.
"The winds are looking great. The forecast says it's gonna be the best conditions for tornadoes we've seen in the last six weeks. I've heard Dexter talk about how we're probably gonna see an EF4 tomorrow", you tell him, even though you're sure he's well aware of all of it. This is Tyler Owens, for god's sake. He knows about the winds and the forecasts. He knows that his crew is making preparations already.
His grin only grows. And it's smug now. It's cocky now. It's everything you thought you'd left behind during this conversation. He looks like the Tornado Wrangler again, like the guy who fucks up your pictures and makes your job harder than it already is.
It takes you a second too long to realise why.
"Dexter said that on our live", he grins, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. You physically recoil from him. "Do you watch our streams, weather girl?"
"No", you breathe, rigid and frozen, shocked to your very core. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. You'd... You hadn't made that mistake. He hadn't got you to make that mistake.
"Dexter talked about tomorrow on our live", Tyler says again, straightening his back and grinning down at you like he's just uncovered the lost grave of Cleopatra. "Only on the live. You watched our stream."
"No", you mutter, your eyes wide and your mouth dry, so dry. You need to drink. You need to drink so badly. "No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did. You watched our stream, honey."
The petname runs down your spine and clogs your senses. Honey. Oh, he's an ass, he's an asshole! But you're on the spot, you're on the spot and he's calling you honey, honey, honey. You can't do anything but watch as he leans closer to you, grinning down at you like it's his one true purpose on this earth, like he wants to eat you alive.
"I'd say you watch our streams pretty regularly, weather girl."
You swallow hard and clasp your hand around your glass.
"Yeah?", you breathe, hoping against all hope that your voice sounds somewhat innocent. You're sure it doesn't. You know it doesn't. You probably sound as guilty as you are, but... Hope dies last. Hope always dies last. "Why would you say that?"
"Just a hunch." He shows off those pearly fucking whites for you. "Call it an instinct. I'm usually right."
He is.
He's right now. He's right usually.
Him and his fucking instinct. His goddamn gut feeling about tornadoes, always right all the fucking time. He's like an Oklahoma Jesus. The first coming of Tornado Christ.
Fuck him.
Fuck him.
"I'll take your bet." You drain your glass at once. "Give me your five bucks, Owens."
You don't think it'll work. You don't think he'll let you distract him. You don't think it'll be this easy to stop his vile teasing. He's not the type of guy to let something go. He's not the type of guy to let anything go ever. But he looks at you and he grins at you and he trails his eyes over your face and then he opens up his wallet and pulls out five dollars without another word.
He puts the bill flat on the bar top.
But when you go to reach for it, he pushes his fingers down.
"The price just went up", he says.
You raise your eyebrows and let your hand sink again. Tyler is absolutely unpredictable. You should've known.
"The price just went up?", you repeat. He nods. "What more do you want to bet?"
He's closer now, closer all of a sudden. He's too close, close enough to make your breath hitch. He's looking down at you with that cocky, cheeky grin, with his weirdly green eyes, with his three day stubble and his generally much too symmetrical face. You can't do anything but look back up at him.
"A kiss", he says. Simple as that.
A kiss.
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He is. Truly. He's annoying and way too full of himself and much too presumptuous. Tyler Owens is the only man who would ever do something like this. The only man who'd bet a kiss on whether or not there will be tornadoes tomorrow.
Especially with that forecast.
The one that says a tornado is basically inevitable.
"Alright", you say. He may be Tyler Owens, the guy with an infallible instinct - but he is also Tyler Owens, the guy who's been doing his hardest to get under your skin. This time might not be any different. For all you know, he's bluffing to rile you up. "I'm in."
...
At eleven the next day, you're standing next to Dexter in resigned silence.
"I really thought today was gonna pan out", you mutter.
"It should have", Dexter frowns, tapping against the screen in his hands. "It should have worked out. The conditions should have been perfect. Everything's been building the last few days."
"But it collapsed this morning."
You turn your head and watch as Tyler comes to a stand next to you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the clear sky up above. He tilts his head to you and grins. Fuck, he's wearing his goddamn hat again. It's like he doesn't even try to be normal.
"Hey, weather girl", he greets. "Ready to cash out your bet?"
You shake your head at him. No, you're not giving up this easily. You never give up this easily.
"The day's not over yet, Owens. You haven't won 'til midnight."
...
You spend most of the next hours sitting in your truck bed, reading a book you'd thrown into your backseat weeks ago and had so far neglected. Lilly hands you lunch around two, Dani offers you a coffee around five and Boone pipes up here and there to joke about the wasted day. Around six, Dexter comes by to let you know they're calling it.
You still have another hour to go. By seven, it'll be too late to send your pictures anyway. But you want the hour. You need the hour.
You still haven't decided what to do about Tyler. About Tyler and his fucking bet.
He's been loitering the whole day, walking by, joking around with his crew, livestreaming a spontaneous q&a just because.
And the more minutes tick by, the harder it is to keep ignoring that you've most definitely lost the bet. Even though you do your best. You read, you check your phone. You stare at your radar. You stare at the weather forecast. You talk to Dexter and Dani and Lilly and Boone. You take a few pictures of the sky. Then you take a few pictures of Tyler, standing some feet away from his truck and looking out at the clouds.
It's only when two of three Tornado Wranglers cars are disappearing down the road, when Tyler Owens suddenly stands in front of your truck bed, that you put down your book and face reality.
"No tornadoes in sight", he says, instead of 'Hello' or 'How are you' like any other person would.
"There's still six hours left", you reason. Even if only one of those is relevant for your job today.
"You really want to wait out six hours to prove I'm right?"
"You're not right", you argue. It's fruitless, it's stupid, it's unreasonable. But... "Not yet, anyway."
Tyler raises his eyebrows at you, lets out an amused chuckle and leans against the side of your truck bed.
"Alright, so we wait."
You eye him from the side. He's fucking leaning against your truck, staring out at the sky, talking about six hours. Goddamn. He can't be serious, can he? His crew is already gone. They've disappeared into the descending sun and he's talking about waiting another six hours. Leaned against your car.
"Fuck's sake, Owens", you sigh, scooching over to the right. "At least sit down then."
You don't talk much at first. You just open your book back up again and try your hardest to ignore that he's even here at all, barely two feet away from you on the other side of your truck bed. If you stretched your leg, you'd hit him right in the hip.
It makes reading close to impossible.
Even though he's not doing anything at all. He's just sitting there, one arm propped up on the side board, that goddamn cowboy hat on his head and his feet hanging off the opened tailgate. It's almost worse that he's not doing anything.
That he's just sitting there and watching the sky change.
You give up on reading entirely when you realise that you've finished exactly five pages in half an hour. Instead, you put your book back in the car, pull out your bluetooth speaker and two water bottles and offer Tyler one of them.
You don't even ask him what music he wants to listen to. You just put on your country playlist and roll with it. By the twitch of his lips, you know he certainly doesn't mind.
Another half hour later, it's starting to get chilly and you're beginning to grow bored of the music. Tyler sitting next to you makes you fidgety, somehow, and you can't really enjoy the songs you usually love so much. So you switch to a podcast. You don't ask Tyler if he minds. He's free to go anytime.
Around eight, the sun starts to set, and the chill turns into an unpleasant cool. You hadn't really expected to be sitting out here so long. You're not prepared for the temperature to drop. You're wearing shorts, for god's sake, shorts and a top. It's summer in Oklahoma - you don't know how Tyler even manages to survive in his long jeans. You certainly wouldn't.
But now you're a little jealous, to be honest. He doesn't look cold in the slightest while you're fighting off shivers. You can feel your hands trembling already.
You really should've brought a jacket. But who brings jackets in 30 degree summer weather?
So instead, you just resign yourself to your fate and rub your hands along your arms. Anything to get some warmth into your body.
For the first time since you've sat back down, Tyler turns his head and looks at you.
"You're cold", he says, eyes raking over your arms and the goosebumps you'd gotten.
"Great observational skills, Sherlock Holmes", you deadpan, even though he doesn't really deserve that. He had so far left you pretty much alone. "A+ on that assignment."
Well, it's hard to break bad habits.
Tyler just chuckles, shakes his head and pushes off of the truck bed. You watch, eyes narrowed, as he walks back to his own car, opens up the trunk and- pulls out a blanket?
Your hands have sunken down to your lap all by themselves by the time he's standing in front of you again, holding out the blanket.
"For you, Watson", he grins as you slowly, carefully take the blanket from him. You mutter something along the lines of a soft 'Thank you' before you wrap the blanket around your arms.
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also the very definition of "Tough on the outside, soft on the inside". Sometimes, you think the word 'angelic' works for more than just his divine looks.
Your eyes are glued to him as he sits back down next to you and looks out at the darkening sky with that signature grin on his lips, like he knows that you're watching him and enjoys it more than he should. That doesn't deter you though. For the very first time. You don't even stop staring when he turns his head back to you. You don't even stop staring then.
You just look at him until his grin crumbles. Until he's smiling that smile from yesterday night, the one that has your heart squeezing together and then exploding in your chest. You think you could stare at that smile for the rest of eternity and never feel sated.
"What?", he asks, his voice so soft it makes you swallow. Your lips part, but there's no words on your tongue, none in your throat. They're stuck in your chest somewhere, wrapped around your heart so tightly that you can't let them go even now. So you just press your lips together, wrap your blanket tighter around yourself and say:
"So I'm Watson, yeah?"
Your podcast is long forgotten by the time the sky turns dark. So dark that you make Tyler climb into your car and turn on the lights. You're comfortable in your blanket, you don't feel the need to move.
It's around ten when the blanket isn't enough anymore.
You tuck your hands underneath your top, but that only helps for so long. A few minutes later, you're trembling again, trembling even though you're pulling the blanket as tightly around you as you possibly can. Tyler raises his eyebrows when a particularly heavy shiver runs down your spine, one of those that come and go within three seconds.
"Come here", he says, shuffling in his spot and motioning for you to move over to him. You don't really think about it. It's more of a reflex as you fumble the blanket off of your body, scooch over to him, settle yourself against his side and sneak your feet under his thigh. He tugs the blanket back up to your chin, tucks it in behind your back and wraps his arms around you.
Tyler Owens wraps his arms around you.
And he's so fucking warm you literally almost moan. God, you hadn't actually realised just how cold you'd been.
"Damn, you're freezing", he notes as well, just as you nestle further into him and hum in agreement. He's like a living heater right now. You'd like to just crawl inside of him and suck up all his warmth. "You should've told me sooner."
"I didn't tell you at all", you mutter, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He smells good. He smells so good. Earthy, musky somehow. You're tempted to turn your head and bury your nose in his shoulder.
Instead, you just satisfy yourself with what you can get. Fuck, he smells so good. He smells just like you'd thought he would, like country and rodeo and thunderstorms. He smells like falling into bed at the end of a successful chase. He smells like more. You want more.
You want more of Tyler Owens.
"Are you sniffing me?", he asks suddenly, but he sounds so amused you can't even bring yourself to feel embarrassed. You just open your eyes and grin at him, tilting your head so you can look up at him.
"What if I am?", you ask, if only to hear that breathless chuckle fall from his lips. Oh, those lips. You're in trouble. "Are you gonna call the cops on me?"
"I could never."
"Yeah, you better not, cowboy", you mutter, eyes dropping to his lips when he grins. He's so close. He's way too close. "There's like thirty things I could call the cops about on your channel."
His grin grows until he's showing off his teeth, glinting against the low light of the leds in your car. He's closer now.
"So you do watch our streams, weather girl."
His voice is so low and he's so close, so close. Your lips part all on their own. You haven't looked back up at his eyes in too long. Far too long. But he's so close, and he's so warm, and he smells so good.
"Alright", you whisper. His mouth is barely an inch from yours. You can feel every breath he takes. "I watch your streams."
And then your lips are on his.
Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's smug. He makes your job harder than it has to be. He does everything and anything to get under your skin. But Tyler Ownes is the best goddamn kisser this side of the globe.
He trails his hands, his big, big hands, down your sides, pushes the blanket out of the way and grabs at your waist with just enough firmness. He pulls you onto his lap and rests his thumbs over the hem of your top. He breathes into your mouth and takes it slow. He doesn't care that you almost knock his hat out of the way when you try to wrap your arms around his neck. He just holds you tightly to him and lets you tug on his lip.
You honestly don't know how much time has passed when he pulls back, grinning an entirely new grin at you, hazy and euphoric.
"It's not midnight yet", he mutters, the slightest bit out of breath.
"I don't care", you mumble, drawing him right back in for another kiss. You think you might be addicted. You simply can't get enough of him. You can't get enough of Tyler Owens.
But then a thought strikes you, and you pull away with a grin that makes him raise his eyebrows.
You chuckle against his lips.
"If you feel it, chase it, right?"
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We all love u here buddy! Would you wanna write smth about reader with steddie, where Steve accidentally upsets her and Eddie’s trying to comfort her, all the while Steve’s begging to talk and apologise
pairing: steddie x reader
warnings: swearing, steve accidentally being mean without realizing it, thats it but please tell me if i missed something!
you woke up rather early today, just in time to see steve before he went to work. something happened the other day, and you wanted to tell stevie all about it!
“oh my gosh, i have to tell you stevie! guess what!” you said, steve didn’t really answer but you were used to it anyway, “yesterday, i went to the mall with stacy! you know stacy, she’s like my best friend ever! and we had so much fun we ate ice cream and went shopping and when we were walking around the mall i saw the cutest—“
“baby” he said, a little louder than the volume you were speaking, “i really don’t care what happened with you and stacy, okay? i have stuff to do” steve said, and left the house
you stood there, tears brimming in your eyes, you did it again. you annoyed someone into leaving. why were you like this? why did you have to be so excited and get so talkative over something so stupid?
you silently went to the bathroom, seeing as you just woke up, you then went to the kitchen, and began making breakfast for you and eddie
sooner or later, eddie woke up, you knew because you felt hands wrap around your waist
“good morning, sweetheart” he smiled
you hummed in response, and he furrowed his eyebrows
“that smells really good” he said and you didn’t respond
he went to the bathroom, and you set the table, once he got back, he saw the look in your eyes, you were now facing him, and it was clear you’d been crying
“hey, didn’t you go out with stacy yesterday?” he spoke as he ate
you nodded
“how’d that go? you did come back looking excited”
you shrugged and continued eating
eddie looked at you for a moment before dropping the fork and knife
“okay, what the hell is going on?” he said, and you just furrowed your eyebrows, “don’t look at me like that, can you just talk to me like a normal person?”
“what’s wrong, eddie?” you said
“what’s wrong? wha—are you mad at me? shit—did you see the magazine under the bed? baby i swear i love your body that was before we all started dating i promise you i don’t use them i mean maybe sometimes but it’s only when you’re away i sw—“
“i didn’t know about that” you simply said and he realized he fucked up, “it’s fine eddie, it’s not all about me, yknow, you can see other magazines, it would be good anyway so you don’t get bored of me”
“okay, what?” he furrowed his eyebrows
“just forget it eddie” you said, eddie didn’t want to forget it, but he kept quiet for you
that was until he heard sniffling, he looked up from his plate only to see you crying as you ate
“hey hey hey, whoa, baby” he quickly got up and kneeled down in front of you to get to your level, “talk to me, sweet thing, what’s wrong?”
“i’m sorry—i just…i feel like steve doesn’t like me” you said
“what? of course not, steve loves you!” he answered
“but—today before he went to work, i wanted to tell him about what happened yesterday and he said he didn’t care and left…am i really that annoying?”
“what—no, no, no, you’re not annoying at all” he said, wiping your tears, “cmon baby, you know i hate to see you cry…why don’t you come and tell me what happened, i’m all ears”
sniffling, you had slightly calmed down, and with a light smile you nodded "so...yesterday, i went to the mall with...um stacy! you know stacy...yknow what its nothing-"
"no no hey..." eddie mutters softly as he caresses her cheeks, "i want to know everything...don't leave a single thing out, got it pretty girl?" he says in a low voice
you nod slowly, and look down before eddie lifts your chin up and you smile softly, "so...anyway she’s like my best friend ever! and we had so much fun we ate ice cream and went shopping and when we..."
you continued on with your story, telling him every single detail about what you did and saw and such, and eddie nodded, listening to you talk, smiling
soon, you had hopped in the shower, and steve had just come home, you made his favorite food, all ready and placed on the stove to be heated up when he comes.
eddie's eyes flickered to the door as he heard it, he slowly walked to the bathroom, slowly closing it so you don't hear anything outside, and turned to steve who was just sitting on the couch looking at the ground
eddie stood there looking at steve, steve didn't even dare to look up, he knew what he did.
"you had a good breakfast with her today?" eddie says and steve sighs
"i know alright...i messed up-"
"damn right you messed up. that sweet girl was crying because of it today." eddie says and steve looks at him, his eyes softening
"shit..."
"the fuck was going through your head-"
"clearly not alot!" he says and gets up, looking at eddie right in the eye, "im an idiot..." he says and turns away, "i love to hear her talk...i love everything about her...i was just stressed out..."
“don’t, steve. that girl has been nothing but an angel. you can’t take it out on her whenever some bullshit at work happens” eddie says, a stern look on his face, he pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered to himself for a second before looking back at him
“she made you your favorite. it’s in the kitchen” eddie points out and walks away, steve sighed, he felt like a dick
you soon walk out of the bathroom after you’d gotten dressed, brushing your wet hair and walking, to be met with steve sitting on the couch, leaned to the edge, elbows on his knees, his hands raking through his hair as he mutters to himself
she paused for a moment, steve glancing up at her, just as she was about to turn away he gets up
“shit—wait! please baby, please?” he says, almost pleading
you turn back to him, fiddling with your hands after you’d placed the brush on the table, “um…i made you your favorite…i’ll heat it up” she says and nods before he even replies and walks to the kitchen, before he grips her wrist, not harshly but firm enough to keep her
“will….will you please…please—tell me what happened yesterday?” he asks softly, eddie, who was nearby, crossing his arms as you just looked at him
“uh…i already told eddie so…s’okay” she says softly and steve shakes his head
“i’m so so fucking sorry baby—please, angel? i know it’s not an excuse but i was just pissed cause of work and i wasn’t in the mood—but i’m so sorry. that doesn’t mean shit! i love hearing you talk, about every little or big thing in the world, with that pretty voice of yours. i’m so sorry baby, i’m so sorry” he whispers, his voice trembling slightly, like he was gonna run out of breath if she didn’t forgive him
you just look at him, your eyes softening, eddie glancing at you, you nod and hug him
“s’okay…i forgive you stevie…it’s okay” you whisper as you rub his back, your touch was a balm to his soul…he’d felt awful this whole day
“see that, sweetheart?” eddie says with a grin, “this idiot can’t get enough of you! look at him! you don’t talk to him for five minutes and he’s about to cry” he says and steve deadpans him, you giggle with eddie, and steve finally budges and laughs with you
“so…are you gonna tell me baby?” he says softly and you nod as you walk into the kitchen to heat up the food, eddie and steve both sit at the table
“okay okay! let me tell you! so i was—wait wait! let me start at the beginning—“ you talked on and on and the two listened, a soft smile on their faces, even eddie who already heard this story before, but they both cant help it. they’ll listen a million times…they will never get tired of you
a/n: hihi guys been a long long time since ive been around and writing, i missed you all so so much! i’m still getting into it so im not gonna be so frequent but feel free to request!! miss you all🤍
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