BB20 Oneshots + Imagines

Tyler x Fan Blogger!Reader

At the very least, Tyler was interested in her, her being the girl who ran one of the many fan pages dedicated to him. Her Instagram was honestly the only fan page dedicated to him that he could get behind. She had a bit of everything; fanart she had drawn of him and even a couple other houseguests, music edits, lock screens she had made, and predictions about the show. She was well-spoken- Or, well-typed, and she thought things through. He had been her pre-season pick to win.

He had just returned home from getting runner up on the twentieth season of Big Brother a week before. After letting his curiosity get the best of him and going through all of the fan accounts, he had decided that she was by far his favorite one. He wondered about her, though. How was she supposed to continue the account if the season he had competed in was over? Maybe she would mass-produce fanart until she either ran out of ideas or saw him on a future season. Based on the location tag on most of her posts and the occasional picture of a drink with enough caffeine to induce a heart attack, she often frequented the local café. Tyler had always been the type to just buy coffee and make it at home, but if (u/n) liked it, it wouldn't hurt him to try it. She often posted pictures of (f/d). He figured that it might make her happy if he got one, posted a photo of himself drinking it, and tagged her in it. It would get her already popular page even more publicity, and considering the excitement-filled post she had made when he followed her, she would probably be ecstatic if he tagged her in a photo of himself.

He smiled at the thought as he walked into the small café, checking the right pocket of his athletic shorts to make sure his phone was still in there. The door opened with a bell sound, the cold air somewhat refreshing. He made his way to the middle-aged woman at the counter, looking at the menu and eyeing the endless assortment of baked goods behind her.

"What can I get you today, hun?" She asked, her voice smooth and sweet, her long brown hair tied back. He noticed that she had a ribbon pinned to her apron that said Happy Birthday, next to her name tag, which told him that her name was Elizabeth.

"A medium (f/d), please."

"Of course!" He saw her add that to his total on the register before looking back up at him to ask, "Will there be anything else for you today?"

"No, thank you. How young are you today, ma'am?"

"Aw, how sweet of you to ask! I turn thirty-six today." She smiled at him kindly before looking down at the register. "That'll be (insert price)."

"Thanks," He handed her a ten, watching as she gathered his change, the young man with long curly hair and hazel eyes behind the counter a few feet away from her getting to work on his drink. She had dull brown eyes, and a tired look, but a nice smile. As she handed him his change, he heard the bell ring again.

He looked over to see two young children enter the store; a girl and a boy clad in school uniforms, backpacks on their backs. They appeared to be elementary school-aged, maybe in third or fourth grade. "Mommy!" He looked back at her, noticing that she wasn't wearing a wedding ring and that her eyes and smile had brightened at the sight of the children. He took that as his cue to go get his drink, dropping his change in the barren tip jar before getting his drink and putting a straw in it. He quickly made his way to a vacant table, sipping on his drink as his eyes drifted to the girl who was sitting at the table in front of him.

She was wearing a (f/c) tank top and leggings, her (h/c) hair in a messy updo. Her back was facing him, so all he could make out was that she was balancing a phone between her shoulder and left ear so she could talk to whoever was on the phone with her as she furiously typed away on the laptop in front of her. The drink to her left, a (f/d) that had been sitting there for God knows how long, was watering down rapidly as she talked. He tuned in, his eyes focusing on the abandoned headphones that were next to the girl's (f/d). He figured that she must have been an author, or maybe an office worker or secretary.