magnolia-among-the-stars

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (chapter four)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

Word Count: 1.3k (little shorter today)

Playlist Song: texas by jesse murph ft. marren morris

Guest appearance this chapter from a certain person :)

prologue / one / two / three / four

Tyler stays in the truck while I pop inside the small town pharmacy to get my dad’s medication. Jeffry, the pharmacist, smiles sadly at me while passing over the paper bag. He slips a chocolate bar inside with a wink before passing me the receipt. I’m grateful. My stomach feels hollow and grumbling as I realize how long it’s been since I last ate something.

When I get back into the truck, Tyler is on the phone. His voice is low, rumbling and his face is turned away under the light of the street lamps. “Nothing? At all?” he asks without looking at me.

My phone buzzes. It’s a text from my mom. Doctors want to keep him one more night, we’ll be home tomorrow. Go get some sleep xx

“Well, there must be something. How many people are really staying there? Honestly,” Tyler huffs. “…Hold on.”

I look back up at him, raising a brow. We shake a look and I pull my seatbelt on. “What?” I bite.

He licks his bottom lip and pulls his phone away from his cheek. His eyes are soft. I hate him. “Boone said that they can’t find anywhere to stay for the night.”

“There’s two Hiltons in town,” I reply, shrugging.

“They’re too expensive for three rooms,” he says. I look away, out the window at the McDonalds across the street. I’m starving.

“If you are trying to ask something, can you just spit it out?” I ask. When I turn back to him, he’s holding his breath. “What?”

“I’d like them to stay at the house.”

“What house?” I lean back, tilting my head at the question.

“Our house,” he says, his tone confused.

“Our. House.” He can’t be serious. And yet as time passes, the amusement seems to seep out of the truck. “You mean my house.”

“Eleanor, I don’t want to do this with you. Please.”

I stare at him for a long time, wondering what I truly did to be stuck in this never ending nightmare. I want to make him suffer, hurt. I want to tell him to go fuck himself, get out of my truck and leave me alone. But then I think of Boone and Dexter. Of Lily and Dani. That they don’t deserve the wrath of my good for nothing husband. Exhaustion floods my system, taking the wind out of my sails.

So I find myself wiping my face and nodding. My voice is soft as I say “Fine. Can you just drive back?” I can feel his gaze on me, even after looking away.

“Eleanor, we’re here,” I feel hands gently shake me. I hum, blinking. Tyler’s staring down at me, blue eyes vibrant under the cab lights of the truck. “You fell asleep but we’re back at the farmhouse. I…I would’ve carried you inside but I can’t get inside.”

I sit up and take in the familiarity of the barn. “That would be because I changed the locks,” I unbuckle and nudge him, sliding out of the truck as he steps back.

“Well, I gathered that,” he crosses his arms. He holds out my car keys, the dozen different shaped and sized jingle at the movement. I can see the RV in the distance, the wranglers leaning against the siding in the dark of the evening. They all start to move at the sight of me like a pack of wolves ready for the hunt. Boone catches up, in step with me as I climb the steps to the rickety porch.

“Thank you,” he whispers, kissing my cheek as I slide my key into the lock.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say.

“Seriously. I know how hard this is for you. Letting him back in,” Boone says as other footsteps join us. I ignore the comment, toeing off my boots and flicking on the light above the kitchen sink. “There’s a guest room down the hall and Lily and Dani can stay upstairs in the loft. The rest of you can use the blankets in the living room.”

Tyler says, stepping over the threshold with his duffle bag in hand. He looks around the familiar space, probably noting the empty spaces where our photos had once been. It had seemed more empty over the last year and a half. I’d spent only a few hours shuffling the wedding photos, the knick knacks, the quilt from his grandmother out into the barn along with all of his extra purchases and furniture.

I roll my eyes and head over to the fridge, pulling out a beer. I stare at the empty shelves, my stomach growling again. The choice of an old yogurt or a container of romaine stares back at me. Fuck, I knew I should’ve gotten my groceries yesterday. This whole day has gone to shit.

“Uh, El?”

I close my eyes. “Yes Boone.”

“There’s…some guy out on the porch?”

“Huh?” I turn to look at him, then to the living room. I step around him and peer out the window to see the black Carhart, the baseball cap. I swing the porch door open and cross my arms. “Rhett, hi.”

The man turns around to look at me, eyes shaded by the brim of his hat under the flickering light. He wipes his hands on his jeans, a soft expression falling on his face. “Hey El, was on my way back from a competition and saw your lights were on. I wanted to come make sure you were okay.”

“You came all the way out here?” I wrap my arms around myself, the cool Summer air giving me goosebumps.

“Course,” he nods, stepping a little closer to touch my shoulder. “Are you?”

“Not-,” I don’t get to finish my sentence, hearing the squeak of the coil on the doorframe.

“Well, Rhett Abbott, what a surprise,” Tyler’s voice is loud and boasting. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Rhett glances behind me, looking a little shocked. His recovers quickly though, looking down at me. I turn, hands on my hips. “Tyler. Didn’t realize you remembered where home was.”

“You been making house calls? Get lost on your way back from the rodeo?” Tyler puffs out his chest and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“Alright, that’s enough,” I say.

“Bold thing to say when you left your wi-,” Rhett starts, fists clenched tightly as he steps closer.

“Enough,” I call, stepping between the two. I look at Rhett, palm sliding over his chest and pushing back slightly. “Rhett, thank you for coming to check on me. I will call you in the morning, okay?”

He doesn’t move for a moment, eyes narrowing at Tyler. I press harder on his chest and he finally steps back, eyes finding me. He nods and turns, heading back down the steps. I watch until the headlights of his truck turn on and he’s backing down the dirt driveway.

“What the hell was that?” Tyler says.

“You’re overstepping before you’ve even gotten a welcome,” I tell him, poking his chest harshly. “What? Your newfound life going so well that you feel the need to come back and ruin mine again in the process?”

“I’m looking out for you, he’s not a good guy El,” he says.

“That’s good, that’s funny coming from you,” I shoving him, catching him off guard. “Coming from the man who walked out on his wife in the middle of an argument and disappeared for a year and a half. Changed his number, took his truck and his friends. Popped up with that big, pearly white grin on YouTube like some kind of hero. Do your fans know what kind of a man you are? You don’t get to come back here and start to lecture me on who I spend my time with. You don’t get to come back here at all,” I slam into his shoulder as I walk back inside.

I stomp passed his friends, past his little girlfriend and up to my bedroom. I slam the door shut, locking it before the tears can really start. Tears stain my face as I pull my hair up, wash my face and change into my comfy clothes. I crawl into bed, knowing first thing in the morning to finally pull the divorce papers from my junk drawer.

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[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (chapter three)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

Word Count: 2.4k

Playlist Song: your place by ashley cooke

Trigger Warning: mention of dying character, cancer

prologue / one / two / three

The drive takes more than an hour and the bile building in my throat burns the closer I get to the hospital. I’ve gotten used to the layout of the visitor’s parking lot, the row after row of cars lining the large lot. I curse, driving too quickly past another spot. 

My hands start to shake and my chest hurts a little from the constricting panic. I slam on the breaks when a car starts to back out, pulling away.  I swing into the spot, breathing out in relief. The walk to the front slider doors of the hospital takes what feels like forever and the receptionist at the front desk takes too long to sign me in. I can feel a new wave of tears rolling through me as I step off the elevator. Mom is there, pacing back and forth on the phone.  

“Mom?” I call out, doubling my speed until I’m running into her arms. 

She tucks her phone in shorts just in time to collect me in her embrace.

“Hi sweets,” she breathes into my hair. There’s a small amount of relief, being curled up in her arms. I bury my face deeper into her neck, a few stray tears sliding down my face. I sniffle loudly, trying to collect myself. 

“What happened?” I ask, looking up at her. 

“You know your father,” she purses her lips, rubbing my arms as she sighs. I’m not sure if she’s trying to comfort me or comfort herself. “Doing too much in the barn, overworking himself. He stumbled into the house and passed out. Doctors said he’s been missing his medication. If the cancer doesn’t kill him, I’ll do it myself,” she huffs. 

“Ma,” I scolded her, shaking my head. I turned to peer into the room, trying to catch my dad’s eye but the doctor stood in the way. He sways a little back and forth as he speaks, only allowing me to see the IV hooked up and the soft beep of the heart monitor. “Don’t say things like that. Dad is going to be fine.” 

When I turn back to her, my mom’s eerily calm. She’s breathing through her nose, her eyes a little cloudy as she watches the doorway. Her thumb taps her pointer finger, then her middle. It’s a distraction, something I’d inherited from her as a way of navigating hard moments. I tilt my head, watching her more closely. “He’s going to be fine, right?”

She’s slow in looking at me, her gaze far away when our eyes connect and my breath hitches in my throat. Jo Harding had stood strong in front of the scariest of storms. She’d stared down an F5, sent it running for the hills and yet, she’d never looked more fearful as she opened her mouth. “Honey,” she starts but footsteps interrupt her sentence. 

“He’s up and talking,” the doctor says, smiling a little at my mom. He shouldn’t be smiling. Why is he smiling? “I’ve sent in his new prescription to the pharmacy and once his IV is done, we’ll be able to get him back home,” he nods at me. “I’ll leave you both to it.”

I don’t wait to hear what mom has to say, rushing into the room to see him. The chemo still hasn’t taken all of his hair, though the line continues to recite backwards a little further each week that I visit. He’s wrapped in a white sheet, stark and crisp against his blue hospital gown. He looks so small in the large bed and yet, somehow so uncomfortable. The crows feet around his eyes have deepened with exhaustion but his warm, bright smile still remains.

“Daddy,” I murmur, sniffling again as I climb gently onto the side of his bed. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he reaches up to touch my cheek, patting it lightly and smoothing the flush with his thumb. 

“What the hell is the matter with you? Mom said you haven’t been taking your meds.” 

“Sweetheart, there’s something I need to share with you,” he says, eyes flickering behind me at mom, leaning up against the doorframe. 

I want to look back at her, give her the chance to tell me it’s not what I think. Anyone who knew parents would know that before me, mom was the emotional one; impulsive, reactive. But after I was born, Bill Harding went soft. His heartstrings were too malleable, easily manipulated. I was daddy’s little girl. I couldn’t look back at my mom for strength, I was too worried that he would slip from my fingertips when I turned back. 

“I don’t,” I start, shaking my head. “I don’t want to know.” 

“Eleanor,” he coos, as if I’m a newborn sobbing through the night. I feel like I am. “The cancer has spread too much.” I don’t hear the rest of what he says. There’s a high pitched ringing that echoes in my eardrum, mixing with “home”, “weeks” and “get comfortable”. After minutes of numbing silence, I nod and wipe my face while grabbing his hand. 

We sit for a while, the three of us chatting and trying to ignore the inevitable. My mind starts to race, making a checklist of to dos in my mind. Trying to figure out how to help my mom pay the hospital bills and manage the farmhouse. Maybe she can move in with me. We’ll need to make arrangements. I need to finish fixing up the RAM before he…well, before. 

As time passes, the nurse shows up to take out his IV and start his discharge paperwork. “You’ll need to pick up your prescription. It’ll help keep you comfortable for the time being,” she repeats as she places a bandaid over the spot of blood from the needle. “We’ve already sent it over.” 

“I’ll pick it up,” I blurt out, rising to my feet. 

“Honey, you should go get some rest,” my mom says, squeezing my hand. “You can’t tell me you got much sleep last night and it’s been a long day.” 

“I don’t mind,” I say, suddenly remembering that Tyler is here. “I could use the distraction.” My mom must notice the change in mood because she frowns, deep lines settling between her brows. 

“Alright, I’ll walk you out,” she nods to the hallway. I thank the nurse and say goodbye to my dad, kissing him on cheek with a promise to see him at home. I follow my mom into the hallway, bumping into her as she slows to a halt. 

“Ma, c’mon,” I say, stepping to her side and looking for what distracted her. Seriously. At the other end of the hallway is Tyler, standing with a sad expression. 

“What in the fuck,” mom says, jaw set tightly as she crosses her arms. She turns to look at me. “What’s he doing here?” 

I close my eyes, trying to slow my breathing. “I didn’t tell him where I was going.”

“Didn’t tell hi-,” she stops herself. “When did he come back? Why didn’t you tell me? Are you two back-,”

This is the last thing I need today. “Ma, he showed up this morning. I will get rid of him, alright? I’m gunna get rid of him.” I kiss her on the cheek. “I love you, I’ll see you at the house.” I turn away so that she doesn’t have a chance to protest or ask more questions, stalking over to Tyler.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I seeth, shoving him lightly backwards toward the elevators. “How did you even know where I was?” 

He lets me move him, eyes trying to catch my mom’s as we move. His bright eyes are wet with worry, laced with concern as he searches my face for answers to his own questions. “Is dad alright? What happened?” 

“Not your father,” I grunt, tugging him finally around the corner. The statement hurts, I can see it all over his face. I know how close he and my dad are but he doesn’t get to show up and just pick up as the son in law he hasn’t been. I’ve had to pick myself up in these moments with no shoulder to cry on. He doesn’t get to just come back and know. 

“Eleanor, I know you are angry but if he’s hurt, I want to help,” Tyler says.

“It’s not your place.” I push the button for the elevator, holding tightly to his wrist in fear that he’ll speed back down the hallway. Right into the belly of the beast that is Jo Harding. As much as I hated him for disappearing, I wasn’t that cruel. “You made it clear you didn’t want this family anymore.” 

The elevator dings. I step forward into the small space, trying to drag the man with me. Tyler doesn’t move easily behind me and when I turn to look at him, there’s a sour look on his face. “C’mon, I don’t want to miss the pharmacy hours,” I say. My fingers clutch his wrist tighter, pulling with all might until I can unglue his feet from the linoleum tile. 

He’s quiet in the elevator and past the receptionist desk. I peel the stupid name tag from my top when we get outside in the fresh air, heading in the direction of my truck. I don’t expect the footsteps to follow me and leave them be until I’m a car or two away. I turn on him, hands on my hips. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m coming with you.” 

“No you are not.”

“Yes I am,” he responds with such a stubborn matter of fact tone that I want to slap him. He walks past me, swiping the keys from my grasp and heading for the truck. “You know I can get you to the pharmacy in under thirty minutes.” I think back to the times that we would need to make a trip over the years, the times that I would let him drive so we’d make it to the drive thru before closing for a milkshake and a burger. Racing against the clock with the windows down and the radio cranked down. I could still see the crinkles around his eyes from his smile under the overhead lighting to look for his wallet. 

“What about your car?” I follow him to the truck. 

“I got dropped off,” Tyler says, tugging the driver’s side open. He slides across the bench to unlock the passenger side and my stomach turns at the mundane simplicity of the action. I don’t have a choice but to comply though. I check my watch and realize the time, jumping into the passenger side.

It’s silent as Tyler wraps an arm around my headrest, backing out of the parking lot and heading down the road toward the family owned pharmacy near my parents’ house. It’s gotten dark outside and my headlights are too bright against the pavement. It hurts my head. Today hurts my head. I rub a palm over my face, trying to scrub the exhaustion and emotion away.

“You wanna talk about it?” Tyler’s voice is soft in the darkness of the cab. 

My only response is another hefty sigh. 

“C’mon El,” he tries again.

I stare out into the darkness, trying to see the grains of wheat along the fields instead of conversing. “I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“Well, how about if you just talk at me? You’ve always enjoyed that,” he says, his tone too playful for my liking.

“Do you feel like that helps? Cracking a joke, making a jab at me?” I snap, turning to look at him. He glances over at me for a few moments, lips pursed. 

“I’m sorry alright? I don’t really know how to behave and I’m trying to ease the tension.”

“Do you feel like the tension is at ease?” I ask, looking forward with my jaw clenched. 

There’s a few more moments of silence before he says “Not at all.” His accent is thick, the twang of Arkansas slipping through. I look over at him and he licks his lips, grasp on the steering wheel flexing a little as he rolls to a stop on the empty road. I don’t know why, don't really know what it is that makes me react but I suddenly let out a giggle. It’s accompanied by a snort,  a short, loud snort that catches his attention. His foot slips on the break as he turns to look at me. The motion causes us to jerk, our necks snapped forward in an instant. And the motion just makes me laugh more, tears streaming down my cheeks. 

“Are you alright?” He’s staring at me wide eyed, like a deer caught in headlights afraid to make a move.

“This is just so absurd, this whole day, just an absurd nightmare.” I get out through wheezes of teary laughter. I take a few gulps of air to calm myself and wipe away the stray tears. I turn to look at him, my chest feeling a little tight. “It’s leukemia, stage four. The doctors have recommended he come home so that he’s comfortable.” 

Under the overhead street lamp lighting that washes on the hood of the truck, I see Tyler’s face fall. His hand pushes the shifting gear into the park position, the sound rings in my ears. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He looks forward at the road then back at me. I can see the gears turning in his head, the cogs trying to continue their processing. I’m expecting a lot of questions about what type, how long he’s been sick, how long they give him, what medication they’ve prescribed. I even anticipated  I should’ve been here.

“So what’s our next step?” 

I blink a few times. I must've misheard him. “Huh?”

“What’s the plan? What do we do next? I can make some calls to St. Francis and see if we can get an appointment-,” he continues on, rattling off some ideas of second opinions and alternative medicine to heal my dad. 

My fingertips start to go numb and I have to squeeze them tightly to try to gain feeling back. “Tyler, Tyler,” I say a little loudly, getting his attention. “There’s nothing to be done. It’s too far gone. He’s already done rounds of chemo.”

His gaze is a mix of harsh confusion and disbelief, piercing as he looks me over. “Rounds? How long has he been sick?” 

“He was diagnosed last Spring,” I say, looking down at my watch. “Can we get moving? The pharmacy closes in twenty minutes, I don’t want him going without.” I can tell he wants to argue, set us into another round of banter and harsh remarks. I’m grateful that he decides against it, instead pushing the truck back into drive and speeding a little faster into town toward the pharmacy.

Thank you for reading! Want to be added to the tagged list or share feedback? Click here :)

taglist:

@buckybarnes-1917 @kim-taehyung-12301995 @accordingtoawallflower-blog @axolotllover225 @tgmreader @smoothdogsgirl @paramedicnerd004 @charmyeol69-blog @tktstomydwnfall @milesdot

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (chapter two)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

Word Count: 2.7k

Playlist Song: the great war by taylor swift

prologue / one / two / three

I try with all I have to not feel any sort of pain over the look of hurt on the woman - Kate’s - face. That look of betrayal, like someone had killed her dog. Like a lover had kept a deep dark secret. I try to shake it off and hold on to the anger that my sad excuse of a husband had decided to show his face at my office. “So, I’ll ask again,” I turn back to the man in question. 

His smile has fallen and he looks at Kate almost apologetically before he drags his gaze slowly back to me. I ignore the sweet swirl of emeralds and sapphires in his eyes, I let the embers in my chest simmer. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Tyler opens his mouth but all that comes out is an awkward gurgle of uhs. He clears his throat and glances down. I follow his gaze to see the thick clay mud speckling his good boots. The boots that I bought him on our first anniversary to wear to the rodeo. “I, uh…” 

I look up into his face with a hard gaze. I watch him close his eyes, collect himself. “I don’t have all day Tyler,” I say. My hands start to shake a little, the overwhelming buzz from the embers starting to billow into a subtle flame. The heat of anxiety starts to warm me from the inside out. I cross my arms tight over my mesh vest to stop the tremble. 

“The truck’s in rough shape,” he says, eyes opening to stare down at me. 

The loud cackle isn’t my intended reaction. It rips through my throat before I know to keep it in. I look over at Kate, gagging the slight discomfort in her features turning a little disturbed as she watches the two of us. I raise a brow at her and laugh again, turning back to the man. “Oh, the truck is in rough shape.” I nod once, then twice. I turn around to my team, watching with apprehension in the bay. “The truck’s in rough shape,” I call out, waving as if to say ‘false alarm guys’.

I can see Tyler wince again in my peripheral vision and when I turn back to him, the light nature of my tone is wiped from my face. “Go fuck yourself.” 

I only make it to the gate when I hear the music peeling down the dirt road. It’s loud, guitar riffs coming from the speaker on what I can only imagine is their RV. I watch as the other wranglers park and come staggering out of their doors. “Sorry we’re late, I had to stop t’ get some gas and,” Boone’s loud voice travels across the space as he comes up to Tyler’s side. He must miss the hard lines of Tyler’s face because he catches my eye and comes running. 

“There she is,” he calls out, wrapping his arms around my waist and spinning me around in a tight embrace before I can say anything. “I missed you, Ms. Fix It.” Boone’s voice is soft as his scruffy chin digs into my collarbone. 

The southern drawl of his nickname for me is a soothing cup of water, nearly extinguishing the burning in my chest. Boone was like a golden retriever. Boone had done his due diligence to send me postcards through the time since I’d last seen everyone. They’d always been blank, just pictures of different southern county spectaculars across the states but catching a livestream of the wranglers’ channel discretely playing on Carter’s desktop when he’d gotten up to go to the bathroom one day, I’d realized it had been the sweet man checking in. I missed his enthusiasm deeply, frustrated that Tyler not only took my heart with him when he disappeared one night but also that he took his whole crew of friendly faces with him. 

“Hey there Boone,” I breathe into his neck, my arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. “Couldn’t have sent a warning postcard?” 

The tall man pulls back, “You got my postcards? Oh gosh, that makes me so glad,” he says, placing a hand over his chest. My words register in his mind and his smile stretches wide with guilt. “I’m real sorry ‘bout that. It took all my convincin’ to get the guy to even drive here. Did he mention the truck?” 

“He sure did,” I nod, acutely aware of everyone watching Boone and I. Boone seems in his own world, blissfully oblivious to the two crews watching us. I glance back at the truck where Tyler, hands on his hips, speaks in hushed tones to Kate, another man I don’t recognize and Lily. She catches my eye and waves. 

“Can ya help? Ya know there’s no one else who can fix her up the right way,” Boone says, fixing his dirty cap on his head.  

“Boone, ya’ll can’t just show up here after all this time and just ask me to fix up the truck,” I say. There’s pressure starting to build behind my eyes and I have to shake my head to rid the feeling. I step backwards out of his grasp. 

“I know it’s a real shit thing to do. We wouldn’t have come if we weren’t desperate,” Boone says. He takes a peak over at Tyler, looking back at me with puppy dog eyes. “He would not have come if we weren’t desperate.” 

The comment tugs at my heart strings and I can’t help but look out at the fields around us. The tall grass sways lazy in the breeze, the sun starting to rise higher in the sky. My stomach growls a little. I sigh, starting to shake my head again. 

“Please El,” he asks again, my real name not something I’m used to hearing from Boone.

“Goddamnit Boone,” I say. I wipe a hand over my forehead and lick my lower lip. “What’s wrong with the damn truck?” 

Boone’s face brightens immediately, a wide grin back on his face. He hoots in glee, rushing the few feet across the path to hug me tightly. “Thank you, thank you,” he kisses my cheek a few times, his scratchy mustache rubbing against my skin. I try to push him off with a small laugh, noticing Tyler turning to look at the commotion. 

“Boone, Boone,” I say, laughing a little more at his excitement. “Show me what’s wrong before I change my mind, you bastard.”

He backs away, arms raised in surrender as he leads me back over to the truck. “Alright so, Ms. Fix It has offered to take a look at the sucker to get Betty back into tip top condition,” Boone announces to the group. Back in front of them, the lighthearted feeling of the moment with Boone fades though I catch Lily winking at me as I round the truck to look it over.

I can see the mangled iron of the drill blades under flakes of dried mud and grass. “What did you do to my base drills?” My tone is sharp as I turn to look at Tyler. 

“That was actually me,” a small voice quips from my right. I turn, identifying it as Kate. Hand raised, sunglasses tucked on top of her shiny caramel hair and guilty expression. My brows pinch together. “I took the truck through an EF5, got dragged through the ground. We’ve been going into more storms and Tyler hit a rock,” she continues. 

I only look at her, nodding slowly. “They weren’t built to survive EF5s but I guess that’s one way to test them…is that it?” 

“The rocket rig button isn’t workin’,” Boone adds. “We really need somethin’ with some more power.”

“Boone,” Tyler says, shaking his head at the man. He turns to me. “I can fix that, if you can just help with the drills.” 

I scoff, walking toward the driver’s side to pull the door open and examine the console but Tyler beats me to the door, sidestepping in my path to prevent me from tugging the door open. “I said, I can fix it.” 

“You came all the way here for a mechanic, didn’t you? Let me inspect the work,” I say, tilting my head and narrowing my gaze at him. 

“She’s been running mostly fine, just needs the drills,” he says again, squaring his chest. He looks calm for the first time since stepping out of the truck.  

I poke a stern finger into the soft material of his flannel as I say “Do you want my help or not?��� 

He doesn’t flinch, only staring down at my hand hovering near his chest again. He must notice the lack of wedding band and the dainty engagement ring adorning my ring finger because when he looks back up at me, there’s a far away look in his eye.

“Move so I can see what other damage you’ve caused,” I say. 

It’s a low blow. I know it. He knows it. But too much time has passed for me to be kind in my compromising. The hard, stubborn look in Tyler’s eyes fades and softens at my retort. He looks away with a shake of his head, stepping aside while tugging the door open at the same time. My arm brushes against his shoulder as I slide past him. I lift myself into the driver’s seat and glance down at the panel of buttons I’d cleverly designed years ago when he started going out more seriously into the field. 

Crumbs are scattered all in between all the buttons, sticky residue from duct tape collecting dust. “God, would it kill you to take care of this and clean it every now and then?” I ask, cautiously brushing some of it away. 

Tyler ignores me, watching as I look over everything. I glance forward to see if my team is still watching and inhale sharply. The visor is flipped down to block out the sunshine. Gone is the old, tattered photo of Tyler and I on our first date. In its place sits a fresh, glossy photo of who I can only assume to be Kate staring at a storm. It catches me by surprise and the burning embers in my chest return. I make a mental note to dig out those papers from my junk drawer in the kitchen.

I look over at Tyler and we stare at each other for a moment. He’s watching me apprehensively, searching my face for a reaction, maybe an outburst. “Are there flares or rockets in the fittings?” I mumble, turning back to the buttons without waiting for his response. 

I barely hear him call to everyone to back up and instead try to shake off my unease. I hit the bright red button to shoot off the rockets and wait for anything to happen. I push it a few times, clearing out some of the crumbs that I can feel grinding up on the sides but still get nothing. There’s a piece of tap beneath the hitch button, Kate’s Barrels scribbled in Sharpie. I purse my lips and grab the joystick, pushing the button to deploy the drills. They shutter a little, digging into the ground and rattling to a halt with one digging further down than the other. I push the button to retract them and sigh, starting to climb out of the truck. 

“Well?” Tyler’s voice is thick as he steps closer. 

“You’re fucked,” I say, not bothering to look at him and instead motioning for Charlie to open the gate. 

“Can you fix it?” the curly haired man next to Kate asks. 

I look in his direction, then Boone is smiling like an idiot. “Course I can. Boone, can you get the truck inside for me?” 

Boone moves to jump into the truck at my request but Tyler grabs him, tugging him out of the seat to climb in instead. He starts the engine and Boone races to catch up to me instead. He’s joined by the others, walking behind me to the warehouse. 

“TempestEdge,” the curly haired one reads our sign and we get to the bay door. 

“Carter, can you grab my tablet please,” I ask and he nods, running back to my desk. 

“Wait, you guys are those government contractors building and updating infrastructures to withstand storms,” he says, sounding in awe. “You guys are like, state of the art.” 

“We try,” Charlie crosses her arms, tight smile on her lips as she and Birdie watch Tyler drive into the warehouse. Charlie nods in my direction. “El’s the mastermind of the operation, I just crunch numbers.” 

“The team is the mastermind of the operation,” I say, rolling my eyes. I put my hand out to shake his and Kate’s reluctantly. “I don’t normally come off this harsh. I go by my maiden name, Eleanor Harding.” 

“Javi Rivera,” he says slowly, trailing off. 

“Kate Carter,” she introduces herself, shaking my hand. “Sorry for the awkward introduction.” 

I don’t know how to respond so I just nod, turning to walk further into the warehouse. Carter meets me halfway with the tablet, while the others head back to their desks. “Thank you,” I say, starting to swipe through our inventory for possible scraps and parts I can use to fix the truck. Carter stops me though, placing my phone on top of the screen. 

“Before you do that,” he says, his voice quiet with the surrounding guests. “I think you should call your mom.” “Carter, my mom can wait for a call back. She probably wants to hear about how the test went. You know how she gets on days like today,” I say, pocketing my phone and going back to the tablet. 

“Wait,” Javi exclaims. I turn around in surprise, noticing he’s looking at some of the photos on the siding of the warehouse. “That’s where I know that name from. Your parents created Dorothy, they’re legends.” He turns back to me, eyes wide. My phone starts to vibrate again in my pocket. 

I dig my phone back out from my pocket to see the 14th missed call from my mom. “They’re something alright,” I say. A text pops up then. I read it quickly, passing the tablet back into Carter’s chest. 

“I was trying to tell you,” Carter says, holding my bag and keys out  to me. “I’ll catch a ride home with Charlie.” 

I glance up at him, the pressure behind my eyes building again. Can anything go right today? “Thank you.” I turn to head out to the truck without another word. Heavy footsteps stomp behind me, chasing me out the door. It’s not even 10 AM yet as I unlock the truck. 

“El, Eleanor, where the hell are you going?” Tyler bellows as he catches up to me. 

“It’s gunna take a few days to get parts, alright? I’ll call Boone when the truck is ready,” I say, tossing my bag into the passenger seat and starting the engine. It takes a few turns before the engine roars to life. Tyler’s hand catches the door, preventing me from taking off. 

“Hey, talk to me,” he murmurs, leaning into the cab. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t pretend to care all of a sudden, Tyler. You’ve got what you came for, I’ll fix your damn truck so that you can go head first into the next monster of a storm with your girlfriend, alright? I need to go,” I say, my eyes glossy when I look away from his hand to his face. 

He steps closer, pushing with force through my tight grasp on the door. He’s silent as he reaches up to grab the seatbelt, stretching over my hips and torso. I squeeze my eyes shut, distraught as my hands only find comfort on the steering wheel. The click of the buckle is so loud in my ear and I have to remind myself to take slow breaths until Tyler is no longer invading my space.

“Leave the reckless driving to me,” is all he says before closing the door and stepping back. I do my best not to look in the rearview mirror and I peel off down the road to St. Mary’s Medical.

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@buckybarnes-1917 @kim-taehyung-12301995 @accordingtoawallflower-blog @axolotllover225 @tgmreader @smoothdogsgirl @paramedicnerd004

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

#put those things AWAY

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

these gifs were necessary i feel like

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (chapter one)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

Word Count: 2441

Playlist Song: Snap by Rosa Linn

A/N: This is a hefty intro to Eleanor but really wanted to establish her before we get angsty!

prologue / one / two / three

______________________________________________________________

The sky was still dark when my alarm clock went off. My hand slides along the mattress, slapping the snooze button. It can’t be time already. There’s no way. I snuggle deeper into the mattress and peel one eye open to squint at the cracked window. The big moon is lower in the horizon but the sun hasn’t made its known yet. 

My phone starts to go off, across the room atop my bureau. “Fuck.” 

I try to get the kink out of my neck when I get up. The wooden floorboards of the farmhouse creak as I shuffle past the bureau into the bathroom and shut off the alarm. The bulbs above the mirror are too bright and I have to shut my eyes for a minute to adjust. I wash my face, toss my hair into a quick braid and pull up the weather app on my phone before heading downstairs. 

The coffeemaker in the kitchen is ancient but after a few taps and fiddling with the cord of the plug, it starts to gurgle. It’s a satisfying sound. While it brews, I check the living room through the archway for Carter. He’s still curled up under a small crocheted blanket on her couch where I left him last night. He’s too tall and most of his calves dangle over the arm of the couch. 

“Carter, time to get up,” I call and pull my thermostat off the drying rack to fill with fresh coffee. He doesn’t move. I sigh and look down at my watch. The long spider web of cracks in the glass doesn’t distract from the face. It’s 3:19 AM. We gotta get on the road. The wind chimes are loud out on the porch. The rain should be starting soon. 

“Carter,” I say again. I walk through the archway and grab the closest thing I can find and chuck the pillow at his face. 

Carter startles immediately, shouting “I’m up,” in the process. He grabs for his glasses, dropped onto the coffee table. 

“No you weren’t,” I say, stepping back into the kitchen to fill his thermostat. “We gotta go, the storm should be rolling in any time now and Birdie will murder us if we’re late.” When I turn to look at him, he’s sliding his rain boots back on. 

“I’m so sorry, I forgot. I thought you were Birdie’s boss,” he says, hand on his chest to fey surprise. 

“It’s too early for your sarcasm. C’mon.” The entryway into the house is cluttered with a few pairs of boots and sneakers, my raincoat and denim jacket along with a variety of hats hanging from the hooks. I stare at the wooden loveseat under the coat hooks while sliding on my boots. I can only see the bottom half of the painted heart on the backing. 

“El, anytime you want to get moving,” Carter says, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. 

I blink a little, standing up and grabbing my own backpack. “Fuck you.” 

The farmhouse sits out in the middle of an open field in Guthrie, Oklahoma. The barn doors shudder a little from the wind and I can see my dad’s red beat up Dodge Ram on the lawn. I smile a little, pushing the screen door open. It squeals as I unlock the door to my truck and slide in. The engine stutters a little when it comes to life and we whip out onto the road. 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks me, taking a sip of his coffee. A bump in the road causes the truck to jump and a little splatters on him. “Ah jeez.” He tries to wipe at it and I can’t help but chuckle. 

“Not really,” I shake my head. I reach for the radio, turning the dial so I can hear the morning station. There’s a new Luke Combs song playing and I tap my fingers a little to the beat. “Too much on the brain with this project.” 

“I don’t know if you’re aware El but you always have too much on the brain,” he says.

“Well someone has to do work on this team,” I joke, smirking at him. 

It’s not a lie. Ever since Charlie and I had gotten our first big contract with FEMA, I had been in nonstop work mode. Throwing myself into each project a little deeper than the last. It was probably worrisome how much time I spent at the warehouse, elbow deep in some new tech but I couldn’t help myself. It was a safe and mindless space, fixing and tinkering. 

We drive down the long stretch of dirt through the fields and I peer up at the sky again. There’s a loud ringing in the cab of the truck and I glance over at Carter, peering down at his phone. “It’s Birdie,” he says. “She says we’re late.” 

I grin a little, shaking my head as the warehouse comes into view. The freshly painted sign on the building reads TempestEdge Innovations. I push the button on the callbox and the military grade barrier raises to allow me to drive through. I swing around the side of the building to the open garage door. It’s just about 3:46 AM. 

I slide out of the truck as the door to the garage closes behind me. “You’re late,” Birdie’s voice echoes across the warehouse. 

“Birdie, give me a break, I had to make four repairs last night before we left,” I say, walking toward the tall blonde woman. Her hair is pulled snug up into a ballerina bun, a clipboard held to the fleece of her vest. “Not all of us go for a run a 2 AM to start our day.” 

She scoffs and shoves me playfully. “Maybe you should give it a try.” 

We grin, making our way deeper into the warehouse where all of our desks are crowded together with a few computers. Tables of spare parts, design blueprints and drawings and our small kitchen are scattered throughout the space. Beyond that, my engineering floor houses large models and mock ups that sit large and wide. 

I drop my bag at my desk and smile at the photo frame on the corner. It’s from graduation at OSU. We’re all making funny faces at the camera, hugging each other tightly. I tap on my keyboard to wake the screen, noticing my phone buzzing in my pocket. I ignore it and look up, “How’s everyone doing this morning?” I ask.

“Morning E,” Palmer, our Meteorologist says when she looks up over her computer screen. She gnaws on her lip, auburn brows raised. “I don’t think this classifies as morning quite yet.” 

“I mean, dawn, maybe?” Sean says, walking up from behind me with a coffee mug in hand. It’s white with rope lettering that spells out This ain’t my first rodeo! Sean walks over to Birdie who is looking over her clipboard, comparing it to the large chalkboard we wheeled over to her corner of the office. She’s talking to herself as he kisses her head on the way to his desk. 

“Dawn is defined by a sun rising in the sky,” Carter remarks, tapping away on his computer. “Definitely not dawn yet.” 

We’re interrupted by Charlie, stepping into the office space with her phone pressed to her ear. “Alright, yes. I can definitely get out there next week. Thank you so much, have a wonderful day,” Charlie says. She smiles at everyone. “Alright team, let’s get this test going.” 

Everyone slides up from their desk chairs, grabs their tablets and walkies and heads to the back of the warehouse. We slide on our swanky mesh neon vests, easily identifiable out in the storm. Sean slides the back door open and we step out onto the ramp. The rain has started and it’s coming down sideways, like a thick curtain across the landscape. A few hundred feet from the warehouse, a row of buildings line up on either side. 

“Alright, we all remember safety procedures?” Birdie asks, looking over her clipboard. There’s a chorus of noise and Birdie grumbles. “C’mon people, we’re all about to bunker separately for the tornado. Do we all remember safety procedures?” 

“Birdie, we’ve done these bunkering tests a few times now, c’mon,” I say. 

With our current contact, we started trying to build new infrastructures on different buildings to withstand a tornado in the hopes to help families and businesses not fall into a pit of financial burden from having to rebuild. It was the biggest project yet and took us nearly six months just to build the fake town with different materials and different methods. The only way to collect data around the structural integrity of the buildings was to bunker into each of the different variations.

Palmer had tracked cells moving toward the area and we were certain an EF2 was heading straight for us. Which was a perfect opportunity to split up again and see how well the buildings held up. It would be our third test trial. It’s not the smartest move but growing up with two crazy famous storm chasers? Kind of breeds crazy. 

The winds start to pick up and I look up at the debris and dust kicking up in the air. “Alright guys, let’s head out,” I say, turning on my radio. We take off in different directions, saying goodbyes and waving each other off through the harsh winds. While Charlie stays safe inside the warehouse, Birdie takes to the gas station, Sean the grocery store. Palmer heads to the farm house tucked behind everything and Carter yells “Stay safe” as he turns into the doctor’s office. I head the furthest down the road to the bar & grille. 

I look up the doors behind me, moving to the safety corner where all the monitors are. I slide into my space and settle in, logging into our tracking system on the tablet to type in my notes. I can barely hear the wind outside and pull my walkie talkie from my waist. “Alright, I am settled and am clear. See you guys on the other side.” 

I wait, anxiously tapping my foot as I watch the footage off the street for the incoming destruction. But ten minutes passed with no noise whatsoever. I glance up and toward the door, confused. I tap the storm tracker, noticing the pattern of movement for the storm diminishing. I click the button of the walkie with my thumb. “P, am I reading right that the storm choked itself out? Over,” I say, watching the monitor again. 

“The winds are dying down, I think it missed us,” Palmer calls back.

“Let’s hold for another five minutes to be cautious,” Birdie’s voice crackles. But five minutes pass with no movement. Birdie calls that we’re clear and I head out of the building. The sun is starting to rise, illuminating the fields with a golden glow as if there hadn’t been 40 to 60 mile an hour winds and rain only a little while ago. 

“We woke up at the ass crack of dawn for this?” Carter groans. 

“Not dawn,” Palmer corrects, walking in step with us back to the warehouse. Birdie wraps her arm around Sean’s waist as they step ahead of us. 

“The conditions seemed perfect,” Birdie says, shrugging. “All we can really hope for.” 

The door slides open to the warehouse to reveal Charlie. She’s got this fixed look on her face as if she just stepped in dog shit. “We’ll get the next one Charlie, no need to fuss. They know that we can’t control the conditions of the storms,” I point to the sky and pat her on the shoulder. 

“That’s not what soured my mood,” she says. She crosses her arms over her chest and huffs. 

My eyebrows knit together in confusion as the team steps passed us, back to our desks. “What is it?”

“Someone’s out at the gate,” she says, nodding to the opposite end of the warehouse. “Someone’s here? No one comes here.”

“Oh, if only,” Charlie says. She turns on her heel, heading to the door on the other side of the building. I rack my brain for people who know the warehouse. We had some rich investors who would stop by trying to buy us out, our clients and FEMA reps that would come our way to see new tech and some family but, Mom and Dad would’ve called me before showing up. Curiosity kills the team and I hear their chairs scrap against the floor. Loud footsteps follow us as Charlie shoves the door open with a knowing look.

I step around her and peer out at the gated entrance to see a suped up red Dodge rumbling idle. The engine turns off after a moment and the driver side door swings open. I see his cowboy boots before I see him. He’s wearing a stupid flannel and his stupid backwards baseball cap. Tyler. He takes off his sunglasses, expression is hard to read. He’s not showing his normally beaming pearl whites that I caught a few times while passing Carter’s viewing of their YouTube videos. His face is stiff, uncomfortable as he rests his hands on his hips. What takes me by surprise is the young woman who steps out of the passenger side. 

I don’t notice my feet are moving until I realize how far away Birdie’s “Son of a bitch” is. I don’t even realize how fast I’m moving or how close Tyler is. “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask when I’m close enough that I could throw a rock if I wanted to. And I wanted to. 

He looks down, trying to collect his thoughts. I can see the gears turning in his brain, trying to figure out what to say to me. He rubs at his jaw, nearly smiling and leaning up against the door of the truck. His eyes sparkled a little. “Hi El.” Bold to go with charm. 

“That’s all you have to say? Hi El?” I cross my arms across my chest, staring him down. He’s insane.

Tyler purses his lips, gaze softening as he takes me in. He turns to look at the woman, now having moved in front of the hood of the car. “Kate,” his drawl is still thick with an enthusiasm that can’t be rivaled. “Meet Eleanor. Eleanor Owens.” 

“I prefer to go by Harding these days,” I retort. 

“Owens…you mean–,” the woman – Kate – stutters a little. 

“Wife,” I state, turning to look at her. “He means wife.”

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[magnolia-among-the-stars]

Glen

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

You don't face your fears, you ride 'em.

Twisters (2024)

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (prologue)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

A/N: Ya'll, I wrote a book, graduated from my MFA, became an English Professor and haven't written anything in two months...thank you to glen powell for pulling me from my rut. I can always count on you.

prologue / one / two / three

______________________________________________________________

He knew he would have to go back eventually. The getup that had been built onto his Ram could only withstand so much. Kate’s death march straight into an EF5 had nearly stripped the hydraulic drills and their continued research to suffocate tornadoes had brought the welded exoskeleton frame to the brink of crumbled chicken wire. His truck looked worse for wear and the Wranglers had been bugging him for weeks about taking it in for repairs.

“Listen man,” Boone said on bright day at the beginning of June. He seemed to appear out of nowhere and clapped Tyler on the back. It made the man jump, nearly cracked his skull on the underside of the hood. “I know you don’t want to take a trip to get ole Betty fixed up.”

“Not Betty,” Tyler replies with a grunt, turning back to fill the wiper fluid.

“It’s time to go home man,” Boone continues on, “With all the chasin’ we’re doin’, we need new equipment anyways. The truck isn’t supped enough to deal with the constant damage…you know that. And with everything happening with--” Boone makes a face toward Kate with a heavy wink. Tyler’s tempted to knock some sense into the man.

She’s only a few yards away, looking to the skies for any signs of shifting clouds. She looks incredible, sunglasses sitting atop her head. Her hair is so golden under the hot Oklahoma sun, not even sticking to her neck as she stares up absentmindedly at the horizon.

“That’s what I’m sayin’. You ain’t even listening to me, are ya?” Boone’s voice cuts through the air.

He’s loud enough that Kate peers over her shoulder to see the commotion. She smiles at him, scrunching her nose. Incredible.

Boone’s hands collide with Tyler’s shoulder, knocking him forward a little in the tall grass. Tyler grunts as he tries to keep his footing.

“Knock that shit out, you’re gettin’ on my last nerve today,” Tyler says. He pushes him back firmly. A warning shot.

“You need to get that sorted,” Boone says. He starts walking backwards, away from Tyler and toward the RV where the rest of the Wranglers are. Tyler doesn’t miss the word considered leave Boone’s mouth as he turns away. Boone’s not a frowning man, not normally the one who gets heated over this and that so the tension in his words squeeze at Tyler’s chest in a way he isn’t prepared to deal with.

The chain of his necklace tucked safe and discreet under his white shirt starts to burn against his skin. He scratches away at it when Kate appears behind him. Why is everyone sneaking up on him today?

“He alright?”

A grin appears on Tyler’s face. Her voice is playful and it’s soothing to his ears. “Is he ever?” Tyler jokes, turning to the pretty woman he’s been working beside for the last few months.

She laughs and brushes some hair out of her face. He wants to do it for her. He wants to hold her face, kiss her. He never seems to find the right opportunity, find the right moment between all the motel rooms and 100-mile winds blowing through towns. He’s intimated by her wit, her drive to do more for the community. It reminds him of someone else. And that thought normally makes him a little nauseous. He thought that would go away by now.

“He seemed annoyed,” Kate says, crossing her arms to look up at him.

“He was,” Tyler says. He pulls the dirty rag from the back pocket of his Levi’s and wipes the dirt from his palms. “He thinks I should take the truck into the shop.” “Well, Betty does need a tune up.”

Tyler groans. “Why is everyone calling it that?”

“Cause only a woman could go into storms as mighty and come out with ease,” Kate smirks. Tyler scoffs, staring at her with admiration.

“Cute,” he says and turns back to the truck to look over any other repairs he could make himself. Kate leans over the side of the car, staring down at the engine caked in dust and debris. She tilts her head with curiosity, blinking up at him.

“Seriously though, why not take it in? We can take a week off, maybe get some solid sleep and a good shower for once. There’s a shop only a few miles away from the motel,” Kate says, pointing in the direction.

The man shakes his head, not even looking at her. “That wouldn’t work.”

Kate raises a brow. “How come?”

“It’s a custom truck,” Tyler says. “There’s only one shop that can do the repairs.”

“…Okay, so let’s take it to the shop then,” she tries again.

He swallows his words the second he hears Dexter calling out for them, the promise of another storm halting anymore conversation about the truck and it’s repairs. But that’s only until they load up the new barrels and peel toward a growing storm. Tyler’s harness buckle jams as he revs at full speed toward the sucker and then Boone calls out that one of the rockets doesn’t deploy. When they push through the wall of wind and debris to anchor down into the dirt, drills start to grind against what he can only imagine is a hard rock. The sound of shredding steel makes his jaw clench. The one thing that goes right is the barrels deploying into the sky and drying out the tornado, the sky painting itself blue as the funnel evaporates.

“Are you guys alright? Come in,” Javi’s voice crackles over the radio.

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[magnolia-among-the-stars]

(says the man who has spent the entirety of their acquaintance trying to figure out what makes her tick) #subtle TWISTERS (2024)

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

Halliwell Sisters Appreciation Week → Day 3 - Favourite Duo: Prue x Piper

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

stranger things prompts

alright guys, i've become (way late) obsessed with stranger things. i finished writing my book but really need to work my way back into writing so taking prompts for steve, eddie, jonathan, robin and nancy! (i didn't make prompts, @belatedbday69 did! - go check them out!)

1. “Okay, maybe I have a crush on you! So what?” 

2. “It’s not like this with them.”

3. “Tell me to leave and I’ll never bother you again.”

4. “This doesn’t change anything between us.”

5.  “Just take me home.”

6. “I appreciate the effort but this is all wrong.” 

7. “I don’t want anyone else.”

8. “What could you possibly be this stressed about?” 

9. “You haven’t changed at all.” 

10. “I never want to be without you again.”  

11. “You tricked me.”

12. “You can’t tell anyone. Seriously. Even them.”

13. "You want me, don't you?"

14. “If you do that one more time I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself.” 

15. “I can’t believe you remembered.” 

16. “You won’t believe me.” “Try me.” 

17. “I don’t want to have this conversation again.”

18. “You shouldn’t be here.” 

19. “I think about you all the time.”

20. “Why do you insist on misunderstanding me?”

21. “Then take me with you.”

22. “I think I missed you more than you missed me.” 

23. “I thought I’d lost you.”

24. “Don’t say that to me. That’s not fair.”

25. “Well, since you asked nicely...Sure."

26. “You used to have feelings for me. Admit it.”

27. “So you don’t regret it at all?” 

28. “I’m not ready to let you go.” 

29. “Don’t lie to me. I was there.” 

30. “Leave me alone.” “Is that really what you want?” 

31. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.” 

32. "I can't hide it anymore. I have to tell you how I feel."

33. “I don’t want them. I want you.”

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

⭐️Put this star into the inbox of your favourite blogs. It's time to spread positivity ❤︎

this is so sweet <3

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✈️ top gun writing prompts (guess whose back from the dead!)

hello everyone! gosh, it's been a hot second but your girl has finally finished her MFA and written a book :D now that I'm free as a bird, I'm back on my writing prompts!

taking requests for all characters, prompt list by @creativepromptsforwriting

Arguing about why they can’t date edition

“I’m just scared that it will change everything.”

“You say you love me and then you say we can’t be together. That is not fair!”

“If we don’t work out… I can’t risk losing my best friend.”

“We can’t go on like this! We’ll be miserable.”

“I don’t understand you! I thought you loved me too!”

“This could be so easy… two people liking each other. But it’s a very hard decision.”

“It’s not that I don’t like you. I do. Maybe even too much. But I value our friendship and I don’t want to lose it.”

“You want to just try and see if it works? What if it ruins our friendship? Is our friendship not important enough for you?”

“It would be weird.” “How do you know that?”

“I know you’re scared, me too. But it can also be the beginning of something really great.”

“Let’s ruin our friendship.” “Is it that easy for you?”

send in your requests xx

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

lewis via jellist

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

Dear August; chapter five

Summary: You and Bradley have been best friends since college and when he was stationed in North Island, you were thrilled that he would be back in your life. When things start to sour with Bradley’s girlfriend and she breaks things off, Bradley comes to you for drunken comfort. What happens when an accidental hookup brings along an unexpected positive pregnancy test threatens the state of your friendship? What happens when your best friend Jake steps in to help you?

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female!reader, Bradley x female!reader

Tropes: friends to lovers, unexpected pregnancy, unrequited feelings, love triangle

Word Count: 1600+

Jake’s vibrant green eyes light up in surprise, the silicone spatula and sponge in hand slapping into the sink with a heavy sloshing sound as he takes in your words. The look on his face, flashes of worry and confusion wash through him and it makes you anxious, so so anxious as you take deep breaths and try to collect your hands to stop the trembling from vibrating its way into your forearms.

Electricity passes through you as silence fills the sunny floors of your kitchen. But Jake’s concern melts from his face, dissolving into his cool, lackadaisical vibration that you’ve come to rely so heavily on. “I’m worried.”

“Haven’t you been,” Jake winces, feeling strange asking about your cycle in the middle of your kitchen in the middle of a peaceful Sunday morning. He scratches the sharp scruff of his jaw and adjusts the backwards baseball cap on his head. “Don’t you track…”

“Yes,” you nod, swaying from heel to heel during the conversation. Your cheeks heat up. The thought of being pregnant makes your heart race. You couldn’t have a child, you took care of 20 children for months on end at school, 21 was not your goal currently. And oh god, after the conversation before he left for his tour…you’d have to tell Bradley. “Bradley is going to kill me.”

“He’s not going to kill you, we don’t even know what we’re dealing with.” He straightens slightly, relaxing into his hip and leaning into the countertop to wipe down the mess from making breakfast.

“Jake.” Your hands are on your hips, dauntingly so in a way that has him feeling like he’s back at Basic, ready to do some punishment push ups.

“If you feel like it’s a concern, we should just go to the clinic down in town,” he shares, wiping his hands dry and putting away the dishes that have dried on the rack with a quick precision that reminds you of his aerial piloting skills. It makes you wish that you could see him glide through the air from thousands of feet off the ground.

“That sounds terrifying,” your voice is airy as you fiddle with the strings of your hoodie, “Sounds too real.”

“Better to get told once that,” Jake clears his throat and walks around the island toward you, gently grazing your covered shoulder and rubbing with a soothing touch. “That there’s a situation as opposed to having to see it on a test then having to go to a doctor. I’ll drive.”

“You knock someone up before Seresin?” you ask as he leads you over to the door. It’s meant to sound like a joke but your tone is high pitched, strained. Your hand instinctively comes up to your stomach as you bend down to grab your sandals from the rack by the front door. It alarms you. Jake must not notice as he slips on his loafers, a delicate chuckle rolling off his chest and dancing into your ears. It’s pleasant.

“Sisters, Dukes,” his Texan accent rings through and suddenly Jake is back to that man who was there when you needed someone. Picking up the pieces Bradley had dropped again. “I’ve got three sisters who all have popped out a few of their own. You and I both know that if I had knocked someone up, you’d have found out about it during our wine nights.” He’s staring at you intensely now, a light hugged by his long lashes and scruff peppered cheeks. The comment relaxes your shoulders, bringing out a smile on your glossy lips.

“I love our wine nights,” you hum, tugging the front door open and letting him lead you over to the passenger side of his large truck that he’d bought after him and the rest of the team were permanently ordered to stay as the lead squad at Miramar.

While Bradley had taken Jenny out to dinner that night to celebrate his new found position, Jake had driven over to your place to show off his new ride and ask you to join him on the inaugural scenic drive down the coast. You had laughed, cranked up the music on the new surround sound and rolled the windows down to let the salty ocean breeze roll through the cabin. Looking at him now, strapping in as he slides easily into the driver’s seat with one hand lazily on the wheel as he backs out of your driveway - you wonder how you hadn’t looked at him this way before.

Jake was beautiful. Well, obvious. The man was a specimen unlike any other you’d seen before. Like a Ken doll with a brighter smile and a southern charm to match. But Jake was raised right, raised by two loving parents who were dedicated and surrounded by a large family of women. He was intelligent, more than he ever wanted to let on. He loved space, asking sheepishly to watch documentaries about Astronauts and Space Stations on a lazy Thursday night when the rest of the crew were down at the Hard Deck.

And yet, here you’d been pinning over Bradley who had never given you the time of day unless it was convenient for him. Please don’t let me be pregnant, you think to yourself as you take off down the main road. It’s quiet in town on the sunny Sunday morning in California and with the heat wave breaking, it was a cool enough day that everyone was out and about at the beaches on the outskirts of the town. Jake pulls easily into a parking space and pushes into park, taking a moment to turn off the radio before he turned to give you a hard look.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“If I’m being honest, I’m not sure,” your words are a mere whisper and he reaches across the middle console to clutch your hand, interlacing your fingertips.

“It’s okay,” he nods, like he’s trying to convince himself before clearing his throat. “We’ll get this figured out.”

“Please for the love of God,” you turn to the roof of the truck, slamming your palms together and squeezing your eyes shut. “Please God, I know I stopped going to church when I was 15 but I beg of you…” Jake collects your hands again, shaking them slightly.

“Cut that out,” he nods to the door. “I’ve got you Dukes.” You both slide from the truck, stepping in line with each other as you head to the front door of the medical clinic. As you enter the building, you’re immediately met with images of mothers and their children, pregnant women and smiling families along the walls of the clinic. It makes you want to throw up again. In fact, you do throw up again and Jake rushes to find the nearest trash can.

He reaches you just in time, cupping the back of your head as you drive heave into the silky black bag. A nurse rushes over, soothing and cooing as you wipe your mouth. “You alright honey?” she asks with a kind tone, smiling apologetically. She’s a bit older than you, curly chocolate locks twisted up into a fluffy bun and gentle eyes.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” you murmur, turning to Jake who discards the trash can into the nurse’s hands and rubs your back in large circles.

“Pretty common answer here,” she says lightly, turning to look at Jake with a raised brow. “Seems like we need to get you guys all checked in for a check up to see what’s going on, huh?” You nod, staring up at Jake as he pulls you close to his side while following the nurse the rest of the way to the front desk. You do your best to avoid the many women, both pregnant and alone, who are sitting in the waiting room. 

You give the woman your name, hand her your insurance card and then take the clipboard to fill out a self identifying medical sheet. You and Jake don’t wait long before the same nurse, Ellie you’d learned, came back out to get you. Jake stood to your right, holding his hand out to help you up in fear that you would get lightheaded. “You two seem very sweet,” she comments while taking your weight and height, ushering you into the exam room. 

“Oh we’re not,” “Thank you,” you both say at the same time, turning to look at each other. Ellie watches with amusement at your stares while typing in your symptoms of the computer. She runs a few exams, checking your blood pressure and doing some blood work. 

“So, I definitely think that we need to do a pregnancy test,” she places her hands on the tops of her thighs as she speaks, gliding closer from the rolling chair to look up at you. “You are showing some clear symptoms and I definitely think we need to rule out an initial positive before we move forward with any other possibilities. Have you two been trying?”

“Excuse me?” you quip, eyes widening as Jake lets out a loud chuckle. His pearly whites are on display as he crosses one leg over the other with his hands twisted.

“Many couples come straight here because they’ve been trying for a child,” Ellie shares as she turns to Jake.

“We’ve,” you pause, staring at Jake for a moment and biting your lip. The look in his eye doesn’t seem like he’s bothered by the assumption and the fear of Bradley’s reaction causes tension in your belly. “We weren’t trying, things are still relatively new.” At your words, Jake’s perfectly plucked brows raise though he still has a grin on his lips. 

“Can’t help myself Ellie,” he responds, leaning confidently back into his plastic chair with an arm draped along the back of the other. “You’ve seen the beautiful woman.”

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[magnolia-among-the-stars]

right here with @topguncortez

i hate that fandoms die off so quickly. obviously this one isn’t dying (yet lol) but it’s been very quiet around here lately and i’ve seen a ton of tgm writers just up and leave. it’s sad that things just don’t last anymore and that the age of social media and short form content has people bouncing from interest to interest so fast