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sturniologals · 3 months

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Car ride-M.S

Reader x Matt

-; warnings Smut (obvi), Praise kink, Dom!Matt, Cursing.

1.8k Words

My childhood best friend matt is standing outside of his house waiting on his date to pick him up and I can’t help but to wish that he would just walk across the street and confess his love for me and it would be us going out.

A black range rover pulls to the sidewalk, the street lamp on his sidewalk corner is the only light illuminating his features-and my god does he look good. I can feel my arousal growing as i shift on my bay window seat to try and get some friction but it does nothing.

Suddenly, the car is pulling away and matt is standing there looking annoyed, not sad- but bothered. I watch him start to walk up to his door but he stops at his porch steps and rubs his hands over his face in a stressful motion.

His cargo pants are hanging low on his waist and when his hands go up, his shirt strides up a bit revealing the bottom of his stomach. His V- line is perfectly carved and his skin looks oh so soft.

After a second of him seemingly stressing over something- he starts to walk over to my house.

This is an almost daily occurrence for us since the 3rd grade when i moved into this house and i started at the same elementary school as him but still- I can’t help but to feel the pit in my stomach anytime he comes over. My parents are gone out on their weekly date night so i’m home alone. The thoughts of what he could do to me race through my mind but they quickly shut off when i hear the doorbell and I quickly jog down the stairs, stopping in the hallway to check in the mirror, my freshly applied cherry lipgloss shining on my plump lips, my hair tied back in a low ponytail.

I take a moment to think about how i’m wearing just sweats and a t shirt but remember- it’s just matt. No need to stress, he’s seen me worse than this before.

I open up the door and matt is standing at my doorstep, anxiously cracking his knuckles. When i open the door wide enough for him to come in- he quickly does so. He doesn’t say anything and just starts to jog up my stairs, headed straight on the path to my bedroom that he’s came to know so well over the last 8 years.

“Matthew!” I shout trying to catch up with him.

I make it to my room, where he’s already sitting on my bed, his back against the headboard. He’s already discarded his sneakers onto the floor and is now draping one of my fuzzy blankets over his legs.

“Cmere y/n” he says as he throws an arm up for me to cradle into. this isnt anything weird for us. we’ve always been this close but in the last year, matts started to look different. better. His hair grew out and he started to dress better. He hit puberty which came with him growing to a 5 foot, 11 inches. compared to my 5 foot, 2 inches.

I don’t question him and i just crawl into my bed next to him and rest my head on his chest as his arm falls down and starts to rub up and down my arm. After a moment or so of silence, I start to debate on whether to ask what happened with his date.

“Matt?” i say, slightly tilting my chin up so i can see his face.

“Yeah y/n?” he says looking down at me.

“What happened with your date?” i say after finally working up the courage.

“Uhm-“ he shifts his body uncomfortably but continues to speak. “Mackie thought it was just a friend thing, i guess. so when she showed up and she had a bunch of friends with her, I got kind of annoyed and just wasn’t feeling it anymore.” He says in an unbothered tone.

“Wasn’t you clear on the fact that you liked her?” i say in a quiet voice.

“Woah not a fact. I didn’t like her, i was just slightly attracted to her and i just needed to-“ He stops talking and clears his throat. I can feel my cheeks go red as my mind understands what he’s trying to say and I feel a bulge grow beside my leg. i decide this is my chance to tease him.

“Ma-“ i start to sit up but he shoots up quickly “wanna go get food?” he says quickly standing up and putting his sneakers on. I am kinda hungry.

“Uhm yeah sure” I say with an awkward smile as i grab a blue hoodie out of my closet to throw on over my black t shirt.

“Ready?” he says, standing in my doorway. I nod and we go downstairs, I grab my car keys off the table and we both walk out the door.

“You drive” I say, tossing him the keys over the roof of my dark purple jeep Cherokee. He smiles and slides into the drivers seat.

I get into the passenger side and he immediately reaches over to buckle my seat belt. He’s done this ever since I was able to drive. He says i forget to do it so he just does it for me. His long, slender fingers sliding the buckle in sends a shiver down my spine. He turns on the ignition and I make sure my body is angling toward him. I pull my cherry lipgloss out of my pocket and apply it, once i feel his eyes on me, I move extra slow and run my tongue across my lips, acting as if i’m not paying attention to him but i can see him staring at me out of the corner of his eyes. “fuck” he mutters extremely quietly.

“Hm?” I say, turning my head back to face him.

“uh” he shakes his head “matt, are you okay?” i roll his name off of my tongue as seductively as i can as i lean over the middle console. We stop at a red light and i take the opportunity. “matt, look at me” he does so.

“Your acting weird.” i say once his eyes meet mine.

“You know what your doing y/n” he says lowly before the light turns green and he adverts his attention back to the road.

“I don’t know what your talking about.” i say with a slight giggle as he continues the drive to central downtown. “You know the reason mackie thought it was a friend thing is because of you right? she thinks we’re together.” matt says harshly while pulling over by a dark, empty field. “you’re gonna cock block me and then have the audacity to rile me the fuck up like this?”

His eyes grow dark as he unbuckles his seat belt and puts the car in park. His hand starts traveling up my thigh.

“I cock blocked you? how is that my fault that she thinks we’re together?” i spit out, my breathing heavy at the feeling of his touch.

“I see you y/n, eye fucking me anytime we’re near each other. You’ve been having those thoughts for a while now yeah?” He says, leaning extremely close now, our faces inches apart.

“Matt-“ my breathing hitches when he unbuckles me and pulls me onto his lap so i’m now straddling him.

“Fuck y/n. that lipgloss.” he says in a shaky voice while bringing his thumb up to my lips.

“Matt- don’t touch me if you don’t have feelings for me because you know damn well that i-“ i start to rant but he quickly presses his mouth to mine. I pull away quickly.

“So you do-“ i try to speak but his mouth is on mine again. His lips as soft as i thought they would be. His hands traveling up my sides, his grip firm as i feel his dick harden underneath me. I groan against the feeling as his tongue swipes against my lip seeking for entry which I allow. Our tongues gliding across one another in a fight for dominance. “Please” i groan quietly into his ear.

“please what baby? use your words.”

“touch me” i say into his ear as i start to kiss down his neck. he wastes no time as his hands quickly start to slide my sweatpants off. I move with him to make it easier for him to glide my pants off.

“fuck your drenched” he says breathlessly as he starts to rub my clothed pussy.

“Matt” i moan out.

“hm?”

“more” i pant out.

“more of what baby? tell me what you need.” he says while kissing my neck. his lips tugging and nipping at my sensitive skin.

“you matt- i want-“ my face goes red not wanting to say it.

“Say it baby. use your words.”

“i want your dick” i muster up the courage to spat out. He shifts underneath me and lets out a whimper at my words. his erection must be painful by now. He quickly slides his pants down to his thighs and lets his member spring free from the confines of his boxers, the tip red and swollen, already leaking pre cum.

“It’s too big-“ i say starting to panic at his at least 8 inches.

“your gonna be a good girl and take it, yeah?” he says and i nod eagerly. He places his hands on my hips and i help guide him to my entrance, his tip gathering in my juices before sliding into me causing me to let out a loud moan. He gives me barely any time to adjust before he’s ramming into me at a steady pace.

“Your so tight” he grunts out before leaning his head back against the seat.

“Ma-“ my words are cut off by the involuntary noises that start stringing from me when he starts to fuck up into me. I can already feel my release building and by the way his legs are shaking i can tell he’s almost there too. “Such a good girl” he praises which makes me go faster chasing our highs.

“Fuck y/n-“ he grunts out as i release onto him with a yell and he shoots his load into me. His thrusts slow down, riding out our high as we both slow our breathing. He pulls out and i rest my head on his shoulder.

“you know i love you right?” he says quietly, almost as if he’s afraid i’ll actually hear.

“you’re not just saying that because of what just happened are you?” i say quickly out of fear.

“Fuck no. No y/n, I just never knew that you felt like that about me until tonight.” He says while petting the back of my hair soothingly.

“I love you too matt” i say, placing a quick kiss onto his lips.

#sturniolos #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #dom!matt #praise k!nk

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formulaforza · 2 months

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miss americana and the heartbreak prince

—08. It's So Sweet —word count: 5.2k —warnings: none :) love, mackie... um... yeah. yeahhhh. sorry sorry sorry if you still read this fic. surprise I guess! its NOT as dead as you thought it was. See you guys again in four months. hopefully sooner if there is a God.

Charles, teeth dug into his tongue so hard he can taste copper, manages to keep from slipping up for the remainder of his time in Georgia. He swallows it down, chokes on an I love you everytime she looks at him for days that feel like an eternity.

The flight out to France that marks the end of his stay had spent weeks serving as a dreadful backmarker, but now it was one of solace, saving him from himself. He knows better than to spit out “I love you” two months in. He knows better, but he also knows. Simple as that. He just knows.

He’s good at keeping it down during phone calls and voice memos and FaceTimes because there’s no fucking way he’s stupid enough to say it over the phone. Whenever he does finally deem the time to be right, it’ll be inches from her face, with all the time in the world ahead of them. Her smile will be there, just waiting to be kissed.

It definitely will not be while she’s grading papers or reviewing a movie or putting purple refills in her pen, even though he finds himself thinking just how plain and simple he loves her when she’s doing those things.

– – –

Charles spends the holidays with his family in France, coming pretty much directly from his time with Chris and her family in Georgia.

They quiz him like there’s no tomorrow about all of it; on Chris, and her family and her city and her life. He thinks he does a half-decent job at keeping his cards close to his chest; hiding his tells and acting completely normal and regular and plain about it all.

Well. He can be coy and secretive to everyone but his mom. Mother’s always know when their sons are in love, and Pascale has always been particularly apt at seeing straight through her boys and the bullshit they try to feed her.

He’s helping with dinner dishes—working hard to get those extra points towards being the favorite son this weekend—when she confronts him about it. He knows he’s in trouble. He’s never been able to lie to her in a way that was even sort-of convincing.

“So, Chris…” she hums, drying three two forks at once with a damp towel. “Is this going to be something?” She asks. Charles shrugs, squeezing more blue dish soap onto the plate in his other hand. “That’s too much,” she remarks.

He ignores the comment, moves the scrubbing sponge over the plate in small circles. “It’s new, still.”

“But you like her?”

He chuckles. Of course he likes her. He wouldn’t be dating her, traveling to see her, introducing her to his family if he didn’t at least like her. That’d just be cruel. “I like her a lot,” he says. I like her the most, he bites his tongue. He rinses the soap from the plate.

Pascale nods, soft smile on her lips when she takes the plate from his hand, drying it carefully. “Just like, is that right, Charles?”

He knows what she means, what she’s implying. They both know she’s right, too, but he can’t stand to admit it. He feels like if he does, if he actually speaks the words out loud, there’s no way he’s going to be able to keep it in anymore. It’ll be breaking the seal, and he can’t. Not yet. He doesn’t have it in him yet. “Maman,” he says, and his tone is laced with her answer, soft and sweet and pleading in a desperate way.

She smiles, sets the plate down onto the counter gently. It still clatters against the marble. “I know,” she hums, hand finding his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

Charles spends New Year’s Eve in London. He’s with his brothers and his friends and like, all of their girlfriends. He’s been pathetically texting her the entire trip going on about i’ll buy your ticket if you want to come and it would be so much more fun with you here.

What Charles doesn’t know is that Chris is on her way, and that she’d been planning the surprise with Joris for three weeks. After a red eye flight from Atlanta that lands a little before two in the afternoon in London, Joris manages to sneak off from the group to meet her at the hotel and give her a key to his room. She hides out there for most of the afternoon while Joris tries to convince the group to head back to the hotel for a few hours without spoiling the surprise of why they should go back to the hotel in the middle of the day.

When he finally gets them back to the hotel, he waits fifteen minutes to text her the all clear, to let her know that she can come and execute the surprise.

It takes her an almost comical amount of time to find his room, considering it’s in the same hallway as everyone else’ rooms, and only ends up being three or four doors down from where she’d started. When she finally finds it, she’s hit with a sudden wave of anxiety.

What if he doesn’t want me here? She worries. Her hands get clammy and she stands there in front of the door like a complete idiot just waiting for her body to do something, to do anything. Finally, she brings her fist to the door and knocks.

Voices are muffled and heavy feet shuffle on the other side of the door before finally, after what feels like an eternity of loud bickering from the boys about who’s going to open the door, Chris is face to face with Charles, stupid, toothy grin on her face. “Oh,” he says.

Behind him, the guys jeer in French, but neither of them are paying any attention. Chris can't stop laughing, standing there, staring at Charles in the doorway. He stares right back, his eyes a window into the gears that turn behind them, processing… processing… processing so incredibly slowly. “Are you gonna hug me, or just stare at me?” She finally asks, and he laughs, snapping into reality, pulling her into a tight hug.

“What are you doing here?” He questions, pressing a hard kiss into her hair, and then he laughs even harder. “How did you get here?”

– – –

Chris isn’t there for more than a couple days—she has to be back at work as winter break winds to a close, and Charles has training camp in Italy at the end of the week. It’s a quick visit, but they make the most of it, and they do get their new year’s eve kiss.

It’s been, like, a month and a half since Chris was last in Monaco, but it’s been just two and a half weeks since someone posted a TikTok of Charles and her walking around Monte Carlo together. That means, it’s been two weeks of Chris stumbling upon, and falling down rabbit holes of, Charles’ fan accounts desperately trying to put a face to the back of the head of the girl in the video.

She’s less interested in are they going to figure out who I am and more interested in are they at least, like, close? The answer is no. No, they are not even kind-of close to connecting Chris with him. It’s all models and friends and people he follows on Instagram and even one ex-girlfriend, but definitely no American kindergarten teachers.

The fire is only fed, though, when on New Year’s Eve, drunk on Moscow Mules and equipped with the world’s most fashionable LED glasses, Charles is posted showing off the look. Under his arm, equally as drunk off espresso martinis, is Chris, engaged in conversation with Joris beside her.

It’s been two-thousand twenty-three for fifteen minutes, and Instagram explore pages across the world are already filled with pictures of the side of her head and Charles’ goofy heart-eyed glasses.

Chris is too drunk to know, much less care, but when she does find out about it, she won’t be bothered. She thinks that maybe she never will be a big deal—certainly not as big of one as he seems to think it is. Nothing is going to happen, she tells him so many times it doesn’t even sound like a sentence anymore. Who cares if everyone figures out who I am?

January isn’t much but settling into a routine. They’re both busy with a million and one different things—just a little peek into any sort of future they hope to have together—and it’s the end of the month before they see each other in person again.

Every post he makes on social media—every video, photo, story, mention, and repost is run through a microscope, carefully dissected searching for a repeat like and commenter, for an unfamiliar woman’s voice or a hand or a coat or a head of hair. Names fly around in a tornado of guesses, and none of them are correct.

It’s an easy routine to fall into; scheduled phone calls, FaceTime dates twice a week, and sneakily sent texts in the middle of the workday. Sometimes it feels like they aren’t all that far apart, like he could walk out the front door and get into his car and drive for fifteen minutes and be at her house, eat dinner at the same table, fall asleep at the same time, in the same bed. Other times, they can feel every step of the four-thousand, six-hundred, ninety-five miles that separate them, when it’s all pictures of dinner and goodmorning texts seen three hours later and delayed, laggy FaceTime calls.

It’s on one of those calls, where her face is frozen mid-conversation, that she’s gushing about how excited she is for some school event at the end of the month, the Art show, she’d called it, and when—after sorting out the camera issue for the time being—he’d asked for clarification on what exactly an Art show is, she’d explained the whole event with a big, excited smile on her face.

“Oh my gosh!” She’d laughed, pulling her legs underneath her. “Okay, so, it’s the coolest thing. Basically, the art department displays all of the art the students have made so far this year all throughout the year, and the kids get to show it off to all their family. They set up a book fair in the library, and they serve ice-cream in the cafeteria,” she explains, “All the teachers go, and they bring their families, too,” she nods. “It’s really cool. I like to see how proud the kids are of their work.”

He decides then, in that very moment, that he doesn’t want to hear about this in text messages and photos and Facetime calls. He wants to be there—feel her energy, her pride, her smile. It just pours out of his mouth, what if I came? And then, before she can even come up with a response, If that’s okay, obviously. If you even would like, want that, you know.

She bites down on a smile. “I thought you wanted to keep things quiet?” she chuckles, “be all protective of me and stuff?”

Charles shrugs. “I don’t think anyone would believe I’m at a primary school’s art-fair in the middle-of-nowhere America.”

“I mean, I don’t care,” she explains, tucking her bangs behind her ears. “But you do. I’d love it if you could be there.”

He smiles. “You’d love it?”

“I would!” She laughs, leaning forward, closer to the camera. “You’d better come for more than just a day though,” she continues, slumping back against the couch behind her, picking at the cuticles on her thumb, raising her brows when she quietly adds: “I can think of lots of other things I’d love to do with you.”

He shakes his head, dimples digging into his cheeks. “You’re a tease, Christyn,” he taunts, and her head shoots up from her cuticle.

“You have such a dirty mind, Charlie!” she laughs, and his cheeks burn at the nickname, at the accusation.

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, and she only laughs harder, smiles bigger.

“Why?” She teases, crossing her arms over her chest, cocking her head to the side playfully. “Because it makes you blush?”

– – –

There’s really only one of Chris’ students that Charles knows by name: Quinn. Or, as Chris usually refers to her, my sweet, sweet, little Quinnie. Quinnie is not at the art show. Chris goes on to explain that she and her family are never at any of the school events—no open houses, no field trips, no choir recitals or art shows or parent teacher conferences. If it’s not a free event that takes place during school hours, neither Quinn or her siblings will be there, and their Mother will never be there because she’s always at work.

So, no Quinn to win over. He does, however, meet what may be the cutest kid he’s ever been face-to-face with in Landry, a little girl with two long brown braids and a strawberry patterned dress on. Landry is the first of her students to find their teacher, and completely ignores him to tug Chris’ arm towards the little girl’s artwork hung in the hallway.

“I’ll be right back,” she says hurriedly, over her shoulder, letting the little girl pull her away. Charles nods and flashes her a quick wink before she’s properly whisked away, leaving him with nothing better to do than shove his hands deep in his pockets and analyze the artwork of primary school students.

When she finds him again, no Landry in tow, she links her arm through his, leaning her head against his shoulder. “She told me I have a cute boyfriend,” she says.

“No, she did not,” He laughs, but his ears blush pink.

“She did,” she nods. “She said you were ‘oh my goodness he is soooooo cute,’” Chris repeats, in a sing-songy tone. “I said, ‘I know right! He’s the cutest.’”

“Whatever,” Charles mutters, running his other hand through his hair. “Where’s the ice-cream at, anyway?”

Two styrofoam bowls of vanilla ice-cream slices—one covered in rainbow sprinkles, the other with chocolate syrup and a maraschino cherry—later, and Chris and Charles are sitting at Chris’ desk in her classroom, him in the green spinning chair, her on the desk itself.

Two boys, who Chris refers to after they leave the room as Nash and Wyatt, are bouncing off the walls with excitement when they turn the corner into Chris’ classroom, their faces lighting up when they find her there. “Miss Elliott!” One of them shouts, half-out of breath. “The book fair has posters of your brother!” He explains.

“Yeah!” The other chimes in. “I see-ed it when my sister was getting a poster of,” he takes a big breath, “of, uh, a princess poster or something.”

“Yeah, and I get-ted this one!” The first kid adds, unrolling the paper in this hand to reveal a black and white Fortnite poster, demonstrating the dances from the game. “Cool right?” He asks, and Chris nods.

“So cool!” She says, “where are you going to hang it?”

Charles leans back in the chair, spinning slightly side to side, eating his ice-cream and just observing the interaction.

“Um, probably in my bedroom.”

Chris nods again, “perfect place for it,” she agrees.

– – –

He’s in Georgia for three days; Friday to Sunday, and spends all of it with Chris, almost entirely at her house. The art show is on Friday night, but he finds himself playing sleepover host with Chris on Saturday when Reid appears with a backpack, a pillow, and a baby blanket Chris tells him not to refer to as a baby blanket.

Chase is racing in Los Angeles this weekend, and left town on Tuesday, leaving Hannah alone on Mom duty. That would be all fine, if the weekend didn’t fall on the one weekend a month she works. Bill, Cindy, Chris, and Hannah’s mom have been helping to pick up the slack left in Chase’ absence.

It all comes together to result in him sitting in the middle of the living room, on the floor, surrounded by every blanket and pillow in the entire house on a Saturday night—a four-year-old boy sitting across from him, hanging on his every word, and his girlfriend in the other room making popcorn.

He’s been tasked with coming up with, and executing the plan for a super, super, cool boy-fort that Auntie Chris can come into, I guess.

A fort that fits into that description is a lot easier in theory. In Practice, however, he’s faced with the nephew he desperately needs the approval of, and a pile of purple and pink and sparkly and fluffy blankets and pillows.

It takes all four of the dining table chairs, a curtain rod from the screened-in porch, a fitted sheet, and a box fan, but the fort is quickly commissioned, and gets Reid’s stamp of approval when he moves his pillow, favorite blanket, and definitely not a baby-blanket, baby-blanket into the build.

Chris is behind them momentarily, knocking on the seat of one of the dining chairs before Reid permits her to enter. She crawls in, laptop and big bowl of popcorn in either hand. Reid is sandwiched between the two of them, Cars blanket covering his little frame, eyes glued to the screen while buttery fingers bury themselves in the popcorn bowl.

Reid is asleep about five minutes after the popcorn bowl is empty, Chris running her fingers through his short brown hair while soft little snores leave his lips. Her head rests on his pillow, just above his head, and she watches the movie. Charles watches her, arm propped up at the elbow, holding his head up. She’s so soft. So sweet. It ties him up in knots.

He feels like a child when she catches him staring, her eyes glancing over to him and making unexpected contact. His cheeks burn and his eyes dart away, back to the screen, to the movie. She giggles softly, barely loud enough for him to hear over his sudden mortification. “Beautiful fort you’ve built here,” she says, and he looks back at her, meets her eyes properly this time.

“Thank you,” he chuckles. “I’m thinking maybe I will make it my new career after racing.” Charles nods. Chris nods. A smile dances its way across her lips, turning the corners up gently. It makes him smile, too. “Charles Leclerc: Professional fort builder.”

“Oh,” She chuckles. “I can hear it now. You’ll be a household name.”When Charles wakes up, credits are rolling on the laptop screen and Chris’ hand is moving softly over his shoulder. He’s the bridge of his nose and picking the sleep out of his eyes and trying to get his bearings. All he’s sorted out so far is that Chris is here, he’s fucking boiling, and there’s a sleeping kid between them. He squints his eyes—like the dim light from the black credit screen is too bright for him—until she comes into focus. She points to the exit of the fort. “Bed,” she mouths.

“Well,” Chris shrugs, bringing a forkful of salad to her mouth. “I think you’ve won Reid over.”

Charles laughs on her phone screen. He’s in Italy… or Monaco… or… she’s not really sure, to be honest. It’s hard to keep track sometimes, when he’s always somewhere new. He’s in bed, wherever he is, the lamp from her kitchen casting the only light in his dark room. “Is that right?”

“Oh yeah,” she nods. “I had the pleasure of reminding him you weren’t here this afternoon. He wasn’t happy with me.” She remembers it well, his declaration that Charles and Me are going to play games today, and remembers better the little, defeated oh, right after she had to remind him Charles had left the day before.

Charles chuckles, shaking his head and rolling his eyes playfully. “I told him goodbye!”

“I know!” She says, taking another bite, her hand covering her mouth while she talks around the lettuce. “He thought you meant goodbye for the day,” she explains, swallowing. “Not goodbye for a while.”

Charles frowns. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Chris laughs, poking her fork around her bowl. “I love that he likes you so much, it’s adorable,” she hums. “He’s absolutely devastated you won’t be at his birthday party, though.”

Charles scoffs, his mouth dramatically falling open. “No way. You didn't tell me it was his birthday!”

“Because it’s not for like, two weeks!” She defense, laughing. “I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“When is it?”

She cocks her head to the side, already knowing what he’s about to say, and unscrews the top of her water bottle. “His birthday’s the sixteenth, but the party is the eighteenth.”

“I’ll be there.”

“No you won’t. You have testing.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah,” she insists. “On Monday you have to be in Bahrain.”

“Monday is not Saturday.”

Chris doesn’t tell anyone outside of Chase and Hannah that Charles is flying in, and they definitely don’t tell Reid about it, just in case it falls through for any of the million reasons it could possibly fall through because of.

It was a last minute-trip, after all, and it seems like every second of Charles’ time is accounted for right now, so Chris is prepared at any moment to get a text or a call apologetically explaining that he got pulled into something else. That call never comes, and she picks him up from the airport late Friday night, just in time to bicker in the middle of a liquor store about wine.

“Absolutely not, baby.” He says, shaking his head, a truly horrified look on his face.

“You don’t even drink wine!” She insists, holding a three-liter box of Franzia. “This is perfectly fine.”

His eyes go wide, brows raising like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “It’s in a box.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s for a fifth birthday party.”

“It’s not for the five-year-old,” he argues, picking two bottles of overpriced chardonnay from the shelf. “We’ll get these.”

– – –

Much to the dismay of the other, they show up to the party the next afternoon with one box and one bottle.

Reid is upstairs playing with some kid that Chris is related to somehow, she’s sure, so their arrival goes unnoticed by the birthday boy. Instead, Chris is heaving the box of wine onto the kitchen island, greeting a visibly stressed Hannah with a hug. Charles follows closely behind, setting his bottle down next to her box, following the hug train to Hannah.

“Look great, as always, Hannah,” He says, and Hannah laughs.

“I’m a mess, the house is a mess. Reid,” she looks to Chris, “Lord have mercy on me, your nephew has dressed himself.”

Chris scowls, and then shrugs. Charles laughs. “He can be Chandler’s nephew, today,” she says.

“He’s still your godson, though,” Hannah reminds.

“Oh, don’t I know it!”

Charles takes Chris’ coat with his own, hands them both up in the mud room that’s just off the kitchen. He hears Hannah calling for Reid while he does it, telling him to come down and say hello to your auntie. Auntie Chris. He loves the way Reid says it—Annie Chris—or, when he really wants to stir some shit up, which Charles has come to learn is just about all of the time, Reid will call her Miss Elliott.

Everyone hears him before they see him, little feet making heavy noises as they hurry down the stairs so quickly he might as well have just jumped off the landing and tuck’n’rolled his way into the kitchen. He’s bouncing on his feet, talking to Chris animatedly with his back turned to Charles when he appears in the mud-room doorway. Immediately, Chris is glancing up to him and covering Reid’s eyes with her hands, turning him to face Charles. “I have a surprise for you, Reidy.”

“What?” He squirms. “What is it?”

“More like who is it?” Hannah says, and Reid gasps.

“Chucky?” He asks, and Chris is grinning at Charles, adjusting her hands over the boy’s eyes so one hand covers them both. With the other hand, she pokes Reid’s side right where he’s ticklish and makes him giggle.

“Who?” She asks, his belly laugh making her laugh, too.

“Sharles!” Reid exclaims, breathless from laughing so hard. “Sha-rle,” He laughs out, enunciating the poorly mocked accent.

“Wrong,” Chris says, and then takes her hand off his eyes to reveal Charles.

Reid is slamming into Charles’ legs before he can even squat down to give the kid a proper hug, settling for just hugging his legs. “You comed!” He cheers.

“Come on, Mate!” Charles says, ruffling the little boy’s hair. “You didn’t think I would miss such an important birthday?”

Chris watches the whole interaction with a giddy smile on her face. Hannah watches, too, while she stirs a crock pot full of nacho cheese. Reid fills Charles in on everything that’s happened to him since Charles left, and is already asking if Charles wants to go play catch outside with the football he’s gotten from his dad earlier that week, on his actual birthday. When Hannah slides behind Chris, between her body and the cabinets, muttering a quick behind you and grabbing a ladle from a drawer, she gives Chris’ shoulder a soft squeeze.

– – –

Chris is MIA when Bill and Cindy turn up, arms full of food and gifts for their only grandchild, but Charles is in the backyard, standing around a smoking fire pit with Chase and Reid and other people he remembers meeting from the wedding, but who’s names he wouldn’t be able to remember if there was a gun held to his temple.

Bill and Cindy wander out shortly after they arrive, looking for the birthday boy, and Charles handles the introductions all by himself—a handshake to Dad, a compliment to Mom, and hugs for both of them. He knows how to charm. Knows he’s going to be working at it for a while, probably. He’s more than willing to put in the hours.

“I didn’t know you were comin’, son,” Bill says, and Charles is nodding, hands in his jacket pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Yeah, it was a kind of… last minute choice.”

“Aw,” Cindy hums. “What a sweetheart. How long are you in town for?”

“Just a couple days,” he explains. “Chris is off work this week, but I have to get to Bahrain in a couple days. Get used to the timezone and everything.”

“Ah,” Bill nods. “Season’s starting up again, that right?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “It never stops, it feels like,” and Bill nods.

“Don’t I know it, boy.”

“Is Chrissy planning on coming out to any of your races?” Cindy asks, linking her arm through Bill’s, leaning against him around the fire. “I know she told us that y’all are keeping it pretty hush-hush for now.”

“Eventually, I hope she can,” he says. “I don’t want to have her come if she doesn’t feel comfortable.”

Cindy nods, smiling to herself. “Smart answer, honey,” she says, and Bill laughs. “You’re a good egg.” Charles chuckles softly, if only because he doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s been called a lot of things over the years, but good egg might be a new one.

Just then, Chris is pushing open the sliding door on the back deck, stepping out with her coat on, the hood pulled up over her head, her hands hidden in the sleeves. “Well, speak of the Devil,” Bill says, greeting his daughter with a tight hug.

“Uh oh,” Chris laughs, following suit with a hug for her mom, too. “Y’all are talking about me?”

He’s come to learn that her accent is never anywhere as strong as it is when she's around family. He’s familiar with the pattern of it, and does the same thing after long breaks away from speaking English or Italian. It takes a while to settle back into translating your thoughts. He thinks it’s probably pretty similar, even if she’s not translating from another language. He thinks it’s cute, when the southern twang gets extra prominent. It’s cute, and it’s sweet, and she sounds like a movie character sometimes.

She slots into her comfortable position at Charles’ side, and his arm is tossing itself over her shoulder before he even realizes it’s happening. It’s habit, almost, to keep her close. “Always,” he says.

– – –

They’re cute and annoyingly couple-ey all night. He doesn’t care if she’s related to or friends with almost everyone here, he’s never not amazed at just how easily she can find home in any conversation. Sometimes he wonders if he looks as awestruck about it as he feels, watching her put on this masterclass with everyone she talks to—from passing, brief conversations about how good Hannah’s food is and how old Reid is getting, to the long, sit-down chats about work and her life and their lives. It’s so crystal clear that she makes everyone feel important—the most important person in the room—and he;s even starting to remember names.

There’s a lot of names to remember.

There’s nobody that feels quite as important to Chris as Charles does, though, he’s sure of it. In fact, he’s not sure there’s another person on Earth that could manage to make a social event into something so… recharging for him. She just radiates energy, truly. It’s in the atmosphere, just being in her proximity, just having an arm around her or their fingers intertwined or the smell of her perfume on his clothes is enough.

He loves her so horribly that he’s almost sick with it. He’s biting his tongue all night. Hell, he’s even trying to talk himself out of the now months old revelation.

Like, she drinks wine from a fucking box. A box. Of wine. And she sees absolutely no problem with it. She wants to drag him around to every person, to engage in every conversation. She changed her perfume or her shampoo or her laundry detergent or something, because she smells different than the last time he was with her. She drives like an elderly woman—Jesus fucking Christ, she takes the speed limit so seriously it’s hard to sit in the passenger seat and let it happen. She cried three times on the way from Atlanta. Three times, because she saw some roadkill that wasn't even identifiable, and couldn’t stop thinking about it. She’s covered in glitter, like, all the time. And so is her stuff. It’s on her face and her hands and her clothes and every surface of her house. Glitter and spelling tests and like, six variations of the same travel coffee mug. She listens to country music as if it’s the only genre of music that exists, and she listens to it all the time. He doesn’t love her. He doesn’t. If he did, he wouldn't have been able to keep it in for so long.

He doesn’t love her, and then she laughs and he can feel it in his fucking gut, feels the urge to laugh even when he doesn’t get the joke, even when he misses entirely what is making her so happy. He wants to laugh because she’s laughing and her laugh makes the world a better place and he loves her so bad it hurts.

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hazybisou · 10 months

Text

STALKING IS ILLEGAL KID! | LUKE HUGHES

pairing: f!reader x luke hughes

overview: week 1: luke tries to get y/n to agree to go on a date with him (as if she doesn’t know who he is and the reputation he and the team holds throughout umich) despite her suspicions against the whole scenario.

o. i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. au masterlist

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

she felt weird.

everywhere she went, there was always someone (or more) watching. y/n didn’t know why, she just simply chose to ignore it.

so as she made her way out of the library , she couldn’t help but notice a group of guys looking at her from a table in the corner. they turned their heads away as soon as she looked at them. she’s seen their faces around campus. she knew who they were. so why did she ignore them? simple. y/n knew better than to get involved with umich hockey team.

jess had told her about the people she should and shouldn’t be near. one of them including the whole team. it wasn’t anything bad but it was more of a “unless-you-want-to-deal-with-those-idiots-and-their-ways-i-suggest-you-stay-away” type of talk.

y/n couldn’t help but feel annoyed and roll her eyes. this has been going on for the past few days. one of them was always staring her down as she walked by. she was sick of it.

she stood there for a minute thinking of her next decision and if it would be wise and careful. “i’m sick of this shit so fuck it.” she whispered to herself.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

the four boys didn’t notice she had caught them. they were too engrossed in their own conversation (revolving around her obviously) to even look up. they had been coming up for a way for luke to ask her out or somewhat get to know her.

for the past 5 days, ever since the party, that’s all they’ve been doing. planning. scheming. plotting. whatever you wanna call it, it’s all they’ve doing.

“what if you like accidentally bump into her.” dylan suggested with a shrug. “it’s cliche but it could work.”

luke just shook his head. “no way is that happening.” he sighed. “this is pointless. we’ve ran out of ideas. i mean it’s already bad enough i agreed to doing this shit but-”

he got interrupted.

“can i help you?”

they four looked up to find the girl staring down at them.

“i’m sorry?” mark questioned.

“well considering the fact that you’ve been staring at me for a while now, you tell me.” she remarked.

luke cringed and closed his eyes as he realized they had all been caught. they didn’t mean to stare, really they hadn’t, but they did. maybe it was curiosity that got the best of them.

“oh we weren’t-”

she just laughed. “you weren’t what? looking? you know i’m starting to think you all have a problem with me or something.”

everyone somehow turned to look at luke for a second. he just gave them a look in return as to say ‘what?’.

“jess was right. you guys are weird.”

that had confirmed their assumptions. she was jess’s new roommate.

mackie asked, “you know jess?”

she nodded. “she’s my roommate. who has told me what i need to know.”

luke perked up at that statement. “what exactly has she told you?”

“wouldn’t you like to know?” dylan leaned over and said in a low voice so only luke could hear.

luke elbowed him in the rib. “shut the hell up.” he responsed in a whisper before turning back towards the girl.

“not much. just how you’re all self centered dickheads who think way too highly of themselves and need an ego check. you know, the small things.”

fucking jess.

mark turned to her. “do you believe her?”

“i’m starting too.” she said. she was about to turn around before pausing and looking back at them. “don’t let me catch you staring again. it’s creepy.” with that, she turned and walked off towards the entrance.

“bro, go talk to her.” mackie suggested as he gestured to the girl who was walking away.

luke quickly got up and began to jog over in order to catch up to her. he began to slow down as he was right behind her. “hey.”

she paused. “what do you want now?” she turned around and crossed her arms.

“i just wanted to um-i wanted to ask if-can i have your number?” luke got out.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows at the question. “yeah no. especially after what just happened back there.” she took a step. “and i don’t even know your name.”

you idiot. who asks for a girls number without giving them your name first?? she already thinks you’re weird.

is what luke thought to himself as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“it’s luke.”

“maybe next time, luke.”

and with that, she walked away.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

it was a thursday morning and y/n was out, shopping at a strip mall. she and jess had decided to look for new clothes for the spring that was to come in two months.

“hey jess, how about this?” y/n said as she held up a navy blue halter top that had a lace trim to her body.

she turned around to hoping to find jess.

she didn’t.

rather she were met with luke’s tall, lanky, figure.

“i think it looks great.” he responded, a hand in his pocket while the other was pointing to the top. “although i’m sure i’m not the person you were hoping to ask.”

“nooooo, really?” y/n said, sarcasm obviously laced in her voice.

luke smiled and nodded his head.

“where is jess?” she asked as she started to look around, hoping to get out of this situation.

“i don’t know. she saw me and waved and wondered off.” he shrugged.

“thanks, that was very helpful.”

“i know right. i’m such great help.”

“asshole.” she whispered to herself.

“what was that? i couldn’t quite hear you.” luke questioned as he leaned down to her height and put a hand behind his ear, signifying he was listening. she didn’t know why but she somehow found that attractive.

“nothing.” she quickly replied. luke had a smug look on his face. “move, i’m going to find jess.” she muttered as she pushed past luke and began to walk to a different aisle she thought (hoped) jess would be in.

luke stood there, dumbfounded, before he turned around and began to walk with her. “you know we should hang out. grab dinner, talk, get to know each other..” he trailed off and y/n just scoffed and turned around.

“why are you talking to me?” the girl suddenly inquired.

luke was taken aback.

“what?”

“why are you talking me?” she repeated. “i mean i don’t even know you, apart from the fact that your name is luke and you play for the school’s hockey team, but other than that, i don’t, i’m literally talking to a stranger right now.”

luke half smiled. “since when is talking to a pretty girl like yourself, illegal?”

she shouldn’t have blushed at that comment but she did any way. luke seemed to have noticed as he let out a small chuckle.

“that still didn’t answer my question.” she quipped back.

“well, i want to get to know you. i saw you one day and couldn’t help but think, ‘god, she’s beautiful’ so why not talk to you?”

y/n rolled her eyes. “you’re a weird dude, you know that?” he smiled sheepishly.

“i’m gonna go find jess.” she said. “hopefully the next time i see you, it’s when we’re out of college.” she told him as she walked away, a small sway in her hips.

luke stood there, a smile on his face before he turned around to exit the store.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

the next day, y/n was at work at a local diner across the street from campus. she had an afternoon shift from 5:30 pm to 10:00 pm. pop had asked her if she could close the diner which she had agreed to. so here she stood, bent over slightly, as she wiped down the booth table at the end of the aisle of booths.

the lyrics to an old song from the 70’s came form the jukebox on the opposite end of the diner and had reached their way to her ears. she had began to sing the lyrics quietly to herself.

there was only a couple, a regular who was a sweet old man named tom, and her co-worker, pop (also known as the owner of the diner) left. he was 52 years old and was still running the place. in y/n’s eyes, he’s a second father to her. he always took care of her and had great advice.

she suddenly heard the bell above the door ring, signaling someone had walked in. although closing time wasn’t until 10:00, she had decided to start getting the place ready for close up time by wiping the countertops and tables.

“sorry, we’re closed.” she announced to whoever had walked in, not even bothering to look up y the table.

“doesn’t seem like it to me.” an, oh, so familiar voice said.

y/n paused her movements as she looked up from where she was busy cleaning, to find the infamous luke hughes, standing at the entrance.

y/n put the rag over her shoulder and walked towards the counter, getting behind it to take luke’s order. “stalking is illegal ya know?” she stated. “no matter where i am, you’re always right behind me.”

luke just rolled his eyes and scoffed as he took a seat on the barstool closest to her. “i’m not stalking you.”

“then how’d you figure out where i work?” she responded as she closed the cashier.

“don’t worry about it.” he waved off.

y/n squinted at him. “you asked jess, didn’t you?”

“no.”

she gave him a raised eyebrow.

“maybe.”

y/n groaned and just grabbed her notepad she used to take orders. “well you’re here now, might as well take your order. what can i get for you?” she asked as she put on a fake smile.

“i’ll take two vanilla milkshakes, please.” luke said and she wrote his order down.

y/n looked up from notepad. “is that all?” she asked the boy. he nodded his head and y/n ripped the paper out. “i’ll be back with your shakes.”

she walked over towards the small window that looked into the kitchen. “order in pop!” she exclaimed as she slid the paper over to the man who took it and began to look at it.

“two vanilla milkshakes? for that lonely fella?” pop questioned as he looked over to luke who was looking around. “is he your boyfriend or somethin’?”

“i barely know the kid. we’ve only talked twice.” y/n said as she held up two fingers.

pop just shook his head and smiled. “he seems like a good kid.”

“i guess. you know he asked me out the other day?” pop raised his eyebrows in amusement. she laughed. “i don’t know. he just did.”

“and you said no?”

“well yeah. what am i supposed to say? you can’t know someone for two days and ask them out. that’s weird.” y/n stated. “and not very proper.”

“he probably likes you.” pop suggested.

“la la la la la la! no! don’t go there!” she told him as she pointed a finger at him. “no.”

he just laughed before he backed up slightly. “i’ll be back with your order.” he said. “for now..go talk to him.” y/n just shook her head.

she walked back to the counter and got to work. tom had paid already, but he had decided to stay for a little longer. she looked over and noticed he had begun to grab the newspaper and his bag. he got up and walked towards the counter. “i’ll see you tomorrow tom?”

“sadly, no. charlotte’s coming down from wisconsin for her birthday.” he replied back with a smile on his face at the mention of his granddaughter.

“oh tell her i said happy birthday.”

“i will. goodbye, y/n.” he waved towards the girl.

“bye tom!” y/n waved back as he left the building, the bell ringing.

she went back to the cashier as the couple came up to pay for their food. she handed them their cash before waving goodbye as they also exited, the bell ringing once again.

“so i was thinking,” luke started.

“i forgot you were still here.”

luke just shushed her. “as i was saying, i was thinking of heading to the beach tomorrow.” luke continued. “and i was wondering if you wanted to come with me? that way we can get to know each other.”

“luke seriously, what is it with you and trying to get me to go somewhere with you?” y/n stated.

“what? you don’t trust me?” luke asked.

“it’s not that i don’t trust you, which i don’t, it’s just that we’ve only known each other for two days and you already want to take me out when i don’t even know you.”

“well then this is your chance to get to know me better.” luke explained.

“you won’t give up till i say yes, will you?”

“mhm.”

“no.” she bluntly answered.

“oh, come on y/n! let me get to know you. learn more about you. you seem like a nice person. it’s obvious from the way you are with strangers and customers.” he whined.

“it’s called having manners.”

“please? just one time.”

“if i say yes to going, will you leave me alone?”

luke perked up at the question. “yes! i promise! you just say yes and i’ll leave you alone afterwards if you want me to.”

“promise?”

“promise. i’ll even lock pinkys with you.” he replied.

“okay.” y/n said.

“okay? as in you’ll go with me tomorrow?” he repeated.

she nodded. “okay, as in i’ll go with you tomorrow as long as you leave me alone later.”

a big smile appeared on luke’s face. “thank you! you’re the best.” he exclaimed before he got up and took his wallet out. he pulled out a twenty before placing it on the counter.

she grabbed it and held it up. “what the hell?”

“for the milkshakes.” he explained.

“oh.”

“okay i’ll uh, i’ll see you tomorrow.” he rushed out before he turned around and began to walk towards the door before he suddenly paused and turned around. “i need your number.”

“oh.” y/n muttered. “um, give me your phone.” she said as she stuck out her hand. he fished his phone out of his pocket before unlocking it and handing it to her. she opened his contacts and added a new contact before typing her number in. “here. text me which one, and at what time.”

“ok i will. bye!” he rushed out. “oh and by the way, you look cute in your uniform.” he told her before turning around and leaving the diner, a slight breeze making its way in.

y/n felt her face get hot and she couldn’t help but smile before it quickly disappeared, reminding herself to not get excited over a boy.

“order is served.” pop said as he placed two milkshakes on the windowsill.

“sorry pop, he just left. but at least he payed his debts.” y/n stated as she held up the twenty dollar bill before placing it back on the countertop.

pop just smiled. “free milkshake?” he said as he held on up towards her.

a smile crept up onto her face. “duh. let me just lock the door.”

so like this is probably the most i’ve ever written in general which is fun. this took me like 8 days to write and it honestly sucks BOOTY!! but like it’s 1 in the morning right now and i’m low on energy so it makes sense? i think. also next chapter is js gonna be the beach “date”?? and some other stuff so be prepared for that. now i will be going to sleep bc i have to deal with children tmrw morning starting at 8:30. (why did i agree to helping out with summer school?? i don’t even know y) goodnight lovelies 🫶🫶

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #nj devils #new jersey devils #nhl #college hockey #umich hockey #umich boys #mackie samoskevich #dylan duke #mark estapa #isa’s works #love to be told au

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ellavatorz · 1 year

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Fear Me || c.b. x reader

prompt: Colby is there for you when the Stanley hotel becomes too much.

tw/cw: violence, angst-y(?), mainly cute protective colby.

photo is not mine, found on Pinterest

a/n: this is for @tealeyewonder, ty for requesting this! it was fun to write & I hope you enjoy <3

It wasn’t long after you all had arrived that shit began to happen. In fact, it took exactly five minutes into filming for Amanda, Mackie and yourself to begin hesitating in proceeding with the investigation.

The guys—per usual—begged for you all to stick around just “a little longer!” And so here you five were; vibrating with adrenaline and high off of the aura that the hotel room reeked in.

“Colbs, I’m serious. Are you sure we should continue?” you and colby are isolated from the others, pressed against the entrance, just outside of the shared—and one of the infamously haunted—room 428.

He reaches a hand into your hair and tugs a lock behind your ear, breaking the silence with a gentle and monosyllabic “it’s fine.”

With an eye roll, you shovel your hands into the depths of your jacket’s pockets and drill your gaze into him. Seemingly prepared for your rebuke, Colby proceeds with a cautionary voice.

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? It’ll just be for a few more hours and then if you really want to, we can find another hotel nearby and book it. Free of ghosts, alright?”

Sighing in defeat, you settle for his reassurance and choose to remain as calm as you can for the rest of the night in the hotel—albeit still littered with deafening ghost trails and paranormal activity.

Colby’s voice resonates around the room as he recites an excerpt from some sort of yelp review left by previous guests of the hotel. The girls and yourself huddle together in front of where he sits on the mattress, watching and listening intently.

“It’s said for a male entity to lean over female guests and..” he quirks a brow and chuckles before continuing, “tries to kiss them.”

“What?” You blurt, eyes enlarging in size before the other two girls are laughing. “Naughty ghosts!” You say jokingly.

“Maybe we should dress up as girls tonight?” Colby jokes, and you all begin to feel the air purify it’s way into peace as you continue.

Suddenly, you all decide to move toward the lone, dark and eerie corners of the Hotel, the staircase which is known for its Vortex.

There, Amanda retells a memory of having imagined an entity following Colby around. Shocked, you latch onto his arm and give him a shake.

“Shit, you’re gonna attract all the ghosts tonight!”

His face replicates mortification as the rest of you laugh cheerfully, silently wishing for the idea of your boyfriend having an attachment to fall through.

“There’s definitely someone here already but I can’t make out who it is exactly. They keep hiding behind the handrails.” Amanda states, pointing at the solid fixture just behind you and Colby. Mackey agrees with a hum and drags her gaze elsewhere.

“It feels.. strange.” You murmur, looking at yourself in the reflection of the mirrors. Colby appears behind you, circling your waist with his arms and smiling contently.

“Oh definitely, but look at how cute we look!”

“Colby.” You smack at his shoulder. “Really?”

“What? It’s true.”

“Alright I say we move back to the room and get some footage of the rem pod.” Sam appears from behind you two and the group agrees.

“Great,” colby says after he’s finished setting up the equipment. “Again, if anything comes and touches this device it’ll light up and make a bunch of noise.”

You all nod in understanding, deciding to stand a good distance away from the footing of the bed where the device lies. Instantly, the REM Pod goes off, the red light shining along with it.

“Hello?” Sam greets, mouth wide open in shock. “Do you recognize us? We’ve been here before..”

“Nah, he only cares about girls, man!” Colby jokes, though the device begins sounding off. The girls and yourself move back, stunned at the reaction.

“Holy shit, did it just agree with what you said?” You look over to Colby in surprise. He nods, just as startled as you.

“Do you like girls? Kissing them?” You ask, biting your lip in anxiousness.

The device goes off.

“Do you like us being here?” Amanda asks.

It’s silent.

The five of you share a look before Sam continues. “Can you do something to show us who you are? Are you Flora?”

You room stills, air suddenly thickening with something akin to a suffocating material being held against your face. You blanch are the feeling, trying your best to shake it off until there’s a bang just inches behind you.

The five of you turn in fear and you immediately dart to Colby’s side, feeling an intense amount of pressure in your head. “Okay guys, my head is seriously killing me.”

Mackie gasps, pointing a finger in your direction while moving closer to you. Colby wraps an arm around your middle, turning you to face him as he analyzes your features.

“Your nose is bleeding,” he notes aloud and you frown. “Are you okay?”

“No I just—I don’t know? I felt weird and then the noise happened.” You explain, holding a napkin to your nose that Mackie had gotten for you. Sam brings the camera close to your face, to which you scowl at.

“Dude, give me space will you?” You mutter and Sam apologizes, moving away and pointing the camera towards the other girls instead.

Colby worries his lip, chewing at the skin with a drive to settle his concern. You pat his shoulder, reassuring him that you’re fine.

The series of questions continue but still, your headache worsens and the air doesn’t feel any lighter.

“Did you follow us from somewhere else?” Sam questions. There’s a pregnant pause before the device begins going off. You make eye contact with Amanda as she steps forward to shut off the device.

“That’s enough,” she states firmly, eyeing the duo before requesting the cameras to be turned off. Sam agrees begrudgingly, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress along with Colby and Mackie. You and Amanda stand close, her hand wrapping around your wrist protectively.

“I don’t feel safe here anymore. I think we should take a break.” She says and Colby tilts his head, brows furrowed.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“There’s something here and I don’t want to talk about it.” Amanda huffs, looking towards the door. You distribute your weight from one foot to another anxiously.

“Maybe we could come back later? Let’s just take a breather outside—“

“Y/N, what’s on your arm?” Sam ponders and reaches to bring you closer to the flashlight.

You look down and notice a slew of thinly sourced abrasions on your forearm. “What the hell?”

“This isn’t right, we have to go.” Amanda urges, to which you all hurriedly concur, rushing for escape.

It’s when you’re one foot out of the door that you’re suddenly shoved and sent crashing into Colby’s back. Being the last one out, you physically startle and feel your hands beginning to tremble.

“I just—it just pushed me,” you stammer, eyes darting behind you to where the door to the room is shut. Amanda pulls you in close and recites a quick prayer before pulling you into her embrace.

After everything that had happened to you, Colby had had enough. His body began to boil with a protective instinct as he rushed back into the room, heart slamming against his chest.

“I dont care who you are or what you are, but you have no right to touch us. I didn’t give you permission and you sure as fucking hell don’t deserve it. You can’t follow us home and you better not follow us to any other location either.” He sneered, voicing his thoughts aloud to a visibly empty room.

“Colby,” Sam tries, placing a hand on his shoulder in attempt to pull him out, only to be shaken off and ignored when Colby continues.

“You could’ve touched me, hurt me, or whatever the fuck— but you touched Y/N and that’s where I draw the line. Get your disgusting ghoul fucking hands off of them and don’t ever touch them again.”

Staggering back with a winded breath, Colby returns to your side and holds you tightly between his arms. You reciprocate the action and try to smile, though it comes out as more of a lopsided grin.

“Thank you, colby.” You manage to utter from where he holds you against his chest. He sighs, clearly affected by your experience. You nudge him off gently before pulling him along with the rest of the group; moving to the entrance of the hotel without hesitation and making a beeline to the car.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you,” Colby murmurs once you’ve all packed into Sam’s rented vehicle. You and Colby sit thigh to thigh in the farthest pair of seats. “I promised I would.”

“Colby, it isn’t your fault. Amanda didn’t even know what it was, so seriously.. you couldn’t have known that was going to happen.” You ease his worry with a hand to his leg, rubbing miscellaneous shapes into the fabric of his jeans.

“I just wish it didn’t happen that way. I wanted this to be fun for you. And.. and I was hoping we could’ve had a small investigation together at some point in the night.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess this was Colby’s attempt at convincing you that he’s fine. However, you know him all too well to know that his facade is weakening with every thought that washes through him. The pout in his voice is nearly visible before you’re leaning in to place a kiss to his cheek. Pulling his gaze to you by gripping his chin gently, you smile at him.

The soft look he shares with you is enough for you to see just how much love he holds for you in the blue ocean of his eyes. Inviting yourself to dive into him, you lean your head against his shoulder and pull his arm closer.

“You don’t always have to be the hero, Colby. I know you love and care about me, but there’s always going to be things that you just can’t protect me from.” You say, and feel his weight drop to comfort. Smiling to yourself, you squeeze his hand.

“I love you, and thank you for bringing me along today. Despite it all, I enjoyed my time spent hunting ghosts.. just.. maybe next time we won’t visit a spirit who seems to have it out for girls who are taken, hm?”

At that, Colby chuckles. His fingers intertwine with yours impossibly tighter and he leans down to kiss the crown of your head.

“I love you too. And I promise I won’t put you in any more danger. No more mean grumpy ghosts. Maybe just the creepy kid ones.”

“Sick, no.” Sam calls from the front of the car, and you all laugh.

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