Authors note: this started as a “she drives his truck for one day” idea and somehow turned into colston deciding her entire car future without asking a single extra question 😭 also I have this long sitting, and I mentioned it in my wip, and it has been requested. sorry it just took this long!
i just really like the concept of Colst being softly overprotective in a way that looks like control but is actually just worry he doesn’t know how to hold gently yet.
also yes she is still a passenger princess. that was never up for debate.
if you’re here for slow tension, slightly unhinged mechanics, and a man who thinks “me approved” is a normal purchasing requirement… welcome.
i hope this felt like warm hands on a steering wheel that’s slightly too big for you.
Photo credits: Pinterest
Dividers credits: @cursed-carmine and @saradika-graphics
Tag list: @mrs-delaney and @willowpains
Her hands don’t quite fit the steering wheel.
Or maybe it’s the other way around—
like the truck is too big, too loud, too everything for someone who’s only ever driven smaller, easier cars.
It hums under her touch, a deep, steady growl that makes her feel… out of place.
She adjusts in the seat again, sinking lower like that’ll somehow help.
“Okay,” she mutters to herself, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “You’ve got this. You driven cars before. It’s just a car. It’s just… a very large, very intimidating…car.”
The engine idles.
Waiting. Judging, probably.
She presses the gas too softly at first, and the truck barely moves—like it’s humoring her. Then she pushes a little more, and the acceleration is immediate. Too immediate.
“Okay—okay—easy—” she breathes, shoulders tensing as the truck lurches forward more than she expects.
Somewhere behind her, Colston’s voice echoes in her head.
“Don’t overthink it. Just feel it.”
Right. Easy for him to say. He drives this thing like it’s an extension of himself. Meanwhile, she feels like she’s piloting a small aircraft with zero training.
Her phone buzzes in the cupholder. She glances down.
Colston: Where are you?
Of course he knows something’s off.
She exhales, typing back with one hand while keeping the other glued to the wheel.
Ready to drive off. Don’t hover.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Colston: That’s exactly what I’m doing. Are you okay?
She huffs a laugh despite herself, easing her grip just a little.
It’s fine. I’m fine. The truck is just… huge.
A pause.Then—
Colston: Pull over if you’re not comfortable, or wait an I’ll drive you.
Her jaw tightens slightly at that.
Not because he’s wrong. Because he’s slightly right. But she’s not going to turn around now. Not when she’s already this far in, sitting in the car, ready to leave.
I’m okay. See ya later, love ya.
Another pause. Longer this time.
Then—
Colston: Call me if anything feels off. Love you too, be safe.
Her chest warms a little at that. Even if she can practically hear the underlying tension in those words.
She sets the phone down and focuses back on the road, carefully adjusting speed, lane, mirrors—everything at once feeling a little too big, a little too much.
But she’s doing it. One mile at a time.
Meanwhile— Colston is already halfway out the door.
Her car sits in his driveway, keys in his hand, jaw tight as he looks it over like it personally offended him.
“I don’t like you,” he mutters under his breath.
The engine clicks on third try when he turns it on.
He frowns harder.
“Yeah… no. You are old. Hope you are done.”
He drives it to the mechanic himself, every instinct in him on edge the entire time. Not because the car is bad, exactly—but because it’s not safe enough for her. It’s old and has problems.
And that’s the only thing that matters. It’s not safe enough.
When he gets there, the mechanic barely has a chance to speak, before Colston’s already asking the questions.
“How bad is it?”
The mechanic scratches the back of his neck. “Honestly? By the sound? It’s not great.”
Colston exhales slowly through his nose.
“Define ‘not great.’”
A pause.
Then— “Let me look at it.”
Back in the truck, she finally manages to relax her shoulders just a little.
Just enough to feel like maybe—maybe—this isn’t as impossible as it felt ten minutes ago.
The road stretches ahead. Wide and open.
Still a little intimidating. But she’s getting used to it.
And somewhere later and miles away, Colston is staring at a car that might not be worth fixing at all—thinking about her behind the wheel of something that is big but safe.
The mechanic doesn’t even try to sugarcoat it.
He leans over the hood, wiping his hands on a rag like he’s already accepted what’s coming next.
Colston stands a few steps away, arms crossed, jaw tight.
“So,” he says, voice low. “How bad are we talking?”
The mechanic exhales, glancing at the car like it personally disappointed him.
“Honestly?” He gestures loosely toward it. “I’m surprised you made it here.”
Colston’s brows knit.
“…excuse me?”
“Yeah,” the guy nods, like he’s not joking. “This thing? It’s held together by hope and, I don’t know—pure willpower.”
Colston doesn’t respond. Just stares at the car.
Because he knows.
He knows how often she drove it, more like not. How careful she was. How she’d check everything twice, sometimes three times, just to make sure it was fine.
“Engine’s been struggling for a while, clearly,” the mechanic continues, crouching down to inspect something underneath. “Transmission’s worn out. Suspension’s shot. You fix one thing, two more are gonna go.”
Colston runs a hand over his mouth.
“Can it be repaired?”
The mechanic lets out a short laugh—no humor in it.
“Technically? Yeah. You could rebuild it.”
Colston raises an eyebrow.
“But?”
“But you’re not gonna want to hear this.” The man stands again, shaking his head. “It would cost you more than the car’s worth. Way more. You’d be throwing money into something that’s just… done.”
Silence.
Colston looks at the car again.
Old. Familiar.
Hers.
“…so it’s not worth fixing,” he says quietly.
“No.”
That single word lands harder than anything else.
And weirdly? Colston feels… relief.
Because the thought of her behind the wheel of this thing again—on a bad road, in bad weather, with something already on the edge—
No. Just no.
But then—
The relief twists.
Because this wasn’t just a car.
His gaze softens slightly, just for a second.
He remembers her telling him about it once.
How it was the first thing she ever bought with her own money. How it got her through everything after her mom died.
How she used to sit in it when things were too loud inside her head.
“It’s mine,” she had said, voice small but certain. “No one else’s.”
And Colston had respected that.
Even when he didn’t like the car.
Even when he quietly insisted on driving her everywhere instead, everywhere.
Even when he’d side-eye it every time she turned the key like it was a ticking time bomb.
But his grip tightens slightly at his sides as he steps back from the car.
By the time he’s sitting in a uber later, they keys from her car feel heavier than they should.
He sits there for a moment.
Just… thinking.
About how she’ll react when she finds out.
About how she’ll probably say she’s fine without a car.
About how she’ll insist she can just borrow his is necesary.
And maybe she can.
But the image of her in his truck earlier flickers in his mind.
No. Not that.
Not her being uncomfortable just to avoid getting something new.
Not her risking anything just because she doesn’t want to spend money. She should have freedom to do whatever she wants, to go where she wants.
His jaw tightens again.
“I’m not letting her exist without a car,” he mutters to himself.
Back at home, the house is quiet.
But Colston isn’t.
He’s already thinking about it.
Planning it, running through options.
Safer. Easier.
Smaller, maybe—but still strong. Reliable. Something that won’t fail her.
Something that will take care of her the way she deserves.
Because that car?
Will be here for her future.
And he’s not about to let her drive anything that isn’t safe.
The truck rolls into the driveway a little later than planned.
Not late-late. Just… later enough that she’s had time to go from nervous beginner driver to slightly less terrified beginner driver.
She even parks it without almost crying once, which honestly feels like a win worth celebrating, sits there for a second after turning off the engine.
Hands still on the wheel. Just breathing.
“Okay,” she says quietly to herself. “That was… actually not a disaster.”
Outside, the world is normal again. Birds, wind, the faint sound of someone mowing a lawn somewhere down the street.
She reaches for her phone.
No new messages.
Colston must already be at the house.
That thought settles her a little.
She unbuckles, swings the door open, and steps out—stretching her shoulders like she’s been holding her breath for an hour. The truck feels less like a monster now and more like… just a very large inconvenience she survived.
She locks it out of habit, then pauses.
And that’s when she notices it.
The driveway looks… empty in a way it shouldn’t.
Her little car isn’t there. She blinks.
Slowly looks left. Then right.
Nothing.
“…okay,” she murmurs. “That’s weird.”
At first it’s harmless confusion. Maybe Colston moved it. Maybe he parked it somewhere else in the driveway because it was blocking something. Maybe—
Her stomach tightens slightly before she even knows why.
Because there’s no way he left it a mechanics, it just needed a maintenance..
She walks up toward the house, keys still in hand, trying to ignore the small, rising feeling in her chest.
The front door is unlocked. Of course it is. Colston is here. She pushes it open.
“Hello?” she calls out.
Silence.
Then— A sound from deeper inside the house. Movement. Something being set down.
She steps in further, slowly now.
“Colston?”
No answer at first.
Then his voice, calm, like he’s just walking in from the garage.
“Yeah, baby? I’m here.”
She follows it. And finds him in the kitchen.
Completely normal. Too normal. Like nothing in the world has shifted.
He’s washing his hands at the sink, sleeves pushed up, hair still slightly damp like he’s already showered from work or the gym or the facility—whatever his day was supposed to be.
But something in his posture is different, like he’s thinking too much.
Her eyes narrow slightly.
“Where’s my car?” she asks.
There’s a beat, just one.
Colston turns off the water slowly.
Drying his hands on a towel like he’s buying time.
Then he looks at her. And she knows immediately.
Before he even speaks.
“It’s at the mechanics,” he says.
Her brows pull together. “Still? Why?”
His jaw shifts once.
“Because it needs to be.”
She takes a step closer.
“…what does that mean?”
Colston exhales through his nose, leaning back slightly against the counter.
“It means it’s not safe anymore.”
Her stomach drops a little.
She doesn’t respond right away.
Because she already knows what’s coming next, and she doesn’t want it to be real yet.
“…define not safe.”
He hesitates, just for a second.
Then—honest.
“Not worth fixing, baby.”
Silence.
It lands heavier in the quiet kitchen than it should.
Her fingers curl slightly around his keys.
“That car is fine,” she says, but it comes out weaker than she means it to.
Colston shakes his head once.
“No. It’s not, you know that, hun.”
She looks away.
Because she knows what he’s saying is probably true, but that doesn’t make it easier.
“It got me everywhere I needed to go,” she says quietly.
“I know,” he replies immediately. Softer now. “I know it did.”
That’s the problem.
He pushes off the counter and steps closer—not crowding her, just… grounding the space between them.
“I’m not taking something away from you,” he says carefully. “I’m making sure you’re not driving something that could fail on you when you’re alone.”
Her throat tightens slightly.
“I was fine today.”
“You were in my truck,” he says gently.
He’s right and she hates that he’s right.
She looks up at him now, eyes narrowing just a little.
“So what, I just… don’t have a car anymore?”
Colston pauses.
Not hesitation about her—but already thinking past it.
Already planning.
“I’m figuring it out,” he says.
That doesn’t reassure her.
Instead it makes something in her chest feel even more unsettled.
“Colston…”
He reaches for her hand then. Carefully. Like he’s grounding himself too.
“I’m not letting you be without something safe,” he says quietly. “That’s it.”
Her eyes flick to him.
She’s quiet for a moment.
Not upset anymore. Not exactly.
Just… processing.
Then she lets out a small breath, almost a laugh, but not quite.
“So I’m just… without a car,” she says, like she’s testing how ridiculous it sounds out loud.
Colston doesn’t even hesitate.
“No,” he says immediately, which gets her attention.
He tilts his head slightly, still holding her hand, thumb brushing over her knuckles like it’s automatic for him now.
“You’re not without a car,” he continues. “You’re without that car.”
Then, softer—almost like he’s correcting something obvious.
“And honestly? I’m kind of surprised it was still alive.”
That pulls a real laugh out of her this time. Small, but real.
“Wow,” she mutters. “Thanks.”
He huffs a quiet smile.
“I’m serious,” he says. “That thing sounded like it had opinions every time you turned the key.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling now, tension easing out of her shoulders.
“It got me places,” she says again, quieter this time.
“I know,” Colston replies, and there’s no argument in it. Just understanding.
Then he shifts a little closer, still calm, still grounded.
“But you’re not driving something like that anymore.”
She looks up at him.
“So what, you’re just going to magically produce a new car?”
His mouth twitches.
“I mean,” he says, like it’s obvious, “yeah.”
That makes her pause.
“…you say that like it’s normal.”
“It is,” he replies simply.
She narrows her eyes at him. “Colston., I can’t just buy a new car.”
He sighs like she’s the one being difficult here.
“You’re not dealing with it,” he says simply. “I’ll handle it. We’ll find you something safe. Reliable. Something that actually starts properly.”
She shakes her head slightly, still processing him.
“And I don’t just mean any car,” he adds, more serious now. “I mean one I’m okay with. Me approved.”
That finally gets her.
She snorts. “Me approved?”
“Yeah,” he says without shame. “That’s the standard now.”
She opens her mouth to argue—but it dies halfway. Because he’s not joking.
He squeezes her hand once, softer now.
“I’ll take care of it,” he says quietly. “You just… don’t stress about it, okay?”
She studies him for a second. Then her expression softens.
“…you’re kind of ridiculous,” she says.
“Yeah,” he agrees immediately. “But I’m your ridiculous.”
That lands differently, like it settles the whole room.
She exhales, leaning in just slightly without thinking, forehead almost brushing his chest.
“Fine,” she murmurs. “But I’m naming it.”
Colston lets out a quiet laugh.
“We’ll see,” he says.
She pulls back just enough to look at him again.
“And I get passenger princess rights still.”
He doesn’t even blink.
“Non-negotiable,” he says.
That finally breaks whatever tension was left between them.
She laughs, shaking her head.
“Okay, Colston.”
He leans down a little, brushing a quick kiss to her temple.
“Good,” he says softly. “Now come on. Let’s go look at cars I don’t hate.”
And he says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
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