Fig @wherethefigsfall - Tumblr Blog

Psalm for the unforgivable

Ellie Williams x preachers daughter

An: very much into angst lately

Tw: homophobia , religion v humanity

The first thing Ellie Williams ever noticed about Y/N was the way she prayed.

Not loudly.

Not like the other church kids who folded their hands neatly and spoke their words like rehearsed lines from a play.

Y/N prayed like she was apologizing.

Head bowed low.

Fingers gripping the wooden pew like it might disappear beneath her.

Like if she didn’t hold on tight enough, God might take the ground out from under her feet.

Ellie noticed it every Sunday.

She noticed everything about Y/N.

Y/N was the preacher’s daughter.

Which meant everyone in the church watched her the way people watch stained glass windows—carefully, reverently, expecting perfection.

Her father stood behind the pulpit every Sunday like a man carved out of scripture. His voice filled the church with verses about purity and righteousness and the dangers of straying from the narrow path.

And every time he spoke about sin—

Y/N shrank just a little smaller.

Ellie noticed that too.

They weren’t supposed to talk much.

Not really.

Y/N had responsibilities.

Youth choir.

Sunday school.

Bible study.

Her father always nearby, always watching.

But small moments slipped through the cracks.

Passing each other in the hallway after services.

Standing beside each other during hymn practice.

Once, sitting together on the church steps while the sunset painted the sky gold and red.

That was the first real conversation they ever had.

Y/N stared at the horizon like she was trying to read something written there.

“Do you ever feel like God sees too much?” she asked quietly.

Ellie raised an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that kinda the whole point?”

Y/N gave a soft, humorless laugh.

“Yeah.”

Then she whispered something Ellie almost didn’t hear.

“Sometimes I wish He’d look away.”

Ellie should have walked away from that moment.

She knew it.

Everyone in town knew what it meant to get too close to the preacher’s family.

Expectations.

Judgment.

Rumors.

But Y/N looked so tired when she said it.

Like someone who had been holding her breath for years.

And Ellie had never been very good at walking away from people who looked like they were drowning.

Their friendship grew slowly.

Quietly.

Like something fragile hiding in the shadows.

They spoke in half-whispers behind the church.

They shared looks during long sermons.

Sometimes Ellie would catch Y/N staring at her across the room with an expression that looked like both wonder and fear.

Like Ellie was something beautiful.

Or something dangerous.

Or maybe both.

Ellie didn’t know when the feeling started.

Only that one day she realized she was waiting for Sundays.

Waiting for the moment Y/N would walk through the church doors with sunlight in her hair and that careful, polite smile she wore like armor.

Waiting for the way their eyes would meet.

Waiting for something neither of them were brave enough to name.

Y/N believed in signs.

Ellie didn’t.

But Y/N did.

She said it once while they sat together in the empty chapel after youth group.

“I think God puts people in your life on purpose.”

Ellie scoffed softly.

“Yeah? For what?”

Y/N looked at her then.

Really looked.

Like Ellie was the answer to a question she had been asking her whole life.

“To test you,” she whispered.

Ellie laughed nervously.

“And which one am I?”

Y/N hesitated.

Then said something Ellie would remember forever.

“I’m not sure yet.”

The sermons started changing after that.

More fire.

More warnings.

The preacher’s voice thundered through the chapel about temptation.

About corruption.

About how the devil often disguises himself as things that feel good.

Things that feel comforting.

Things that feel like love.

Every time he spoke those words—

Y/N looked like she might shatter.

Ellie hated it.

Hated the way the church made her shrink into herself.

Hated the way she whispered apologies during prayer like she had committed some terrible crime.

Then one day—

Y/N stopped coming to church.

Just like that.

No warning.

No explanation.

The preacher stood behind the pulpit as usual, delivering his sermons with the same stern certainty.

But the pew beside Ellie stayed empty.

Sunday after Sunday.

Ellie asked once.

“Where’s Y/N?”

The preacher barely glanced at her.

“She’s on a spiritual retreat.”

That was all he said.

A retreat.

It sounded peaceful.

Holy.

Ellie tried to believe that.

But the dreams started soon after.

In the dreams, Y/N appeared the same way every time.

Standing in fields of tall grass.

White dress moving in the wind like something out of a painting.

She would look at Ellie with soft, aching eyes.

Sometimes she smiled.

Sometimes she cried.

Sometimes she reached out like she was trying to cross some invisible barrier between them.

Ellie started waking up with tears on her face.

The dreams felt too real.

Too vivid.

She began to wonder if maybe Y/N had been right all along.

Maybe God did send people to each other.

Maybe the dreams were proof.

Maybe Y/N was reaching for her.

Months passed.

The dreams kept coming.

But slowly they changed.

The fields disappeared.

The sunlight faded.

Y/N started appearing in darker places.

Rooms without windows.

Wooden walls.

Her hair shorter.

Her posture smaller.

Once Ellie heard someone speaking behind her.

A voice that didn’t belong in the dream.

Cold.

Authoritative.

“Again.”

Y/N’s voice trembled.

“I am not sinful.”

Ellie tried to move toward her.

But the dream held her in place.

“Again.”

“I am not sinful.”

Again.

The words sounded like prayer.

But they felt wrong.

Like scripture twisted into something cruel.

Ellie woke up shaking.

Something was wrong.

Something was terribly wrong.

And then one afternoon she overheard two church women whispering outside the grocery store.

“…the preacher sent her away…”

“…those camps fix kids like that…”

“…it’s the best place for girls struggling with unnatural thoughts…”

Ellie felt the air leave her lungs.

Camp.

The word echoed in her head like a gunshot.

Suddenly the dreams made sense.

They weren’t visions.

They were memories.

Pieces of Y/N trapped somewhere far away.

Somewhere people were trying to rewrite her.

Erase her.

Fix her.

That night Ellie didn’t sleep.

She lay awake staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the world outside her window.

Thinking about Y/N kneeling somewhere unfamiliar.

Repeating words someone else had forced into her mouth.

I am not sinful.

Ellie clenched her fists.

Because she knew the truth.

The church said love like theirs was wrong.

Said it was corruption.

Said it was temptation.

But Ellie had never felt anything more sacred.

And somewhere, far away, behind locked doors and scripture-covered walls—

Y/N was probably dreaming of her too.

Salvation.

Religious Ellie x preachers daughter

an: hi I’m back, I wanted to write something about my poem so here you go :)

Ellie Williams had never doubted God.

Faith had always come easy to her. It lived in quiet places — in the hum of hymns echoing through old wooden pews, in the dust-lit beams of stained glass, in the soft hush of a church after everyone else had gone home.

But faith had never been tested like this.

Because the preacher’s daughter sat three pews ahead of her every Sunday.

Ellie tried not to look. She really did. Tried to focus on the sermon, on the worn leather Bible resting in her hands, on the steady rhythm of her own breathing.

But her eyes always wandered back.

To the way sunlight through stained glass spilled across the girl’s hair.

To the careful way she bowed her head when the congregation prayed.

To the quiet softness of her smile that made something deep in Ellie’s chest ache.

It felt wrong.

Not the kind of wrong the preacher thundered about from the pulpit.

But the kind of wrong that made Ellie’s hands tremble when their fingers brushed passing the offering plate.

The kind that made prayer feel heavier than it ever had before.

Ellie had asked God to take it away.

Night after night she knelt beside her bed, whispering apologies into the dark for the way her heart betrayed her whenever the preacher’s daughter looked at her.

But the feeling never left.

If anything, it only grew louder.

And one evening, long after the last hymn had faded and the church had emptied, Ellie sat alone in the quiet sanctuary with a notebook resting on the pew beside her.

The stained glass saints watched from the shadows.

Her hands shook slightly as she picked up the pen.

And slowly, carefully, she began to write.

“Her lips felt like absolution

the closest my wandering soul

has ever strayed towards heaven.

When our breaths braided together

my heart folded in on itself

like a prayer finally heard.

They told me girls like us

were miswritten scripture,

a love the holy books

had no language for.

I carried their warnings

like rosary beads between my ribs

sin, sin, sin-

whispered with every heartbeat.

They promised hell was fire.

But hell is softer than flame.

Hell is the careful distance

between our hands in daylight.

Hell is watching the sun

fall through stained glass

and paint her in sacred colours

while I pretend

I am not already worshipping.

Hell is loving her

with a devotion deeper than prayer

and calling it silence.

Yet when she breathes my name

something ancient stirs

as if heaven is not a kingdom above us

but the quiet cathedral

our bodies build in secret

when her lips find mine

in the dark.

If loving her condemns me

then let the gates close.

Because every time she touches me

the world grows holy

and for one trembling moment

I am forgiven.”

my mean girl

6- is this enough?

Ellie x fem reader - college au

(Rodrina dynamic)

An: thank you for the kind and supportive comments means a great deal to me :)

Ellie didn’t usually stay awake thinking.

She didn’t do the lying-on-her-back-staring-at-the-ceiling thing.

She didn’t obsess.

Not before Y/N.

But tonight, her chest felt tight enough that she couldn’t sleep.

Y/N’s perfume was still in her hoodie.

Her gloss was faintly on Ellie’s mouth.

She’d left Ellie’s dorm two hours ago with a casual, “I’ll text you,” like it meant nothing.

Ellie knew better.

It meant everything.

She’d told a boy she was taken today.

By Ellie.

Ellie kept replaying that moment like a scratched record — the look on Y/N’s face when she said it. Calm. Controlled. Unbothered. Like calling Ellie her girlfriend was the easiest thing in the world.

But Y/N’s friends didn’t know.

No one on campus knew.

Ellie wasn’t allowed to touch her in public, kiss her, hold her hand, or even stand too close without risking suspicion.

She knew what she signed up for.

She knew the difference between them.

Y/N was at the top of the food chain.

Ellie wasn’t even close.

And usually she didn’t care.

Usually she was good at pretending she didn’t want more.

Tonight, she couldn’t pretend.

Her throat felt tight, almost painful.

She grabbed her phone, stared at Y/N’s name.

No message.

She checked again.

Still nothing.

Ellie almost hated how much she wanted her.

⸻

The next morning, campus was loud.

Too loud.

Y/N stood with her usual group by the fountain, laughing at something one of the girls said. Perfect outfit. Perfect hair. Perfect posture. Like yesterday hadn’t happened. Like she hadn’t whispered my girlfriend with her hands shaking.

She saw Ellie walking toward them — not intentionally, Ellie wasn’t stupid — but it was unavoidable. The path funneled right past the fountain.

Y/N’s eyes flicked to Ellie.

Neutral. Sharp. Unreadable.

Ellie nodded once. Barely.

Y/N didn’t respond at all.

Her friends kept talking.

Ellie walked by like she didn’t care.

Like her chest wasn’t burning.

Like she hadn’t spent the entire night thinking about what it would feel like to hold Y/N’s hand in front of everyone.

She wasn’t angry.

She wasn’t petty.

She was scared.

Scared of what it meant that Y/N could just turn it off that fast.

Scared of what she meant to Y/N when no one was watching.

Scared of the question that kept ripping her open:

If people found out.. would Y/N still choose her?

Hours later, Ellie was at her locker, trying — failing — to focus on switching out textbooks. Her hands kept shaking, which annoyed her more than whatever anxiety caused it.

“Ellie?”

Her voice.

Ellie stiffened.

She turned.

Y/N stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly, expression unreadable.

“What?” Ellie said, harsher than intended.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously pissed at me?”

Ellie looked away. “I’m not pissed.”

“You’re obviously pissed.”

“I said I’m not.”

“You’re being weird.”

“You’re always calling me weird.”

“Not like this,” Y/N said sharply. “This is… something else.”

Ellie shut her locker. “Okay. Maybe I don’t want to talk in the hallway where your entire fan club can listen.”

Y/N’s jaw tensed.

“Ellie.”

Her tone dropped — low, warning.

“What is your problem?”

Ellie didn’t raise her voice.

Didn’t get dramatic.

Didn’t explode.

She just said the truth in the quietest voice possible.

“You can call me your girlfriend when it’s convenient… but you can’t even look at me at school.”

Y/N blinked once.

Slow.

Like she hadn’t expected that.

Ellie continued, steady but shaking:

“You acted like you barely knew me this morning.”

“I had to.”

“Why?”

“Because—” Y/N bit the inside of her cheek. “Ellie, you know why.”

“Yeah,” Ellie muttered. “Because of your friends. Because of your reputation. Because you’re perfect and I’m not.”

Y/N stepped forward instantly. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything,” Ellie said. “I’m saying what’s true.”

Y/N’s voice lowered. “You’re making this into something huge when it’s not.”

“It is huge,” Ellie said, finally looking at her. “To me.”

That hit.

Y/N’s breath hitched so lightly most people wouldn’t notice.

But Ellie did.

“I’m with you,” Ellie said quietly. “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m not hiding you. I’m not acting like you’re some phase or—”

“I’m not hiding you,” Y/N snapped.

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Every day.”

Y/N’s eyes hardened.

Not cold — defensive.

“You knew what this was,” she said. “From the start.”

“I didn’t think it would always feel like—”

“Like what?” Y/N demanded.

Ellie clenched her jaw.

Like I’m not enough for you.

But she didn’t say it.

Y/N waited.

Ellie stayed silent.

Suddenly, Y/N looked away — like Ellie had hit the exact nerve she was trying to hide.

“I can’t just…” Y/N shook her head. “I can’t just flip a switch and make everything easier for you.”

“I’m not asking for easy.”

“Then what are you asking for?”

Ellie swallowed hard.

“I want to hold your hand.”

Y/N froze.

Ellie kept going.

“I want to walk next to you without pretending we’re strangers. I want to sit with you at lunch. I want to talk to you when other people are around. I want to look at you without checking who’s watching.”

Y/N’s throat bobbed.

Ellie stepped closer.

“I want to be with you,” she said. “Not just at night. Not just when we’re alone. Not just when no one can see.”

Y/N blinked rapidly, like she didn’t know what to do with that level of truth.

Ellie let out a breath, defeated.

“But I get it. You’re you. I’m me. You’re at the top, I’m at the bottom. We don’t match. We don’t make sense. We—”

“Stop,” Y/N snapped suddenly.

Ellie did.

Y/N wasn’t angry.

She looked… scared.

The same scared Ellie had been hiding all day.

“Don’t you ever say you’re at the bottom,” Y/N said quietly. “Not to me.”

Ellie stared at her.

Y/N took another breath. “And don’t talk like you’re lucky I’m with you.”

“You don’t think I am?”

“No,” Y/N said. “I think I’m lucky you’re with me.”

Ellie’s brain shut down for a moment.

Y/N continued, voice shaking now:

“And if you think I don’t want to hold your hand, you’re insane.”

Ellie’s chest tightened, painful.

Y/N looked around the hallway — quick, paranoid — then stepped even closer.

“You think I don’t want to take you to class with me? Sit with you? Eat with you? Walk with you? You think I don’t want to tell every girl on this campus to fuck off because you’re mine?”

Ellie couldn’t breathe.

Y/N’s voice cracked — just once.

“You’re wrong.”

Ellie reached for her hand before she could think.

Y/N jerked back instinctively, eyes flashing.

Ellie flinched.

“Oh.”

But Y/N grabbed her wrist before she could pull away fully.

“Not here,” she whispered.

“It’s not because I don’t want to. It’s because I’m scared.”

Ellie swallowed.

“Scared of what?”

“Everything,” Y/N said. “My friends. The school. The comments. The rumors. People finding out before I’m ready. People finding out before I know I can handle it.”

She paused.

“And losing you.”

Ellie’s heart stopped.

“Losing me?” she repeated.

Y/N looked down. “I know I’m impossible. I know I’m— me. And you’re patient and normal and stable and I’m— not.”

Ellie laughed once under her breath.

“Y/N, you’re the only person I want.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, but her eyes softened in a way Ellie rarely saw.

“I want to hold your hand,” Y/N said quietly. “I do. Just… not here. Not yet.”

Ellie nodded slowly.

“Just tell me you want this.”

Y/N looked up at her — really looked.

“I want you,” she said.

And for the first time, she didn’t sound defensive.

Or sarcastic.

Or annoyed.

She just sounded honest.

Ellie took a slow breath.

“Then I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N exhaled shakily.

“Okay.”

Ellie touched her forearm, light, careful.

Y/N let her.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then Y/N whispered:

“If I hold your hand… I don’t want to let go.”

Ellie’s voice was barely a breath.

“Then don’t.”

⸻

They didn’t hold hands that day.

Not yet.

But Y/N walked away first — and Ellie followed her, close, closer than they’d ever walked in public.

Not touching.

Not claiming.

Not ready.

But choosing.

Both of them choosing.

And for now, that was enough.

Taglist: @dollagangsta , @cowboylikelil , @liasxeatt , @vahnilla , @nillyelliewife , @ra1nbw , @ar1-angel

my mean girl

5- off the charts

Ellie x fem reader - college au (rodrina dynamic)

An: I know that's right!!

It was too early in the day for Y/N to be annoyed, but here she was anyway.

She and her friends were walking across the quad, sun out, campus busy. Y/N was dressed the same way she always was: perfect. Not overdressed. Not underdressed. Perfect.

Her friends were talking about weekend plans, but Y/N’s attention drifted the moment she spotted Ellie leaning against one of the picnic tables with a couple of her band friends.

Ellie noticed her immediately — she always did — but she didn’t stare. Just a quick glance, then she looked down at her phone like nothing happened.

That should’ve been the end of it.

Until he showed up.

Matthew.

Centre-back of the university football team.

Tall, handsome in an obvious way, annoyingly confident.

“Y/N!” he called, jogging up beside her.

Her friends turned instantly, whispering.

Y/N kept walking, chin up. “Yes?”

“I’ve been trying to catch you for like a week.” Matthew smiled down at her. “Do you have plans Friday?”

“No,” one of her friends said before Y/N could answer. “She doesn’t.”

Y/N shot her a warning look, then turned back to Matthew. “Why?”

“Because I want to take you out,” he said, hands in pockets like this was routine for him. “Dinner. Drinks. Something nice.”

Her friends silently squealed behind her.

Y/N didn’t flinch. “I don’t even know you.”

“You could,” he said easily. “If you give me a chance.”

She opened her mouth to shut him down—

—but she felt it.

A presence.

A shift.

Ellie.

She was close now, walking past with her hands shoved in her hoodie pocket, pretending not to listen. Her jaw was tight. Her steps slowed. She glanced at Y/N for just long enough to get caught.

Y/N’s stomach twisted.

Matthew didn’t notice.

“So?” he said, leaning in a little. “Friday?”

Y/N hated the way her chest tightened.

Not because of Matthew.

Because of the pair of green eyes staring holes into the pavement three metres away.

“I’ll think about it don't get your hopes up though,” she said.

Ellie stopped walking.

Her head snapped slightly, not toward Y/N — toward nothing in particular, like she was trying not to react.

Matthew grinned. “Great. I’ll text you.”

Y/N nodded once, curt and polite. “if you must.”

He walked off, satisfied.

Her friends immediately exploded.

“Oh my GOD.”

“He’s obsessed with you.”

“You HAVE to go out with him.”

“He’s literally the hottest guy on the team.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

She was looking past them.

At Ellie.

Ellie was standing alone now, staring at the ground, jaw set so tight you could see the muscle working. She didn’t look at Y/N.

Not once.

Not good.

Y/N excused herself quickly. “I need water.”

Her friends barely registered it — too busy talking about Matthew.

Y/N headed toward Ellie, but she didn’t approach her directly. She walked near the table, stopping at the water fountain a few feet away.

Ellie didn’t turn.

“Williams,” Y/N said under her breath, quiet enough for only Ellie to hear.

Nothing.

Ellie kept her head down.

“Ellie.”

Ellie finally looked up, expression flat. “What.”

Y/N blinked. “What’s your problem?”

Ellie let out a dry laugh, but it wasn’t amused. “Nothing. You’re clearly busy. Go talk to your boyfriend.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t be stupid.”

“You said yes.”

“I didn’t.”

“You didn’t say no.”

Y/N took a breath, steadying herself. “I couldn’t. I was with them.”

“That’s not my fucking problem.”

Y/N stepped closer, low enough that no one could hear them.

“You’re acting like I owe him something. I don’t.”

Ellie shook her head, eyes cutting away. “You don’t owe me anything either.”

That stung more than Y/N expected.

“Ellie.”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

Ellie hesitated. Then she did.

Y/N hated how much it affected her — the heat in Ellie’s stare, the jealousy she wasn’t hiding well, the tiny crack in her composure.

Y/N lowered her voice even more.

“He asked me out. I didn’t say yes.”

“You didn’t say no.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“You know why I couldn’t.”

Ellie scoffed. “Yeah. Your precious reputation.”

Y/N stepped in, close enough that their arms almost touched.

“Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

Ellie’s voice was quiet.

“It already is something or at least was.”

Y/N froze.

Ellie looked down again like she regretted saying it.

“Forget it.”

“No,” Y/N said, sharper than she intended. “Say it.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched.

“You’re… with me. Or whatever this is.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped painfully.

“That doesn’t mean you get to let football boys ask you out and pretend it’s nothing after you make a big deal over cat flirting with me.”

“I didn’t want him to ask me,” Y/N snapped.

“That’s not what it looked like.”

Y/N stared at her, heartbeat climbing. “You think I want him?”

Ellie didn’t answer.

Y/N stepped even closer, toe to toe now.

“Ellie.”

“What.”

“Do you think I want him?”

Ellie swallowed hard.

“No.”

“Good,” Y/N said. “Because I don’t.”

Ellie blinked. Once.

Slow.

Y/N continued, voice cold, steady, honest:

“And I’m not available.”

Ellie’s breath caught.

Y/N didn’t soften.

She never softened.

“I have a girlfriend.”

The word felt strange in her mouth — terrifying, real, grounding, right.

Ellie’s head lifted. “Yeah?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah.”

Ellie’s face shifted — tiny, almost invisible — but Y/N saw all of it. Relief. Satisfaction. Something warm she didn’t have a name for.

Y/N wasn’t done.

“But she’s an idiot,” Y/N added. “So don’t let it go to your head.”

Ellie’s lips twitched. “Right.”

“And she gets jealous over nothing.”

Ellie finally met her eyes fully. “Maybe she likes you.”

Y/N exhaled through her nose, annoyed at how much that affected her.

“She better.”

Ellie didn’t smile. Not fully. But her expression loosened just enough.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder — Matthew was still on the field, joking with his teammates.

“Wait here,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Ellie didn’t move.

Y/N walked across the quad, posture straight, expression bored, the exact opposite of what was happening inside her chest.

Matthew noticed her immediately. “Hey, thinking things over already?” he asked, smiling like the answer was obvious.

“No,” Y/N said.

He blinked. “No?”

“No.”

“You sure? I thought you—”

“I have a girlfriend." Y/N said cleanly.

He nodded once. “Alright. No hard feelings, I'll uh keep this between us. ”

“Good,” Y/N said, already turning away.

She didn’t look back.

When she returned to Ellie, Ellie was still standing in the same place, hands in her pockets, pretending she hadn’t been watching the entire thing.

Y/N stopped in front of her.

“Well?” she said.

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Well what?”

“You heard me.”

Ellie’s voice dropped, low and sure.

“Yeah,” she said.

“I did.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Good.”

Ellie stepped closer, not touching, but close enough that Y/N felt the shift in the air.

“You really told him you’re taken?” Ellie asked.

“Yes.”

“By who?”

Y/N lifted her chin, eyes sharp.

“My girlfriend.”

Ellie inhaled, slow, steady.

“And she knows that?” Ellie murmured.

“She does now.”

They didn’t touch.

They didn’t kiss.

They didn’t make a scene.

They just stood there, two people who finally said the thing neither of them wanted to say first.

After a long moment, Y/N added quietly:

“Don’t make me regret it.”

Ellie’s voice was soft, firm, certain:

“I won’t.”

Y/N looked away, pretending she wasn’t smiling.

“Okay,” she said. “Good.”

Ellie shifted closer, just slightly — careful, subtle.

“Your girlfriend,” she said, almost smug.

Y/N shoved her shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

Ellie didn’t.

But she stayed next to her for the rest of the walk across campus.

And Y/N didn’t move away.

Taglist: @dollagangsta @cowboylikelil, @liasxeatt, @vahnilla, @nillyelliewife , @ra1nbw

my mean girl

4- keep your distance

Ellie x fem reader - college au (rodrina dynamic)

An: jealous jealous jealous girl (doing this instead of my uni assignments lord help me)

Y/N wasn’t paying much attention to her friends’ conversation. She rarely did. They were discussing some party next week, and Y/N had already decided she wasn’t going unless she could guarantee she’d look the best there. She was walking ahead of them, phone in hand, hair perfect, the usual.

It was supposed to be an ordinary morning on campus.

Then she saw her.

Williams.

Ellie stood outside the student union, leaning against a metal railing like she had nowhere else to be. One headphone in, bag hanging off her shoulder, thumb tapping against her phone screen. She looked like she’d slept four hours at best. Typical.

But that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was Cat.

Cat, who was standing directly in front of Ellie, talking with way too much enthusiasm for that early in the day. Cat, who was laughing at something Ellie said — or didn’t say — and flipping her hair like she was auditioning for attention. Cat, who Y/N had never spoken to but felt an immediate, visceral hatred toward.

Cat was smiling.

Ellie wasn’t smiling back, but she wasn’t walking away either.

Y/N’s stomach dropped in a way she couldn’t control.

“Who is that?” one of Y/N’s friends asked, following her gaze.

Y/N immediately straightened her posture, tilting her chin up as she forced her face into neutrality.

“Nobody,” she said.

Her friends squinted.

“That girl… isn’t she one of the band people? From that gross gig?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said flatly. “Something like that.”

Her friends laughed. Not mean, just dismissive.

“God, imagine dating someone like that,” one of them snorted.

Y/N kept walking.

Because if she didn’t, she was going to stare.

And if she stared, one of her friends would notice.

And if they noticed, everything would burn to the ground.

They passed within a few metres of Ellie and Cat.

Y/N didn’t glance in their direction.

Didn’t give Ellie anything.

Didn’t even blink differently.

But Ellie looked.

Y/N didn’t see it, but she could feel it — the weight of Ellie’s eyes following her as she walked away.

The moment Y/N and her friends turned the corner, she let out a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding.

Her chest felt hot.

Her face felt tight.

Her thoughts spun like someone had shaken her brain by the roots.

She didn’t say anything until she got back to her dorm.

Y/N regretted sending the last message almost immediately.

Not for what she said — she meant every word — but for how fast she’d reacted.

How obvious it was that she cared.

She threw her phone onto the bed and paced her small dorm room, arms crossed, heart beating way too fast.

Why was she even angry?

They weren’t dating.

They weren’t even technically anything.

Ellie wasn’t hers.

But the second Cat had tilted her head and giggled at something Ellie said, Y/N had wanted to claw her eyes out.

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, breathing through her nose like she could force the jealousy out of her system.

It didn’t work.

Then came the knock.

Not loud.

Not frantic.

Just two short taps.

Y/N froze.

Another knock.

Same pattern.

She stood, walked to the door, and opened it half an inch — just enough to see who it was.

Ellie.

Hoodie on, hair messy, breathing lightly like she’d walked fast. Her hand was still raised like she’d been about to knock again.

Y/N opened the door fully but didn’t move aside.

She didn’t say anything.

Ellie didn’t either — not at first.

They stared at each other for a long moment, an entire argument already happening in the silence.

Finally, Ellie spoke.

“Can I come in?”

Her voice was calm.

Too calm.

Which annoyed Y/N even more.

Y/N stepped back without a word, letting her in.

Ellie walked slowly, like she wasn’t sure what she was walking into. She stood in the middle of the room, hands in her pockets, eyes flicking toward Y/N like she was waiting for permission to breathe.

“Why are you here?” Y/N asked, arms folded tightly.

“You know why.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

Ellie gave a small, humourless laugh. “Right.”

“I’m not,” Y/N snapped.

“You texted me like you were ready to kill me.”

“I wasn’t—” Y/N shut her mouth, realizing the next words would make her sound even more guilty.

Ellie tilted her head slightly. “Baby… I didn’t do anything.”

Y/N huffed. “Cat was all over you.”

“I wasn’t all over her.”

“You didn’t walk away.”

“I literally couldn’t,” Ellie said, sounding almost defensive. “We were outside my classroom. She came up to me. I wasn’t… I wasn’t flirting.”

Y/N looked at her, expression sharp and unreadable.

Ellie stepped closer.

“You think I wanted her talking to me?” she asked quietly.

Y/N stayed silent.

Ellie exhaled once, short and frustrated. “It meant nothing.”

Y/N’s jaw stayed tight.

Ellie tried again, voice softer.

“You act like I’m out here talking to everyone. I’m not.”

“You texted her,” Y/N said.

“One emoji.”

“It was still a reply.”

Ellie stared at her for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you hear yourself right now?”

Y/N didn’t flinch.

“Don’t talk to her.”

“Oh my god,” Ellie muttered, running a hand through her hair. “You’re impossible.”

“Then leave.”

Ellie stopped.

Looked at her.

Really looked.

And then she took two slow steps toward her, closing the distance between them.

“I’m not leaving,” she said.

Y/N swallowed. She hated how warm her face felt.

Ellie’s voice dropped lower.

“You saw some random girl standing near me and lost your shit.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Ellie—”

“Just admit it.”

Y/N’s throat tightened.

Ellie stepped even closer, close enough that their chests were almost touching, close enough that Y/N had to tilt her head up to meet her eyes.

“You’re jealous,” Ellie said quietly.

Not mocking.

Not teasing.

Just stating it.

Y/N’s pulse jumped.

“I’m not jealous why would I be jealous of cat of all people?”

“Then why are you acting like this?”

“Because—”

The word died halfway out of her mouth.

Ellie’s gaze softened just slightly, the tone of someone who’d already solved the puzzle and was waiting for confirmation.

“Because what?” Ellie whispered.

Y/N breathed in slowly.

Because it bothered her.

Because she hated seeing anyone near Ellie.

Because Ellie looked at her differently — and she liked it.

Because Ellie made her feel something she didn’t want to admit she was capable of feeling.

Because Ellie mattered.

Y/N straightened her posture, masking the chaos inside her chest.

“Because she shouldn’t talk to you,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

Ellie blinked.

Then a slow, dangerous smile pulled at her lips.

“There she is,” she murmured.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t get smug.”

Ellie stepped closer, close enough that Y/N’s back touched the door.

“You know I don’t want her, right?”

Y/N hated how much she wanted to hear that.

She nodded, barely.

Ellie lifted a hand and traced her jaw with her thumb — slow, deliberate, confident.

“I want you.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

Ellie’s tone stayed low, steady, dangerously honest.

“Even if you pretend you don’t want me back.”

Y/N didn’t reply.

She didn’t have to.

She grabbed Ellie’s hoodie, pulled her down, and kissed her — hard, like she was claiming something, like she was furious and relieved at the same time.

Ellie kissed her back instantly, hands gripping her waist, pressing her against the door without breaking the kiss. It was heated, messy, desperate in a way neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

When Y/N finally pulled back, breath unsteady, Ellie kept her forehead against hers.

“You done being mad?” Ellie murmured.

“No,” Y/N whispered.

Ellie smirked. “Good.”

Y/N shoved her shoulder lightly, annoyed that Ellie was right, annoyed that she cared, annoyed that Ellie’s thumb was now brushing her cheek in a way she pretended not to melt under.

“Don’t talk to her like that again,” Y/N said.

“I won’t.”

“And don’t let her talk to you.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t reply—”

“I got it,” Ellie said, cutting her off gently. “I’m yours.”

Y/N didn’t correct her.

She didn’t argue.

She didn’t deny it.

She just kissed her again.

Because she was.

And Ellie knew it.

And now Y/N knew it too — even if she’d rather die than admit it out loud.

Taglist:

@dollagangsta, @cowboylikelil, @liasxeatt, @vahnilla

my mean girl

3- Not what we came for

Ellie x fem reader - college au (Rodrina dynamic)

An: ahh my cuties

Y/N shouldn’t have gone to Ellie’s dorm.

She told herself that the entire walk there — hands shoved in her coat pockets, hair perfect, heart beating faster than she wanted to admit. It was supposed to be another late-night hook up at most. Nothing meaningful. Nothing complicated.

She knocked once.

Ellie opened the door immediately, like she’d been waiting right behind it.

Her room was small, dim, and messy in a way that somehow fit her. Posters on the walls. A cracked speaker on the floor. A blanket half hanging off the bed. A guitar leaning against her desk.

Very… Ellie.

Y/N stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.

Ellie didn’t touch her.

Didn’t pull her close like she usually did.

She just watched her.

“What?” Y/N asked, trying not to sound self-conscious.

“You actually came,” Ellie said. Calm. Quiet. Honest.

Y/N rolled her eyes a little. “You texted me.”

“That doesn’t mean you’d show up.”

The way she said it — like she genuinely didn’t expect Y/N to choose her — made something tight pull in Y/N’s chest. She set her bag down and sat on the bed, crossing her legs.

“So?” Y/N said, raising her chin. “What are we doing?”

Ellie hesitated for the first time since the night they met.

“Can I… show you something?”

Y/N blinked. “Okay.”

Ellie sat beside her, close but not touching. She grabbed her phone, opened her playlist, and handed her one earbud.

“I listen to this when I can’t sleep,” Ellie muttered. “Thought maybe you’d… I don’t know. Like it.”

Y/N expected loud chaos — screaming guitars, guttural vocals.

Some songs were like that.

But some were quiet.

Slow.

Soft in a way Ellie never showed in public.

“What is this?” Y/N asked, brows raised.

“My music taste,” Ellie said, staring straight ahead. “Don’t make fun of it.”

“I’m not making fun,” Y/N muttered. “…Yet.”

Ellie huffed a laugh.

Y/N looked away so Ellie wouldn’t see her smile.

They listened together, swapping earbuds when the cord tugged, sitting close enough that their shoulders brushed. Y/N commented on each track — blunt, unimpressed, judgmental — and Ellie argued back, calling her dramatic, pretentious, picky.

At some point, the arguing turned into laughing.

Real laughing.

Not the fake polite kind Y/N did around her friends.

This was different — quiet, unexpected, almost unguarded.

She didn’t realize when Ellie’s arm slid behind her.

Or when Y/N leaned back against her chest, letting Ellie pull her into her side.

It wasn’t planned.

And it definitely wasn’t their usual.

They just… stayed like that.

Listening.

Breathing.

Warm against each other in a room too small for lies.

Y/N’s head rested on Ellie’s shoulder.

Ellie’s hand rested lightly on Y/N’s hip — not pulling, not pushing, just there.

Y/N whispered, almost annoyed at herself, “This is… nice or whatever.”

Ellie didn’t make a joke.

Didn’t ruin it.

“It is,” she said softly.

Y/N turned her head.

Ellie was already looking down at her.

The kiss was slower than their others.

Not rushed.

Not desperate.

Just… real.

Y/N let Ellie hold her jaw gently, let her kiss her like she mattered, let herself feel something she’d been trying to avoid.

When they pulled apart, Ellie’s forehead touched hers.

“Didn’t think we’d end up doing… this,” Ellie murmured.

“Me neither.. don’t make it a big deal tho ..loser.” Y/N whispered.

She could feel her pulse everywhere.

⸻

Later, they decided to walk to the convenience store.

Too much sugar. Too much caffeine. Too much energy between them to stay in the room.

It was cold outside.

Ellie walked beside Y/N, hands in her pockets, stepping close enough that their shoulders brushed every few steps. Not on purpose — or maybe it was.

Y/N felt lighter than she had in weeks.

Annoyingly so.

They were halfway down the snack aisle when it happened.

“Y/N?”

Her stomach dropped.

Her friends.

Two of them.

Dressed perfect.

Lip gloss perfect.

Judgment sharp enough to cut someone.

They stared at Ellie first — unimpressed, confused — then at Y/N.

Y/N’s brain snapped fast into self-preservation.

“Oh,” she said flatly, stepping away from Ellie. “Didn’t know you were here.”

One friend blinked. “We go here every night?”

Ellie didn’t react — didn’t roll her eyes, didn’t get offended.

She just picked up a drink, examining the label like nothing was happening.

Y/N’s friends whispered something under their breath.

Something about Ellie’s clothes.

Something about Y/N being “out of place.”

Y/N forced a laugh. “We’re just here at the same time. I’m grabbing something for later.”

Her friends believed her without question. Why wouldn’t they?

Y/N was predictable to them. Manageable. Understandable.

Ellie was none of those things.

“See you tomorrow, babe,” one friend said, pulling her into a hug before walking off.

The moment they left, Y/N let out a slow breath, trying to calm the storm in her chest.

Ellie finally looked at her.

Not tense.

Not hurt.

Just… amused.

“What?” Y/N snapped, embarrassed by how fast she’d switched masks.

Ellie shrugged.

“You’re cute when you panic.”

Y/N froze.

Heat rushed up her throat.

“I wasn’t panicking.”

“Sure.” Ellie smirked lightly. “Whatever you say.”

Y/N glared, grabbing a candy bar just to have something to hold.

But her ears were burning.

Ellie leaned closer, voice low enough that only Y/N could hear:

“You really think I care if you talk to me in front of them?”

Y/N swallowed.

Her throat felt tight.

Ellie nudged her shoulder gently.

“Relax. I get it.”

Y/N hated that Ellie’s understanding made her chest flip.

Hated even more that she didn’t want the night to end.

⸻

They walked back together in silence.

Comfortable silence.

At Y/N’s dorm building, she hesitated.

Ellie noticed.

She always noticed.

“Goodnight,” Ellie said, stepping back.

Y/N shouldn’t have — but she grabbed Ellie’s sleeve, stopping her.

Ellie looked at her with those stupid green eyes that made her forget how to breathe.

Y/N whispered, “Come here tomorrow.”

Ellie’s smirk softened into something real.

“Yeah,” she said. “Okay.”

Y/N opened the door to her building, pretending she didn’t feel like she was floating.

Pretending nothing was changing.

Pretending she wasn’t already in too deep.

Fucking Ellie emo Williams.

Taglist:

@dollagangsta

my mean girl

2 - Don’t get comfortable

Ellie x fem reader - college au (Rodrina dynamic)

An: locked in and spent my Sunday writing part 2 hope u enjoy : )

Ellie had been in Y/N’s dorm dozens of times by now — rushed, late-night, secret, quiet.

But she had never been in like this.

A sleepover.

Y/N didn’t call it that, obviously.

She just texted Ellie: bring your stupid lighter and don’t be late.

Which, in Y/N language, translated loosely to: I want you here tonight but I’m not admitting that out loud.

Y/N opened the door almost immediately. She’d obviously been waiting, though she’d never admit it. She was dressed the same way she always was when she let Ellie come over: a fitted cream lounge top, matching shorts, tiny gold necklace, hair still done like she had somewhere important to be.

Ellie stepped inside without hesitation. She’d been here too many times for any of this to feel new. Her bag went on the floor by the desk. Y/N locked the door behind them.

“Did you bring it?” Y/N asked, already moving back to her bed.

Ellie pulled the pre-roll tube from her hoodie pocket and held it up.

Y/N gave a curt nod. “Good.”

She climbed onto the bed, legs folded neatly, posture still perfect even though this was supposed to be her “relaxed” state. Ellie didn’t bother pretending she belonged anywhere else — she sat next to her, close but not clingy.

Y/N opened her window a crack, just enough for ventilation. Ellie pulled out her lighter, handed it over.

Everything felt practiced. Easy. Familiar.

Y/N lit the joint, inhaled, exhaled slowly. She looked calm, controlled, the exact opposite of how she’d sounded earlier over text — when she had demanded Ellie come over because she was “bored.”

She passed the joint to Ellie.

“You always make it too tight,” Y/N said.

“It hits fine,” Ellie replied, taking a drag.

Y/N sniffed, unimpressed. “Barely.”

They passed it back and forth. Music played quietly from her speaker — something playlist-safe, clean, vibey enough to fill the silence without distracting from it.

After a few minutes, Y/N leaned back against her pillows. Not slouching — she didn’t slouch — but she settled into them in a way that meant she was finally relaxing.

Ellie watched her for a moment.

Y/N noticed. “What.”

“You look… comfortable.”

“I’m literally sitting,” Y/N said flatly. “Don’t make it weird.”

Ellie looked away, but she didn’t apologize. Y/N wouldn’t want her to.

She took another slow inhale, then handed the joint back. “You’re pulling too hard.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “You’re bossy when you’re high.”

“I’m bossy when I’m sober,” Y/N corrected. “Keep up.”

Ellie smiled before she could stop herself. Y/N noticed. Of course she noticed.

“Don’t do that,” she muttered.

“Do what?”

“Get all…” Y/N waved a hand vaguely, “smiley.”

“Why not?”

“Because you look stupid.”

Ellie laughed under her breath and leaned back beside her. “You say everything like it’s an insult.”

“It usually is.”

“Not with me.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked toward her. Wrong move — Ellie was already looking at her. Y/N looked away instantly.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

Ellie didn’t. Not really.

After another few minutes of quiet smoking, Y/N shifted her position. She didn’t lean on Ellie — not intentionally — but her thigh ended up pressed against Ellie’s.

She didn’t move it.

Ellie noticed the contact; she always did. She didn’t comment on it, didn’t stiffen, didn’t act like it was the best moment of her life. She just… stayed there, breathing normally.

Y/N exhaled slowly, eyelids lowering. “You’re taking forever with it.”

Ellie took a final drag and handed it over. “There. Happy?”

“No,” Y/N said. “But that’s not new.”

Ellie shrugged. “At least you’re honest.”

Y/N gave a small scoff. “I don’t lie.”

Ellie’s voice dipped slightly. “That’s why I like you.”

Y/N didn’t answer at first. She took another inhale, passed the joint back, then turned her head just enough to give Ellie a look.

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“It’s true.”

“I don’t care.”

“You do,” Ellie said simply.

Y/N clicked her tongue. “You’re annoying.”

“And yet,” Ellie said, leaning back and stretching her legs out, “you still asked me to come over.”

“I was bored.”

Ellie smirked. “Sure.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened. “It wasn’t because of you.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay.”

“Ellie.”

Ellie finally looked at her. Really looked.

“I know you do,” she said quietly.

Y/N blinked once, then looked away so quickly Ellie almost laughed.

The joint burned down. Ellie put it out in the tray. Y/N adjusted her pillows again, still not leaning on Ellie but… closer than she had been a few minutes ago.

“You can lie down,” Y/N said suddenly. “I don’t care.”

Ellie tried to read her tone. Neutral. Not inviting. But not cold either.

She shifted down slightly until she was sitting semi-reclined beside her. Y/N didn’t look at her, but she relaxed by maybe two percent, which for her was basically throwing herself at Ellie.

After a few minutes of silence, Y/N moved again — this time letting her head rest lightly against Ellie’s upper arm.

Ellie didn’t react. She didn’t move, didn’t smile, didn’t tense. She just let it happen.

Y/N closed her eyes.

Ellie waited. Then, quietly:

“Comfortable?”

“No,” Y/N mumbled.

Which meant yes.

Ellie let her arm settle behind Y/N’s back, barely holding her, just enough to support her weight.

Y/N didn’t comment, which meant she didn’t mind.

A minute passed.

Then Y/N spoke, voice low. “You’re obsessed with me.”

Ellie answered like it wasn’t a secret. “Probably.”

Y/N smirked slightly, eyes still closed. “That’s pathetic.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t agree with me.”

“I’m just saying okay.”

“You’re being weird.”

“You told me not to say anything. I’m not saying anything,” Ellie said, deadpan.

Y/N cracked an eye open to glare at her, but it had no teeth to it.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You like it.”

Y/N shifted, pretending to get comfortable when she was really just pressing closer.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Alright.”

“And don’t start thinking this means anything,” Y/N added.

“Okay.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Okay.”

Y/N opened both eyes and looked up at her.

“Stop saying okay to everything.”

Ellie finally smiled — small, barely there, but real.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing.”

“So I’ll say nothing.”

“Ellie—”

“You’re impossible,” Ellie murmured.

Y/N shoved her lightly. “Shut up.”

Ellie didn’t.

“Do you want me to stay here tonight?”

Y/N didn’t answer immediately. She stared at the wall, lips pressed together, like she was calculating the safest response.

Finally:

“You’re already here.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Y/N inhaled slowly. “Fine. Yes. Whatever. Don’t make it a thing.”

Ellie nodded. “I won’t.”

Y/N shifted again, laying her head properly against Ellie’s shoulder now. Ellie angled her body slightly to make room.

It felt natural.

Too natural.

“Don’t get comfortable,” Y/N warned quietly.

Ellie lowered her voice. “I won’t.”

“And don’t try anything.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t get clingy.”

“Never,” Ellie said, even though she already was.

“And you’re sleeping on the inside.”

Ellie blinked. “Why?”

“So you don’t fall off the bed like a moron.”

Ellie smiled again.

Y/N ignored it.

Ellie adjusted the blanket over them.

Y/N didn’t protest.

They lay there for a while — not touching any more than necessary, but touching enough. Y/N breathed evenly against Ellie’s collarbone. Ellie didn’t dare move.

After a minute, Y/N spoke again, barely above a whisper:

“You’re annoying.”

Ellie’s response was quiet, steady, honest:

“I know.”

“But I like that about you.”

Ellie smiled as Y/n finally properly cuddled into her as she drifted off.

Taglist:

@dollagangsta

my mean girl

1- The after party

Ellie x fem reader - college au (rodrina dynamic)

An: new series unlocked!!! just a little intro to how Ellie and reader got into their uh… "relationship” also my active era is definitely activated😛 taglist open!

Y/N didn’t plan on going out that night.

Her friends had insisted — something about needing a “girls’ night” and finding a new place to take pictures for Instagram. Y/N didn’t care. She went because arguing wasn’t worth the energy.

They ended up at some basement venue downtown.

Not their usual scene. Too loud, too crowded, too many people who didn’t know how to dress.

Y/N stood with her friends near the back — arms crossed, face unreadable — already waiting for the night to be over.

On stage, Ellie Williams was tuning her guitar.

Black shirt, messy hair, chipped nail polish, completely uninterested in the crowd.

She didn’t look like someone Y/N’s friends paid attention to — and they didn’t.

They were scrolling, whispering, picking apart outfits.

Y/N said nothing, but she watched.

Ellie never looked like she cared who was watching her, but during one song, she lifted her head for half a second. Her eyes hit Y/N like she’d been looking for her.

Just one second.

But it unsettled Y/N more than she liked.

⸻

The afterparty was in some basement too many people in too small a space, music loud enough to rattle glass. Y/N’s friends stayed together, already bored, already planning to leave.

Y/N slipped into the kitchen to breathe.

She didn’t belong there — not with the band kids, not with the stoners on the balcony, not with the people she came with.

She was somewhere in between, pretending she wasn’t.

Ellie walked in like she’d been expecting to find her.

She didn’t smile.

She didn’t flirt.

She just stopped a few feet away, wiping sweat off her forehead, catching her breath from the set.

“You didn’t look like you hated it,” Ellie said quietly.

Y/N leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

“It was fine.”

That should’ve been the end of it.

Y/N wasn’t the type to linger with people outside her social world, and Ellie definitely wasn’t the type to chase girls like her.

But neither of them moved.

Ellie stepped closer.

Not in a cocky way — more like she was making sure Y/N wouldn’t bolt.

“You want to get out of here?” Ellie asked.

She said it like she didn’t expect a yes.

Y/N said nothing for a moment.

Then she nodded.

They ended up in the bathroom — the only quiet place in the flat.

The door clicked shut.

No one said anything.

Ellie kissed her first.

Y/N didn’t hesitate.

It wasn’t sloppy or rushed.

It wasn’t soft, either.

It was controlled — two people acting like they were making a mistake but still doing it anyway, because stopping felt worse.

Ellie’s hands held her like she was afraid to push too far.

Y/N pulled her closer like she didn’t care if she did.

When they finally separated, both out of breath, neither of them spoke.

Y/N fixed her hair in the mirror, avoiding Ellie’s reflection behind her.

“This stays between us,” she said, tone flat, practiced, serious.

Ellie nodded once.

“Okay.”

Not offended.

Not surprised.

Just… okay.

It should’ve been a one-time thing.

It wasn’t.

⸻

After that night:

In public, they were strangers.

In private:

• stairwells

• empty classrooms

• her dorm when her friends were out

• Ellie’s room after midnight

No one knew Y/N liked girls.

No one would ever guess she’d sneak out to meet someone like Ellie — someone outside her circle, outside her world entirely.

But Ellie touched her like she understood her.

Like she saw through every wall Y/N kept up.

Y/N hated how much that mattered.

She hated even more that she kept going back.

Certified Crashout

Ellie Williams x fem reader

(College au)

An: if she’s not like this I don’t want her purr (I love Abby steal ur girl Anderson)

Ellie and Y/N had been texting about random things when Y/N got flowers delivered to her dorm.

Y/N: Thank you for the flowers baby. They’re so cute.

Ellie replied immediately.

Ellie: What flowers.

Y/N smiled, thinking she was being funny.

Y/N: The bouquet outside my door? lol

Ellie: I didn’t send you flowers.

Y/N stopped smiling.

Y/N: Wait—seriously?

Ellie: Why would I randomly send you flowers on a Wednesday

Y/N shrugged even though Ellie couldn’t see it.

Y/N: Idk you do cute things sometimes

Ellie didn’t reply.

She called.

Y/N picked up. “hello?”

“Who sent you flowers?” Ellie asked flatly.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said. “They were just… there.”

Ellie exhaled. “Okay. Describe them.”

“You want me to describe the flowers?”

“Yes. Clearly I need to know what competition I’m up against.”

Y/N snorted and picked up the card. “Pink roses.”

Ellie was silent for one beat.

“…Okay. That’s annoying.”

Y/N laughed. “Why?”

“Because it’s specific,” Ellie replied. “It’s not like sunflowers or generic ‘congrats’ flowers. Pink roses means someone thinks they’re clever.”

Y/N flipped the card around. “There’s a note.”

“Read it.”

“‘Thank you for helping us out this week.’”

Ellie paused. “Us?”

“Yeah. The basketball team thing I helped with.”

There was a longer pause.

“…Turn the card over,” Ellie said.

“What? Why?”

“Just do it.”

Y/N turned it over.

There it was.

Small initials.

A. A.

Y/N sighed. “…Oh.”

“What?” Ellie asked, but she already knew.

“It’s from Abby.”

The silence was instant.

Not shocked.

Not dramatic.

Just pure, concentrated annoyance radiating through the microphone.

“You’re kidding,” Ellie finally said, deadpan.

“No.”

“You’re telling me Abby Anderson—Abby ‘meat head’ Anderson—sent my girlfriend pink roses.”

Y/N rubbed her forehead. “She was thanking me for helping the team.”

“She couldn’t send an email?” Ellie’s tone was so dry it could’ve absorbed water.

“She probably thought it was nice.”

“She doesn’t DO nice,” Ellie argued. “She does… protein shakes and flexing.”

Y/N laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Ellie muttered, “well, Abby sending my girlfriend flowers is also ridiculous.”

Y/N stood up from her desk. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is actually a huge deal,” Ellie said calmly. “I’m coming over.”

“You don’t need to—”

“Too late. I’m already halfway there.”

She hung up.

Not even five minutes later..

Ellie knocked hard. Once.

Y/N opened the door. Ellie walked in immediately.

She headed straight for the bouquet.

Stopped.

Stared at it for a long moment.

Then looked at Y/N.

“You didn’t think to text me BEFORE you opened a mystery bouquet sitting outside your door?” Ellie asked angrily.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being normal,” Ellie said. “This is a normal reaction to my rival sending you flowers.”

“She’s not your rival.”

“She’s more than a rival now.”

Ellie picked up the bouquet, inspected it, then immediately threw the bouquet out.

“So she can send flowers,” Ellie said, “but she can’t have the balls to give them to you in front of me?.. at-least she should do it with chest the filthy cunt”.

Y/N covered her face to hide a laugh.

Ellie pointed at her. “Don’t laugh. This is serious.”

“It’s not serious.”

“It IS serious,” Ellie insisted, but she wasn’t mad. She was livid. “Because now I have to beat the shit out of her and remind her that you’re not for grabs.’”

Y/N walked up and wrapped her arms around Ellie’s waist.

“You know you’re the only one I care about,” she said.

“Yeah,” Ellie muttered, leaning into her, “but I’d still like Abby Anderson to stop acting like she’s your fucking girlfriend.”

Y/N laughed into her shoulder.

Ellie glared at her girlfriend.

“She’s not sending you anything else,” Ellie said, matter-of-fact.

“She literally won’t.”

“She better not,” Ellie added, dry as ever. “Because next time? I’m sending her a fucking knuckle sandwhich straight to that wide fucking jaw of hers.’”

Y/N laughed so hard she snorted.

Ellie smirked. “Abby could never make you laugh like I do.”

Friday night deals

Dealer Ellie x fem reader

(College au) - established relationship

An: soz for the hiatus but I’m back now!! requests are always welcome.. did u guys miss me 😁

Y/N used to think frat parties were the worst thing on earth — sweaty people, loud bass, sticky floors.

Now she’s on the couch at one every Friday night, halfway through a red solo cup, legs draped over Ellie’s lap. Turns out it’s not that bad when you’re with the right person.

Ellie’s scrolling through her phone with one hand, blunt in the other, while a couple of guys hover nearby waiting to buy. She doesn’t rush. She never does. She’s calm in the middle of chaos, the kind of person who makes everyone around her slow down without even trying.

Y/N finishes another cup. “You ever think about how weird this is?”

Ellie looks up. “What?”

“You running a whole business out of a frat house. While there’s, like, beer pong happening three feet away.”

Ellie smirks. “It’s efficient. I’m multitasking.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/N says. “That’s one word for it babe".

A guy steps forward, trying to get Ellie’s attention. She doesn’t look away from Y/N. “Give me five, bro,” she says easily, and the guy just nods and backs off.

That’s how it always is. People don’t mess with Ellie.

And by extension, they don’t bother Y/n.

When she first started coming around, everyone was curious — “Ellie’s girl” became a phrase that got thrown around way too easily. Now it’s just normal. Y/N’s part of the house, even if she doesn’t really fit it. Nobody expects her to party hard, nobody pressures her to join games. She just sits with Ellie, half-watching the room, half-lost in her own thoughts and her endless poisoned punch cups.

“You tired baby?" Ellie asks after a while, tapping ash into a can.

“A little,” Y/N says. “But it’s fine. I kinda like the noise now.”

“You’re evolving.”

“Don’t push it.”

Ellie grins. “What? You don’t love watching drunk freshmen yell about who cheated in pong?”

“Thrilling entertainment,” Y/N deadpans.

Ellie laughs — that lazy, raspy laugh that makes people across the room look up. She tosses the blunt into an ashtray, leans back, and rests her arm behind Y/N’s shoulders.

For a while, they just sit like that — the two of them half-detached from the party, like they’re in their own little bubble.

Every once in a while, someone stops by to say hi to Ellie or crack a joke with Y/N, but nobody lingers long. They all know how this goes — Ellie deals, people hang, and by midnight, she and Y/N ghost out.

“Hey, Williams,” someone calls across the room. “We running cards later?”

Ellie shakes her head. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

She nods toward Y/N. “Girlfriend’s here.”

“Ah, fair,” the guy says, giving Y/N a mock salute before walking off.

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “You act like I’m stopping you.”

“Nah,” Ellie says, smirking. “Just prefer hanging with you.”

“You say that every week.”

“Yeah,” Ellie says, leaning closer, “because it’s true every week.”

Y/N pretends to roll her eyes, but she’s smiling. “You’re full of shit.”

“Always,” Ellie says, grinning. “But I’m honest about it.”

Later, they step outside for air. The night’s cold, the porch lights flickering, and the street smells like weed and pizza. Ellie pulls her hoodie tighter and hands Y/N her lighter so she can mess with it — something to fidget with while they talk.

“You know,” Y/N says, flicking the lighter open and closed, “I used to think frat houses were just full of assholes.”

Ellie laughs. “And now?”

“They’re still full of assholes. You’re just the one I like.”

Ellie smirks. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It kind of is.”

They fall into comfortable silence again — Y/N leaning against the porch railing, Ellie standing close enough that their arms brush every now and then.

Ellie’s phone buzzes, but she ignores it. “You hungry?”

“Always.”

“There’s leftover pizza inside.”

“From when?”

Ellie shrugs. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Y/N gives her a look. “If I get food poisoning, I’m haunting you.”

Ellie grins. “Worth it.”

⸻

By the time the party starts dying down, Y/N’s half-asleep on Ellie’s shoulder. The bass has dropped to a hum, a few people mumbling goodbyes as they leave. Ellie taps her leg gently. “Hey. You wanna head out?”

“Yup.”

Ellie helps her up and grabs her jacket from the couch. As they walk out, a couple of guys yell goodnight, one of them calling, “Later, Y/N!” — and she actually waves back without thinking.

Outside, the air’s cooler, quieter. Ellie laces their fingers together like every Friday since they started dating.

They walk the rest of the way in comfortable silence. No drama, no big talk, just the sound of their sneakers against the pavement. Ellie stops at Y/N’s building, hands shoved in her pockets.

“Same time next week?” she asks.

Y/N smiles. “Sure. Just don’t make me play pong.”

“No promises.”

Ellie grins, leaning in to kiss her — quick, easy, familiar. Then she steps back. “Text me when you’re inside.”

“I always do.”

“Good.”

Y/N opens the door and glances back at her. “Hey, Williams?”

“Yeah?”

“You make frat houses kinda tolerable.”

Ellie smirks. “High praise coming from you.”

Then she walks off down the street, hands in her hoodie, smoke from the house drifting behind her. Y/N shakes her head, smiling to herself before heading upstairs — already half-expecting the “home safe?” text that’ll show up two minutes later. God she loved Ellie mother fucking Williams.

Sugar and Spice: 10

Clearing the air

Abby Anderson x autistic fem reader

(College au)

An: short & sweet

Y/N didn’t know how long she’d sat in her room before her phone buzzed. The screen lit up with Abby’s name, and for a second, she hesitated.

Then, she answered.

“Hey,” Abby said softly. “Can we talk? I want to explain.”

Y/N nodded even though Abby couldn’t see her. “Okay.”

They met in the campus café the next afternoon. Abby was already waiting, eyes bright but serious, a small nervous smile on her lips.

“I’m really sorry,” Abby began, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t think about how my friends’ teasing might sound to you. When they called you ‘Birdie,’ it’s because one of them thinks you’re as cute as a little bird. It’s a nickname that started out sweet, but I forgot it might sound confusing.”

Y/N’s chest loosened a little, the tight knot inside easing.

Abby took a breath. “And about the stuff they said about me texting my ex — that was just locker-room teasing. Jordan was joking, not realizing you were listening. I haven’t spoken to my ex in months. I promise.”

Y/N looked down at their hands, which were now intertwined across the table.

“I… I didn’t know how to make sense of it all,” Y/N admitted quietly. “It felt like everything I thought was happening wasn’t real. I got scared I’d messed things up.”

Abby squeezed her hand gently. “You didn’t mess anything up. I just didn’t think about how all of it would sound to you. I’m sorry I didn’t explain sooner. I want you to know—I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “Thank you.”

They sat in a soft silence for a moment, the buzz of the café fading around them.

Then Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she looked Abby in the eyes. Her voice was shy but sure.

“If you’ll still have me,” she whispered, “I would love to be your girlfriend.”

Abby’s grin lit up her whole face.

“More than anything,” she said.

They leaned closer, foreheads touching, a gentle warmth spreading between them.

No words were needed.

Just two hearts starting something real

Taglist: @alyaserrax, @femme-historian, @trizxyp, @xxxyukitoxx, @elliewilliamsluvrr, @ra1nbw, @harrystylesswif3, @sewithinsouls, @abbyslefttiddie, @cowboylikelil, @gooseraider, @ratdungeon, @hakandnsjoqmsn, @moonylvs, @mojo-stew444, @wishingonjellyfish, @mewl3tte, @sevikas-whore, @mxmsuki, @beanbagbitch,

@rory-salvatore

Sugar and Spice: 9

The code name

Abby Anderson x autistic fem reader

(College au)

An: don't hate me!!!

Y/N stood outside the gym, rocking lightly on her heels, the strap of her tote bag pulled tight between her fingers. The air was heavy with early evening warmth, the sky tinged orange, and her heart beat a little too loud in her chest.

It had been four days since Abby kissed her. Four days since everything shifted — slowly, quietly, like her world had tilted just enough to make her notice. It had been soft and sure and careful, and it had been her first.

She hadn’t stopped thinking about it.

Now, she waited outside Abby’s practice, just like they’d planned. Abby had told her, “Wait outside, I’ll come grab you when I’m done,” with that half-grin and a promise in her voice. Y/N had nodded, said okay, already feeling her brain fizz with nerves.

The gym doors swung open.

A cluster of girls spilled out in jerseys and ponytails, laughing, sweaty, talking loud and fast in that way sports people always seemed to. Y/N kept her head down, like always — not hiding, exactly, just making herself small. Unremarkable.

Until—

“She said she was gonna ask Birdie out tonight, right?”

“Yeah, unless she chickens out again. You know how Abby gets.”

“Well, if she’s still texting her ex, maybe she should chill.”

“No, birdie is the new one. Abby’s just being low-key. Probably doesn’t wanna mess it up.”

Y/N’s blood ran cold.

Her spine stiffened. Her fingers clenched. Her throat went tight in that horrible, sinking way that always came before a shutdown. Ex. New one. Low-key.

They were talking about Abby.

Abby was texting her ex.

Abby had kissed her, told her she liked her, and now she was asking someone else out?

A name — Birdie — had been said with a laugh, like an inside joke, like something Y/N wasn’t meant to hear.

Her face flushed hot. The edges of the world blurred and pulsed, and it suddenly felt too loud outside. Every sound had teeth.

She turned quickly and walked away.

She didn’t wait to see if Abby came out.

⸻

By the time she got back to her dorm, her limbs were stiff from holding everything in. She shut her door, locked it, dropped her bag on the floor. Her phone buzzed twice in her pocket.

Abby 🧸: hey where’d you go?

Abby 🧸: i’m out now — you good?

Y/N’s stomach twisted.

She put her phone face-down on her desk. She didn’t answer.

⸻

That night was quiet in the way that hurt.

Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed, her fairy lights off, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders even though it was too warm for it. Her fidget cube clicked softly under her fingers, over and over and over. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in hours.

Everything inside her buzzed — like static under her skin, a migraine that hadn’t landed yet. Her thoughts looped: She kissed me. She kissed me and told me I was different. She kissed me and now she’s texting her ex.

She didn’t know how to name the feeling. It wasn’t quite betrayal — they weren’t together — but it felt like betrayal. Like being left out of something she didn’t even know she was part of.

Why would Abby kiss her like that? Look at her like that?

Unless… it hadn’t meant the same thing to Abby that it meant to her.

Unless… she had just been a joke.

Her chest ached. Not sharp — not dramatic — but dull and hollow, like something had been scooped out without her noticing.

⸻

She opened her journal.

The pen shook in her hand.

She wrote:

maybe i made it up.

maybe it was just something nice that happened once even though she said she liked me.

maybe she’s already moved on and i’m just sitting here feeling everything too big again.

it was my first kiss. i knew it was too good to be true.

i shouldn’t have let her.

The words looked wrong when she reread them. But she didn’t cross them out.

She closed the journal and curled up in bed, pulling the blanket over her ears, trying to drown out the leftover voices in her head.

She didn’t cry.

She just stared at the wall, silent, still, and let the night go on without her.

The knock came later than she expected.

Y/N didn’t move. She was still on her bed, blanket cocooned around her, heart dull in her chest. The knock came again — softer this time. Then a voice.

“Y/N? …It’s me.”

Abby.

Y/N closed her eyes.

Part of her wanted to stay quiet. Pretend she wasn’t here. But Abby’s voice was gentler now, closer to the version of her that had kissed her, and Y/N’s limbs were too tired to hide.

She got up, moved slowly, and opened the door.

Abby stood there in a hoodie and joggers, hair damp from a post-practice shower, brow creased with concern. She looked… confused. Not angry. Not upset. Just like she didn’t get what had happened.

“You left,” Abby said quietly. “I came out and you were gone.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. She didn’t know how to say I heard your friends. I heard what they said. I think you lied to me.

She just nodded, arms crossed tight against her chest.

“I texted you. A few times,” Abby added.

“I saw,” Y/N mumbled.

A pause. Abby frowned. “Did I… do something?”

Y/N blinked, biting the inside of her cheek. Her stomach flipped. She hated this part — the messy, vague, unclear stuff. The part where she had to ask if something was real, or explain why something hurt when it should’ve been obvious.

“I was waiting like we planned,” she said, voice quieter than she meant it to be. “And then I heard your friends.”

Abby’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“They were talking about you. About…” She hesitated, looking down. “About texting your ex. And calling someone Birdie.’ And saying you were asking someone out.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Abby blinked — once, twice — and shook her head, almost laughing under her breath. “Wait. That’s you, Y/N. You’re Birdie.”

Y/N stiffened. “…What?”

“Yeah. That’s just what Jordan calls you because she thinks your pretty like a little bird. I told her I liked you and I was gonna ask you out for real and she—Jesus, that’s what this is about?”

Y/N’s throat tightened. Her heart was pounding too fast to think clearly.

Abby stepped in slightly, tone softening. “I’m not texting my ex. I haven’t even talked to her in months. This is about you, Y/N. I was gonna ask if we could… I don’t know, make this a thing. You and me.”

The words should have soothed her. But they didn’t.

Because Abby was saying them like it was obvious. Like the joke was simple, the misunderstanding harmless.

But Y/N’s brain was still caught back in the hallway, in the tone of those voices, in the nickname that wasn’t hers, in the way the world had dropped out from under her chest for hours.

“I didn’t know that,” Y/N said, barely above a whisper.

Abby blinked. “Didn’t know what?”

“That I was ‘birdie.’ That you weren’t…” Her voice broke slightly. “You kissed me and then I thought you were talking to someone else.”

“I wasn’t. I wouldn’t. You really thought that?”

Y/N winced. “It felt like it.”

Abby ran a hand through her hair, visibly frustrated — but not at Y/N. At the situation. “God. I didn’t even think about how that would sound. I should’ve just told them to shut up.”

Y/N didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her brain was running on a ten-second delay and everything felt off-kilter.

Abby took a breath. “Can I come in?”

Y/N hesitated.

Then shook her head.

Abby didn’t argue. She just nodded slowly, understanding — or thinking she did.

“I didn’t mean to mess things up,” she said softly. “I still wanna ask you out. Just… when you’re ready.”

Y/N swallowed hard. Her fingers curled into the hem of her sleeve. She didn’t answer.

Abby waited a moment longer.

Then she turned and walked away.

⸻

Y/N shut the door, leaned her back against it, and slid down until she was sitting on the floor.

She felt hollow and full at the same time. Like she’d almost understood what happened but didn’t. Like the conversation helped and didn’t.

Her mind buzzed with too many things: the nickname, the ex, the kiss, the plans that had gone sideways.

She didn’t know if Abby was still waiting.

She didn’t know if she was ready.

All she knew was that her heart still ached in the same place it had when she first heard those girls laugh.

And she wasn’t sure how to un-hear it.

Sugar and Spice 8:

Greetings

Abby Anderson x autistic fem reader

(College au)

An: things are happening ;)

The plan was simple: iced lattes, a walk through the quieter part of the city, and maybe that tiny used bookstore Abby kept mentioning. Nothing loud. Nothing overwhelming. Abby had even texted “Bring sunglasses. You’ll like the light today.” And she was right — the sun was soft, filtered through big clouds, making everything feel muted in the best way.

Y/N liked this part of the date already. They weren’t rushing. Abby didn’t fill the silence with small talk, didn’t expect her to perform or entertain. They walked shoulder to shoulder, with the occasional touch — a brush of arms, a bump of hips — each one sending a warm little spark up Y/N’s spine.

And Y/N was okay with it. More than okay.

She was thinking about maybe — maybe — slipping her hand into Abby’s when she heard it.

“ABBY ANDERSON. You’ve got a girl out in the wild?”

Y/N’s stomach didn’t drop. It jolted. But it wasn’t panic — just the instant overload of sudden voices, unexpected social interaction, and too many people heading toward her at once. Three of them. Big energy. Big voices. Basketball energy, obviously.

Abby sighed like she’d expected this exact chaos. “Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath, glancing at Y/N with a gentle smile. “You good?”

Y/N blinked up at her and nodded once. Not because she felt amazing, but because she knew she could handle it. She wasn’t going to melt. She just needed a second to process. Abby nodded back, like she trusted her to know her limits.

Jordan reached them first — loud, dramatic, backwards cap and all. “So this is the mystery girl, huh?” she said, looking at Y/N like she was trying to solve a riddle. “You’re even prettier than we expected.”

Maya elbowed her. “Jordan, shut up. Hi, I’m Maya. Sorry in advance for… that.” She gestured to Jordan, who bowed like a clown.

“Theo,” said the third — quieter, chill. “Nice to meet you.”

Y/N gave a small smile. “Hey.” Her voice was calm. Just above quiet. She knew that was enough.

Abby looped an arm lightly around Y/N’s shoulders, not heavy or possessive — just grounding. “We’re on a date,” she said plainly. “We’re not staying long.”

Jordan grinned. “We’ll leave you alone, then. But, like. She’s adorable. Please don’t scare her off.”

“She’s not scared,” Abby said. Her voice didn’t rise, but it had finality to it. Like she wasn’t going to let anyone misread Y/N. “She has better things to do than shout in the middle of the street.”

Y/N’s lips twitched at that. She didn’t feel tense anymore.

She kind of felt like laughing.

After the three of them peeled off — Maya offering a sweet wave and Jordan pretending to be dragged away by Theo — Abby turned to her, rubbing her thumb gently across the seam of Y/N’s sleeve.

“You okay?” she asked.

Y/N nodded. “Wasn’t expecting a social ambush. But I survived.”

Abby grinned. “You handled it better than I did. Jordan has no off switch.”

“Clearly,” Y/N muttered. Then, a second later: “Your friends are nice. A lot. But nice.”

They kept walking. Abby didn’t press. Y/N was grateful for that — she liked that Abby could feel when silence was comfortable and didn’t try to fill it. She didn’t need to perform around Abby. She could just be.

Later in Abby's car-

They sat parked outside Y/N’s place, the sun dipping behind a line of low rooftops. Everything felt orange and slow.

Y/N didn’t move to get out. Abby didn’t point it out. The quiet was warm — not awkward, not heavy. Just soft. Like they were still figuring out how to stay close without letting the moment break apart.

The thought of saying goodnight felt sharp in her throat.

Abby didn’t break the silence right away. She sat behind the wheel, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel in a soft, steady rhythm. She hadn’t touched Y/N since they left the café, but she hadn’t pulled away, either. Just gave her space. Like always.

Y/N finally glanced over. Abby was already looking at her.

That made her chest feel weird. Warm. Unsteady.

“I liked today,” Y/N said, voice quiet.

Abby smiled a little. “Yeah?”

Y/N nodded once.

“I know the whole friend ambush thing wasn’t ideal,” Abby added, “but I was glad you were there with me.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. Compliments were still weird — especially from Abby. Especially ones that felt that… true.

Instead of answering, she shifted in her seat. Not away. Just—closer. Her thigh brushed Abby’s, barely. She felt every point of contact like static under her skin.

Abby noticed.

She leaned in, not too close. Not assuming. But closer.

“You good?” she asked.

Y/N nodded, then hesitated.

She wanted something. She didn’t know how to ask for it. She didn’t know if she was allowed to.

She didn’t know how to make herself do anything about it.

So she didn’t. She just looked at Abby, blinking slow, breath a little shallow, lips parted in a way she wasn’t thinking about until it was already happening.

And Abby read it.

Not like a mind reader — more like someone who had already decided she was going to meet Y/N where she was, always.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” Abby said, calm and soft and sure.

Y/N didn’t move.

Then she nodded — tiny, quiet, definite.

Abby leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t careful, either. It was gentle, but confident. Like Abby knew exactly what she was offering and had been waiting for the moment Y/N would reach for it.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed. Her body went still.

It didn’t feel like she expected. It wasn’t fireworks or butterflies or whatever people wrote about in those books she used to hide under her pillow. It was warm. It was steady. It was better than in the books. It was Abby’s hand brushing her jaw and the scent of her hoodie and the feeling of something she didn’t know how to name curling up soft and certain inside her chest.

When Abby pulled back, she stayed close.

Y/N didn’t open her eyes right away.

“You okay?” Abby asked quietly.

Y/N gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

Her voice was small, but not scared. Just full.

Abby smiled against her cheek. “Good.”

Y/N didn’t say it, but she knew she’d be replaying that kiss for weeks. Maybe forever.

Later that night, Y/N lay curled beneath her duvet, the cool fabric soft against her skin. Her phone was balanced carefully on her stomach, screen dimmed, but her fingers hovered over it, hesitating.

The memory of Abby’s kiss wasn’t like a thunderstorm in her head. It was quieter than that. Like a small fire, steady and warm, glowing beneath the surface.

She could still feel the gentle weight of Abby’s hand on her jaw, the softness of her lips, the way the world outside the car seemed to pause just for them.

Y/N blinked up at the ceiling, tracing patterns in her mind — trying to capture the moment without breaking it. Her heart was fluttering, but steady. Her body relaxed in a way it hadn’t in days.

She wanted to text Ellie. Maybe just a little note: It happened. And it was everything and more.

But the words felt too big. So she didn’t.

Instead, she grabbed her journal and opened it to a fresh page.

Her pen hovered, unsure where to begin.

Finally, she wrote, carefully:

Abby kissed me.

It wasn’t scary.

It wasn’t confusing.

It was quiet. Like she was telling me something true without words.

And I want to feel that again.

Her hand stilled. She smiled softly, cheeks warm in the dark.

For once, she didn’t feel the need to hide.

She just felt… seen.

Sugar and Spice: 7

Comfort Zones

Abby Anderson x autistic fem reader

(college au)

An: had to whip this out as a thank you for 600 followers yayay

Y/N didn’t know how she was still breathing.

Abby had said it — I like you. Like it wasn’t the biggest sentence in the world. Like it hadn’t rearranged every thought Y/N had managed to keep organized.

The lights from the gym still buzzed somewhere behind them, but the walk to the diner was quiet. Their shoulders brushed now and then. Not on purpose — at least not from Y/N’s side. She wasn’t good with knowing if someone wanted that kind of thing. But Abby didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned a little closer every time.

The inside of the diner was all muted pink booths and flickering neon. Comfortably dim. No echoey clatter, no blaring music. Y/N picked the booth furthest from the kitchen and sat on the inside so she wouldn’t get startled every time someone came in.

Abby slid in across from her, still in her basketball hoodie. She looked soft like that, hair tied up, cheeks a little red from the game.

Y/N looked down at the laminated menu even though she’d already memorized it the last three times she came here.

Abby was still smiling at her like she had been since the gym.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Abby said quietly, not teasing. “To the game.”

Y/N shrugged. “I… I wanted to.”

Abby’s smile went a little crooked. “I’m really glad you did.”

Y/N tried to hold eye contact, but it felt too hot, too direct. She focused on the rim of Abby’s water glass instead.

Abby didn’t push. Just flipped her menu open, humming under her breath like nothing was weird. It made it easier. Safer.

Y/N didn’t know how to process what had happened. Abby liked her. That wasn’t something she was used to. It didn’t fit with her usual scripts — the ones where she stayed quiet, unnoticed, safely on the outside.

Now Abby was here. Sitting across from her, legs brushing under the table, treating her like she was something… special.

She didn’t feel special. She felt like a bundle of nerves wearing her favorite hoodie and trying not to stim too obviously with the straw wrapper in her hand.

Abby ordered pancakes with strawberries. Y/N got the same because deciding things on the spot felt like a trap. Abby grinned when she noticed.

“You copied me,” she said, voice soft. Not accusing. More like… fond.

Y/N looked down again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Abby tilted her head. “You can always copy me.”

The way she said it made Y/N’s heart do something strange and fluttery.

They talked, but not too much. Abby asked about Y/N’s favorite show — not in a small talk way, but like she actually wanted to hear the answer. Y/N found herself rambling about the sapphic romance she was watching, and when she realized, she went quiet, bracing for the awkward shift.

But Abby just leaned in, chin on her hand, and said, “That sounds cute. I’d like to watch that with you.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that either. So she just nodded and sipped her drink, hand twitching a little in her lap.

Are you okay?” Abby asked gently, not like she expected a fake answer.

Y/N nodded, though it was slow. “Just… a lot.”

“I get that.” Abby leaned forward on her elbows. “You don’t have to say anything. I know I kind of… dropped it on you. With the whole ‘I like you’ thing.”

Y/N shook her head. “No. I’m glad. I just— I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Abby said, voice warm. “We’re just eating pancakes.”

The thing was — she wasn’t used to this. People liking her. People being soft on purpose. Most people made her feel like a puzzle they didn’t want to solve. But Abby looked at her like she wanted to know every weird piece. Like none of it scared her off.

It was late by the time they stepped back outside. The streets were quiet. No cars, no crowds. Just the two of them and the yellow glow of the streetlamps.

“You want me to walk you back?” Abby asked, already matching her steps to Y/N’s pace.

Y/N nodded, tugging her sleeves down over her fingers.

Inside, everything felt familiar — the way it always did when Abby came over. The books stacked unevenly by the window. The fairy lights. The soft hoodie Abby had left here a week ago hanging over the desk chair.

Y/N toed off her shoes and went to grab two cups of water out of habit. Abby didn’t ask where anything was. She knew.

But when Y/N came back, Abby was standing by the door, thumb hooked on the strap of her gym bag.

“I should probably head out,” Abby said. “It’s late.”

Y/N froze. “You can stay the night.”

Abby looked at her, just a little surprised. “Yeah?”

Y/N nodded. “You’ve stayed before.”

Yeah, but…” Abby’s expression shifted — softening, but still unsure. “You’ve never asked me to sleepover. ”

Y/N’s face went hot. She looked down. “It’s okay. You can. I’m fine with it. If you want, you can sleep in my bed".

Abby stepped forward slowly, like she was walking through a dream. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna push—”

“I’m sure,” Y/N said before she could change her mind. “I trust you.

The silence after that wasn’t awkward. It was thick with something else — something careful and sweet and brand new.

They changed. Abby turned her back. When she came back out in pajamas, Abby was already under the blanket, leaning against the wall, hair messy, hoodie swapped for a tank top.

Y/N climbed in, stiff as a statue at first. She stayed on her side, arms tight around her pillow.

Abby didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe too loud. She stayed still, giving space without pulling away completely.

“Hey,” she said after a minute. “You okay?”

Y/N nodded, then changed her mind and whispered, “I think so.”

“You’re allowed to change your mind. About anything.”

“I know.”

There was a pause. Y/N’s chest felt tight, but not in a bad way. Just full. Overflowing.

“Do you want me to… stay where I am?” Abby asked gently.

Y/N hesitated. Then, very carefully, she reached out and let her fingers brush Abby’s arm. Light, like a question.

Abby didn’t move. Just smiled in the dark. “You can touch me. If it feels good.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just pressed her hand a little more firmly against Abby’s arm. Her skin was warm. Her presence was grounding.

Eventually, Y/N shifted closer. Abby didn’t speak — just moved slow, careful, until their foreheads were almost touching. Abby’s hand came to rest lightly on Y/N’s back, not pushing, just there.

Y/N didn’t know she could fall asleep with someone this close.

But she did.

⸻

Abby wasn’t aware of the moment Y/N’s breathing changed — slow, even, soft against her shoulder. She didn’t expect the closeness, not this much. But she didn’t dare move.

She could feel the trust in every inch of space Y/N hadn’t put between them.

And she knew exactly how much that meant.

Abby smiled in the dark, her fingers barely grazing Y/N’s arm. Not holding. Just… keeping her close.

Not going anywhere.

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