wherethefigsfall

[wherethefigsfall]

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

[wherethefigsfall]

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.

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

[wherethefigsfall]

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.

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

[wherethefigsfall]

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.

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

[wherethefigsfall]

Sugar and spice: 6

You came

Abby Anderson x autistic fem reader

(College au)

An: worked on this all day yesterday so i could release this at midnight as it’s now my bday :)

Y/N almost didn't go.

She’d spent over an hour moving between her desk and her wardrobe, picking things up and putting them down. Her hoodie lay in a crumpled pile on the bed, halfway on before she’d ripped it off, too hot, too nervous. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Not in a dramatic way. Just small tremors from overthinking too much for too long.

She hadn’t told Abby she was thinking about coming. Abby hadn’t brought it up again either — not since her meltdown, when she’d said, “There’s a game Friday. You don’t have to come. Seriously.”

Y/N had nodded. She wasn’t good at reacting to things like that. She never knew what was expected.

She still didn’t.

So she stood outside the gym in the dark for five full minutes, frozen, heart pounding like she was about to do something dangerous — which, emotionally speaking, maybe she was. It felt dangerous. Letting someone in. Letting someone see her trying.

But then she thought about Abby’s voice. How calm it had sounded when she’d said that. Like she genuinely meant it. Like she wanted her there, even if she wouldn’t say it outright.

Y/N slipped inside the gym right after the game started. The noise hit her hard — too many voices, too many lights. It was worse than she’d expected, but she kept going. She found a seat at the top row of the bleachers, in the corner, where no one was behind her and she could tuck into herself without drawing attention.

She kept her eyes on the floor. Hands in sleeves. Body small.

Then she heard it.

“Number 22, Abby Anderson!”

She looked up without meaning to.

And Abby was there.

Jogging out with the rest of the team, face set, shoulders broad and steady — but then her head turned toward the crowd. She scanned briefly, casually, and then she saw her.

Her steps faltered.

Just for a second.

And then her expression softened — not surprised, not shocked. Just something warm. Open. Like she was seeing something she hadn’t dared hope for.

She smiled, slow and quiet, like it was just for Y/N. No performance, no show.

Y/N stared back, chest tight, heart suddenly louder than the whole gym.

⸻

The game was mostly a blur.

Y/N tried to watch, but her attention drifted. She was hyper-aware of the sound, of her hands curled tight in her sleeves, of the buzz in her body that wouldn’t settle. She kept catching herself watching Abby — how intense she looked on the court, how easily she moved, how her voice carried when she called out plays. She looked like someone completely at home in herself.

It was almost hard to believe this was the same Abby who had knelt beside her in the library and quietly handed her a pair of headphones like it was nothing.

But she was. And somehow, that made it worse — or better — or both.

Y/N told herself she’d leave before the end. Before the gym flooded. Before she could be seen, talked to, pulled into anything.

But she didn’t.

She stood in the shadow near the exit, where the hallway lights dimmed, jacket zipped up to her chin, thumb rubbing circles into the palm of her hand.

She almost missed her — until she heard her name.

“Y/N?”

She turned.

Abby was flushed from the game, hair sticking to her forehead, jersey slightly askew. Her eyes were wide, and she looked almost… soft.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” Abby said, walking toward her slowly.

Y/N shrugged, nervous. “I didn’t think I was either.”

Abby stopped just a foot in front of her. She didn’t smile right away. She just looked — really looked — like she was trying to memorize the moment.

“I meant it when I said you could,” Abby said. “I wanted you here.”

“I didn’t know if you did,” Y/N murmured. “Sometimes people say stuff like that to be nice.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean to you,” Abby said, voice lower now. “Ever.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped. She didn’t know what to say to that — or maybe she did, but the words got lost somewhere between her ribs.

Abby stepped a little closer.

“No one’s ever come just for me before,” she added, quieter this time. “Not like that.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Abby said. “And not anyone I… like.”

Y/N blinked. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then asked, “Like… like like?”

Abby let out a soft laugh — the kind that didn’t mock, just melted.

“Yeah,” she said. “Like that.”

Y/N stared at her. “Oh.”

Abby tilted her head. “Oh?”

“I didn’t think you liked me like that.”

“Well,” Abby said, stepping just a little closer, “I definitely like you like that.”

The words hit her like warm water. Y/N felt her throat go tight.

“I don’t usually… get it when people flirt,” she admitted.

“I know,” Abby said gently. “That’s why I’m not gonna be subtle.”

“Oh.”

“That okay?”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s okay.”

Abby smiled again — more this time. It lit her whole face.

“Come get food with me?” she asked, voice lighter now. “As in, a thing. A not-just-friends thing. We can sit somewhere quiet. I’ll talk. You eat. You don’t have to pretend to be anything.”

Y/N felt her whole body exhale. Like something had been locked up and was finally loosening.

“Okay,” she said. “Yeah. That sounds… really nice.”

Abby reached out and brushed her knuckles gently against Y/N’s sleeve-covered hand.

“Cool,” she said, voice warm. “Let’s go.”

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N followed someone without second-guessing if she belonged.

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

[wherethefigsfall]

Sugar and Spice: 5

Thunder

Abby Anderson x autistic fem reader

(College au)

An: not my fave chapter but we move (i promise that the next few chapters will better)

The sky looked heavy all day, but nothing prepared Yn for how fast the storm hit. She was walking back from class when the first loud crack of thunder shook the air. The rain came down like someone was throwing buckets from the sky.

She didn’t drive, so she had no choice but to keep walking. Her clothes were soaked within minutes. When she spotted a small concrete shelter near the science building, she ducked in, pressing her back against the cold wall, trying to make herself as small as possible.

Her hands shook uncontrollably. The pounding rain was too loud. The flashes of lightning were too bright. Her breath hitched as the overwhelming sensory flood started to swallow her whole.

Her phone buzzed repeatedly, but she couldn’t bring herself to check the messages.

When Abby called, the sound of her voice made Yn jump. She snatched up the phone, her voice trembling as she tried to explain.

“I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to be late… the storm came out of nowhere and I couldn’t move…” She sniffled, swallowing hard.

“It’s okay, just tell me where you are.” Abby’s voice was steady, patient.

YN gave her location as best she could, but her mind felt like fog. When the line went dead. YN’s heart sank. Did Abby think she was being difficult? Was she angry?

Minutes later, headlights cut through the rain. Abby was there, holding out a hoodie, some dry clothes, and — surprisingly — the little fidget toy YN had left in Abby’s bag weeks ago. It was such a small gesture, but YN’s chest tightened.

She climbed into Abby’s warm car and changed in the backseat while Abby waited quietly outside. Once she got in, Abby started talking about the basketball game coming up Friday night — soft, low, distracting. YN let herself calm down with Abby’s voice filling the space around her.

When Abby dropped her home, she didn’t ask to come in. She just said, “Let me know when you’re warm and okay.”

Later, wrapped in dry clothes and still shaking a little, YN texted:

“Thank you for coming to get me.”

Abby replied instantly:

“Always.”

⸻

Abby wasn’t used to worrying like this. YN was usually punctual — obsessive about being on time. So when she saw the messages piling up unanswered, and then the call finally connect, her heart skipped.

Her voice stayed calm, but inside she was tense. She told YN to stay put and rushed out with whatever she could grab to help — dry clothes, a hoodie, and that tiny tangle toy YN had accidentally left behind.

When she found YN shivering under the shelter, Abby’s chest squeezed. She couldn’t help but reach out with the clothes and the toy, hoping to make even the smallest difference.

Waiting outside the car while YN changed was awkward but necessary. She didn’t want to overwhelm her.

On the drive back, Abby kept her voice low, telling stories about the basketball practice and the upcoming game, hoping to steady YN’s breathing with something normal, something light.

She invited YN to the game — no pressure, just a quiet hope.

When she dropped YN off, she said the only thing that mattered: “Let me know when you’re warm and okay.” Because she meant it. She always would.

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

@sevikas-whore

[wherethefigsfall]

Sugar and Spice: 4

Best study date ever

Abby Anderson x autistic fem reader

(College au)

Y/N told herself this was just a study date. Not a date date. But she also knew Abby had called it that. Twice. Out loud.

And now she was in the library, ten minutes early, already spiraling.

The lights were too bright. The air was too dry. The sounds—keyboards, whispers, zippers, someone stirring a drink—were all crowding into her brain, pushing against each other. And the worst part?

She forgot her headphones.

They were sitting on her desk back in her dorm, probably right next to her carefully packed pencil case. She blinked hard against the sting behind her eyes. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to bail. She wanted to see Abby.

She just needed everything to be a little bit quieter.

She curled into herself at one of the back tables, trying to fake focus on her laptop, pressing her fingers into her temples to ground herself.

Then—

“Hey, you.”

Abby’s voice cut through the noise like it always did. Soft. Warm. Unapologetically happy to see her. Y/N looked up and there she was: Abby Anderson, in a navy hoodie that clung to her arms like it was custom-made, braid falling loose over her shoulder, and the softest smile aimed right at her.

And just like that, the world got a little smaller. A little easier.

Abby dropped her backpack gently onto the table across from her but didn’t sit down right away.

“You okay?”

She nodded. Lied.

Abby tilted her head, reading her a little too well.

“Too loud?”

Y/N blinked. Swallowed. Then nodded again, slower.

Abby didn’t ask questions. Didn’t make it a thing. She just crouched beside her bag, unzipped a side pocket, and pulled out a sleek pair of over-ear headphones. Big, soft, familiar.

She held them out across the table.

“You can borrow them,” she said, quiet. “They’re charged. And—uh—I wiped them down before I packed them. Just in case.”

That last part made Y/N’s throat tight.

She reached out slowly, carefully, and took them from Abby like she was handing over something fragile. Because in a way, she was.

“Thank you,” Y/N murmured, voice a little shaky but genuine.

Abby finally sat across from her, pulling her laptop out and nudging it open with a practiced ease. Y/N slid the headphones on—and just like that, the sounds dulled. The library melted into something manageable. Bearable.

She glanced up at Abby, not quite smiling, but closer to it than she’d been all day.

Abby grinned.

⸻

They worked like that for a long time—parallel, quiet, warm. Every so often, Abby would glance over at Y/N, just to check in. She never interrupted. Just offered that soft, grounded presence that made Y/N’s chest unclench.

At one point, she caught Abby doodling little shapes in the corner of her notes. One of them looked suspiciously like a tiny pair of headphones. Y/N didn’t say anything, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

She didn’t know how long it had been when Abby gently tapped the table near her laptop.

Y/N looked up, sliding one ear of the headphones off.

“You hungry?” Abby asked.

Y/N hesitated. She didn’t want this to end. Not yet. Being around Abby was easy in a way nothing else was. Even the buzzing in her head had quieted, replaced by a low hum that felt almost… safe.

She chewed her lip, then took a breath.

“Do you wanna come back to my dorm?” Y/N asked, almost too quickly. “I mean—only if you want to. It’s quiet there. I have snacks. And tea. And blankets.”

Abby blinked. And then she smiled. Full-on, teeth-showing, soft-eyed kind of smile that made Y/N’s stomach do something unhinged.

“I’d love to.”

⸻

Y/N’s dorm was already dim when they got back. She didn’t bother turning on the overhead light—just the warm lamp on her desk. Abby looked around like she’d just stepped into a sanctuary.

“Cozy,” Abby said.

“That’s code for cluttered.”

She grinned. “No. Cozy. Feels like you.”

Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed while Abby settled on the floor, back against the wall, legs stretched out. She looked comfortable—too comfortable, like she belonged there.

Y/N offered her a mug of peppermint tea and a pack of strawberry Pocky, and Abby accepted both like they were gourmet.

For a while, they just sat in the quiet, sipping. Every now and then, their eyes met, and neither of them looked away too quickly.

“I missed you,” Abby said suddenly, voice low.

Y/N’s heart did a strange, fluttery thing.

She didn’t answer right away. She looked down at her tea, then back up at Abby.

“I missed you too,” she said. Then, softer: “A lot.”

There was a beat of silence. A nice one.

Then Abby leaned her head back against the wall, watching Y/N like she was something soothing. Like just being there was enough.

Y/N didn’t move closer. She didn’t have to. Everything about the moment was already close.

And when Abby finally said, “This is the best study date I’ve ever had,” Y/N didn’t roll her eyes. She just smiled into her tea.

Because it was hers too.

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

[wherethefigsfall]

Sugar and Spice: 3

This explains a lot

Abby Anderson x autistic fem reader

(College au)

An: was gonna post this tm but I'm in a sour mood so u can have it today : )

Abby Anderson didn’t usually overthink things like this.

She could get ready for a party in ten minutes flat, barely look in the mirror, and still pull. But now she’d spent fifteen minutes trying to decide if a hoodie looked too casual or effortlessly casual. She changed her shoes twice. She even considered cologne, then panicked about it being too much and scrubbed it off with a makeup wipe.

It wasn’t like her. And she knew exactly why.

Her phone buzzed on the dresser.

Yn: On my way :) sorry if i’m like. awkward or weird. just nervous lol

That little message made something flicker in her chest — a soft, nervous ache she didn’t know what to do with.

Abby: nervous is cute. see you soon <3

Across campus, y/n was walking towards the park with careful steps and quiet panic brewing just under the surface.

Music played softly through one earbud — low enough to hear the birds and the distant voices, but enough to keep things from feeling too loud. Hands twisted in loose cardigan sleeves. That made everything feel a little bit safer.

Three potential conversation starters had already been rehearsed and discarded. Every worst-case scenario was being mentally catalogued on loop. What if it got too quiet? What if something came out wrong? What if it looked like she didn’t care when in reality, her whole body was buzzing?

The tote bag bounced gently at her side. On the strap, a small pin caught the sunlight — “encourage lesbianism.” Maybe it was cringe. Maybe it was bold. It had taken three tries to leave her dorm wearing it. She never actually came out to anyone. But the thought still felt right.

Abby was already at the park when she arrived, sitting cross-legged under a wide sycamore tree with her phone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. She looked relaxed, even if she’d just spent ten minutes fake-scrolling Instagram to hide how nervous she felt.

When she looked up, their eyes met for a second.

Hey,” Abby said, standing a little too fast and brushing grass off her jeans.

“Hii,” came the reply — quiet, but not uncertain.

They sat. Not too close. Not too far.

Abby asked about classes. The answers came soft and a little scattered, but thoughtful — every word carefully chosen. When a favorite book came up, Abby pulled out her phone and typed the title into her Notes app without making a big deal out of it. It felt like a gentle kind of intimacy.

Then, somewhere between talking about how overwhelming campus could be and how loud the dining hall got during lunch rush, something slipped out.

“Sorry — I get kind of overstimulated with stuff like that. I’m autistic, so… yeah. It’s just a lot sometimes.”

It wasn’t meant to come out like that. No big reveal. No preface. Just a fact, sitting there between them.

Abby blinked.

Then she smiled — soft and easy, like it made perfect sense.

“That actually explains a lot,” she said, voice low and kind. “You have this really careful way of talking. I like it.”

A beat passed. Then another.

The reaction was almost invisible — a small smile, eyes dropping shyly to the grass, fingers twisting in a sleeve. But it was real. And Abby felt it like gravity.

The conversation stretched on for longer than either of them expected.

The sun shifted in the sky. People came and went around them — students crossing the lawn, music playing faintly from someone’s speaker in the distance, the occasional bark of a dog. But under the sycamore tree, everything felt quiet. Like its own little bubble.

There were pauses, but they weren’t uncomfortable. Abby found herself leaning forward more, smiling softer, laughing in this low, almost breathy way she didn’t even know she had. And across from her, every reply came a little easier, a little closer to unfiltered — like the space between them was slowly, gently being filled.

Eventually, Abby checked her phone and sighed. “I have a group meeting in, like, ten minutes,” she said. She didn’t move, though. “Wish I didn’t.”

There was a small nod. “Yeah. Same. Not the meeting part. Just… wish we could stay.”

Abby stood, brushing grass from her jeans again. “Let me walk you a little?”

“Okay.”

They walked side by side down the path, neither speaking for the first few steps. The air between them was warm and humming — not awkward, just full. Comfortable in the way that meant something good had happened.

When they reached the split in the path, Abby slowed. “Hey,” she said, lightly touching the sleeve of the cardigan. Just enough to pause the moment. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”

There was a small inhale, barely audible. A nod.

“Thanks for… being easy to talk to,” came the reply, voice quiet but sincere.

Abby tilted her head, a smile flickering at the corners of her mouth. “I’m really glad you told me,” she said gently. “About everything.”

Then, slowly — like asking a question without words — she reached out and touched the other girl’s hand. Not a grab, not a hold. Just fingers brushing fingers, soft and tentative.

When the touch was returned — small, shy, but certain — Abby’s smile deepened. It wasn’t wide or cocky or cool. It was real. Almost bashful.

“I’ll text you later?”

A nod. “Okay.”

“Cool.” Abby lingered a beat longer, then turned down the path. She didn’t look back until she was a few steps away — and when she did, the other girl was still standing there, watching her go with the softest expression.

Neither of them said anything else.

But both of them walked away smiling. And for the first time in a while, it felt like the start of something really good.

Taglist: @alyaserrax , @femme-historian, @trizxyp, @xxxyukitoxx, @elliewilliamsluvrr, @ra1nbw, @harrystylesswif3, @sewithinsouls, @abbyslefttiddie, @cowboylikelil, @gooseraider, @ratdungeon, @hakandnsjoqmsn, @moonylvs

[wherethefigsfall]

Couples who play siege together stay together:

Abby Anderson x fem reader

Established relationship (college au)

An: as a little thank you for over 500 followers here's a one shot while I work on the series also finally figured out how to make a masterlist : p

Abby’s apartment was technically campus housing — technically. Realistically, it was far enough from the main quad that walking there felt like a punishment. The heating made noises like it was dying on purpose, the fridge leaned at an angle that suggested that you and abby were freaked out, and the hallway smelled vaguely of paint thinner. But the windows let in good light, and Abby kept it clean in the way someone does when they hate clutter but live with someone who thrives in it.

That someone being Nora, who was currently stretched across the couch like she paid rent in square footage.

“You realize most people start with Mario Kart, right?” you muttered, fingers clumsily navigating Rainbow Six Siege’s absurd number of controls. “Maybe even Wii Sports? Not a tactical shooter with forty-five buttons and an entire war to lose.”

From where she sat cross-legged on the floor behind you, Abby tilted her head, grinning. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe in not dying before I’ve even located a door?”

“You’re fine.”

“I’m staring at the ceiling, Abby. I’m dead. I died. A man shot me through a plant.”

Abby reached out and adjusted your headset like it was a crown. “Just means you’ll respawn smarter.”

“Wow. Motivational and condescending.”

“I try.”

From the couch, Nora cracked open a soda with the air of someone watching a sitcom. “This is better than TV,” she announced, taking a sip. “She’s dying every two minutes and Abby’s still pretending this is going well.”

“I’m building her confidence,” Abby said dryly. “It’s called positive reinforcement.”

“I just fragged myself.”

“You’re learning what not to do. That’s growth.”

You gave her a look, then immediately got flashbanged in-game and screamed.

Nora cackled.

Abby bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh. “Okay. Okay. Let’s take it slower. You know what a wall is, right?”

“I swear to god.”

“Good,” she said, squeezing your shoulder. “Next step: don’t walk directly into a tripwire.”

You sighed and leaned back against her, already mentally preparing your apology to the fictional hostage you were definitely about to kill. “Why do I feel like this is a test of our relationship?”

“It’s not,” Abby said, resting her chin on your shoulder. “But if you shoot me again, I’m sleeping with Nora tonight.”

Nora snorted. “Bold of you to assume I’m sharing my bed. You chose this chaos.”

“You’re all heart.”

“And you’re the one who said, ‘let’s teach her Siege,’” Nora replied. “Next time, try Scrabble.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother replying. The next round started, and once again, you found yourself spinning in a circle while Abby gently guided your thumb to the correct stick.

“You’re getting better,” she said.

“I just shot a lightbulb.”

“Progress.”

“I threw a grenade instead of opening a door.”

“Unconventional.”

“I might actually cry.”

Nora sighed dramatically. “Can you two flirt later? I’m trying to focus on your incompetence.”

You flipped her off. Abby kissed your temple. The round ended. You lost. Again.

And still — you kind of liked this. Abby’s arm loosely wrapped around your waist. Nora’s dumb commentary in the background. The smell of takeout on the counter. Laughter that felt like comfort, not cruelty.

Maybe you were objectively terrible at this game.

But you were in Abby’s hoodie, in Abby’s arms, dying over and over again while two people who actually gave a shit about you made fun of you like it was a love language.

It wasn’t a win.

But it sure as hell wasn’t a loss.

Later, the controller had been abandoned on the rug, Siege paused mid-round. You were curled up on the couch now, legs draped over Abby’s lap, your head resting against her shoulder. She absently toyed with the sleeve of your hoodie — her hoodie, technically — while Nora scrolled through her phone at the other end of the couch, muttering half-hearted commentary about bad dating profiles.

Abby leaned down slightly, her voice quieter than before. “Thanks for trying.”

You tilted your head, eyes still half-closed. “At the game, or just in general?”

She smiled, brushing her fingers along your wrist. “Both.”

You huffed a laugh. “I shot a hostage, threw a grenade at myself, and screamed at a smoke grenade.”

“You’re still my favorite teammate.”

“Low bar.”

“Sure,” she said, gently squeezing your hand, “but you clear it.”

From the corner of the couch, Nora groaned. “I swear to god, if you two start whisper-flirting again, I’m going to lock myself in the bathroom and scream.”

You didn’t even look at her. “Bring me the rest of the fries first.”

She chucked a cold fry at your face. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” you mumbled, grabbing it off your lap and eating it anyway.

Abby laughed — a soft, low sound you could feel more than hear. She leaned her head against yours. “You were actually getting better. A little.”

You smiled, letting your eyes close again. “You’re just saying that because you like me.”

“Guilty.”

[wherethefigsfall]

Masterlist:

all the works listed below are mine. reposting and/or translating is not allowed. requests are open.

Abby Anderson:

Sugar & Spice Series (ongoing)

Get to Know Reader (Intro)

Sugar & Spice Chapter 1

Sugar & Spice Chapter 2

one shots-

Couples Who Play Siege Together Stay Together

Ellie Williams:

One Shots-

I’m Not Sleeping Over Prank

Not Jealous Just Observant

Goodnight Prank

Go Home

Don’t Call Me That Unless You’re Mad at Me

Current GF Prank

Do You Ever Wish You Liked Girls Prank

I’m So Hungry I Could Eat

Used to Be Mine (Angst)

Series-(inactive)

Introvert’s Dream — Chapter 1

So This Is a Thing Now — Chapter 2

Enhancing What’s Already There — Chapter 3

[wherethefigsfall]

Sugar and Spice: 2

Smitten like a kitten-

Abby Anderson x autistic fem reader

(College au)

An: lmk what you think!! Also any suggestions are welcome ✯✯

Late afternoon light spilled through the blinds, casting thin stripes across the pale comforter where she lay curled on her side, a paperback open in front of her. The room was still — except for the occasional rustle of the page or the hum of her little desk fan. Her hoodie sleeves were tugged halfway over her hands, fingertips just barely holding the book open.

The title on the cover: Honey on Her Tongue.

It was slow, romantic, the kind of sapphic story where the tension simmered rather than boiled over. Every word was soft. Every glance in the book meant something. The kind of story where women saw each other — really saw each other.

“She touched her with the kind of gentleness that said: I see you. Every broken part. Every sharp edge. And I want all of it.”

She blinked at the line. Then blinked again.

Her eyes stayed on the page, but her mind wandered — and there it was again, that moment.

The convienence store. The quick turn of a corner. The chest she accidentally bumped into. And the voice.

“You okay?”

Abby Anderson, holding her by the elbow like she’d caught something fragile. That warm smile, the one that was too much and too sincere. The smell of citrus deodorant and sweat. That bright, effortlessly cool energy Abby carried like she didn’t even realize people watched her walk into rooms.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, half a scoff, half a laugh. Her face flushed — she could feel it in her ears, even though she was completely alone.

It was ridiculous. Abby was everywhere — team captain of the women’s basketball team, loud, confident, always surrounded by people. Everyone knew her.

And she? She was nobody. Quiet, invisible unless she was trying not to be. She barely answered group chat messages. She still had the “close friends” Instagram story set to three people — and one of them was her sister.

Still, without thinking much, she snapped a photo of the book against her blanket. The spine worn, the corner folded. No caption. She added it to her story and locked her phone.

⸻

Across campus, Abby was peeling off her sweaty jersey in the locker room, her sports bra soaked through.

Practice had gone long, and her calves were sore from drills, but it was a good kind of sore. A smug kind. She tied her hair into a messy bun and dropped onto the bench with her phone.

She skimmed through texts from her teammates, skipped over three group chats, and then saw it — a tiny, soft story post from a name she almost didn’t recognize at first.

But she did.

The cherry slurpee girl.

She tapped the story. The book cover came up. Honey on Her Tongue.

Her eyebrows lifted.

She knew that book. TikTok had fed it to her one sleepless night — and she’d devoured it in two sittings. She remembered clutching her pillow during the pier scene. She remembered feeling seen in ways she didn’t know how to explain.

She glanced at the username again. Small account. Barely any posts. But that was kind of the point.

A smile pulled at her lips.

She didn’t even hesitate before replying.

wait… you’re reading honey on her tongue???

Seconds later, she saw the typing bubble appear. Then stop. Then appear again.

yeah

you know it?

Abby grinned. She could already feel herself getting giddy. She leaned back against the locker, still in her sports bra, cheeks flushed — from practice or this conversation, it was hard to tell.

dude i LOVE that book

the pier scene?? i screamed

i literally had to close the book and walk around my room for like 5 minutes

same 😭😭 that scene was UNREAL

She caught herself smiling again — wide and ridiculous. Her teammates were still arguing over dinner plans, but Abby had already zoned them out.

This was better.

Later that night, her phone buzzed again.

She was already in bed, the book resting beside her pillow, the room lit only by the fairy lights tacked unevenly across her wall. She’d half-forgotten she posted the story — the soft shot of the cover, her blanket in frame, no caption. She hadn’t expected anyone to reply.

But someone had.

Her heart kicked when she saw the name.

Abby Anderson.

The message was simple.

wait… you’re reading honey on her tongue???

She stared at it, eyes wide, suddenly very aware of how warm her face felt. There was no way. No way Abby actually followed her — followed her close friends story, no less. That meant she’d manually added Abby at some point and either forgot or blocked the memory out from embarrassment.

She didn’t reply right away. She read the message again. And again.

And then, finally—

yeah

you know it?

The response came in seconds.

dude i LOVE that book

the pier scene?? i screamed

She let out a short breath, almost a laugh, but covered her mouth like someone might hear it. Her fingers hovered over her phone as she typed.

i literally had to close the book and walk around my room for like 5 minutes

same 😭😭 that scene was UNREAL

There it was. That feeling again. Warmth at the base of her throat, fluttery and impossible. She looked at Abby’s profile picture — cropped from a group photo, probably taken after a game, that wide smile she always seemed to have. She wasn’t even trying to flirt. She was just… being herself. And it was already too much.

More typing.

wait okay but that line where she says “i want all of you”?? like shut UP

She didn’t even think. She replied without hesitation.

i dog-eared the page so fast i nearly ripped it

And then:

…don’t tell the author that tho

Another message.

ur secret’s safe w me

She smiled, small and shy, her hand tugging the blanket up over her mouth. She didn’t know how to do this. Talk like this. She wasn’t good at casual conversation, especially not with people like Abby. But Abby was making it easy — like this was just normal. Not weird. Not scary.

Another buzz.

we should read something else together when ur done??

if u want. no pressure lol

Her breath caught.

She stared at that message for a long time.

Then typed, slowly, carefully.

yeah

that’d be nice

Abby lay on her back now, phone resting on her chest, thumb brushing over the screen even though the last message had already been read.

“yeah

that’d be nice”

She stared at it like it meant something. And, maybe stupidly, it did.

She wasn’t used to this. Not like this.

Abby was used to girls who flirted first — girls who leaned in too close at parties, who liked to be seen with her, who said things that were more about being bold than being real. She’d had her share of attention. She knew what people thought when they looked at her — tall, athletic, confident, the kind of girl who probably broke hearts and didn’t look back. And she’d let them think that, most of the time. It was easier.

But this?

This wasn’t like that at all.

The reader’s messages were shy, a little awkward around the edges — not in a bad way, but like someone who didn’t quite know how to be casual because everything mattered to her. Even the way she typed was soft. Cautious. Honest. Like she didn’t know how to play a game, and wouldn’t even try.

It made something flutter in Abby’s chest — not in a rush of heat, not in a God, she’s hot kind of way, but something slower. Sweeter.

She’d had crushes. Girlfriends, even. A couple that had lasted long enough to call real. But nothing had ever made her feel like this — this weird mix of giddy and nervous and tender.

Just messaging her made Abby feel… lighter. Younger. A little nervous, even.

There was no performance in it. No pressure. Just a quiet girl who loved her sapphic books and posted soft little photos for no one in particular — and somehow, that made Abby’s heart beat harder than anything else had in a long time.

She pulled her phone back up and typed, then deleted. Then typed again.

Finally, she just sent:

hey.

hope this isn’t weird but

you’re really cool.

She hit send before she could overthink it — then dropped the phone on her stomach, eyes wide at the ceiling, smiling like a complete idiot.

Taglist: @ra1nbw, @elliewilliamsluvrr, @xxxyukitoxx, @trizxyp, @femme-historian, @alyaserrax, @harrystylesswif3, @sewithinsouls, @abbyslefttiddie

[wherethefigsfall]

Sugar and spice series:

Meet Autistic fem reader!

An: taglist is closed : )

diary entry

not for anyone, just me.

I don’t think I’m hard to love. I just think no one’s ever tried to understand me properly.

I like quiet things.

Books that feel like they’re talking to me. Music that sounds like how I think.

Sometimes I watch couples and wonder how they do it so easily — the laughing, the kissing, the knowing what to say.

I don’t. But I want to.

I’ve never had a girlfriend. I’ve never even kissed anyone.

But I daydream like I’ve been in love a hundred times.

I listen to old songs and try to feel less weird.

I read Sylvia Plath and underline things that make me feel like I’m not the only person who thinks this way.

But maybe that’s okay for now.

Songs that reader listens to religiously!!

Elliott Smith – No Name #3

The Velvet Underground – I’m Set Free

Jeff Buckley – Opened Once

Fiona Apple – I Know

Mazzy Star – Give You My Lovin’

Nick Drake – Place to Be

[wherethefigsfall]

Sugar and Spice:

Abby Anderson x autistic fem reader

(College Au)

AN: should I make this into a series??

Abby had five minutes to make it to the party and no time for distractions.

She was jogging down the pavement near the convenience store with a half-open Red Bull in one hand and her phone buzzing in the other. Her ponytail bounced with every step. Every guy on campus would’ve stepped aside just to let her pass.

But not the girl with the headphones.

Abby wasn’t looking. Neither was she.

They bumped shoulders — not hard, but enough that Abby’s drink splashed and the girl’s phone tumbled out of her hoodie pocket and hit the ground with a sad little clack.

“Shit—my bad!” Abby gasped, immediately crouching down to grab the phone.

The girl blinked at her like a deer in the path of a much cooler, much louder car.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there holding her headphones, like she’d frozen in the middle of a loading screen.

Abby handed the phone back, slow. “You okay?”

The girl nodded.

“You sure?”

Another nod. Then, after a second: “You hit like a linebacker.”

Abby smirked. “Not usually the first thing people say to me.”

“I meant it as a compliment.”

“That’s definitely the second weirdest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

The girl shifted her weight, looking anywhere but directly at Abby. She tugged the sleeves of her oversized hoodie over her hands, fidgeting with the cuffs. Her bag was lopsided. One of her shoelaces was untied.

Abby couldn’t stop staring at her.

“What were you listening to?” she asked, nodding toward the headphones.

“Just… rain sounds.”

“Rain sounds?” Abby asked, curious but not teasing.

The girl nodded. “Yeah. Helps me focus. Makes walking easier.”

Abby raised a brow, impressed. “Huh. Never thought of that.”

“It’s just background noise,” she said quickly, poorly attempting to be nonchalant.

“I’m Abby, by the way.”

“I know,” the girl said without thinking.

Abby raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh yeah?”

“You’re on the basketball team,” she added quickly, like it explained everything.

Abby smiled. “Guess that makes me hard to miss.”

The girl shrugged, eyes flicking down to her own shoes.

“And you are?”

“…[Y/N].”

“Nice to meet you, [Y/N].”

Silence settled for a second. [Y/N] was clearly ready to disappear, but something kept her standing there. She shifted her bag up on her shoulder.

“I was just going in for a Slurpee,” she said quietly, like she felt the need to explain.

“Oh yeah? What flavour?”

“Cherry. But it’s usually out.”

“That sucks.”

“It's okay. It kind of hurts my teeth. I still get it.”

Abby nodded, fighting a smile. It was such a specific answer. No filter. No small talk fluff. Just honest.

She looked at the store, then back at [Y/N].

“…I wasn’t planning to stop,” Abby said, “but now I kind of want one too.”

Abby didn’t follow her into the 7-Eleven. She stood outside for a minute instead, pretending to check her texts, though her mind was somewhere else entirely.

She should’ve kept walking. The party was probably already loud and full of people calling her name.

But something about the way Y/N had spoken stuck with her. Soft voice. Careful words. Like she thought through everything before saying it out loud. No performance. Just… honesty.

The party was the same as always. Crowded kitchen. Music too loud. Warm beer. Everyone saying “what’s up” like they were supposed to.

Abby leaned against the counter, not really listening to anything. She scrolled through her phone, half out of boredom, half because she couldn’t stop thinking about that brief little run-in.

She found Y/N’s account quickly enough. She had a private profile, but Abby had remembered her first name and a username she’d seen on a group project story post a few weeks ago.

She stared at the profile picture for a second — just a photo of a tree with a bird on a branch.

Abby smiled and tapped follow.

Then she set her phone down and forced herself to actually socialize for ten minutes.

When she picked it back up, her notifications were waiting:

*Y/N accepted your follow request.*

Abby felt her stomach flip in a weird way — not dramatic, but enough to catch her off guard.

She looked through a few more posts. One of a vending machine. One of a cat outside a shop. A Polaroid of a blue Slurpee on a table.

She liked that one.

Then, without overthinking, she sent a message:

“Hey — did they have Cherry?”

A few minutes passed.

Y/N: they did

Y/N: first time in weeks

Y/N: it was good

Abby grinned at her screen.

“You got lucky.”

Y/N: i think so

“You’ll have to let me know next time. I’ll grab one too.”

A pause. She could see Y/N typing… then not typing.

Then finally: "okay!"

Just one word. But it made Abby smile again anyway.

Later that night, Abby lay in bed, arms folded behind her head, staring at the ceiling.

She couldn’t remember the last time someone made her feel this off-balance. Not nervous. Not even in a bad way. Just like she wanted to slow down and pay attention.

Most people she talked to tried too hard. Tried to impress her. Make her laugh. Show off.

But Y/N didn’t do any of that. She just… existed.

And somehow, that was better than anything else.

[wherethefigsfall]

Goodnight Prank:

Ellie Williams x fem reader (college au)

It’s a slow night in the dorm.

You’re cross-legged on your bed, hair damp from your post-shower crisis, your roommate whispering conspiratorially from her side of the room.

“Okay, okay—call her,” she says, phone already recording. “Just say ‘goodnight’ and hang up. I need to see this unfold.”

You roll your eyes but your thumb’s already hovering over Ellie’s name.

Ex.

Former situationship turned actual relationship turned heartbreak six weeks ago.

You hadn’t spoken since the fight.

Until now.

Your stomach flips with anxiety and despair.

You press call.

It rings once.

Twice.

“…Hello?” Her voice is cautious. Tired. You imagine she’s got one hand behind her head, sprawled in her bed in that shitty off-campus apartment. You imagine she’s wearing one of those wife beaters and some Nike sweatpants looking scrumptious as ever.

You suddenly want to crawl inside your own skin.

You clear your throat. “Hey.”

A pause. Then:

“Uh. Hi?”

Your roommate’s holding in laughter, hiding behind a pillow.

“I just… I was calling to say goodnight.”

Another pause. You stare at your duvet like it’s the answer to world peace.

Then Ellie laughs. Not mocking, not awkward. Soft. A real laugh—the kind you remember from when you’d say something stupid in a 7-Eleven at 2 a.m. and she’d giggle into your hoodie sleeve.

You were calling to say goodnight?” she repeats, a teasing lilt in her voice now.

“Yeah,” you say quickly, as if ripping off a Band-Aid. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight…” she echoes, voice slower this time, careful. Then she adds, a little quieter: “Wait, is that it?”

“Yep.”

You hang up.

Your roommate screams.

You throw your phone down like it burned you.

She’s already diving to edit the TikTok, wheezing, “That was the most lesbian thing I’ve ever seen. You looked like you were gonna cry and throw up and kiss her all at the same time.”

You’re about to protest, say “it wasn’t that deep,” but your phone buzzes.

Els:

"wtf"

"why did that make my heart do a thing"

"i miss u"

You stare at the texts. Brain empty. Mouth dry.

Another buzz.

Els:

"can i call u"

You don’t respond. You call her instead.

She picks up immediately.

“Okay,” she says, already smiling—you can hear it. “What was that?”

You chew on your lip. “A TikTok trend.”

She hums. “Figures. You’re such a dork.”

“You sounded happy to hear me.”

“I was.” No hesitation.

You blink at the ceiling.

Ellie breathes into the silence for a beat.

Then she says:

“I miss hearing your voice. I miss our stupid walks. Miss that dumb pink cup you always made me fill up for you. I miss—fuck, I miss all of it.”

Your throat tightens. “You broke up with me.”

“Yeah, and I regretted it like five minutes later. I just— I freaked out. I didn’t know how to handle loving someone that much. Loving you that much.”

The room spins a little. Or maybe that’s just your heart doing cartwheels like an idiot.

“I still love you,” she adds, voice barely above a whisper.

Silence again.

Your roommate’s behind her laptop pretending not to eavesdrop but literally doing nothing else.

You exhale. “I miss you too.”

There’s a rustle on her end. “Can I come over?”

You nod before realizing she can’t see you. “Yeah.”

“Give me ten minutes.”

You hang up, phone pressed to your chest, heart hammering like it’s back in freshman year.

Your roommate raises an eyebrow. “So…?”

You look up, dazed. “We’re lesbians. We’re back together.”

She fist-pumps. “Called it.”

⸻

Ten minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your dorm door.

You open it.

Ellie’s standing there in grey sweatpants, that damn wife pleaser you used to steal, and a look that says please don’t make me go back home tonight.

You don’t say anything. You just pull her in.

Her arms wrap around you like she’s home. She smells like weed and vanilla and safety.

“I still have that pink cup,” she mumbles into your hair.

You laugh. “Shut up.”

She pulls back slightly to look at you. “So… are we good?”

You press your forehead against hers. “Say goodnight first.”

She grins. “Goodnight, baby.”

[wherethefigsfall]

Go home

Ellie Williams x fem reader

Established relationship (college au)

An: hii sorry for being mia I had a bit of writers block but now I'm obviously back 4 pride happy pride month my lgbtq+ baddies

Ellie’s been wrapped around you for the past forty minutes. Literally. Her arms are slung across your stomach, her face buried somewhere between your neck and the pillow, legs tangled with yours like she’s trying to merge souls or something. The room is warm and quiet, with the faint hum of your laptop playing some random show neither of you are actually watching.

She hums into your skin. “You smell like me.”

“That’s because im in your hoodie,” you mumble, not looking away from the screen.

“Oh. Right.” She grins, voice muffled. “Cute.”

You feel her smile against your shoulder, followed by the soft press of her lips just under your jaw. Then again. And again. She starts trailing tiny kisses up your neck, slow and lazy and affectionate in that way she gets when she’s tired but trying to act like she’s not.

You squint at her. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing my girlfriend. Problem?”

“Feels suspicious.”

She snorts. “What, I can’t be in love on a Tuesday?”

You don’t answer. You just sit there, letting her cling, letting her be soft, while you plot in silence.

Because Ellie’s been like this all day. Clingy. Mushy. In-your-space but in a sweet way. She kissed your knuckles earlier at lunch. Bought you a cookie “just because.” Told Jesse she couldn’t hang because she had “quality girlfriend time” planned.

So yeah. Obviously, you had to ruin it.

You turn a little, enough to look her in the eye.

You’re quiet,” Ellie mumbles, her voice low against your collarbone.

“I’m thinking,” you say.

She shifts a little under the blanket, tightening her arm around your waist. “About what?”

“About how you’ve been glued to me all night. You haven’t moved in like, an hour.”

She lifts her head just enough to give you a lazy smile. “Comfort is comfort.”

You glance at her. “You’re smothering me.”

“I’m literally just laying here.”

You turn to look at her fully, keeping your voice as flat as possible. “Ellie. Go home.”

She freezes. Her smile drops slightly. “…Wait, seriously?”

You keep your expression neutral. “Yeah. You’re annoying me.”

For a split second, she looks genuinely unsure if you’re joking.

Then you raise an eyebrow, and she catches it—your deadpan slipping just enough to give you away.

She narrows her eyes. “You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?”

You nod. “I absolutely am.”

Ellie exhales sharply and flops onto her back, the blanket pulling with her. “I was being so nice.”

“You were. It was suspicious.”

“I was literally cuddling you.”

“Exactly.”

She stares at the ceiling. “I should leave.”

“Okay.”

“…But I won’t.”

You smile, reaching over to pull the blanket back over both of you. “Didn’t think so.”

Ellie laughs, but it’s soft now—half-asleep, half-in-love.

She doesn’t say anything after that. Just lets her hand find yours under the covers and keeps it there like it’s second nature.

And maybe you don’t say anything either, but you squeeze her fingers, just once, so she knows you didn’t mean it.

[wherethefigsfall]

“Don’t Call Me That (Unless You’re Mad at Me)”

Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem!reader

AU: College AU, established relationship

Length: ~1.7k

You’re sitting on the couch trying to salvage a half-baked group project presentation that’s due tomorrow, staring at a slide that literally says “Capitalism be wild” in bright pink font when Ellie walks in and drops her keys like she wants an audience.

She kicks her shoes off too aggressively and flops onto the couch next to you with the dramatic sigh of someone who just got dumped and evicted in the same day.

“Don’t ask,” she says, already face-down into the cushions.

You don’t. You just glance at her and go back to the war crime that is your shared Google Slides.

She rolls over. “You’re seriously not gonna ask what happened?”

“No,” you say, deadpan. “I assume it’s mildly inconvenient. Like your favorite pen ran out.”

Ellie sits up and blinks at you. “Okay, rude. But kind of accurate.”

You smirk, still not looking at her. “Shocking.”

There’s a pause. Then—

“Ellie, what happened,” you mutter without looking up.

Another pause. Then a sharp inhale.

“You just called me Ellie.”

Your fingers freeze over your trackpad.

“…Yeah?”

“No baby? No babe? No ‘you absolute freak’?”

You look over at her. “I literally just said your name.”

Ellie squints at you like she’s trying to determine if you’re possessed.

“You never call me that unless you’re annoyed with me.”

You blink. “I’m not.”

“Liar.”

You finally set the laptop aside. “I’ve been staring at Comic Sans for forty minutes. If I sound irritated, that’s why.”

Ellie’s already climbing over you like a cat determined to be in your way. She sits sideways in your lap and rests her chin on your shoulder.

“I just think it’s kinda harsh,” she says casually. “Dropping government names like we’re not in love.”

You snort. “You’re so dramatic.”

She shrugs. “I’m sensitive.”

“No, you’re a menace”.

“Menace with standards,” she mumbles, half-buried in your hoodie. “I still expect to be called baby.”

You glance at her, unamused. “You’re getting nothing until I make it through this slideshow without ripping my hair out.”

Ellie groans. “Wow. So this is how it ends. Cold shoulder over Google Slides.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You watch one psychology TikTok and now you think you’re a licensed therapist.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Okay, Dr. Williams.”

“I like the sound of that,” she says, sitting up straighter. “Say it again.”

“Only if you stop talking.”

She squints. “You’re being so cold to me today. Is this about the last slice of pizza last night? Because I genuinely didn’t know you wanted it.”

“I didn’t. But now I do, retroactively.”

Ellie looks offended. “You can’t just claim food in hindsight.”

“You can if you’re petty.”

Ellie huffs but doesn’t move from your lap. Instead, she hooks her arms around your neck.

“I liked it better when you called me gross pet names in front of your friends.”

“You mean when I said ‘hey loser, come here’ and you acted like I gave you an engagement ring?”

“Exactly.”

You laugh softly and tilt your head forward until your forehead bumps hers. She smiles, eyes closing, her whole body softening against you like it always does when you’re quiet like this.

“You’re so annoying,” you say gently.

“Say it nicer,” she murmurs.

You lean in and kiss her cheek. “You’re my favourite headache.”

She opens one eye. “Still not ‘baby,’ but I’ll allow it.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re really gonna act like this over a nickname?”

“Yes,” she says immediately.

You tilt your head. “What if I started calling you something worse? Like El.”

She physically recoils. “Don’t you dare.”

“El.”

“I swear to god—”

You grin. “E-dawg.”

“Stop.”

You’re laughing now, and she’s pretending to be offended but already smiling, already giving herself away.

You shift slightly, readjusting your laptop and giving her a half-hearted pat on the thigh. “If you get up and make popcorn, I’ll call you baby.”

She considers this like it’s a high-stakes negotiation.

“Movie night?”

“Yeah.”

“Your pick or mine?”

You pretend to think. “Yours. But nothing that’s, like, sad for no reason.”

“Fine,” she says. “But if I see one more Google Slide with neon fonts and drop shadows, I’m unplugging the router.”

“Deal.”

She finally gets off you and heads toward the kitchen, mumbling something about kettle corn.

You reopen your laptop, adjust the disaster of a slide, and call out casually, “Thanks, baby.”

There’s a pause, then—

“I forgive you!” she yells from the kitchen.

Of course she does.

[wherethefigsfall]

“Current Gf Prank”

Ellie x fem reader (established relationship)

You’re filming a vlog.

Well kinda.

You’re in Ellie’s car, she’s driving you to Target like the diva that she is, and you’re half-documenting, half-oversharing on TikTok like it’s your job. The phone’s propped up on the dashboard, front cam on.

“Hey guys,” you say into the camera sweetly, “just running some errands… and I’m here with my current girlfriend.”

You don’t even look at her. You just let it hang in the air.

Ellie’s hand tightens immediately on the wheel.

She blinks. Glances at you. Then at the camera. Then back at you.

“…I’m sorry,” she says, “your what girlfriend?”

You keep filming, completely straight-faced. “My current girlfriend and we’re going to target yay.”

Ellie scoffs. Loudly. “Nah. Pause. What do you mean current? Like—current as in limited-time offer?”

You hold in your laugh. Barely.

Ellie fully turns to the camera mid-driving. “If I’m the current girlfriend, then who’s the next bitch, huh? Where’s she at? Lemme meet her. I’ll pick her up too. We’ll all go to Target. Group trip.”

You start cracking up. “Babe, please—”

“No! You just called me a placeholder in 4K!”

The comment section in your head is already losing it.

“ellie threatening the next girlfriend when there isn’t one is peak”

“current girlfriend but built like an endgame one”

“not her offering to carpool with her own competition”

You finally break, dropping the act. “It’s a TikTok trend, baby. I’m messing with you.”

Ellie looks at you. Then the camera. Then back to you.

“…Cut the cameras. Deadass.”

You’re giggling so hard you can’t breathe. Ellie shakes her head, but she’s smiling.

“Current girlfriend,” she mutters. “You’re gonna be my ex girlfriend if you keep playing like that.”

You pause, then grin.

“So you’re saying there is a next girlfriend?”

She groans. “Get out. Walk to Target.”