#i died when he started spelling out his netflix passwors

[bitchesofostwick]

GINNY!!! omg this is amazing 😭😭 thank you so much for capturing their weird awkward cute dorkiness. this was the best little gift to wake up to, i love it ❤️❤️

between love and hate

HERE IT IS, @bitchesofostwick!! The Ellinor/Cullen prompt fill, for which I’ve chosen the prompt “Shut up, you’re sick. Just let me take care of you already,” with a teeny reference to, “No, don’t come closer. I’m sick.”

In keeping with your and @veridium-bye​’s modern college AU, I have:

1) titled this fic with a Strokes song. (Did I have to do Google research because this is Not My Type of Music? Yes. Did I find a good one? Also yes.)

2) kept this fic pretty low-key, so it’s not heavily edited/betaed. Just good ol’ fashioned modern college AU hurt/comfort fluff and angst.

Thank you for letting me play in your sandbox! I hope I’ve done your universe (and characters) justice.

~

Ellinor nervously bobs up and down on the balls of her feet as she waits outside the door. She hears voices inside, but no movement that sounds like it’s approaching the door. She’s only just shifted the three plastic bags she’s juggling in order to she could knock again when the door opens.

“Ellinor,” says Cassandra, voice low. She seems to sag with relief as she steps aside to let Ellinor in. “He’s in his room.”

In spite of the urge to run to him immediately, Ellinor heads for the counter and deposits her bags.

Cassandra gives a wet cough, reminding Ellinor of her secondary mission. She looks Cassandra over while she unpacks her goodies, and yikes. Poor Cass does not look great. Dark bags under her puffy eyes, red and irritated nose, and the wadded up tissue she uses to cover her mouth leads Ellinor’s eyes to piles all over the living room.

“Did you” — another cough — “buy the entire pharmacy?” Cassandra asks.

“Of course not,” Ellinor says defensively, though she has to admit that three bottles each of DayQuil and NyQuil, a couple bottles of tylenol, and five large boxes of tissues are probably not necessary, even for two sick college students.

But to be fair, after Cassandra called her, she hadn’t been exactly thinking clearly.

She opens up her final, largest container and pops it into the microwave. “This is for both of you. I’ll come out to get some for him in a few.”

Then she pulls out her phone and sends a text:

Mayday. Get up here.

Cassandra’s eyes narrow at the phone. “Who did you just text?”

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