Sneak Attack Heart Attack
Pairing: Pansy Parkinson x Tom Riddle
AU: Modern, non-magical; college student!Pansy, older drug dealer!Tom
Word Count: 1,136
She meets him by accident.
But it isn’t—it isn’t her fault, okay? It isn’t. The trendy off-campus hipster coffee shop—like, come on, which pretentious Beat-wannabe co-owner asshole had decided it was a good idea to call it the fucking Reading Room, God—anyway, the trendy off-campus hipster coffee shop had been empty. Completely devoid of customers. Just the bored teenaged barista in the neon-fuchsia One Direction tank top and the Suspiciously Hot Guy in the corner.
And, like, what was she supposed to do? She’d had a Calc textbook stuffed into her bag—Marc Jacobs, Fall, 2016, she fucking knew polka-dots were going to stage a comeback—that weighed more than, like, all of the watermelons at Whole Foods combined. She’d been thirsty, and hungry, and tired from the seven-lane traffic clusterfuck that had been the 405-north; she’d been laser-focused on passing her fucking Calc final, and the Suspiciously Hot Guy in the corner had been like her token oasis mirage in the middle of the fucking desert.
Because she’d never actually seen Anthony Goldstein before, only talked to him on the phone, and in the heat of the moment it had seemed categorically unfair to assume that his arrogant, nasally, Claritin-commercial voice couldn’t belong to the guy who was so hot that he was basically making his thousand-dollar leather jacket look like his bitch from where Pansy was standing.
Math tutors could totally have leather jackets and perfect cheekbones and mouths that could inspire some ludicrously shitty descriptive poetry like ‘sinfully swollen’ and ‘dangerously decadent’ and—and math tutors could have eyebrow piercings, okay? They could.
Drug dealers, though—
Drug dealers could not have nametags.