life and death;

pairing: ginny x pansy park(inson)
setting: coffeeshop college student AU 
word count: 856 words
written for: grumpymalfoy
notes: 10 points if you can spot the bring it on reference

When Ginny scheduled all her classes to be in the afternoons so that she could take on all the morning shifts at the campus café, she did not factor in having to deal with Daphne Greengrass.

Daphne waltzes in at eight-fucking-fifteen on the dot every single weekday, blonde hair perfectly coiffed and lips perfectly glossed and skin perfectly unblemished. Ginny will, instinctively, huddle down a little in her oversized apron and fight the urge to rub at her freckles before promptly disintegrating into self-loathing for feeling that way.

She’s Ginny-fucking-Weasley. She plays varsity touch rugby and she’s fabulous.

Daphne then proceeds to order the same drink, every time: a skinny, soy caramel macchiato with a double shot of espresso and extra whip (then why the actual fuck does she want it skinny?), and cute latte art.

For real.

It’s going to be covered by whipped cream anyways and Daphne Greengrass wants cute latte art. At eight-fucking-fifteen in the morning.

Ginny always smiles as brightly as she can without actually throwing up before proceeding to make a non-skinny soy caramel macchiato, single shot, and with only a burst more whip than usual. She leaves out the latte art.

And that’s how she earns $7.60 every morning, like clockwork.

At least, until Pansy Park starts coming in with Daphne. Then she earns $9.30 every morning, like clockwork, in addition to dealing with the cloud of resulting frustration that Pansy wafts in with her like a spritz of Gucci Guilty.

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Pairing: Pansy Parkinson x Ginny Weasley

AU: Modern, non-magical, Project Runway AU

Word Count: 1,157

Written For: getcozywithtposey (happy birthday, sweetie!)

Pansy almost misses the application deadline for the show.

She spends four hours shading in the lines of the pencil sketches in her portfolio and then wastes twenty-five minutes staring aghast at the blinking black cursor on her laptop screen when she gets to the lone lonely essay question at the end and it’s asking her ‘Who are you?’ like she has any idea how to answer and it’s frustrating.

Because she’s a crumpled white envelope overflowing with half-smoked cigarettes and expensive hotel stationary and she’s been around the world and back and has the scars and the postage stamps and the passport ink to prove it and she’d been The Snitch in high school and The Burnout in college and sometimes she’s blank but more often than not she’s empty and she’s been secretly steamed open and left out to dry so that no one could see the marks and she’s been taped shut and scribbled on and thrown away and she’s all of these things and all of these moments and how can she condense that into a 250-word personal statement?

She winds up writing about her idyllic childhood summers at the Cape and how graduating from Parsons had changed her life and when she gets her callback a few weeks later from the network she wears a black leather jacket over a lace-collared white Chanel dress and sneers at the other applicants in the sleek, chrome-accented waiting room and that isn’t the day she first speaks to Ginny Weasley, no, but it is the day that she first notices her.

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