thefriendlyferretwriter

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

Maybe. [Miguel Diaz x fem!Reader] (Cobra Kai)

(~from the vault~)

Miguel Diaz is annoying. That you are convinced of. Sure, you've never really talked to him, but still, you live a very happy life that way. But then one day he gets wasted at a party and you end up with the unfortunate job of driving him home. Sounds like just your luck.

Warnings: making out, little jokes about sex, some sexual tension there. enemies to lovers except the enemies part is completely one-sided

Word count: 9,567

[...]

Miguel Diaz wasn’t the kind of guy to have a lot of enemies.

He had, in fact, become fairly popular after he started doing karate and won a fight against West Valley’s biggest bully, surpassing the loser label that had immediately been slapped onto him when he’d moved into the neighborhood.

He was the typical nice guy who pretty much everyone seemed to like. Good at school, the type who wouldn’t hesitate to help you with schoolwork if you asked him to. Always nice to everyone, greeting and smiling at random people he’d never talked to before in the hallways as if they were one of his friends.

But, to you, Miguel Diaz was just irritating.

Everything about him somehow made you mad. He was just so apparently perfect and all of a sudden people couldn’t seem to shut up about him and that was sure to make you nothing short of annoyed. Yeah, you supposed he did seem nice, but you were positive it was impossible that all that sudden praising hadn’t gotten to his head.

You were convinced he was a huge asshole deep down, just a loser who got lucky enough. And though you had no real evidence to back that up, yet to see this facade of his that you convinced yourself of, you still couldn’t get yourself to like him.

Whatever. You could survive a life without him in it.

It didn’t help, though, that your best friend was friends with him. Did karate with him, too. Aisha absolutely loved Miguel, and seemed to make sure to mention it to you all the time.

They were genuinely good friends, and so you supposed you did feel a little bad when you dragged her to sit with you and away from her Cobra Kai friends during lunch, but you were positive that if you tried to sit with them you’d end up saying some not very nice things, and you weren’t up for drama at the moment.

But she kept bugging you about it, insistently so, and god, could Aisha be persistent when she wanted to. So one day, to shut her up about it mostly, you agreed to go with her and her friends to a party at the canyon.

You told her you’d try to be nice, but made a promise to yourself to keep distance from a certain someone specifically. Maybe then you’d be able to enjoy the night and- hey- maybe even the others’ company.

Maybe.

[. . .]

“Don’t just stand there!” Aisha laughed.

“Since when are you a party person?”

“Since I realized I could throw them!”

Wait, what? “Wait, this is your party?”

“Well it’s a Cobra Kai party…”

Alright, so you didn’t want to give it to them. Cobra Kai as a whole annoyed you to no end, as it seemed to be a breeding factory for nerds turned into stuck-up assholes, but you couldn’t deny you were grateful for how much it helped Aisha. The Aisha you knew a few months prior would have never had the guts to throw a party, let alone assume people would attend it.

So, fair enough. “Cool!” “Hey Aisha come watch me do a keg stand!” Some guy you’d seen walking around with the Cobra Kai guys before yelled from the other side of the place.

Aisha glanced back at you, seemingly a bit torn about leaving you. “Do you wanna come?”

“No it’s fine. I think I’m gonna grab something to drink. Now go!” You assured her, smiling. You wanted her to enjoy having other friends.

You barely had time to pick yourself up a drink before you weren’t alone anymore.

“Y/N!” A guy wearing a graphic t-shirt that quite literally read ‘📍your mom’ under a flower pattern button-up called your name, walking towards you. You furrowed your eyebrows, confused, as you were completely sure you’d never talked to him before.

You didn’t know how to feel about not being so invisible anymore, all by association with Aisha. It definitely felt a little weird. “Um. Have we- have we met? Sorry.”

“Not really. But Aisha talks about you a lot. I’m Demetri, by the way,” he held out his hand, and you shook it. What teenager shakes hands these days?

“Well, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I know,” he laughed. “So, you want me to show you everyone?”

“Uh. Okay. Sure. Yeah. That'd be cool."

“So, that’s Eli-” He pointed at the guy who sported a blue-dyed mohawk, and was currently rather busy making out with someone you actually knew- Moon. You didn’t exactly like Moon, but you supposed she did seem to be more of an out-of-touch person than a mean one, compared to her friends. “Uh yeah, who’s apparently making out with Moon. Somehow. He likes to be called Hawk now but I think that’s pretty ridiculous.”

“It is.”

“Yeah well he used to uh- some people used to call him Lip. ‘Cause he has a scar.”

“That’s him?” Said boy pulled away from Moon, and you took a good look at him. It was him. You always thought he looked cute, but you had to admit now he looked kind of hot.

You had to give Cobra Kai some credit in that area too.

“Yeah.” Demetri turned you around. “Those two walking down are Robby and Samantha and-” He seemed to realize something, suddenly looking worried.

“Something wrong?”

“No uh. I don’t really talk to them. That,” he spun you around one last time, “Is Miguel. But you must know him already.”

“Yeah I’ve heard of him.” He was downing a beer bottle at rapid speed. “He’s really getting shitfaced,” you pointed out.

Demetri still looked worried, nervous. “Yeah uh, Sam’s his girlfriend.”

“The one walking down the hill?”

“Yeah.”

“So?”

“He thinks she’s cheating on him. With Robby.”

You looked at the two again, laughing, their fingers intertwined. You could be taking it wrong, of course, but it did look like they were together in some way. It wasn’t that far of a stretch to feel a little jealous of a scene like that at least. “Oh that sucks.”

You weren’t heartless, okay? Just because you didn’t like the guy didn’t mean you wanted him to get cheated on. If that’s what was even happening.

“We should go-” Demetri grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you with him on Miguel’s direction.

“What? No-” You weren’t heartless, but you weren’t his friend either. What were you going to do, comfort him? Let him cry on your shoulder? Come on now.

But you didn’t even have the time to protest. You were already there, and it seemed that so were the Samantha girl and the Robby guy , and Miguel didn’t look pleased.

Well, he was laughing, but it was definitely not a good kind of laugh.

“So I don’t have to worry, right? Well that’s funny.”

Miguel was wasted.

He tried to pick up a fight, and ended up hitting his own girlfriend on accident, which had, expectedly, resulted in her breaking up with him on the spot. Now you were sitting beside him, and you didn’t know what to do.

Wouldn’t it be best if you just left? Clearly you shouldn’t be here, his actual friends should be dealing with this. But then again it would be too shitty to leave Aisha on her own. You had agreed to be her designated driver after all.

Everyone was quiet, apparently not knowing what to say. God, someone really should bring the guy home.

Hawk spoke up, finally, voicing those same thoughts. “Um, dude, you should go home.”

“I’m fine.���

“You’re really drunk, man, just go home.”

“I walked here.”

“Shit. Right. Do any of you have a car?” Demetri asked no one in particular.

“Oh Aisha does. Well it’s her dad’s,” you pointed out, not really thinking it through.

Aisha’s look shot up. “But-” You could see she was conflicted. You could understand. Finally people wanted her around, and she wanted to stay a little longer for that.

You could not believe you were about to do this.

“I’m such a good friend,” you muttered, standing up, and Aisha looked at you, puzzled. You held your hand out. "Gimme the keys."

"What-"

"Do it before I change my mind."

She did as you said, placing it on your hand. You took another look at Miguel, then at Hawk. "Can you help him?"

Hawk immediately stood up to do so, and you made your way to Aisha's car, leaving both Aisha and Demetri behind with a promise you'd come back later to drive them all home too.

"Do you know where he lives?"

Hawk was done shoving a now barely conscious Miguel into the passenger's seat, buckling the seatbelt for him, which you took notice of. He seemed to care a lot about Miguel. "Yeah I'll- can you give me your number? I'll forward it."

"Sure."

[. . .]

"Where are we going?" At some point along the way Miguel seemed to have gained a little consciousness back, his eyes widening as he took bearing of his surroundings. You could understand why. He was in a random car going who-knows-where with a kind of random person who hated him. Well he didn’t really know about that last part, but still.

"I'm taking you home."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, my mom can't see me like this."

"What?"

"I can't go home like this you don't get it-"

"But where-"

"She's been so proud of me lately, I-" Was he… crying? So he was an emotional drunk. Miguel Diaz, a crier. Who would've thought.

"Well where the fuck am I supposed to take you?"

"I- sensei- no he lives next door you can't-"

"Diaz I'm gonna take you home. I don't care."

"Fuck."

You actually took a good look at him when you had to stop at a red light. He looked a mess. He was sweating, hair sticking to his forehead, legs shaking in anxiety.

You couldn't be this soft, right?

You sighed in annoyance, but you were doing this to yourself, really. "I'll take you to my place. But you better sober up cause you're gonna have to get in through the window."

He seemed surprised. "You'll do that?"

"Yeah don't get used to it. I'm kicking you out as soon as I wake up."

He stayed silent the whole ride, until you turned the engine off.

"Thanks," he muttered under his breath, before you opened the door to get out. You didn't reply.

You helped him out, holding him by his wrists until he got his balance back, and you both climbed through your bedroom window, which you were now thankful you'd left open.

"G’mme your phone."

“Why?”

“I’m gonna text your mom.” He unlocked it, getting the password wrong a few times before handing it to you. The texts you sent were simple.

hey mom im really tired gonna stay at demetri’s call you in the morning!

You didn’t know if trusting Miguel to be alone with his phone, in that state, especially after what had gone down at the canyon, was the smartest choice, so you took it with you, stuffing it in your back pocket.

“Okay look I still gotta get Aisha and the guys, so I'm trusting you to keep quiet." This was a bad idea. "Can you do that?" This was a terrible idea.

He nodded before plopping down on your bed. This was a horrible idea.

He was asleep in a second, and there was nothing else you could do but hope he'd stay that way as you climbed your way back out.

. . .

"Okay any of you that wanna get home get in the fucking car please," you said, not really up to stay and wait even more for them. After all, every second you were there was one more second in which a completely wasted Miguel Diaz was alone in your room, with your mom right there in hers.

All three got inside pretty quickly, and you dropped them off as fast as you could. Demetri first, then Hawk, Aisha last.

You actually got in through the door this time, so your mom would know you'd gotten home without having to go check your room. You prayed she hadn't done that already.

"Mom? You awake?"

"Yes! The party done?"

"Yeah. Had to drop some friends off, sorry I took too long."

"It's fine. Didn't Aisha pick you up though?"

"Oh yeah she left the car with me, got to be the driver for today. I’ll just pick her up tomorrow.”

"Oh okay honey!”

"Well I'm really tired. Gonna go to sleep.”

"Yeah, me too. Goodnight!"

“‘Night, Love you!”

With that, you quickly took off to your room to check on Miguel, who, surprisingly, was still asleep on your bed.

Your relief quickly washed away when you registered the fact that he was asleep… on your bed. You know, where you were supposed to sleep. Fucking great.

You considered waking him up and making him sleep on the floor. For… reasons that had everything to do with not being an asshole, and nothing to do with anything else at all, you didn’t.

You grabbed some blankets and placed them on the floor beside your bed, snatching one of your pillows from under his head. This was going to absolutely kill your spine.

You took one last look at him, and couldn’t contain a laugh at how ridiculous he looked, draped over the bed, hair disheveled, literally drooling. You’d have to change your pillowcase tomorrow.

‘Good-fucking-night, I guess.'

[. . .]

Your alarm went off at 7, as it always did on school mornings, and you jumped awake when you remembered how gross you probably were after the previous night. Miguel was still in deep sleep when you left to take a shower, but was sitting up on the bed, looking confused, when you came back. He’d apparently already taken the advil you left for him on your nightstand, as it was nowhere to be found.

“Are you- what am I doing here?”

“Drank too much. Cried like a baby when I tried to drive you home,” you shrugged. “Now hurry up, dude, or we’re gonna be late.”

“What?”

“Look we’ll talk in the car, I can’t be late for chemistry again or Mr. Henderson is gonna be up my ass about it.”

He still looked completely out of the loop, barely awake yet, but nodded, standing up and following you to the car.

“Why’d you bring me here?” He finally spoke up after a couple minutes in silence. It seemed that he was finally becoming fully aware of what was going on.

“I was actually gonna bring you home, but you started crying ‘cause you didn’t want your mom to see you drunk or whatever. So. Next best thing.”

“Thank you.” He paused. “So, uh. you’re friends with Aisha, right? She talks a lot about you-”

You cut him short. “Look, just because I let you stay over and sleep in my bed doesn’t mean we’re friends, alright? You don’t have to be friendly just ‘cause you think you owe me something.”

“Um, I was just trying to be nice-”

“I’m not an asshole, I wasn’t gonna do you like that. I’m very nice, you’re very welcome, whatever.”

“Are you- are you... mad at me?” He looked surprised- no, dumbfounded was a more fitting word to describe it.

You scoffed. In truth, you still had no idea what about him got you so irritated. It’s not like he wasn’t being nice.

Still, you couldn’t help it. “What, can you not believe there’s one person out there who doesn’t worship the ground you walk on?” Okay, so you were exaggerating. So what? Not like it was gonna make much of a difference for him.

“I don’t think anyone worships the ground I walk on.”

"Whatever, Diaz. I’m only doing this ‘cause you’re Aisha’s friend.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, by the way.”

“About what?”

“Your girlfriend, or whatever.”

He hesitated. “Yeah, it’s fine. I was an asshole last night. Should’ve expected it. I’ll get over it.”

“Yeah. Oh Hawk’s bringing you a hoodie, by the way. So you don’t smell like alcohol at school.”

“Thank you.”

Nope. “His idea.”

He nodded. “Right.”

It wasn’t long until you pulled up into Aisha’s driveway, making your way out and around the car and opening the passenger's door to find Miguel staring at you, silently asking what you wanted.

"Move. I take shotgun when Aisha drives."

"Does that really-" He didn't bother finishing his sentence, letting out a sigh before unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out.

"Thank you," you said, making sure it didn't actually sound like you were thankful at all, before hopping in. Miguel did the same, getting in the backseat.

You quickly separated as soon as you got to school, with Miguel following Hawk to change into the hoodie he brought him, and you and Aisha getting on your way to Chemistry with Mr. Henderson.

Aisha shot you a weird look. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?"

"You're being a total bitch to him! What happened to the person that took him home last night? Let him stay over?"

"For your information I do have empathy, you know? He was crying!”

"You still could've just taken him home," she shrugged, a smug look on her face. Jerk.

"Hey this is all on you! He left my bed reeking of beer, you owe me a big one."

"He slept in your bed?"

"And I slept on the floor, dumbass! He was passed out drunk!"

"Yeah sorry I don’t think I remember a lot of it. But you slept on the floor? That must've hurt."

"It did. So he should be very thankful."

"I... think he is. You're just not letting him thank you."

"Hey I let him thank me! But that doesn't mean we have to be friends. I'm doing pretty well without him in my life."

"Just admit he's not as bad as you thought and move on!"

"Oh fuck off. What do you want me to do next, marry him or something?"

"Hey you’re the one who’s bringing it up,” she put her hands up in surrender, as if defending herself.

"Shut up. Pay attention, Ms. Robinson!" You mocked her, turning to the projector in front of you.

[. . .]

"Yeah right like Demetri could win a fight against Hawk."

"I think he could! If he got some training." Aisha protested, laughing.”

"Oh come on have you seen the guy? I don't know what your sensei's been feeding him but he's like jacked now."

"Oh so you've been paying attention?" She raised an eyebrow in an exaggeratedly suggestive manner.

"Like I'd want something to do with a guy from Cobra Kai."

"Hey!"

"You're an exception! You are on thin ice though."

"Well I think you should give them a chance."

Of course you could see right through her. "If by them you mean Miguel's included then you can forget it."

"What is it with you and him anyway? What did he ever even do to you?

"Nothing? I don't know, he just makes me mad. You can't be that perfect and not be an asshole."

"Did you just call him perfect?"

"I was being mean about it!"

"You totally d-" She stopped mid-sentence when she noticed you weren't paying attention, your eyes focused on something right behind her. She turned around to face…

Well, speak of the devil.

"What?" You asked him dryly. What could he possibly have to talk to Aisha about right now that required interrupting your lunch?

But he was actually talking to you. "I uh- I think I left my phone at your place? I can't find it anywhere."

You mentally cursed yourself for it, remembering you'd taken it with you the night before. "Shit yeah. I was scared you'd call someone or it would ring and my mom would hear or something. I guess… You can come over to get it after school if you want."

"Yeah. Sure. Thanks." He was about to turn around and walk back to the table he was sitting at with his friends before he stopped. "Do you guys wanna like. Sit with us?"

Aisha looked at you expectantly.

"No, we're good," you replied, and he nodded, making his way back.

"Dude! Let's just go!"

"What I already have to see him after school and now you want me to spend lunch with him? No thank you."

"You're so stupid."

You stuck your middle finger out at her before going back to eating.

[. . .]

You had already told Aisha goodbye, and were about to leave when he came up to you again. “Hey! Y/n! Wait-”

You turned around to face him. He was out of breath, clearly having run all the way up to you. You quirked an eyebrow, demanding him to tell you what he wanted. This was like a 400% increase on your Miguel Diaz interaction scale and you were right about done.

“My phone.”

Oh, right. He was coming over, like, right away. That was great.

“Yeah right. I’m walking home though.”

“Yeah I’ll- I’ll walk with you.”

And what an awkward fucking walk.

“Well here it is,” you handed him the phone, and he took it, stuffing it in his back pocket.

“Alright, thanks.”

“Sure.”

“See you at school?”

Hopefully not. “I guess.”

[. . .]

“Oh I’ll- be right back!” You heard Miguel’s voice behind you as you walked through the hallway alone, on your way to bio, and made sure not to look his way, hoping he wouldn’t see you.

You had no luck with that.

“Y/n!”

You let out a defeated sigh before turning around. He was wearing a deep-red hoodie, which was something you took notice off, for some reason.

“Yes?”

“Hey I know you don’t want anything to do with me-” you nodded, agreeing, and he pursed his lips together before continuing. “-but I think uh- I think I left my socks at your place too?”

He had to be kidding, right? “What?”

“My uh- my socks.”

“You think you left your socks in my room. And you wanna go get them.”

“Well yeah.”

“Can you not survive without one pair of socks?”

“Well-”

“You know what, fine. Whatever. I’m leaving a little late today though so you’ll have to stick around.”

“Yeah sure.”

You wordlessly turned around and walked to class. It seemed that interacting with Miguel was now a daily experience. That was just such fun, huh?

. . .

You found him waiting for you by the bike racks, right by the front steps, as you exited the building. You kind of didn’t actually expect him to wait for you. I mean, he could just ask you to look for the stupid socks and bring them to him the next day. That’s certainly what you would do if you were in his shoes, as to avoid the interaction.

You had to remind yourself, though, that the hate you felt for him isn’t mutual, which only angered you further. Couldn’t he just hate you back? Be a little rude? Maybe then you wouldn’t look like a bitch for being like that towards him.

“You didn’t take that long,” he pointed out.

“Yeah. Turns out they wanna move the project up for one more week or something.”

“That’s cool.” He pulled his bike out of the rack, grabbing the handles and starting to walk with it by his side, and you followed along. You were both quiet for a couple minutes before, of course, he couldn’t help himself from talking. Did he think everyone wanted to hear him talk all the time?

A tiny part of you told you he was just trying to be nice. Okay, fine. Maybe you were being too harsh.

“What’s your deal with me?”

Yeah, no, he can perrish actually. “What do you mean?”

“I mean why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“It… definitely looks like it.”

“Well I don’t.” Well...

“Then why do you act like you do?”

“What, are you trying to psychoanalyze me?”

“I just wanna know what I did!”

“You didn’t do anything! You never seem to do anything wrong, do you?”

“What?”

“What, don’t play dumb. I don’t know what it is, okay? You just annoy me. You’re so nice to everyone and everyone just likes you so much and you don’t even have to do anything!”

“You don’t like me… because I’m nice to people. And so they like me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s how it sounded.”

“Whatever. We’re here,” you pointed out, and you made your way into your place. Not without taking notice of the sky, which was a dark grey color now, a storm forming. “Come on you can leave the bike here, looks like it’s gonna rain.”

“Yeah, I think…”

[. . .]

… So you were stuck at home with him.

This had to be a nightmare.

The clouds were quick to cover the sky right after you got inside, and you could barely see any hint of sunlight despite it still over four in the afternoon. Rain started pouring heavily quickly after, a storm suddenly forming in no time.

And so there you were. In your kitchen. Alone. Stormed in with Miguel Diaz.

This was just fantastic. Great, amazing, wonderful even!

And your annoyance was apparently visible. “Look if you’re so mad about it I can go-”

You stared at him for a couple seconds, unamused. “You wanna bike? In the middle of the storm?”

He just shrugged.

“I don’t hate you that much, you know? You can stay ‘till it’s over.” God, did you hope it would be over soon.

“See you told me you didn’t hate me at all.”

“Okay yeah you can go.”

He laughed. “Fine. I won’t push. Do you wanna do something?”

“I mean I don’t think there’s a lot to do. I guess we could watch something.”

“Yeah! That’s cool!”

“Well what do you-” you were interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing, and you took it out of your pocket, only to see it was your mom calling. Miguel sat back down by the counter as you picked it up.

“Honey are you okay? Are you home yet?”

“Yeah we got here just in time. Are you alright?”

“Yes, but the rain’s really bad here- wait, we? Is Aisha over?”

You took a glance at Miguel. Now how to explain that?

“Uh, actually it’s another friend.”

“Is it? Who?”

“Um his name’s Miguel? We were gonna do a- a physics project. But he rides a bike, so.”

There was a pause. “Right. Are you two gonna be okay?”

“Yeah don’t worry! We’ll just do what we need to do ‘till he can go.”

“Fine. Call me if you need anything! I’ll head home as soon as the storm clears.”

“Right. Love you!”

[. . .]

“Um does she not mind?” You were both sitting on the couch now, about 20 minutes into Thor: Ragnarok, when he said something.

You looked away from the screen. “What?”

“Y- your mom? That I’m here, I mean.”

“Oh she did sound a little- I dunno. But it’s not like she’s gonna make you go out in this weather.”

“Cool. Oh- we didn’t- I didn’t get my socks.”

You laughed at the thought of him thinking about his stupid socks the entire time you’d been watching the film. “Do those socks really matter that much to you? Oh are they too embarrassing? Do they have like little spongebobs on them or something?”

“No, I just-” he seemed to be fighting it, but was now laughing too. “No they don’t have little spongebobs on them. Just remembered it.”

“We can get it after the movie’s done.”

“Right.” He brought his attention back to the TV, but you decided to grab your phone and text Aisha.

y/n

dude youre not gonna fucking believe my luck

She replied almost instantly.

aisha

????? what happened

y/n

well miguel came over to get his socks or whatever

aisha

and???? ;))))))

y/n

this isnt a ;) situation!!! were stuck inside!!!

aisha

omg are you serious its just rain

y/n

yeah but pretty boy here rides a bike

aisha

dude you walk

y/n

irrelevant!!!!!

aisha

well what are you doing rn?

y/n

were watching thor trying not to kill him

aisha

oh shut up

y/n

he’s annoying!!!

aisha

just watch the movie and wait for the rain to stop its not that hard

y/n i've watched this like 7 times already he was just really excited to watch it

aisha

awww you're all soft for him

y/n

im going over your house to kill you

aisha

you cant bc you're stuck with miguel!! WAIT

y/n

what?

aisha

you're home alone with a cute boy and youre complaining??

y/n

hes not a cute boy!!! hes miguel!!!

aisha

whos a cute boy

y/n

you dont even like guys

aisha

im not blind??

y/n

shut up

aisha

get some!!!!

y/n

die

aisha

:))))))

You put your phone down looking at Miguel once again. He was really concentrated on whatever was going on in the movie, so you decided it was safe to stare for a little bit. He didn’t look as messy like he did that day at the party. He even-

“That hoodie looks good on you.”

Where the fuck did that come from?

You really hadn’t meant to say it out loud. You couldn’t quite figure out his expression. God, he was gonna make fun of you-

“Thanks,” was all he said in return. He was staring at you now, as if trying to figure you out. You supposed you had to give it to him- you were just as shocked at yourself to blurt that out as he seemed to be. The movie seemed to be long forgotten.

You expected some snarky remark, a cocky grin. But nothing. Was that it? He was probably controlling himself as to not laugh at your face about it, you just knew it.

You couldn’t take the embarrassment. Why did you have to make things weird? You suddenly stood up in a quick motion. “I’m gonna find us something to eat.”

Aisha’s texts must have just gotten to your head, because why else would you even say something like that? You didn’t think he looked in that hoodie. Wait, no, that’s not what you said. You said you thought the hoodie looked good on him. Whatever, you had to focus.

And then he did the worst possible thing he could have done, which was offer to go with you.

Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off! “Sure.” You tried to act normal. There was nothing normal about the weird tension you’d managed to create between the two of you.

It’s safe to say things were awkward. You occupied yourself with opening and looking through every single cabinet in the kitchen, even the ones where you knew there would be no food, trying desperately to find excuses to delay looking at him.

“Um are you okay?”

“Yes.” You were not. “Why?”

“You’ve been looking for something for a while. I’m not that hungry you know, you don’t have to.”

“Well I am.” You grabbed the first thing you could find, which was a chocolate bar, thankfully. At least one good thing to come out of this never-ending disastrous afternoon. “Found it.” You held it up for him to see, but made sure to avoid eye contact before making your way to the living room.

You both sat down to resume watching the movie, but there was still this weird energy around the room, one which, again, you’d gracefully created on your own, and you felt antsy. “Do you wanna go get your socks?”

“Uh, okay?”

You nodded back, turning around and making your way towards your room, knowing he’d follow you. You quickly sat down on your bed and waited for him to walk through the door.

“Hey.”

“Um I didn’t see any socks anywhere so. Feel free to look around.” You finally worked up the guts to look at him for a split second. He nodded.

[. . .]

An hour had gone by since, and the storm didn’t look like it was getting any better. You’d even passed the point of being embarrassed about what you’d said earlier- okay, maybe not completely, but still- and were just staring at the ceiling, laying on your bed, waiting for the time to pass. Miguel was sitting right beside you, and you didn’t remember the last time one of you had said a word until he broke the silence again. God this kid loves to talk doesn’t he?

“You don’t actually hate me, right?”

“Are we still on about that?”

“There’s not really anything to talk about. I don’t know anything about you.”

“My name’s Y/N Y/L/N. I go to West Valley High. I'm stuck inside my house right now."

“Wow now I know everything there is to know, thank you,” he returned with sarcasm.

“What do you wanna know?” It had to be the peak of boredom, engaging in small talk with Miguel Diaz of all people. What was this, 21 questions?

“Well what kind of music do you like?”

“Little bit of everything I guess. Rock, pop, whatever.”

“You like 80’s rock?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. My sensei showed it to me and it’s been my favorite.”

You didn’t mean to laugh.

“What?”

“Just weird. Sensei.”

“Well that’s the word.”

“Yeah I know.”

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“Thought about what?”

“Joining Cobra Kai.”

This time you made sure to laugh loudly. “Yeah. Would be a dream come true.”

“What’s so wrong with Cobra Kai?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Diaz, Cobra Kai has helped Aisha a lot. But honestly it just seems like it recruits nerds and turns them into self-conceited jerks.”

“Um would I be one of those self-conceited jerks?”

“Sure.”

“Have I done anything to you? I don’t-”

“You haven’t. But just- everyone keeps praising you for everything. And you didn’t let it get to your head? I don’t buy it.”

“People don’t praise me for everything. I've gotten beaten up a fair amount."

“Whatever.”

“Well what’s your favorite color?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“It’s a valid question.”

“What’s yours?”

“Orange.”

“That’s lame.”

“What's yours then?”

“Y/F/C.”

“That’s lamer.”

“Very funny.” You mocked him, but realized you were actually smiling.

He opened a smile of his own. “See? I’m not that bad.”

“You’re bearable.”

“That’s progress.” There was a pause. “Well you should come to practice some day.”

“Why would I do that?”

“To see that you’re wrong! We’re like family. I’ve never had anything like that before Cobra Kai.”

“Yeah I don’t think that’ll happen. But I’ll keep it in mind.”

[. . .]

“Yes mom I know. Yes he’s still here. Of course I’m not gonna let him go out in this weather. No, are you sure? But where will you- fine. But please talk to me. Right, love you.”

“So?”

“She's gonna have to stay there until things get better.”

“What? Is it still that bad?”

“Apparently. There were like a bunch of car accidents around the buildings.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

[. . .]

“This is so fucking boring.”

“Do you have any games on your phone or something?”

“You sound like a little kid.”

“Shut up.” He totally did.

“What is it?’

“What?”

“Stop staring at me.”

“I’m not staring at you.”

“You were! Weirdo.”

There was a pause. “Did you mean it?”

“What?”

“That you think my hoodie looks good on me.”

“No?" You tried.

“Then why why’d you say it?”

“Can we not talk about that?”

“You know if you actually gave me a chance I think we could be good friends.”

“Yeah in your dreams, Diaz. I’d probably kill you.”

He actually had the nerve to laugh at you. “Yeah I don’t think you could.”

“I think I could!” You tried defending yourself, but you knew it was complete bullshit. I mean, have you seen his arms?

Not that you’d been looking!

Obviously not.

“Did you forget I literally do karate almost every single day?”

You shrugged in fake disdain. “Still think I could take you.”

He let out an incredulous laugh. “Okay.” He stood up, holding his hand out to you. You shot him a confused look. “What, prove it then!”

“No I’m not doing that.”

“So you’re admitting you can’t take me.”

You knew you couldn’t, but you also doubted he’d go too hard on you. Plus this was a matter of pride now, you couldn’t just let him have that. He knew exactly how to push your buttons to get you to do this. You immediately took his hand, standing up as well. “I said I could.”

“Alright. Come on," he challenged you, getting in a fighting stance, and you tried your best to mimic him, holding your hands in fists in front of your body. He laughed at that, reaching to change the position of your hands. “Okay this,” he said as he moved them just a little bit, “could break your thumbs.”

“Fine. That good enough, sensei?” You mocked, and the boy made a funny expression at that, but quickly snapped out of it.

“Okay, so I’m gonna try to sweep your leg, like this,” he pretended to do the motion, “and what you’re gonna do is block my leg with your right arm, like this,” he did the same with the new movement.

“This isn’t a karate lesson, just fight me!”

“Alright, whatever you say. You ready?”

You were not. “Yup.”

Okay, terrible idea.

In no time he’d done as he said, and your back was immediately pressed to the floor, with no time to even process it happening.

Still, you weren’t gonna just not get a little fun out of it. “You got lucky."

He dared to laugh at you again, before sticking out his hand for you to take. You couldn’t contain a grin as you pulled him to the floor beside you, laughing at his surprise when you were successful.

“Oh I see how it is!” He exclaimed, laughing. You were already starting to stand up, but he tackled you to the floor again, hovering over you.

“Jerk!” You punched him on the chest, playfully, but you were both laughing, despite both being extremely out of breath. You tried to catch him by surprise again, and went to flip your positions, but he was quicker, pinning you to the floor by both your wrists. It was no use then, when he was clearly stronger than you.

But then something really, really weird happened. After your laughter calmed down, it was impossible not to take notice of how the two of you looked right now.

It’s like you had to think about it a second time for the situation to actually click: he was on top of you, having you quite literally pinned under him by your wrists, practically straddling you at that point, with his knees on the floor on either side of your hips.

You looked up at him, and he was staring at your face. Intently so.

For some reason you couldn’t get yourself to look away. It lasted a ridiculously long time, the eye contact, or at least that’s what it felt like, and you were still out of breath from the play fighting, your brain trying to catch on to the situation you were in.

You could swear you saw him glance down at your lips, fueling the tension that was already inherently thick in the air between you. You immediately tried to rid yourself of the thought, as it was probably ridiculous- but then he did the last thing you’d expect him to do.

He actually leaned in.

And you did something even weirder than that: you actually let him do it.

In a second his lips were on yours, and he almost lost his balance as you got your wrists free of his grip, instinctively reaching for the back of his head, intertwining your fingers to his hair.

The adrenaline of it all was thrilling, and it was like your brain had stopped stopped working altogether. After all if you had been functioning normally you would not find yourself in this situation.

No matter. At that moment all you were really worried about was kissing him. You kissed him back, and then you did it again, and again, and again, until you had to pull away to breathe, your chest heaving up and down, as did his, and your breaths being the only sound heard around the entire house, much louder than the now muffled sound of the rain and thunder outside.

And then you made eye contact again and it seemed as what just happened downed on you, all at once.

You had just kissed Miguel Diaz.

No, much worse: you had just made out with Miguel Diaz. On your bedroom floor.

Ooooooooh, no.

Your eyes went wide and you were quick to push him away, standing up.

“Are you-”

You cut him off immediately. “I’ll be right back."

“But-”

“I’ll be right back!” You repeated yourself. “You can go uh- looking for your socks or whatever if you want.”

“Are you serious-” you made your way out of the bedroom, straight into the first room you took sight off- the bathroom. You made sure to lock the door before you sat on the floor, back pressed to the wall.

Okay, so that just happened. You just kissed Miguel Diaz. No, actually, you just kissed Miguel Diaz back. He kissed you. But then again you kissed back. But he kissed you first, which means he was attracted to you? Did that mean you were attracted to him? No, you- okay, maybe.

Shit, shit, shit.

You pulled out your phone, scrambling to find Aisha’s contact. You hesitated before sending anything, knowing she'd tease you about this until the end of time , but Miguel was right outside and you had no idea how to face him after this. Holding your breath, you pressed send.

y/n

i did something

She took a minute to reply, and you jumped when you heard the sound of the notification.

aisha

okay should i be worried

y/n

um depends

aisha

okay im definitely worried did you actually kill him

y/n

no

aisha

then what did you do did you kick him out?

y/n

also no

aisha

girl just fucking say it!!!! i dont have time for this

y/n

okay but you cant say i told you so

aisha

youre definitely worrying me

y/n

he migthve kissed me

aisha

IM SORRY WHAT WHAT THE FUCK WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE KISSED YOU WHAT WHAT DID YOU DO????

y/n

i,,, might have kissed him back

and we mightve made out like a little bit

aisha

YOU DID NOT ARE YOU JOKING? ILL LITERALLY MURDER YOU IF YOU ARE

y/n

why would i joke about that?????????? you think i wanted this to happen???

aisha

well clearly you did????

y/n

no!!!!!

aisha

why would you have kissed back then?????

y/n

i dont know!!!!!! reflex?????

aisha

yeah right

was it reflex to KEEP kissing him back????

im gonna call you

y/n

no hes still here!!!!!!

Your phone rang, and you were quick to decline.

y/n

hes still here! hes gonna hear us!!!

aisha

omfg what are you gonna do

y/n

die maybe?

aisha

i knew you were into him

y/n

i am not!!!! into him!!!!!! HE kissed ME!!!

aisha

and you kissed back!!!!

y/n

that doesn’t mean anything!!!!

aisha

yes it does???????

“Y/n?”

Fuck. He was right outside the bathroom door.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m great Diaz. Go look for your socks.”

“Yeah um- I found them.”

“Cool.”

“Hey it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it, I shouldn’t have-”

“Yeah, you shouldn't have.”

“I mean you… kind of did kiss back.”

Silence. What could you reply to that?

“Can we not? Talk about it.”

“Uh. Fine?"

“Okay. I’m coming out then. And we can finish the movie.”

“Sure. The sky’s clearing up too so.”

“Okay.”

You unlocked the door, inhaling deeply before opening it.

[. . .]

“Why did I let you do this? This is weird!” You whispered to Aisha, making sure the others didn't hear you. You'd let her convince you to sit with her friends from Cobra Kai during lunch, claiming it was the best way for you to seem ‘chill’ about what had happened. You were immediately regretting it.

You’d agreed not to talk about what happened at your place the night before, but things were still pretty awkward with Miguel, and it was really, really visible. Hawk had been stealing small glances at you, then immediately averting his eyes to Miguel, and so you were sure Miguel had told him all about it. Sure, you'd told Aisha too, but whatever.

He was probably bragging about it or something, in typical fuckboy fashion. Or something.

“It’s literally fine! You’re seeing things.”

“I’m not seeing things! It’s literally so awkward!”

“You can't avoid him forever!”

“I don't have to sit with him at lunch either!”

[. . .]

You’d almost considered yourself lucky for not having had to see Miguel in any other instance during the rest of the day, even congratulating yourself on managing to avoid him when he, of course, approached you at the exit.

“Y/n!”

You stopped, sighing in defeat. “Yes?”

“Are we cool?”

“Sorry?”

“I mean it seems like you’re acting weird, I don't know.”

“Does it really matter to you? We're not friends, so.”

“Okay. But we- was it that bad?”

“What?”

“That I kissed you, are you that mad about it?”

Your eyes widened and you looked around, trying to see if anyone around you heard him. “I told you I didn’t wanna talk about that!”

“Well let’s just solve it so we don’t have to! I thought you wanted it too. I mean it- it seemed like you did at the moment but now I don’t know and I’m really sorry if-“

“Look I don’t know what happened okay? You don’t have to feel bad about it or anything, you didn’t read it wrong. But it was a one time thing. It I’m trying to be more friendly with you guys because of Aisha, but there’s nothing more to it. It was just a heat of the moment thing.” You turned around, already starting to walk before he had the chance to talk more.

Of course he still yelled after you. “You should go see us today!”

Okay, big change of subject. “What?”

“At the dojo. We have practice at five.”

You were the one to not get the time to say anything back this time, him hopping on his bike and getting on his way.

Well, should you?

[. . .]

“This is stupid.”

“You’re just watching!” Aisha said, trying to cheer you up. “I can’t believe I couldn’t get you to come see me but Miguel could.”

“That’s not what’s going on.”

“Right.”

“It’s not! Did I not sit with your friends at lunch today? I’m making an effort. For you.”

“And only for me.” She didn't sound like she believed it at all.

“Only for you.”

She let out a laugh, and you elbowed her arm. You got to the place, entering the door, which made a bell sound out. You couldn't help but notice the ridiculous amount of snake drawings, which was apparently the dojo’s logo, that were scattered on the walls. Despite that, the place looked decent.

You caught sight of writing on one of the walls.

“That like your mantra?”

Strike first. Strike Hard. No mercy. Very inviting.

“Something like that.”

“Not violent at all,” you pointed out.

“What's the point of karate if it’s not violent?”

“Isn't that LaRusso's whole thing? Non- violent karate?”

“Well he’s stupid, so that fits.”

“Okay, well I’m gonna-”

“QUIET!” A man you hadn’t seen walk in shouted, startling you and all the students.

“Ms. Robinson, who are we missing?”

Aisha looked around. “Hawk and Miguel, sensei.”

“Okay. They have three minutes.” He seemed to finally take notice of you. “New student?”

“Y/N’s my friend, sensei-” did they have to refer to him as sensei in every single sentence?

“Yeah I'm just here to watch-”

“What are you, a pussy?”

“Sensei!”

“I’m sorry?” You asked, dumbfounded. Okay, what was happening?

“Don’t think you can handle one class?”

“I don’t-”

“If you’re staying in my dojo, you’re participating.”

You looked at Aisha. “I mean it can’t hurt,” was all she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“Are you kidding me-” At that very moment you heard the bell again, turning around to see who it was. Of course the timing was immaculate. Hawk and Miguel entered the dojo, taking their shoes off and stepping into the mat. You turned back around to face Aisha. “Do I have to take my shoes off?”

“Yeah.”

You did it quickly, before getting back to your place. Were you really about to do this? And what for? Because you couldn’t say no to a scary old man?

Because you couldn’t say no to…

Nevermind.

“Alright quiet! Fighting positions!”

Everything was happening way too fast, and you tried to keep up, trying to remember the stance Miguel had helped you with the night before. Sensei walked through the rows of kids, all dressed in those weird clothes except for you, which naturally drove his attention to you, to which he laughed. “Yeah do that and you'll leave a fight with two broken thumbs.” Right.

Just to prove your luck, Sensei Lawrence had a fantastic idea. “Diaz, you’re in charge of teaching her the first moves. I’m teaching these nerds here how to headbutt. Again.”

“Yes, sensei!”

You were accepting it, the Universe had to be having the time of its infinite life at your expense. Miguel walked up to you, sporting a smirk. “You came.”

“Because Aisha asked me to.”

“Right. Of course.” You both walked off to the side of the mat, as to not disturb the rest of the class. “Alright, fighting stance.”

You made sure to make a face before you did as he said, remembering to leave your thumbs out of your fists this time. You were not giving him the satisfaction of correcting you about that again.

“Okay, that’s good. But you gotta-” he pushed your feet further behind with his own. “Okay. Now the most simple punches you’re gonna do are the jab and the cross. You’re gonna do the jab like this-” he showed it, punching the air with his left hand, “and the cross is gonna go like this,” he did the same, with his right hand this time. “But you’re gonna punch this,” he motioned to the punching bag in front of you.

“Oh, I kinda hoped I'd get to punch you!”

He smiled. “You’ll have plenty of time for that.” He positioned himself behind the punching bag, holding it in place.

"Do I have to do the weird grunt noises too?" You messed with him.

“Just go.”

You tried you best, not really having any idea what to do.

“Okay stop.”

“What?”

He came up beside you. “Okay pay attention.” He did the movements, slowly this time. “You’re letting your hand punch down. It’s supposed to stay just in your eyesight.”

“So like this?” You tried it.

“Yeah but don’t bend your elbow. You could sprain it that way.”

“What? I don’t-”

“And you really thought you could take me?”

“Shut up. I could report you to your sensei, you know.”

“I’m the sensei right now.”

“In your dreams.”

“Come on, you can do it.” He took you by surprise as he placed a hand on your waist, pressuring it down so your legs would stay steady, and grabbed your right hand with the other one. You tried not to think too hard about it. It was a little hard focusing on what he wanted to teach you when you knew what it was like to- no. No wandering there.

He curled your fingers into a fist. “Okay so your hand will already be in a fist, right here, and then what you’re gonna do is hold it out in a straight line, you can’t let it fall down-”

[. . .]

“You can admit it, you know?”

“Admit what?”

“You liked it.”

“What?”

“Karate.” Oh. Right. Karate.

“I would never.”

“You totally did!”

“Okay. Fine. A little. But I think it definitely would have been better if I had a better teacher.”

“A better sensei, you mean,” he pressed you about it, earning an eye-roll from you.

“Whatever.”

“Are you gonna keep doing it?”

“What?”

“Are you like enrolling?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

“Cool.”

“Why, do you wanna see me that bad?”

He let out a laugh. “Yeah, whatever you say."

[. . .]

A couple weeks had gone by, and you had agreed to go to the movies with Aisha and her friends- well, you guessed now they were your friends too. The two of you were the first to get there, and were standing in line to get popcorn when Hawk and Miguel walked up to you. “I didn’t know you were coming,” Miguel pointed out.

“Do you not have other friends you can talk to?”

“You act like you were forced to be here.”

“I could have been!”

“I don’t think you were.”

You didn’t have a snarky reply to that.

“So sensei was talking to me about putting you in for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah cause you missed on tuesday?”

“Oh right! Stupid project.”

“Yeah. Well apparently he has stuff to do so he asked if I could help you out.”

You laughed in an exaggerated manner. “Oh there’s no way.”

“It was sensei’s idea!” Miguel defended himself.

“And it’s a bad one! No way.”

Aisha turned to you, handing you a huge popcorn for you to hold. She then handed Miguel two cups, and all of you went on your way.

“Look the dojo’s empty at three. You should be there then.” He walked past you and sat down next to Hawk.

[. . .]

“You showed up!”

“Yeah whatever.” You put your backpack down on the floor and took your shoes off, walking into the mat.

“You’re not wearing your gi,” he pointed out just to mess with you.

“You’re not wearing yours.”

“But I’m the sensei today.”

“Yeah you don’t look very sensei-like to me.”

“What would look sensei-like to you?” He got himself in fighting position as he talked, and you made sure to do the same.

“I don’t know. A little buffer, less of a pussy,” you teased him.

“Hey watch your words! We’re serious people in this dojo!” He laughed. “Alright left front kick, right round kick, jab, cross and hook, all of them three times. You ready?”

You tried to make sure you remembered the order correctly. “Is the hook before of after the cross?”

“After.”

“Right, so left front kick, right round kick, jab, cross, hook.”

“Yeah. Now go.” You did it. “Okay good! Is someone… enjoying karate?”

“Shut up.”

He smiled. “Alright I’m gonna block you this time.”

You repeated the sequence. Left front kick, right round kick, jab, cross, hook. Left front kick, right round kick, jab, cross, hook.

Left front kick, right round kick, jab, mat.

Mat?

“That’s not fair you were just gonna block!” You exclaimed after processing the fact that he’d just tackled you to the floor.

“You forgot to keep your guard up.”

“Whatever.” You began standing up.

“What, can’t take it?”

“Is little Miguel Diaz being mean to someone?”

“I’m just pointing out your weaknesses so you can work on them.”

“Because you’re just perfect, aren't you?”

“Do me then.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I-” he closed his eyes shut and pursed his lips together at the poor choice of words. “Do the same thing to me.”

“I don’t know, I’m starting to think you’re like into pain or something.”

“Yeah whatever you say. Come on.”

He did the sequence this time, and you blocked the movements, waiting for the chance to catch him by surprise. You did it while he was going for it the second time around, grabbing him by the wrist and attempting to pull it down, but he was quicker.

Best fighter in the Valley, after all.

In no time you were on the ground again. Fucker.

“I told you! It’s good practice though.” He was laughing at you, and held out his hand for you to take when he noticed you weren’t standing up.

You grinned. “Do you never learn?” You did the same as you'd done that one day at your house, pulling him to the floor next to you.

“Okay that was rude!”

“You practically asked for it!” You laughed like crazy as you stood up. “I can’t believe you fell for that twice!”

“Okay, fine.” He held his hand up again. “You not gonna help me?”

“Nope. I, for one, am not dumb.”

He got up. “Oh you’re gonna regret that.”

[. . .]

"Hey are you- are you doing something right now?" Miguel questioned you as he finshed turning the lights off.

"Not really. Why?"

"Do you... want to?"

"Like right now?"

"I mean I think we could both use a shower first but- later?"

"Why?"

"I'm just bored. You don't have to."

You pondered it. Aisha did have to bail on you to go to dinner with her dad. "Fine."

"What- okay."

You laughed as he finished locking the door of the dojo. "What?"

"Didn’t think you’d say yes."

"I can still change my mind."

"Yeah right. You like hanging out with me!"

"Hey don’t get too confident, I just don’t have anything else to do."

"And I don't believe you. Golf ‘n’ Stuf. In like an hour?"

"I don’t know. I might not show up," you teased.

"Yeah I'll see you there!" He yelled, content, already ahead of you on his bike.

[. . .]

“I knew it.”

You turned around where you stood, only to see Miguel behind you, a grin on his face. “You’re annoying. I’ve told you that before, right?”

“Yeah. Many times.”

“Just checking.”

“So?” Miguel held up his arm for you to lace your own with. As if. You scoffed, walking past him, leaving him to jog after you into the park.

“Okay what first?”

“Oh you’re letting me pick?” He asked you. Okay, you had to give it to him, he wasn’t as insufferable when he matched your sarcastic attitude a little bit. Or maybe he was more insufferable and you just liked to see him not be as nice.

“Yes I’m very polite.”

“Well then we’re doing mini golf.”

“Are you forty-five?”

“This place literally has golf in the name, what did you expect?” He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you along.

[. . .]

“Okay I don’t think I’ve ever seen as many tickets in my entire life,” Miguel exclaimed, holding up what looked like at least 80 tickets, all bunched up. You studied the excitement on his face. Fine, so maybe you had a little fun. Just a little. And maybe you thought he looked stupidly cute right now.

Maybe.

You walked up to the counter. He looked at your prize options. “So what do you want? We can get like 53 rings or like 72 plastic… babies? Why would anyone want 72 plastic babies?”

You let out a laugh. “I don’t know, I-” you saw it by the corner, almost hidden. It was perfect. “Ohmygod definitely that guy!” You pointed at it, and the woman behind the counter handed it to Miguel.

He held up the plush bumblebee. “He’s cute! What should we name him?”

“Um… Phillip?”

“What no! That’s so not a bee name.”

“What the hell would a bee name be?”

“Zoe?”

“Okay first off that’s so cliche. Second off, he’s a boy!”

“How would you know that?” You’d been walking for a while, and finally got outside, sitting down on a bench.

“I decided it!”

“Okay. What can we name him then?”

“Oh my God, Lucas!”

“Okay, I think I can accept Lucas.”

“You don’t have a say on my son’s name!”

“Hey he’s our son!”

“I don’t know, we’d have to take a DNA test.”

“Shit have you been cheating on me?”

“Yeah I’m sorry…” you tried to match his playfulness.

There was silence for a moment.

“You know this was actually pretty fun.”

“Yeah I was surprised.” You were teasing, but it wasn’t a lie, either.

“So you liked it? Who knew.”

“Oh shut it. It was okay.”

“You totally did!”

“Okay, whatever. Now we need to discuss Lucas’ custody situation. I’m getting dibs on weekends!” You tried to joke, but Miguel’s mind seemed to be wandering off. “Miguel? Hello?” You waved your hand in front of his face.

“Sorry.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I just- can I tell you something?”

“Okay.”

“I have a theory. You can say I’m wrong. But you can’t get mad at me about it.”

“Okay I’m getting worried.”

“Promise?”

“Sure.”

“Well I’ve thought about it, and I might be being a little hopeful. But I’m pretty sure you might have a crush on me.”

You laughed in disbelief. Did he really just say that to you? “I’m sorry?”

“It’s just a theory! I want you to! I’m- am I wrong?”

You didn’t reply. Because you didn’t know the answer. Did you- wait. “You want me to?”

“I- mean I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, but. It would be nice. And I know you still don’t like to talk about that one time we kissed and all but things have been pretty confusing.”

“Because you have a thing for me.”

“Okay, I get it, it's fine if you don’t-”

Maybe it was not exactly the brightest idea to do something so important so suddenly, without sparing a thought before you did. But, when you knew it, your lips were on his.

It was calmer, softer than the first time you’d done it. Miguel was the one to pull away, smiling into the kiss. He stared at you, and you were nervous. You wanted to tell yourself you didn’t know where that came from, like you’d told yourself had happened that day at your place before attempting to bottle it up. But you knew.

You didn’t realize it, but in those weeks you hung out, you got to actually know him. And at some point you must have started liking him. A few weeks was definitely enough to change your perspective on some things.

You assumed he felt the same, considering the things he said.

… but maybe you read him wrong?

“What?” You asked, insecure, when he didn’t say anything.

He grinned. “You totally have a crush on me!”

You let out a breath in relief.

Okay, yeah, maybe Miguel Diaz wasn’t that bad after all. And maybe you could get yourself used to the thought of going out with him.

Maybe.

[. . .]

A/N: edited the fuck outta this one before posting, my ideas were good but my writing was pretty shit at the time. I think I was like 16/17 when I wrote this one. shits crazy. luv yall

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

We lost so much. I’m fucking sad.

RIOT WHEN I FUCKING CATCH YOU

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

Thief

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Weasley!Fem!Reader

Summary: Hatred, passion...those are basically the same anyways.

Warning: Thievery, banter, tension, make out sesh, angst

A/N: Almost 4k words, yay! Don't forget to leave a comment I love knowing what you thought!

"Wicked!" George Weasley squeals as he checks out the newest spell his twin cast on their shared charms book.

Their walk toward the Gryffindor common room is casual, so casual that the very few students they come across quickly pass them finding it suspicious that the 'trouble twins' happen to be so calm.

"She taught me to do it on regular books but not on the monster book, so your grudge is still pending."

The beginning of the afternoon sounds just like any other. The sun comes out after the morning rain and beams against the scattered droplets, bringing a certain ethereal feeling to the already breathtaking castle.

The corridors around the courtyard are empty without counting the very few students taking a walk or reveling in the sun as they digest their breakfast and wait for their next classes.

The sound of hurried stomps echoes through the open hallways and attracts both of their attention as a frown overtakes their features.

The steps get louder and they finally see the runaway, recognizing the familiar red locks.

She frantically looks behind her before shoving past her brothers and running ahead and out of breath.

Like clockwork, the twins look at their sister sprinting past them and look back at each other before naturally falling into her rushed steps.

"What did you do?!" Fred asks with the brightest smile as he huffs catching up with her.

"And to who?" George follows up catching a glimpse of a book his sister holds onto for dear life.

"Nothing!" she shouts out of breath.

"Why are you lying?!" George yells to overcome the sound of the pounding footsteps as he easily catches up to her.

"I'm not!" she yells back when another distant shout is heard.

"Weasley!" the twins look back to see no other than Mattheo Riddle rounding the corner at full speed trying to catch up to them.

Turning back Fred can't help but let out a cackle.

"You pissed off Riddle?!" George notes.

"She pissed off Riddle!" Fred cackles one more.

His fit of laughter is cut short when his sister sharply turns right and runs through one of the many stone arches to run out into the clock tower's courtyard.

He follows her and slips up barely catching himself on the pillars of the arch as he sees her stop dead in her track in front of the stone wall with her feet firmly planted on the now dark grey ground still wet from the rain.

He stands back up and hears the pounding feet behind him before he speeds back up and runs out into the courtyard catching up right behind George.

"Give me an up!" she hurries waiting for either one to move which happens to be George who bends down and joins his hands for her to climb onto.

As her brother forces on his hands, she reaches the roof of one of the hallways with a groan, still clutching the book.

As soon as the weight leaves his hands George sheepishly slides aside to stand beside Fred as they both contemplate Mattheo Riddle catching up to them and trying to climb right behind her via a pipe but failing as the rain leaves the pipe slippery and unable to be used.

Slipping down back on the ground he turns around when he hears snickers and recognizes the two redheads, glaring at them.

He turns back around and watches as the youngest Weasley stands up on the roof balancing herself as she tries to walk on the mossy-drenched roof carefully.

"Get down Weasley!" he yells as he walks in parallel with her down on the ground.

"No!" she says waddling and leaning dangerously on one side as she stops momentarily to regain balance.

"Careful little Billywig, Hogwarts' tiles aren't the same as the Burrows" Fred warns his little sister with a smile reveling in the Slytherin's anger.

"I manage just fine!" she answers pissy and frustrated.

"All this for a book?" George wonders aloud, his eyes firmly planted on his sister, wary of her safety.

He can see Riddle roll his eyes without having to look at his face.

Their bickering continues with Mattheo's incessant orders for her to get down and her blatant disregard for his demands, balancing herself on the slippery tiles.

It is Fred who puts two and two together, he leans back against the stone wall and crosses his arms.

"It's your stach isn't it." Fred's statement sounds like a question as a devilish smirk overtakes his face.

"No it's not, shut up Weasley," Matt says uninterested in the blatant provocation, still glancing upward.

The hit that lands on the back of his head is delivered by George with a warning, "Don't stare too much."

He hisses referring to Riddle's insistent stare up as his sister who keeps tugging her skirt closer to her with one hand to avoid unwanted attention up there as the other doesn't help much, still holding on to the book.

Mattheo, by instinct, slaps the hand away as soon as it's done hitting him which leads the two to have a stare-down.

A clang and a shrill scream grab both of their attention back as they see her on all fours trying to cling to the roof's tiles.

"Get down!" Riddle reiterates screaming.

"No!" she yells back with conviction.

She takes her time but sits up, takes a breather, and carefully stands back up to continue waddling her way across the roof as he continues to mirror her path.

"You damn stubborn!" he reprimands monitoring her steps.

"And you stole my parchment!" she yells back accusingly.

"I didn't steal shit!" he bellows throwing his fingers in her direction as she looks down at him, glaring in turn.

"If anything, you stole my wand!" he shouts.

The bell rings in the twins' heads as they remember the altercation that led to the current event.

"What's going on?" she asks pushing through the small crowd gathered in front of Transfiguration class.

Mattheo pushes Harry back with one finger on his chest and a threatening stare that attracts Fred to stand in front of Harry shielding him with his towering height.

"Get lost Potter," she spots Mattheo stepping in front of Draco Malfoy who was having a staredown face to face with Harry Potter.

"And you back off Riddle," he says staring down at him.

"And while you're at it how about you muzzle your buddy," he continues looking over his shoulder directly at Draco fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder with a snarled lip.

"How about you keep the muzzle for your friend, heard he's got some trouble with an imaginary grim," Mattheo says breaking into laughter followed by his fellow Slytherin mates.

Fred is thrown aside by Harry as he bolts towards Riddle with a closed fist that collides with his cheek.

Mattheo recovers from the punch and immediately throws a punch back as Malfoy draws his wand out quickly followed by Riddle.

The crowd widens as people step back to leave enough space for the four, now five of them as Harry and the twins follow the lead of the snakes and point their wands back at them.

The rest happened incredibly fast and the only thing her mind could register was her brother violently thrown back with a stupefy sent by a rageful Draco.

The ruckus started by the casted spell only escalates when a student shows up with a professor sending the crowd into a flock of people running in different directions.

She is sent falling on her back when a student collides with her. She rolls around to stand back up when she sees the all too familiar wand left unattended on the ground.

Hearing Professor Slughorn yell for calm she snatches the wand from the ground and boosts herself forward with her feet to sprint around the corner and away from Slughorn gripping Riddle by the arm.

"I did not!" she yells at the accusation.

"Get down!" he shouts frustrated by her attempting to balance herself and yelling back at him.

Fred cackles and holds his stomach at the interaction, amused every time Riddle's face contorts in a shocked or rather offended expression due to his sister's temper.

Taking a bold step, her foot slips as she falls sliding to the roof's edge with a scream. Her hand grips the gutter tightly as the three boys hurry closer to the wall.

"Okay you've made your point Weasley, give me your hand now!" Riddle says hurriedly stepping on the stone window using this to boost himself up and gripping the stoned wall's crevice to slip his arm around her waist unable to hold either of her hands.

He's pulled by his collar and stumbles back watching as George uses his height to his advantage, boosting himself up and sneaking his arm around his sister's waist and tugging her down to his other arm holding her princess-style.

"Calm down Riddle," Fred gently grabs the notebook from his siter and walks towards him before shoving the book right on his chest letting Mattheo clutch it and stumble back as the twin steps back with a smug, demeaning smile, "Your stach is fine."

His scowl doesn't falter even with his property now in hand. Instead, his nostrils flare with a pissed-off sigh before the youngest Weasley girl is set down on her feet, still wobbly from the shock of the potentially harmful situation.

"It's not my-" his sentence is cut short by the youngest Weasley girl being set down back on her feet as she nods in gratitude, still a bit wobbly from the previous potentially harmful situation.

Her newfound safe position has him noticeably relax but the scolding expression doesn't leave his features as he points at her and her brothers back and forth while he tries to find the words to describe his frustration.

With no full sentence gracing his mind, he instead looks at the twins directing his spite on them, still pointing at her.

"Get your siblings under control," he says walking backward and away from the little family, still incredibly pissed off by the interaction.

Arithmancy is already complicated enough with the teacher's words blending in an incomprehensible mash, but the incessant feeling of his stare burning through my back is the worst.

I turn around with a scowl and spot him at his usual place at the back of the class with the rest of his friends, looking back at me with just as much venom.

Zabini is the one that spots him glaring at me attracting the rest of the table's eyes in my direction.

Despite the insistence of Blaise to stop glaring at me his death glare continues, this time accompanied by his first tightly clenched on the table.

My stare deepens and I'm ready to mouth him what's his problem when the giant bells resound and send half the class scurrying to lunch including me as I jolt up with my bag in hand intertwining my arm with Luna Lovegood.

Quickly passing the door I appreciate the covered sky as the weather is still warm regardless of the sun hiding.

'A weather announcing rain for later in the day probably' I think to myself tuning out Luna's newest rant about Nargles.

"Your head's full of them."

I hum with a frown in her direction registering her words once again.

"Wrackspursts."

My frown deepens as the word is familiar but the context escapes me.

A bell rings in my head when I remember reading the word in Luna's latest edition of the Quibbler she landed me.

An edition I forgot to give back.

"Oh talking about that, here's your-" I say opening my satchel to see the magazine sitting cozily beside another one of my textbooks right on top of Mattheo Riddle's wand when I notice the absence of my notebook.

"Oh no I must've forgotten to pack up my notebook," I note to Luna handing her back her magazine.

"That's okay. Go grab it, I'll save you a seat at lunch." she smiles.

"Thanks, I'll be right with you," I say already trotting away before turning around in a run towards the Arithmancy class.

I pass Zabini and Co on the way and find it weird that Riddle isn't amongst them before remembering his angered stare back in class and figuring out he must've taken the route of the astronomy tower to take his anger out, probably followed closely by Nott.

Typical.

My mind turns back to reality when my eyes lock on the classroom door ajar.

'Professor Vector probably pulled it behind her as she left for lunch' I think as I push the door open stepping inside.

The room looks empty and it doesn't take too long for me to notice my desk.

Empty.

My frustration builds up as I approach my desk and kneel to check the floor where I don't see any trace of my notebook.

Sighing in annoyance I let my satchel's strap fall from my shoulder and stand back up to lift my desktop to glare at the cluttered compartment.

I groan closing my eyes and throwing my head back before keeping the desktop open with one hand and starting to rummage through the mess with the other.

Scrambling through, the echo of my search is interrupted by a smug tone.

"Looking for this?"

I let go of the desktop that snaps shut loudly spinning around and backing up against the desk in shock seeing Riddle coming out of the shadow with my notebook in hand.

My shock quickly dies down and is replaced by anger as my breathing picks up and my tension rises, not liking one bit to be stuck with him in a room alone.

"Give me back my notebook," I say in a definitive pitch extending my hand as he approaches me still showcasing my notebook up in the air like a trophy.

"I'm still missing my wand," he says smugly just a few steps away from me making it obvious that this is a transaction, my notebook for his wand.

"Then go look for it, give me back my notebook," I say more sternly dismissing him and reaching out to snatch it but his reflexes beat mine as he pulls it just far enough for my fingers to miss it just by a few inches.

His hand recoils extending behind his back as he uses his body to stand just a few inches in front of me.

My scowl deepens and his smile lights up even more showing his dimples with that mischievous glint in his eyes letting me know he's amused at the situation.

"I know you have it," he says cooly moving my notebook just a bit so that I can see it but not enough to reach it without having to end up face-to-face.

I've had enough.

"Give me my notebook back Mattheo," I say done with his games.

His smile dies down as well as the flicker in his eyes leaving place to an expression I can't read.

Is it anger?

Annoyance?

His arm lowers at his side and I don't waste a second before reaching for the journal, grasping at it and tugging when I notice that his hand doesn't let go of it no matter how hard I may tug.

I look up ready to ask him if he's really gonna waste more of my time with his little game before my thoughts are cut short as my gaze reaches his, fixated on mine in a more intense way than before.

My frown softens when my eyes catch his hand reaching the desk letting his fingers graze the surface.

My hand stops tugging and I stay focused on his hand memorizing every detail, from the veins that appear to the reddened knuckles from a previous fight.

I look back up at him and notice that the red knuckles are accompanied by new cuts on his face, one on his eyebrow and another hidden by a bandaid on his nose.

As a last attempt try to move aside thinking that putting distance between us will help me tug on the notebook better but it's like he can read my mind and steps in front of me.

Chest to chest he uses his body weight to push mine back against the desk.

I don't know what to say, the action leaves me breathless and confused.

What is going on?

I see him hesitate. Would it be possible Riddle has become speechless for the first time?

I see it in the way he's trying to talk. Trying to speak but he can only open his mouth and hesitate before closing it back up in frustration

The silence is killing me. I try to be patient and wait, even enticing him to take his time and nodding subtly when he opens his mouth yet again but he's left unable to speak and lets out another sigh of frustration switching his gaze from one eye to the other.

He whispers something, something so quiet I don't catch it.

I want to ask him to repeat himself but I don't get the time to when his lips crash onto mine. The action takes me by surprise but it's like he anticipated it as his arm that was holding my journal let go and surrounds my waist to replace my weakened legs that gave out on me to lean me against the desk.

With my eyes closed, I can only feel. Feel his lips against mine, soft and experienced but I sense that he hesitates testing the water maybe to see if I'm going to push him away.

I should, I want to.

I taste the remnant of mint, probably from a previous gum.

His lips leave mine and I open my eyes to make direct contact with his. I can barely see his irises with how dilated his pupils are.

My brain is on overdrive but no thought finds any conclusion. Every possible movement is blocked by my body frozen on the spot and every word I wish to say is replaced by an exhale.

I feel his hand, the one that was grazing the desk travels up my neck to rest on my cheek as his lips catch mine again.

His hand is warm like his lips and entraps me in a daze.

The haze in my head thickens and leaves me to nourish my urges like my desperate need to anchor myself as I let my notebook fall from my hand and grip the desk behind me letting my other hand grab his neck where the tip of my finger brushes against one of his locks and I decide instead to grip a handful of his curls.

The action brings a pleased hum from him and triggers my own when the arm that's wrapped around my waist tightens and my feet leave the floor as I feel myself being seated on my desk.

His lips don't leave mine as both his hand cradles my face before they follow my lead and travel up to entangle in my hair, stepping closer to me and standing between my legs.

One of his hands remains in my hair as the other brushes down to my neck and descends to brush my knee.

Lost in the feeling my hand grips his soft hair harder leading him to groan as I hum once again without having any control over my voice.

I feel his hand grab a handful of my thigh but the feeling is easily forgotten when I feel his teeth biting my lower lip with a sting that causes me to gasp. A gasp that gets cut off when his tongue swoops in and locks our lips back together.

I feel really hot and I can't think. I believe I'm gonna overheat when his hand travels up my thigh and I feel like a bucket of ice water is thrown onto me.

My eyes shoot open and the hand that was enjoying the softness of his curls joins my other hand that was gripping the desk to push him off me.

The push is so violent that he bumps against the desk right behind mine and needs to hold onto it to not fall as I slip off my desk.

The silence isn't noticeable as our heavy breathing fills the emptiness of the room.

All my senses crash on me and this time the fog in my brain is lifted leaving me in full control of my actions instead of a puppet to my urges.

He stands back up and stares back at me breathing heavily before wiping his mouth with his fingers letting them linger.

I mirror his action without thinking feeling my lips all plump.

What am I doing? Why did I do that?!

I just…made out with Mattheo Riddle?!

The heat that was possessing me turns cold as I frown.

That was stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

Thinking back to it my hand travels down to my skirt, tugging it down as my stare leaves his to stare into the void thinking back to everything.

Riddle is an opportunist and saw an opening. He took me by surprise and my body just reacted.

It was a mistake.

My eyes are probably the size of the sausage I'm supposed to be eating for lunch right now and that's when everything comes back to me.

How long have I been here? Has Luna waited for long? What time is it?

I came in here looking for my notebook.

My eyes focus back and I realize I need to get out right now. My eyes look back at his as he stands there just as frozen as I am. That's when I decide to make the first step looking down to spot my journal on the ground right beside my bag.

I quickly kneel down in a panic as his presence, with the knowledge of what just happened, makes me panic more and more the longer I stay here with him.

Clutching my bag I shove my book in there before scrambling to feel the outline of his wand as I see him in the corner of my eyes arranging his messed up hair.

The second my hand brushes against his possession I snatch it from my bag before stomping toward him and shoving his wand on his chest as he clutches it not breaking eye contact.

His hand mindlessly brushes against mine as he grips his wand and I snatch mine away as if he burnt me before shoving past him so fast I bump harshly into his shoulder out of the room leaving him there all alone to run toward the Great Hall like I should've done all along.

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

Trick ‘r Treat (2007) dir. Michael Dougherty

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

Weasel

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!F!Reader

Summary: A back and forth with the infamous Fred Weasley sends the two nemeses into a back-and-forth that lands them in detention, where both their frustration and anger send them into a deep argument full of insults, tension, and revelations.

Warning: LONG, 8k words, lots of scene cuts becuz a LOT happens, rivals to lovers (not really, Fred's obsessed with reader and is a little shit), boy pulls on the pigtails of the girl he claims he dislike type trope, was forced to give reader at least a last name, same for her best friend ( went with one of the most generic name Tiffany), Fred being a little shit, argument, tension, reader is unhinged

A/N: Fun fact about this fic it almost included a Pygmy Puff before I checked and discovered that they were created by the twins for their shop and since they are still students I had to go and swap it up with a baby puffskein. No idea how to describe that fic, there will definitely be multiple parts, enjoy!

There are no other places like Hogwarts.

The scenery, the castle's secrets, and the yearly competition between houses are something to behold.

But what might be icing on the cake is the library. The place where I can lose track of time all the while learning about the magical world.

The library has a hush rule but you can't help the coughs, the few ink pots falling to the ground, or even the giggles here and there but it doesn't bother me one bit, it even helps me focus as I enjoy yet one more day in the castle.

"Hi there Raven."

And there goes my enjoyment.

With a roll of my eye, I direct them toward the annoying voice belonging to none other than Fred Weasley who stands there with his satchel on his side leaning against one of the book-filled shelves.

"Weasel," I acknowledge him with a sigh looking back down at my page.

"Weasley," he corrects drily.

I brush him off as I finish my inked sentence and wait for it to dry before turning the page and asking him what he's doing here.

He leans on the table by his hip and crosses his arms inclining his head towards me, "What is it to you?"

"You being here is a bad omen so either you're here to sell your stupid stuff to the first years," I say glancing at his sachel for a second before looking back down at my work, "Or it involves annoying me and I'm having a good day to waste it dealing with you today."

I don't look at him and instead focus on my next sentence when I hear some shuffling and a piece of rolled-up parchment drops next to me that I recognize all too well.

"You must be kidding me," I groan snatching the parchment from the table.

"Unfortunately no. McGonagall benched me and said that if I wanted to stay on the quidditch team I needed a tutor."

His speech makes me groan as the lines reiterate his rant in a distinguished manner and is signed at the bottom by Professor Flitwick.

"McGonagall sent me to Flitwick who recommended you. Said you needed tutoring on your record."

I let go of the paper and join my hands together placing my thumbs on the base of my nose to try and diminish the incoming headache.

"Soo," he draws out attracting my gaze, "See you later, I'll be waiting for your owl."

I see him walking backward, all cocky as he dares to wink at me before turning around and descending the spiral stairs.

I audibly scoff and slam my notebook closed.

Yet another day ruined by that damn Weasel.

"He's a pest."

"You're exaggerating again," she laughs at me standing up from her seat.

"No, I'm not!" I say shoving the last book in my bag as class just ended, "He's obnoxious and annoying and a nuisance to my peace," I stand up and follow right after her.

It's been a few days since my unfortunate meeting with the least likable Weasley in the library and the meeting with Professor Flitwick and McGonagall this early morning couldn't have gotten any worse since no amount of pleading on my part could get them not to assign me with him. As a supplement I had the redhead walk in on me pleading which had him reveling at my misery digging me into a deeper foul mood.

"He's a funny guy that sometimes goes too far," she says pushing a chair that wasn't tucked under its assigned table.

"He's the bane of my existence," I say full of venom.

She laughs walking toward the classroom's exit," That's romantic."

"No, saying someone is the bane of your existence isn't romantic."

"I'm sure you could turn it into something romantic, like a poem or a book about forbidden love," she daydream walking through the door.

"You read too many romance books," I say stepping outside the classroom when I freeze and feel like I'm going underwater as my body is iced out for a moment.

It feels as if I've been hit with glacius but I'm able to use my voice and squeal in shock as the feeling subsides and I'm brought back from my shock by two giggles.

I see two first-year Gryffindors laughing nervously before they simultaneously decide to run away, one of them letting loose on her wand that was levitating the bucket letting it fall on the ground with a loud clash.

I'm left in the middle of the open hallway surrounded by classmates who just exited their class.

The wind hits me and I feel my body shiver before I look up at my friend whose mouth is covered by her hands in surprise.

I hear it.

The annoying infuriating sound of distant laughter, one I cannot mistake for another.

My eyes zero on him sitting on the transfiguration courtyard's tree clutching his stomach as he laughs balancing himself on the branch.

"You were saying?" I ask her rhetorically still dripping in the pink-colored jelly-like liquid.

She lowers her hands and approaches me slowly trying to wipe my face.

I feel the bubbling of rage making its way up my throat with my breathing taking up seeing him seated up there on the branch looking like a king sitting upon the throne of his buffoonery surrounded by his brainless friends, or rather, George's brainless friends and it makes me snap.

I push her hand away and stomp my way through the hallway onto the courtyard's grass toward him.

"Weasley!" I yell as I march to him.

"Oh, now she remembers my name," he laughs out loud for his twin and his friends to hear as the number of students stopping by increases.

He slides off the branch with ease and starts strutting to me with this damn cocky smile.

George stands up from his leaning stance on the tree, "Fred," he says.

I don't know if it's a warning or a scolding but his intent doesn't matter to me.

My hearing is replaced with the beats of my heart drumming in my ears as my face feels as hot as lava.

My steps get bigger and bigger and the closer his infuriating smirk approaches, the rage escapes me as my hand swings back and closes into a fist before landing in his face mid-step.

The audible hit is met with a groan and while I'm far too small to send him to the ground with a punch it does send him swaying back and hunching over.

In a second George jogs to his twin and hands him support grabbing his elbow as Fred's groan turns into another one of his annoying chuckles.

"You see how she hit me?!" he shouts looking delighted by the situation before he lays his gaze back on me with a bit of blood on his teeth.

His smirk falls and I believe for a moment that I finally did it, I finally managed to instate fear in this jackass before I realize his gaze moved from my frame to someone behind me.

The buzzing in my ears ceases and my hearing comes back to me as the grass crunches under one's weight indicating someone approaching.

A cold sweat travels through my body when I turn around and spot none other than Professor Hooch standing tall in front of us.

By instinct, I take a step back and bump into Fred before jumping aside as if he burnt me which isn't far off as my knuckles are calling out for help burning and tingling from the impact it had on his cheek.

She sends us both one of her infamous hawk looks that could petrify Dumbledor himself, "I presume that display of violence can be explained by your appearance?" her pointed look is directed at me.

I try to wipe the substance off my hair with an annoyed huff.

Her eyes travel to Fred whose head is pointed down grabbing his chin and messing with his mouth moving his jaw from side to side.

"That rewards the both of you with an hour's detention," that answer makes him groan and I point at him with outrage.

"But he-!" My disbelief doesn't reach her before she cuts me off.

"You're both dismissed. Mr.Weasley, I advise you to escort your brother to the infirmary to tend to his injury. As for you, I advise you to go clean yourself up before heading to the infirmary as well, perhaps at a time Mr.Weasley won't be there," she finishes her sentence looking at George who acknowledges her insinuation with a nod.

Still clutching his jaw, Fred is led away by his elbow by George as Hooch walks to stand in front of me, "While I understand your frustration I did expect better from you than violence."

My eyes widen and the breath I take in is cut off, "He-"

"This isn't about Mr.Weasley's childish behavior, he will receive his punishment either way. What disappoints me is that you could've avoided any punishment by reporting this to me or any other professor in the area but instead, you will ecope of an hour's detention as well."

She says shaking her head as she walks away leaving me standing here in the courtyard covered in the substance and an aching fist that doesn't even feel satisfying knowing it didn't teach the jerk anything.

"Why is it so windy today?! I thought it was supposed to be sunny!" I complain trying to be louder than the wind.

"No it's supposed to switch all day, look," my friend says motioning to the daily prophet in her hands bringing the paper closer to my face so I can see the weather section indeed announcing an insufferable change of weather all day.

"You can still spot the puddles from the rain earlier," Luna Lovegood points to the Quidditch pitch where the grass is still two shades darker and the random puddles of water stir with strength from the wind blowing.

My venting is interrupted by a loud collision that sends me twisting around back to the pitch to see Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teammates fighting over the quaffle like rabid dogs in what is supposed to be an amicable match as a form of training.

"Remind me again what's the point of an amicable match if there is no amicability?" I ask turning to face them just to miss the apparent goal from a Gryffindor through one of the Ravenclaw's lowest hoops.

I groan when I recognize the face of the person who managed to pass our defenses as he basks in the small victory.

"What is it raven?! Can't take in the sigh of greatness?!" he gloats seated comfortably on his broom with his red hair all tussled.

His pretentiousness blinds him and his arrogance leaves him to ignore the whistle suggesting the match continues and leaves a fellow Ravenclaw to score in a flash right behind him. The only indicator that anything happened at all is the small thunder of applause and shouts of approval coming from the small gathering of students who decided to kill time and participate in the amicable match to cheer each team on.

His head whips around and the sight of the opposite team scoring sends him tilting his head back with a groan that he tries to conceal but it doesn't escape anyone's notice.

The karma is enough but it is so rare to catch the weasel in one of his life life-learning moments that I don't hesitate before deciding that I need to add my little grain of salt to the wound.

I have it, I have the perfect response to give him right on the tip of my tongue and I wonder for a second if the smirk grazing my lips isn't a giveaway but my witty taunt is stopped when a broom enters my line of vision.

"See?! I told you your presence would do me good. Look at that, bullseye!"

I'm sure he means no harm, I know him to be humble but the poor lad either didn't see Weasley or simply decided to ignore his presence.

The fact that he is being ignored after being wrecked is sickly satisfying and my smirk manages to widen somehow.

It is clear he simply didn't see Fred as this one's scowl sends him silently flying away in an awkward, one-sided staredown that ends with him glancing at me with an uncomfortable wide-eyed stare, silently asking for help.

I stare at him flying further and further away and only look back when I notice George approaching his twin on his broom.

His frustration is clear and the eye roll along with his head thrown back pleases me a great deal.

The devilish idea is too good and it doesn't take a lot of self-convincing before I fall for temptation.

"What is it Weasel, too busy drowning in your own ego you can't pay attention?!" I shout so my sickly honeyed voice reaches him and George as I tuck my now pastel pink hair behind my ears.

'The concoction should last less than a week. This Flemont Potter was a genius!' nurse Pomfrey said.

The scowl adorning his face fills me with warmth and electricity buzzes through my veins knowing I have the last word for once.

"Nice hair," he tries himself at a desperate dig that does not work as Professor Hooch whistles for him to fly back to the match.

Turning his back to me, he flies back to the center of the field I can't help but laugh realizing that it's the first time he turns his back to me without walking away with the last word.

The whistle is blown and the speed at which each team goes at the other's throat could cause whiplash if one wasn't used to it.

I'm focused on a group of players when my peripheral vision drags my eyes to my friend throwing the quaffle with all his strength leaving another small group of three players to speed away.

Taking a moment to take in his throw he looks back down and waves at me with a smile, satisfied with his play.

I wave back with a grin of my own before he disappears out of my sight as a bludger hits him straight in the back of the head with a resounding thunk throwing him off his broom and crashing to the ground.

I hear a loud yell and realize it comes from me as my body instinctively reacts and bolts toward the pitch.

Professor Hooch is already by his side by the time I run to his limp self.

"Is he okay?!" I get caught off guard by my friend reaching him and kneeling at his side before I do.

I stand there looking down at him in shock as people start surrounding the area trying to take a look at the wounded on the ground when I notice the Gryffindor team lowering themselves on the ground including the culprit.

His quidditch robe swings with each one of his steps as he walks towards the commotion very slowly like in a trance.

"You too bring a stretcher," she says shooing away both a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw player.

I hear George Weasley calling after his brother who has now reached Professor Hooch kneeling on the ground

"Is he okay?"

How dare he. His filthy meek voice asking about his well-being as if he isn't the reason my friend is lying unresponsive on the ground.

That familiar boiling sensation in my chest rises again and I feel my fists clenching by themselves.

Before I can comprehend my thought process I am bolting toward him. Still, before I can reach him George jumps in front of him getting ready for whatever, a whatever that does not come as I am held up by the waist by two Gryffindor players sensing the hostility.

"What is wrong with you!" I holler up in the air struggling with all my might against the hold of the chasers which is useless against the player's strength.

The rest is a blur, George pushes the douche towards the locker room as I follow the stretcher closely to the infirmary.

"If you stare any harder you're gonna be the first third year student here to achieve wandless magic," she chuckles "It's you! You did this!" he yells shoving me back and sending me stumbling on the ground probably trying to get me as dirty as he is. back down at her textbook.

"False," I utter not leaving the weasel out of my burning stare.

I notice her raising her head from my side view in wonder.

"Granger," I state chewing on my thumb's fingernail.

The sight of him simply sitting there without any consequences under the excuse of 'it's part of the game, nobody can prove there were any malicious intents behind that strike' drives me mad and haunts my head with multiple scenarios of murder that keep replaying again and again.

"You have to let it go. Pomfresh said he'll be fine."

"He didn't deserve that strike it was targeted to piss me off because I got the last word," I say wincing when I realize I bit my thumb a bit too hard and drew some blood.

"It's part of Quidditch, many, many people took strikes to the head."

"Bullshit. A strike to the head during an amicable match? Come on," I roll my eyes frustrated that everybody seems so eager to just brush this incident off.

"I'm gonna start thinking you're checking him out and not actually glaring at him."

"Have you lost your mind?!" I say louder than intended, my head whipping left to glare at her this time.

There is no silence as the Care for the Magical Creature class takes place outside and the lack of chatter is covered up by the sound of wind rustling the nearest tree's leaves and the distant purrs and grumbles of the different creatures in their pen.

"Is there a problem?"

Unlike McGonagall or Snape, Professor Hagrid's tone of voice isn't accusatory but genuinely one of concern. This concern eats at me as the idea that he might believe even for a moment that my words are targeted towards him makes bile rise in my throat.

"No!" is my immediate response to reassure the professor but the rest of my explanation seems to be stuck in my throat as I have a hard time imagining myself explaining to the class that I was just defending myself at the mention of me hypothetically checking Weasley out.

That same person here in the open classroom with a side smirk plastered on his annoying face trying his best not to laugh at me, not because it would be rude but because not laughing at the right time alongside the rest of the class wouldn't be as satisfying as a full-on public humiliation.

I see Hagrid lowering his chalk and I can already foresight him asking what he might have done wrong which is not something you want to ask as a teacher in front of a bunch of ruthless teenagers.

His other hand joins in on the other starting to mess with his chalk making him appear anxious and way less mighty.

The awkwardness doesn't begin to measure to the remorse of having put him in this situation because of my impulsive nature.

"It's my fault!" my friend shouts in my defense.

Looking at her, Tiffany managed to snatch up a baby puffskein and hold it up to Hagrid's sight.

"I put him in her hair and she was afraid he would do a pooh."

The laughs are inevitable but I'm certain the 'do a pooh' will haunt my nightmare.

The mocking is a harmony of taunting and I can only look beside me to glare at her sitting there with the puffskein in hand as I wish he would just 'do a pooh' in her hands this instant.

At least Professor Hagrid seems reassured, smiles as the misunderstanding is cleared up, and turns back around to continue the lesson.

We're sent to different enclosures containing different creatures and are instructed to feed them to create a bond.

"Look at him acting casual as if he didn't send someone to the infirmary with a trauma to the head," I say full of venom seeing him being buddy-buddy with another Gryffindor girl as they try to feed Mooncalf in the open and have a laugh as they are surrounded by the eager herd starving for pets and seeds.

"Will you quit it and enjoy one of the only course that's relaxing here," she scolds kneeling closer to the ground to feed a diricawl who nibs at her finger affectionately before walking past her hand and pitter-pattering to her to lay his head on her chest to receive pats on his head.

"Plus you've already been told we can't know if the blow was on purpose."

"That's a load of bullshit and you know it, he's one of the best beaters here," I say with a pointed look at her throwing a violent handful of seeds towards the rest of the diricawls.

"Did I just hear you compliment Fred Weasley?" she says looking up at me with a teasing smile.

"It's not a compliment I'm just stating a fact, the probability of Weasley hitting someone right on the head by accident at such distance is close to none," I say throwing another handful as my eyes catch a paddock with dubogs in it, one in particular who is devouring the weasel with his bulgy eyes.

There are three dubogs in the small paddock and two of them are cooling off in the dirty pond uninterested in anything else but sunbathing with only their eyes above the murky water blinking one at a time as the third one is eating up Weasley with his eyes.

A devilish idea makes its way into my head. The opening I get is served to me on a gold platter as Tiffany is distracted by the herd of diricawl overtaking her landing her on the ground, surrounded.

My chance is heightened by Weasley's back turned to me talking with his little girlfriend.

I take my chance disregarding any rational thought invading my head. Sneakily climbing over the fence, I crouch and walk toward the desired enclosure. The creature doesn't seem to sense me approaching and if he does he doesn't seem to care one bit licking his eye and pawing the ground with his hind leg.

A part of me wishes I could egg him on and ask him if he wants to nibble on the Weasel's ankles but I'd rather not throw my plan out of the window. Instead, I carefully slide my arm to the latch and pull on it slowly to make sure not to make any noise before giving the door a small push to create the crack that seems to be enough to throw the creature out for a jog as he crashes against the paddock's door.

I don't get to see the seconds before the disaster as I have to hurry back and jump over the fence once again, running back to my friend and free her from the diricawl's clutches giving her a hand and raising her back up as the show starts.

The screams that grace my ears aren't from fear but more from shock as the tall redhead lands on the ground when I finally get to lay my eyes on him. The dubog licks him from bottom to top with the creature's natural dirt and slimey skin rubbing off on him as his Gryffindor girlfriend screeches for help calling for Professor Hagrid who runs up to help in a flash.

The man's height isn't only impressive and intimidating but also a great advantage to grab the massive creature off and drag it back to its enclosure where the other two are still sunk in the water, sunbathing and behaving.

Once shut close, Professor Hagrid grips the wooden bars of the enclosure to gather himself before turning around and helping Weasley up with just one hand gripping the back of his blouse. While he seems shaken up by the encounter, he tries to rub off some of the mud on his face but only manages to smear it looking around at the rest of us.

The reactions vary, some are as shocked as he is and others shrug off their worries and are now laughing at his appearance now that they've established that he is healthy and no longer in danger.

I myself giggle knowing that while I can't get him punished for his action back on the pitch, I get to watch him look like a fool and even up the score. My friend does not agree and lets me know by elbowing me in the ribs making me groan mixing laughter and painful grunts.

Laughter that is spotted by the redhead when his head whips to me before his eyes light up.

His eyes shift from eureka to burning hatred. Shrugging off the hand of his friend trying to tidy him up and storms in my direction.

"It's you! You did this!" he yells shoving me back and sending me stumbling on the ground probably trying to get me as dirty as he is. The confrontation is cut short when Hagrid once again showcases his immeasurable strength by yanking the weasel back with a tug on his now mostly white blouse and throwing him behind his eleven-foot frame that stands now right in front of me.

"Enough with the both of you!" his voice booms in the open area.

He takes a step back and I can get a peak at the redhead enough to see him huffing and puffing from being thrown around like a doll.

"This is a classroom, not a pub. Now the both of you will walk all the way up to Professor McGonagall's office and explain exactly why I had to send the both of you to her and she will be the one to give you your punishment!"

I look at him now, hair disheveled and his tie undone covered in dirt and mud and slime. He still looks somewhat decent as he pushes his hair back with a huff.

I must look just as messy with my pink hair having been thrown on the ground and I decide to tug at the end of my own blouse trying to tidy myself up and avoid any more wrinkles on it.

"Miss Granger, please accompany those two, you know what to do if they misbehave."

"She tried to kill me!" Fred yells pointing at me.

"Do you have any proof, Mr.Weasley?"

He seems to hesitate for less than a second before motioning to me with his hand in frustration.

"It's logical thinking, she hates my gut and she's crazy!"

"You jerk-!" I bellow throwing myself in his direction before I'm engulfed in the Professor's arms.

"Enough!" He yells once more letting me go only when I stop fidgeting in his hold.

"There is no way of proving the Miss did anything. This paddock's lock has been faulty for a while and after this incident, I will personally see that it is dealt with."

He says as if he was addressing the whole class who is still standing all around us watching the event unfold.

"As for the both of you, you will do as you're told and let Miss.Granger accompany the both of you back to the castle and receive the punishment the both of you deserve for the waste of both my time and your classmates' time."

The tone is harsh and the decision is final.

"I am very disappointed in the both of you. You're worth so much more than this petty rivalry," the man shakes his head walking away.

Those words seem to have the same result on both of us. We look down a bit ashamed before we are ushered away by Hermione as we start the long and silent journey back to the castle.

We both stand in silence, side by side with yet a respectable distance as the two professors stand in front of us with judgmental stares that don't need any words to transcribe their distaste…or is it disappointment?

We were sent to our respective bathrooms to clean up 'as best as you can' while my request to wash off completely was denied by both teachers and so here I stand with the back of my blouse tainted by dirt as Weasley could barely wash the slimy texture out of his own blouse and barely dry it with what I believe might have been a spell.

And so here he stands looking dirtier than me despite the order to clean up.

"Now that the awful stench has been managed I believe a proper punishment is in order," McGonagall says with her hands joined in front of her.

"I agree, my cauldrons are in dire need of a scrub," Snape says with his usual disinterested tone.

Weasley starts protesting and claims that I should receive a harsher punishment for my so-called actions.

"She tried to kill me!" he protests.

"And as I told you Mr.Weasley there is no way for us to possibly prove this claim as Professor Hagrid did not see any of this unravel."

"Just like no one saw you throw that bulger." I bite under my breath.

"Exactly Miss.Hermlock. And I would suggest you speak with your full chest if you have any objection." Mc.Gonagall drily berates me.

"Snape-Professor Snape," he quickly corrects himself, "said multiple times that in such cases veritaserum should be used, and since she's SO confident saying she didn't do anything she won't mind doing this, won't she," he says towering over my side.

"I've always known you were a moron but I never thought you would outdo yourself in front of teachers," I smirk crossing my arms.

"Mr.Weasley, even with Miss.Hermlock's permission, the usage of such beverage on a student is forbidden. I would've hoped that with a father working for the ministry, you out of all of us would remember that."

My smirk doubles in size which I thought would never be possible.

In the end, my smirk is wiped away when we are both awarded two hours of detention with Snape. And as if it wasn't enough the punishment is cleaning the endless potion class's cauldrons.

We're ordered to go clean up, thoroughly this time and go for lunch before being expected in the dungeons for our detention hours.

We arrive at the same time just as the last student exits the class, we are left standing side by side, or more precisely 3 feet away from each other as we walk in right in front of Snape's office where he is seated with his head down to his paper purposely stalling and letting us stand there in awkward silence.

What must've been minutes feel like hours as I try my best not to side-eye the redhead standing silently beside me.

I wonder if I should've refrained from opening that damn pen when I hear those continuous scraping of pen meant to insult us as the dark-haired teacher ignore our presence.

He finally puts his feather back in its inkwell before he stands resting both his hands on his desk, "I believe I don't have to remind you what you need to do during those two hours of detention."

Neither of us answers and that seems to egg him on to stand straight and walk around his desk to stand right in front of us, his hands placed behind him.

"You two will clean every single cauldron here, I made sure none of my classes cleaned their equipment to make sure the lesson will stick and you won't have to keep me company again on such a fine day," he says bending to my height and looking straight into my eyes for just a moment before moving his sight onto Weasley, "At least one of you will learn."

Standing back up his speech is interrupted by strong stomps getting closer.

Turning around, the three of us look towards the class's entrance as we spot for a single second a figure sliding across the entrance and disappearing with a loud thud that sounds painful.

It is the first time I make eye contact with the weasel since the last time we butted heads and it is to share a sour scrunched-up expression for the victim of the fall who we hear grunting in the hallway before the sound of their footsteps echoes once more and we see the face of the one who rushed here most likely to speak to Snape.

He's bent over leaning on the door out of breath.

"Berkshire, if you're done fooling around you may grace us with an explanation as to why you're disturbing this detention."

Still out of breath, Enzo Berkshire huffs and puffs for a few more seconds before settling down still bent over.

"It's Nott," he exhales deeply before breathing in once more, "He and Wood started a brawl between quidditch teams, Hooch told me to come get you."

Turning back to the teacher, his eye roll is noticeable and his silence is an obvious assessment of the situation as he probably is planning what to do now that he is torn between us two and the alleged brawl.

"Alright, As the head teacher of house Slytherin, I will accompany Berkshire and assist Professor Hooch in this conflict."

He points to us, "As for the two of you. You will stay here and complete your detention without any complaints. If you leave before your time is up, I will know and that will reward you an entire week of detention."

Pointing at Berkshire, Snape walks past us and orders him to lead them away and with a flick of his wand makes it known that it is thanks to that maneuver that he'll know of us potentially leaving the classroom.

"Behave." is all he says before walking right behind a speeding Enzo Berkshire.

I wonder if he was referring to the both of us or maybe just Weasley.

I don't get to ponder on that before my thoughts are drawn elsewhere at the realization that my worst nightmare is unfolding before me, I am now stuck with the most insufferable student here for two hours doing the most aggravating task besides cleaning the house bathrooms.

I only get back to reality when I hear him throw his robe and satchel on a nearby station.

Being left alone with him, the task at hand, and the absence of Snape to muzzle the redhead angers me as I frop my own bag and stomp to one of the sinks filled to the brim with dirty cauldrons.

I don't even get to enjoy a full minute of tense peace as the douchebag starts his usual yapping.

"Can't say I'm surprised he would leave me alone with you, Snape has always hated me and it's no wonder he left me with you considering you tried to kill me," he mouths off as always lifting a cauldron from its stove and piling it on top of another one.

"And yet you're still breathing, what a shame." I roll my eyes as well as my sleeves picking up a scraper.

A moment of silence passes and I pray this is the moment he realizes he needs to shut up so we can endure the rest of this detention in mild peace but alas this is a good idea and everyone knows that Frederick Weasley never had one of those in his life.

"Damn. The sorting hat must've made a mistake, maybe you belong with the other psychopaths in Slytherin." He throws both cauldrons beside the filled sink with a loud clang.

"I'm sorry but I'm not the one cladding the scales." I bite back.

"Oh, she has claws," he draws out loudly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"What is wrong with you?" I ask genuinely turning around to face him.

"No, the question is what is wrong with you," He asks back louder.

"Nothing is wrong with me! You're the one who can't figure out when to stop, you're the one who always goes too far and you're the one who went too far once again, so much so that you ended up sending my friend to the infirmary!" I hurl and see him losing that fire that usually overtakes his pupils showing he enjoys egging on people once they are set off.

"It's the risk when you play Quidditch," he tries and fails to sound firm in his statement making me scoff.

"For Rowena's sake, you're still acting as if you didn't purposely throw that bulger at him!" I say running my hands through my hair in frustration.

"I didn't!" he says even less believable.

Done with his excuses I turn back around to give all my attention back to the dirty cauldrons when he manages to slide between me and the sink making me take a huge step back.

"I didn't mean to throw it that hard."

I stare at him, no, I glare at him feeling the urge to punch him again but I remember that it didn't do anything for me the last time and instead opt to let out my frustration by hollering at him and walking away before I make the mistake of punching him and have a Professor magically appear out of nowhere to give me more detention again.

Even when I think I finally win and have him admit to his wrongs he still finds a way to make excuses for himself.

"What were you expecting?! I'm a beater that's what we do!"

Does he really think I don't know what a bloody beater is?!

Is he trying to make me pass off as an emotional wreck because of my appropriate reaction to such injury during a supposed amicable match?!

Any beater whether amateur or professional could agree that either maliciously or not that throw was unwarranted during training.

"There really is something wrong with you," I walk right in front of him, toe to toe, and spite my statement right in his face pushing him aside to gain back access to the sink.

I start scrubbing as my mind throws all the different reasons I despise the fucker. Irresponsible, unfunny, no compassion.

I'm so lost in my spiteful analysis of him that I don't register that my thoughts aren't my own anymore as I unconsciously start rambling out loud.

"An idiot who doesn't even think before taking people down with him," I grumble scrubbing away.

"Come on now it's not like he's dead," He nips throwing down yet another pile of small cauldrons beside me.

"I'm talking about me!" I yell letting go of my current task and letting the pot fall and clang with another one causing a ruckus in the sink.

"Not only is my friend in the infirmary because of you but I'm also stuck with you trying to teach someone who I learned has never been slacking in muggle history before recently."

His jaw slacks open and his eyes double in size like the breakfast sausages I had this morning.

"Wait a minute. You think I'm doing this on purpose?!"

You do everything on purpose! Your dad works for the ministry, he is a Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office employee dammit! If anyone is an expert at muggle stuff it's your dad!" I say as a matter of fact.

"And tell me exactly what would it bring me to purposely be bad at this subject all of a sudden?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe to annoy me more often than usual." it sounds like a question but I know I'm just clarifying the situation.

"You think I'm gonna waste my days stuck with you in the library acting dumb for fun?" he tries to ask sarcastically.

"And why not? Beside the library part isn't that what you do all day anyways?"

The quick wit seems like it struck him as he scoffs with a broad smile.

"If you want to be a failure for the rest of your life go ahead and be my guest but I'll ask you not to take me down with you."

That same disbelief smile disappears and leaves place for a blank look that doesn't often grace his face.

"Unlike what you think, success doesn't necessarily come from academic prowesses." he tries to bite.

"Obviously not when it comes to you." I mock before turning back around feeling satisfied for getting him not once but twice in a row.

The triumphant silence doesn't last long before he dwells in a monologue that I don't bother listening to. Instead, I tune him out and start scrubbing which helps to cover the annoying sound of his voice.

His speech feels like hours long but is probably just a few minutes tangent as by the time my ears recognize his next sentence I'm only done with the first cauldron.

"-With such a nasty attitude it's no wonder Murphy didn't show up to your date."

The cauldron clashes with another as I let it fall back into the abnormally huge sink before turning my head toward the nuisance of my life.

"How do you know about that?" the voice that comes out of my mouth is one I don't recognize.

He pauses and seems to hesitate.

"Heard Katie talk about it to her friend."

"I never said anything about it to Katie, 'matter of fact I never said anything about this date to anyone ever so there's no way you heard this through gossip."

"He told me." he tries again even less believable than the first time.

"Bullshit." I seeth.

It's bluff, while I believe I might know Murphy it's not to say that he isn't just like any other guy and simply good at hiding his real intentions.

He starts ranting about some story I can tell is made up on the spot and it's like the wheels stopped turning and the lightbulb lights up in my head with such intensity that the next words come out of my mouth in a loud realization that echoes his own.

"You did this, It was you!" I accuse him with a rageful glare.

He steps back and rolls his eyes tilting his head back, "Oh my-you know what?! Yeah, I did. I warned the guy and I did well because he deserved better than to be stuck on a date with a stuck-up cunt like you." he finishes his tirade by sticking his index finger in my enraged face.

"You're fucking evil." I spit it like it's a statement everyone agrees upon watching him turn his back to me walking farther away.

My outburst is so intense that I have to take a shaky breath and keep my tears at bay as my better judgment is thrown out the window and I decide to finally pour all my frustration out.

"You know, you always take some sick pleasure in telling me I'm cold-hearted," the beginning of my speech is shakey but I quickly regain strength in my voice to let out all my poison,"But you can't even own up to your own fucking flaws and the fact that you're nothing but a jackass who use your so-called 'pranks' to harass everyone in school because they know better to be friends with an asshole like you who's only friend is his twin because no one else wants to be around you!"

My rant is over and the only noise filling the space is my heavy breathing. Catching my breath I feel hot and can barely focus on anything other than my heart beating in my ears as I feel my boiling blood travel all through my body as I stare dead into the eyes of the one who brought me to such an extent of anger.

When my heart settles and I can finally hear my breathing slow down I can focus solely on him and realize that his stare is dead.

He's not glaring, he's just looking. All trace of anger is gone and he's left staring at me or rather through me with dead eyes.

I seem to have struck a nerve and for once the guy doesn't have a comeback. Instead, I'm rewarded with the shoulder shove of a six-foot-something figure who passes me to walk to the sink and starts scrubbing away…

What the heck?

The feeling of regret invades me for a moment but is quickly replaced by one of annoyance.

Why should I feel regret? It's not like he ever feels regret for the horrible things he does. He never apologizes to anyone no matter how far he crosses the line.

The regret quickly fades and I instead let the small spot of confidence inside me grow. It's the first time I've ever shut the mouth of the biggest jerk there is, why shouldn't I enjoy it as long as it lasts?

After everything, I'm entitled to this. I'm entitled to twist the knife.

I take a first careful step and then a second, more confident one closer to him and the sink.

"Yeah, I might be a cold-hearted bitch. But you're an arrogant jackass who's not even funny." I say more calmly yet still petty.

"Oh piss off!" he shouts throwing the cauldron back into the sink with a smash that I wonder might have actually shattered or maybe chipped one of them.

I jump aside to avoid another shoulder shove and follow him with my eyesight to spot him grabbing his stuff and realize he is trying to escape this detention to avoid my lash-out.

Figuring out his plan I catch up and run past him to stand in front of the door blocking his way out.

"No! No, You called me what you called me and now I get to call you whatever I want!"

I wonder for a moment why he doesn't push past me, for sure his frame can easily overpower mine but instead of crashing into me to walk out of the potion class he instead turns around and throws both robe and satchel on a station with a shout that almost rivals mine.

"Alright then let's go ahead, get it all out of your system sweetheart." He snarls standing in the middle of the class, his arms expanded before he places them on his hips.

"You!" the bitter tone escapes me in a rough huff as I point at him, "Have done nothing but make my life hell since the day I arrived." I start walking towards him, "And for what? I have NEVER given you any reason to hate me and yet I have been the target of so many of your pranks that I started being known as the damn Weasley's guinea pig!" I throw my finger in his direction before it falls back on my sides as I walk slowly but with conviction towards him.

"There we go!" he says faking being proud probably to egg me on in my rant with a sick smirk bending down to my eye level and crossing his arms probably to toy with me and undermine me as he always does.

"You do nothing at school but be a nuisance and waste everyone's time including mine and it's so sick to think that you can't even let others be successful just because you can't achieve anything on your own, it's pathetic!" I'm getting closer, almost toe to toe with the redhead who doesn't take a step back and stays planted where he stands or rather is bent over.

"Come on let it all out," he snarls.

"But somehow I was still stupid enough to think that this time you would have the decency to at least admit you went too far and apologize for hurting my friend but even then you cannot take responsibility as always," I finish my tirade taking my final step right in front of him as our noses brush.

"Anything else?!" he angrily spits in my face with a scowl.

I breathe in harshly wishing I could punch him or clap back like I did before but realize if my rant hasn't aroused all kinds of empathy it is useless to keep calling him names it won't male a difference.

"Yeah, your attempt to make me look ugly by turning my hair pink completely failed because I still look good unlike you," I say sourly throwing a glance at his mop of hair.

He sneers.

His arms that were crossed in front of him manage to travel up and brush strands of hair behind my ears before his fingers slide down and twirl the locks in his hands toying with them.

When I'm done bathing in the hatred coating his eyes I notice I'm not the only one panting when I feel his breath brush my face.

Why is he panting? I'm the one who just rambled angrily for five minutes.

"Got it all out?" he says calmer this time around.

I look at him and my eyes make the mistake of switching between his eyes and lips just a second to see his doing just the same and analyze my face.

We haven't moved from our spot and I don't know why.

"Yeah, I think so," he whispers his lips brushing over mine with each syllable.

He stands back up, his hands leaving my hair and falling back to his side as he brushes past me leaving me to stand there frozen trying to comprehend the goosebumps littering my body and my hands shaking by my hips.

I manage to turn around and see him grabbing his stuff and making his way to the class entrance once more.

I find my voice, less confident than before but still strong enough to try and stop him.

"What are you doing detention isn't over yet!" I begrudgingly state.

"Then I guess I'll get a week's worth of detention!" he announces walking out with one hand clutching his satchel and the other one throwing his robe over his shoulder.

He's gone, and in the newly found silence, I breathe out through my nose and assess what just happened.

Weasley just mocked me, pissed me off and egged me on, undermined me, and left me in a classroom filled to the brim with cauldrons to clean all by myself after toying with my anger, my hair, and…

My hand bolts into fists and my nails sink into my palms as I conclude what I already know.

I hate him.

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

[thefriendlyferretwriter]