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scary-grace · 19 days ago

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Opposites Attract (Chapter 4) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your quirk lets you capture almost anyone with ease, and you can't believe you let Shigaraki Tomura escape. Shigaraki can't believe it, either, and according to the League, there's only one possible explanation -- you let him go because you've fallen in love with him. He decides to find out if it's true. You decide you won't fail to capture him again. You both get a lot more than you bargained for. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3

Chapter 4

You look at the amount of food in your shopping cart, then force yourself to put half of it back. Food is expensive. You don’t need this much. The only way you’d need this much is if you were feeding someone else in addition to yourself, and you aren’t. At least not all the time. Or even more than once a week. On average. You look at your cart, then back at the shelf you’ve just offloaded half the cart onto. Maybe you can take some of it. Just in case.

Shigaraki Tomura knows where your apartment is. You’re pretty sure your apartment is his favorite restaurant, based on the fact that he keeps coming back for food. You can’t predict when he’ll be there and when he won’t, but he’s been on the fire escape outside your apartment at least once a week for the past month, and last week he was there three times. It’s the same procedure every time. He shows up right outside your window and you restrain him to the landing before you let him in. He’s gotten into scoring each episode of restraining from S to F, although you’ve got no idea what his criteria are and you’re not planning to ask.

Part of you just wants to tighten the restraint around his neck to shut him up, but with your luck, he’d be into that, and you really don’t want to learn something like that about him.

You’ve been learning things about Shigaraki, though. It’s unavoidable, when you’ve spent more than a month having dinner with him once a week or more, and when he’s clearly not trying to play a part in front of you. You’ve learned that while he knows a lot about heroes, there are things that interest him other than utterly destroying hero society. He likes video games. He speaks some English and made you critique his grammar when he found out you were fluent. He’s curious about things – when he found out that you grew up somewhere else, that you only came to Japan so you could go to UA and didn’t really mean to stick around this long, he spent an entire night quizzing you about what it’s like in your home country. Not just the heroes. Everything.

The news called him a man-child, and he isn’t, but there’s something deeply wrong with him – or something went deeply wrong with him, given the number of tiny or innocuous things that flip some weird switch in his head and make him start clawing at his neck. His friends are important to him. His table manners are a mess, although they’re improving. He always wants to discuss, or debate, or argue about things. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to refine his arguments or if he just liked trying to get a rise out of you. Two weeks into this whole thing, you asked.

Shigaraki gave you a weird look over the meal that night – an Italian recipe you were sure he’d hate, but that he tore into the same as he does with everything else you cook. “I don’t like arguing,” he said. “I want to know what you think, so I can figure out why you think it. I can’t convince you if I don’t understand.”

That’s another thing about Shigaraki, one that disquiets you even more than the fact that he’s trying to lure you over to his side: He doesn’t lie. Or at least, he doesn’t lie to you.

You’d lie to him, though. You’d lie if he asked you why you’ve been buying extra food in case he shows up, why you’ve been letting him in. You tell yourself that you’re working an angle, trying to raise the iron concentration in his blood high enough that you can capture him with ease the next time you face him in battle. It’s a good excuse, but it is an excuse. You just don’t know what it’s an excuse for. Shigaraki’s a villain, no question about it, but he’s also a person. A person you’d maybe be friends with if things weren’t the way they are.

But things are the way they are, even if you can pretend to be allies for now – allies, because you’re both interested in seeing the Shie Hassaikai going down in flames. Sir Nighteye’s built a coalition of minor heroes from around the country, all of whom are based out of towns and cities with Hassaikai presences, and all of you are supposed to rule out the bases in your town as possible locations for the creation of quirk-canceling bullets or the confinement of small, tortured children. Of all the minor heroes, you’re the one with the misfortune to be based in the same town as the Nighteye agency.

Nighteye agency is a daylight agency. They take the day shift watching the Hassaikai house. You take the night shift, which means your schedule is unavoidably screwed. You don’t get home until four am most nights, and when you do, you’re not well-equipped to withhold information from Shigaraki. Luckily, Shigaraki doesn’t seem all that interested in withholding information from you.

“I met up with Overhaul yesterday,” he says. He used to get here just as you finished cooking; now he shows up when you’ve barely started. “He’s unhinged. He’s got this crazy plan to destroy society –”

“Which differs how from your crazy plan to destroy society?”

“He wants to go back to before quirks developed,” Shigaraki says. “I just want to tear apart the corrupt system you’ve devoted your life to.”

“Yeah, because that’s so much better.” You roll your eyes and decide to play devil’s advocate. “A world without quirks might be a fairer world. With the way things are right now, a person’s whole life is determined by what quirk they got – or whether they got a quirk at all.”

“And before, your whole life was determined by how much money your family had,” Shigaraki fires back. “That’s any better?”

“There were ways to make more money, at least.” You stir the soup you’re making. “I’m guessing Overhaul’s not trying to make a fairer world.”

“No, he just wants to put the yakuza back on top.” Shigaraki rolls his eyes and steals a raw mushroom out of the pile you’re about to add to the soup. Part of you wishes Kurogiri hadn’t blocked you on Instagram. You’d love to flex your ability to get Shigaraki to eat vegetables on him. “Are you and the other establishment puppets still trying to find his hideout?”

“Maybe.” You activate your insurance policy to stall him as he goes back for another mushroom. “Why?”

“You’re right.”

That one takes you a second. “Wait, it’s here?”

“That’s right. You owe me.” Shigaraki’s smiles always look just a little insane. “That’s not even the only present I got you.”

You’re going to hold off on calling Shigaraki’s intel a present until you can figure out a way to feed it to Nighteye without revealing where you heard it. “Since when do you get me presents?”

“I’m supposed to.” Shigaraki gives you a weird look, like he’s not the weird one for being a villain and giving presents to a hero. “But you have to answer my next question before you get the other one.”

You decide you don’t really need that second present. “Ask.”

“Why’d you name yourself Skynet?” Shigaraki asks. “Skynet’s a villain.”

“You watched Terminator?” You try to keep your voice from brightening, but it only works partway. You love old sci-fi, but nobody ever wants to watch it with you, because nobody else can put up with imagining a world without quirks. “How many of them?”

“There’s more than one?” Shigaraki looks surprised for a second. Then he refocuses. “Answer my question. You’re a hero. You picked your name way before you met me. Why’d you name yourself after a villain?”

“It was my second choice,” you say. “My first choice was Magneto.”

“Magneto,” Shigaraki repeats. “What’s that?”

“A character from a comic book. The ones before there were quirks.” You remember being so excited that there was a character with powers like yours. “But he was, um, not the best guy –”

Shigaraki smirks. “He was a villain, too?”

“In a manner of speaking,” you hedge. Magneto was a complicated guy. “My homeroom teacher knew about him and vetoed the name. So I fell back on Skynet. It sounds cooler anyway.”

You got away with it for a while, but then someone complained to the school. By then it was too late to change it, and even if it hadn’t been, it was a hill you were ready to die on. Shigaraki looks skeptical. “Did you really name yourself after a villain just because it sounded cool?”

“No,” you say, a little offended. “I don’t really know why I did it. And I don’t know why you’d only watch the first Terminator movie when the second one is better.”

It’s quiet for a second. You wonder if Shigaraki’s going to push the point, either to call you out for being dumb in your choice of code name or to look for a meaning that isn’t there, some kind of proof that it’s possible to turn you. “I’ll level with you,” he says finally, “I fell asleep in the middle of it.”

He actually looks wary, like he thinks you’re going to kick him out for falling asleep during a movie you like, instead of all the billions of legitimate reasons why you could and should kick him out. “No kidding. You’re so anemic that you could probably fall asleep standing up,” you say. Shigaraki rolls his eyes. “It’s worth watching all the way through, though. And the second one. The rest of them suck.”

“Yeah?” Shigaraki reaches into the inside pocket of his coat, pulls something out, and slaps it down on the counter. “Present number two.”

It’s a three-count box of microwave popcorn. You look down at it, then up at him. “You don’t have any,” Shigaraki says. “You need it for movies.”

“I don’t watch a lot of movies anymore. Not much time on my hands.” You’re starting to get the sense that you’re missing something. “Um –”

“You have time right now,” Shigaraki says. “I have one and a half Terminator movies to watch. And now we have popcorn.”

He can’t be saying what you think he’s saying. The problem is, you have no idea what else he could be saying. “We also have soup.”

“So we’ll eat that first, and then we’ll have popcorn.” Shigaraki shrugs. “Come on. It’s not like we can go to a theater, so this is the next best thing.”

Why would the two of you be going to a movie theater together? You’d be friends with him, sure, and movies are a friend activity – but they’re a big-group friend activity, not one-on-one. Going to the movies with just one other person is suspect. Really suspect. If this was anybody other than Shigaraki Tomura, you’d assume they were suggesting that the two of you go out.

But it’s Shigaraki Tomura, so you know he’s not asking you out. And you’re never going to turn down a Terminator rewatch. “I’m not starting the movie in the middle. We’re going back to the beginning.”

“Fine.” Shigaraki steals another mushroom. You dump the rest into the pot. “I’ll watch it again.”

The two of you eat the soup on the couch, and you discover five seconds after pressing play that Shigaraki is a movie talker. Or maybe he isn’t – he just reacts to things out loud, and there’s lots to react to, starting with the fact that this movie’s from the 1980s and therefore older than All Might is. “Where did you even find this thing?”

“My grandma was a movie buff. She said quirks made them boring.”

When you were younger, you thought she was just being edgy, but now you think she’s sort of right. There’s a quirk for everything, theoretically, so any conflict in a movie can be boiled down to wondering which quirk would solve it, and that’s not very interesting to watch. Shigaraki doesn’t start picking on your grandma, which is a relief. He focuses on the movie again, and so do you. You can’t tell if he likes it or not.

“I don’t remember this part,” he announces abruptly, just before the start of the police station massacre. “She saw that thing get up after Reese shot it ten times. She should believe him.”

“Would you?”

“Yes.”

“You wouldn’t,” you say. “If I dropped out of the sky and told you that there was a robot from the future wearing a skin suit and hunting you down to prevent you from fathering the person who overthrows the machines – see, look at the face you’re making. You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Only one part of it sounds stupid,” Shigaraki says.

“Which part?”

“Which do you think?”

“Robots in skin suits from the future,” you say. It’s really hard to stop yourself from adding “duh”.

“Maybe to you,” Shigaraki says, which makes no sense. On-screen, the T-800 drives a truck into the front of the police station. “Damn. That’s one way to do it.”

You really hope you don’t turn on the news one day and see that the League of Villains has driven a semi-truck into the HPSC’s headquarters. And you’re still trying to figure out what’s less believable to Shigaraki than robots in skin suits from the future. It’s not until a lot later in the movie that it clicks. You didn’t think Shigaraki had that component in his personality, but apparently he has just enough of it to think about the prospect of knocking somebody up and decide that it’s not going to happen. You could see him being pretty picky about girls, but if he gets far enough in his plans, he’ll be able to afford being picky. That’s probably it. The other idea, the one that says he’s so insecure that he can’t imagine anyone wanting to sleep with him, falls squarely into woobification territory, and you eject it from your mind as usual.

Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t have game. You could see somebody going for it, somebody who likes banter and a bit of a challenge, somebody who’s not into true romance and fairytale endings. If Shigaraki acts around the right villainess the way he acts around you, he probably won’t have a problem.

You clear away the soup bowls and make one bag of popcorn, dumping it into a big bowl and setting it on the couch between the two of you. “Thanks for bringing this.”

“Yeah.” Shigaraki doesn’t look away from the screen. He’s been quiet for a while, slumped back against the couch, and suddenly he sits bolt upright. “You’re kidding me.”

“Hmm?”

“He’s the father,” Shigaraki says, like he’s on a soap opera or something. You snicker in spite of yourself. “Shut up. The father of the resistance leader. Now I get it.”

“Okay,” you say, wondering what he’s talking about now. “There’s a sex scene coming up. We can skip it if you want.”

“No.” Shigaraki fishes a few pieces of popcorn out of the bowl. “It’s fine.”

When you named yourself Skynet, you didn’t expect that you’d one day find yourself watching an extended soft-focus sex scene, complete with dramatic hand holding, with an aspiring supervillain sitting on the couch next to you. Your life has taken some weird turns. You feel the need to reassure Shigaraki that the gunfire is going to start up again any second now, and get the weirdest look of the night in response. “Do you think that’s all I care about or something?”

“I know it’s not,” you say, deliberately ignoring all the handholding on the screen. “I just – I mean, these are always really awkward to watch with other people. Maybe I just think it’s awkward. I don’t know. Don’t look at me.”

“This shit makes you nervous?” Shigaraki nods at the screen, takes an actual look, double-takes, and glances the other way in a hurry. “Cute.”

Cute? What the hell does that mean? You decide you don’t want to know, and the promised gunfire has kicked up again, so you focus on that, hoping Shigaraki will do the same. You’re sort of offended by the whole characterization of events – you being afraid of sex scenes, which you aren’t, and you being cute, which you also aren’t. You’re not afraid of sex. You’re so not afraid of sex that you’ve actually gone out and had sex. More than once. It’s not the sex scene. It’s more who you’re watching it with.

And that’s weird. Why would watching a sex scene with a villain make you nervous?

You stick your hand into the popcorn bowl, devour a handful of kernels, and reach back in for more. This time, your fingers brush against Shigaraki’s, and you recoil so hard it’s a miracle you don’t fall off the couch.

That was rude. No way to spin it otherwise. You have to apologize. “Sorry.”

“You’d be stupid not to react like that,” Shigaraki says. He doesn’t look offended. “I’m paying attention. Don’t worry about it.”

You’re going to worry about it. You’re not putting your hand back in the bowl until his hand is somewhere else.

The first movie ends with Sarah Connor driving off into the storm, and you press mute over the too-loud credits music. You glance at Shigaraki. “Thoughts?”

“Not bad,” Shigaraki says. “You said the second one is better?”

You nod. “Let’s watch that one,” Shigaraki decides. He tips the popcorn bowl towards himself, then lets it slide back. “We need more of this.”

You get up to make another bag. Shigaraki stayed on the couch while you made the first one, but this time he comes over, lingering next to you, close enough that you’d be worried if you didn’t have four separate insurance policies wrapped around his wrists and ankles. If he comes after you, you can glue him to the ceiling in a split second. “I don’t Decay everything I touch,” he says. “I know how to make it safe.”

“That’s nice.”

“I’ll show you.” A challenging note enters Shigaraki’s voice. “Don’t kill me.”

You’re just wondering what he expects you to try to kill him over when his thumb and forefinger close around your left wrist, lifting your hand from your side up into full view. He keeps it upright with three fingers around your wrist, then raises his other hand. Both his wrists have shackles around them. You can throw him out the window if you want to. Why aren’t you doing it? Shigaraki matches his other hand up with yours, lacing your fingers through his one at a time while leaving his own extended. His hand is open. The only person holding onto anything is you.

You, and if you try to get out before he decides to let go, you risk making contact with all five fingertips. You leave your hand where it is and try to slow your heart rate down. “What is this?”

“Somebody had to do it.” Shigaraki shrugs, but he looks way too pleased with himself. Not smug. You wouldn’t call this look smug. It’s just – pleased. “I told you it was safe.”

Nobody had to do it. What the hell? Your hand is starting to shake. That hand, and the other one, and there’s popcorn popping in the microwave and rain rattling against the window and Shigaraki so close to you, too close to you. You’re panicking. You can’t panic. When you panic, you forget about how dangerous your quirk is, how you can barely control it, how disastrous it would be to let it loose to get yourself out of this. You can’t panic. You have to calm down.

You have to, but it’s not happening, and worse, Shigaraki notices. He lets go of you, but he doesn’t step back, and his hand comes lightly down against your shoulder, index finger raised. “I should have warned you before I tried it,” he says. You nod, looking everywhere but at his face. “I’ve been practicing. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t know for sure. And I thought you were probably tired of waiting.”

What is going on? You need a second to figure that out, a second where Shigaraki’s not right here watching you, clearly expecting a response that’s not the one you’re having. The microwave beeps and gives you an excuse. “Go sit down. I’ll bring this over.”

His hand falls away from your shoulder, and he heads back to the couch. You take the popcorn out of the microwave, burning your hand on a drip of fake butter and doing everything in your power not to scream.

You’re not scared of him. You’re clear on that, at least – in spite of your temporary freakout, containing Shigaraki is still well within your abilities. You check him over with your metal sense, confirming the presence of your insurance policy. You’re not scared of him. You’re scared of what just happened, what it means. It means that you and Shigaraki have very different ideas of what’s going on here. You’ve maybe had different ideas this whole time.

You thought you were a restaurant and a source of entertainment and maybe you’d be friends in another life. Shigaraki thought – something else. Bringing presents something else. Going to the movies something else. Holding hands something else. He’s not just here for the free food. He likes you. And based on his comment about you being tired of waiting, he thinks you like him too.

What do you feel for him? You care, obviously – probably too much, given who you are and who he is. You’d want to be friends if the two of you were ordinary people. When you were thinking about whose type Shigaraki is, it somehow escaped your notice that you were describing yours. How does the thought of him hooking up with some villainess actually land with you? You test it out and a dent appears in your refrigerator door with a dull thud. You smooth it out in a hurry. Not well.

You need to get back over there. You scoop up the bowl of popcorn and settle back down on your side of the couch. Shigaraki looks up at you, and your stomach twists at his expression. He looks so – “How bad did I fuck up just now?”

“It was just a surprise.” A big surprise. The mother of all surprises. A surprise so massive that you nearly tore the endoskeleton out of your apartment building trying to cope. “I kind of thought hand stuff was off the table.”

That’s not wrong. It’s what you’d have thought, if you’d thought about it at all. “I didn’t want it to be off the table,” Shigaraki says. He looks away. “That’s why I practiced. I just – what was I supposed to do? Everything I can think of takes hands.”

That’s a problem. You make the executive decision not to make it your problem right now. “Um – we can sit closer together.”

Shigaraki perks up slightly. “How much closer?”

“Like –” You sit down on the middle cushion, popcorn balanced in your lap. Shigaraki edges closer to you, a few centimeters at a time, until the two of you are side by side, pressed together from shoulder to hip. “Like this.”

“My arm’s stuck.” Shigaraki works it free, fingertips tucked away inside a fist, then drapes it across the back of the couch, where it slides onto your shoulders in short order. You laugh. “What?”

“That’s kind of a move,” you say. You feel insane. “People usually do it as a yawn-and-stretch thing, but this was a lot subtler. Very smooth.”

“It wasn’t a move,” Shigaraki says. You glance up at him and see a flush creeping down his neck. “Are we watching this movie or not?”

“We’re watching.” You summon the remote by the batteries inside it and press play. Shigaraki’s arm wraps a little more tightly around you. If you turn your metal sense on him, you can feel the meager iron concentration in his blood shifting through his body, faster than usual. His heart rate is elevated. “This one’s even better than the first one.”

His arm tightens around you by a fraction of a degree. “Yeah. I can already tell.”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #man door hand hook car door #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers AU #a bisquared production

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todorokis-girl · 6 months ago

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On a collision course - Tsukishima Kei x f!Reader

I read a post a while ago and this was the line that caugh my attention: "Well have you considered that maybe the unstoppable force is in love with the immovable object; maybe the reason one refuses to move is because they both long for the collision"

masterlist

The sound of volleyballs hitting the gym floor echoed through Karasuno High School's gymnasium. The boys' volleyball team was practicing, and as usual, Tsukishima Kei was giving it his all, even if his aloof expression didn't show it. His tall frame and impressive blocking skills made him a formidable player on the court, but his sharp tongue and condescending attitude often rubbed people the wrong way.

Y/N, the team's manager, had known Tsukishima since middle school. They had never gotten along. While Y/N was outgoing and passionate, Tsukishima was reserved and indifferent. Their clashes were legendary, and their mutual disdain was well-known among their friends. Y/N believed in encouragement and support, while Tsukishima believed in brutal honesty and criticism.

Today was no different.

"Tsukishima, your timing was off on that last block," Y/N called out, her voice clear and authoritative.

Tsukishima shot her a withering look. "Maybe if you knew anything about volleyball, you'd realize it was a feint. But thanks for your insightful commentary, manager."

Y/N felt her face heat up. "I'm just trying to help. It's not my fault if you're too stubborn to listen."

The tension between them was palpable, and their teammates exchanged wary glances. This was a regular occurrence, and they had learned to stay out of it.

As practice ended, Y/N stayed behind to clean up. She liked the quiet of the gym when everyone else had left. It gave her a chance to think and unwind. She was wiping down the benches when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw Tsukishima, his face unreadable.

"Forgot my water bottle," he said curtly, grabbing it from the bench.

Y/N nodded, not wanting to engage further. But as he turned to leave, she couldn't help herself. "You know, just because we don't agree on everything doesn't mean you have to be such a jerk."

Tsukishima stopped and turned back to her, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "And just because you think you're always right doesn't mean you are."

Y/N sighed, feeling the familiar frustration bubble up. "Why do you always have to be so difficult?"

"Why do you always have to be so naive?" he shot back. "This isn't some feel-good story where everyone holds hands and sings Kumbaya. This is volleyball. It's about winning."

Y/N stared at him, her anger giving way to something else. "Maybe it's not just about winning, Tsukishima. Maybe it's also about working together, about being a team."

For a moment, Tsukishima didn't respond. He just looked at her, his eyes searching hers. Then he shook his head. "Whatever. Believe what you want."

As he walked away, Y/N felt a pang of sadness. She didn't understand why he had to be so cold, why he pushed everyone away. She wanted to help him, to break through that wall he had built around himself. But she didn't know how.

Days turned into weeks, and the animosity between Y/N and Tsukishima continued. Yet, something had changed. Their arguments were still frequent, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice, Y/N found herself alone in the gym once more. She was lost in thought when she heard the door open and close. Expecting it to be one of the players, she was surprised to see Tsukishima.

"Hey," he said, his tone unusually soft.

Y/N looked up, her heart skipping a beat. "Hey."

There was an awkward silence before Tsukishima spoke again. "I… I wanted to apologize. For earlier. And for… everything."

Y/N blinked, taken aback. "What brought this on?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've been thinking. Maybe you're right. Maybe I am too stubborn. And maybe… maybe I push people away because I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Y/N asked, her voice gentle.

"Of getting close to people. Of getting hurt," he admitted, his eyes downcast.

Y/N's heart ached at his vulnerability. She took a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "You don't have to be afraid, Tsukishima. You have people who care about you. And… I care about you too."

He looked up, his eyes searching hers. "You do?"

She nodded, her hand still on his arm. "I do."

For a moment, they just stood there, the air between them charged with emotion. Then, slowly, Tsukishima reached out and pulled her into a hug. It was tentative at first, but as Y/N wrapped her arms around him, he held her tighter.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking.

"It's okay," she whispered back. "We're in this together."

The change in their relationship was gradual but undeniable. They still bickered, but there was a warmth now, a connection that hadn't been there before. They learned to trust each other, to support each other, and in the process, they grew closer.

One evening, after a long day of practice and homework, Y/N and Tsukishima found themselves walking home together. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the town. They walked in comfortable silence, their hands brushing occasionally.

"Do you remember what you said to me in the gym that day?" Tsukishima asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Y/N looked at him, puzzled. "Which part?"

"The part about working together, about being a team," he said, his voice soft.

She nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

He stopped walking and turned to face her, his expression serious. "I think… I think that's when I realized I was falling for you."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. "Really?"

He nodded, taking her hands in his. "Yeah. I know I've been difficult, and I've said things I shouldn't have. But the truth is, I've never felt this way about anyone before. You're the unstoppable force, and I'm the immovable object. And maybe… maybe the reason I refused to move was because I longed for the collision."

Y/N felt tears prick her eyes as she smiled. "You know, for someone who doesn't talk about their feelings much, you sure know how to say the right thing."

He chuckled, pulling her closer. "Well, I had a good teacher."

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "So, what now?"

"Now," he said, leaning in to kiss her softly, "we see where this collision takes us."

As their lips met, Y/N felt a surge of happiness. She had always believed in the power of working together, of being a team. And now, with Tsukishima by her side, she knew they could face anything.

Together, they were unstoppable.

The days that followed were filled with a newfound sense of camaraderie and affection. Tsukishima, despite his initial reluctance, began to open up more, not just to Y/N but to the entire team. His sharp remarks became less frequent, replaced by genuine contributions and encouragement. The team noticed the change, and their performance on the court improved as a result.

One day, after practice, the team gathered in the locker room. Hinata, ever the curious one, finally voiced what everyone had been wondering.

"Hey, Tsukishima, Y/N," he began, a mischievous grin on his face. "What's going on with you two? You've been acting... different."

Kageyama nodded in agreement, adding, "Yeah, it's like you two are getting along or something."

The rest of the team murmured their agreement, all eyes on Tsukishima and Y/N. Tsukishima glanced at Y/N, who gave him an encouraging smile.

Taking a deep breath, Tsukishima decided to be honest. "Well, we had a bit of a... breakthrough. We've realized that we work better together rather than against each other."

Hinata's eyes widened in excitement. "Does that mean you two are...?"

Y/N laughed, cutting him off before he could finish. "Yes, Hinata, we're together."

The team erupted in cheers and playful teasing. Nishinoya and Tanaka gave Tsukishima exaggerated thumbs-ups, while Suga and Daichi offered genuine congratulations. Even Kageyama managed a rare smile.

As the team settled down, Tsukishima felt a sense of relief. It felt good to have their support and understanding. He turned to Y/N, who was beaming at him.

"Looks like they approve," she said softly.

"Looks like it," he agreed, squeezing her hand.

Y/N and Tsukishima found solace in each other. They spent their free time studying, hanging out, and sometimes just enjoying each other's company in comfortable silence. The more they learned about each other, the stronger their bond grew.

One evening, after a particularly tough practice session, the team gathered for a casual dinner at a local diner. As they laughed and shared stories, Y/N couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment. She glanced at Tsukishima, who was sitting across from her, engaged in a rare, light-hearted conversation with Hinata and Kageyama.

As if sensing her gaze, Tsukishima looked up and met her eyes. He gave her a small, genuine smile that made her heart flutter. In that moment, she knew that the collision they had both longed for had transformed them in ways they hadn't expected.

After dinner, Tsukishima offered to walk Y/N home. The night was cool, and the stars twinkled above them as they strolled through the quiet streets. Y/N leaned into his side, enjoying the warmth of his presence.

"Thank you," Tsukishima said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

Y/N looked up at him, puzzled. "For what?"

"For pushing me," he replied. "For believing in me even when I didn't deserve it. You've changed me, Y/N. You've made me want to be a better person."

She smiled, feeling a swell of affection for the boy who had once been her enemy. "And thank you for letting me in. For trusting me. I wouldn't change a thing."

They walked in silence for a while longer, lost in their thoughts. When they reached Y/N's house, Tsukishima hesitated before speaking again.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, his tone uncharacteristically shy.

"Of course," Y/N replied, curious.

"Do you think… do you think this is real? What we have?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for reassurance.

Y/N took his hand, squeezing it gently. "I think it's as real as it gets, Tsukishima. We're not perfect, but we're perfect for each other. And that's what matters."

Relief washed over his face, and he leaned down to kiss her. It was a kiss filled with promise and hope, a symbol of the journey they had taken together.

As they pulled apart, Y/N smiled up at him. "We're unstoppable

, remember?"

He chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, we are."

They said their goodbyes, and as Y/N watched him walk away, she couldn't help but feel excited for the future. They had faced their fears and doubts, and now they were stronger for it. Together, they were ready to take on whatever challenges came their way.

And so, the unstoppable force and the immovable object continued their collision course, hand in hand, ready for whatever the world had in store for them.

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jadesaturn · 3 months ago

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Imagine Lestappen as rival surgeons in an enemies to lovers fic <3

(F1 x Gray's Anatomy)

Currently writing this fic into existence, so excited to put these two academic rivals together during their intern year ofc. Yes, Seb, Mark, Nando, Kimi, etc. will make appearances as attending physicians and the rest of the grid will be silly little interns :)))

I'll link the fic here once the first few chapters are out, comment any suggestions/requests if u want! 💙❤️

#lestappen #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #max verstappen #charles leclerc #max x charles #surgeons #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers au #greys anatomy #lestappen fic #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 rpf #f1 fanfic rec #f1 fic rec #f1 fic requests

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doodle-pops · 7 months ago

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Insufferable Beginnings

Turgon x reader

Request: Turgon x reader, enemy’s to lover in Valinor, angst?… (help I live the enemy’s to livers trope to much 😭😭) - Anon

A/N: I originally wanted to keep this short, like under 3k, however, dialogues became my weakness and I fell in love with the hating each other a little too much. However, I do hope that this was good enough to your liking. Apologies if it’s too long. Enjoy!

Warnings: female reader, arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers au, angst/comfort, arguments, insulting one another, a knife gets drawn (a butter knife), kissing, confessions, since it’s set in Valinor I used Quenya names

Words: 4.6k

Synopsis: Arranged marriages when you and your millionth reason why were at each other’s throats was always the best way to introduce a new emotion on the battlefield and seek victory.

“Must you look so disparaging? It is our wedding, after all, cheer up and have a drink!” Turukáno sat beside you, or rather two feet away and towards the end of the table, leaving you to wallow in your bitterness. He managed to find your expressions throughout the entire day more entertaining than ever, it made the wedding interesting.

Casting a dreadful and bone-chilling side eye at your newlywed husband, your fingers twitched in your lap with unbridled rage to wrap them around his obnoxiously long neck and choke. However, he remained aloof under your threatening gaze and took another gulp for his sixth cup of wine for the night. Anything to avoid going home, sane, to a shared house.

“I’ll only smile if you disappear and leave me alone.”

He paused with the chalice against his lips, pondering before scoffing and taking a violent chug. Emptying the cup with an enthusiastic exhale and slamming it on the table, he reached for the vat of wine to refill. “So you can find yourself in the arms of one of your pathetic suitors or my cousins since you enjoy kissing their asses so much.”

“Anyone else would be a better company.”

“What’s stopping you then? I thought you loathed me with an unbridled passion to the point that you would do anything to make your life less miserable,” he half-heartedly muttered while gazing at the ruby liquid in his cup. “Or maybe you didn’t want to humiliate yourself knowing that no one else would accept you and your terrible personality.”

“What makes you think that one of your cousins would not accept me?”

“So it’s my cousins you’re interested in. Well, I think you and Tyelkormo or Atarinkë would suit each other well, especially with the similar personalities you all share.”

You growled through bared teeth, “Do not ill-speak of the House of Fëanáro. They are far nobler, skilled and of better status than you can ever be.”

“Ah, so you admit that your personality is dreadful then?” Awed by the revelation of your words, he flashed a blinding grin at you.

“You act as though your personality is perfect, and do not make this about me when it is not!”

“My personality isn’t perfect, but it’s better than yours,” he snickered and sat upright. “Besides, it is your wedding day, you are the centre of attention, so everything is about you.”

“You’re simply bitter and jealous that I would never choose you in a world of standards because you are as poor as your insults.” Flipping him off with a triumphant smirk, you crossed your arms and performed a mental victory dance at your comeback.

“Of course I am,” he muttered half-heartily as he slammed his chalice on the table once more and slumped deeply into his chair. As much as he wanted to leave the table, his grandfather and father were eyeing you down like hawks. “No power and no high status. Yet I was still chosen to be your future husband by the King.”

Not caring that he was being stared at, Turukáno exited the hall and rushed out of the palace to find a secluded spot for a bit of fresh air. He didn’t care about what became of you during the rest of the night. You could have returned to your parent’s house and left him alone in your supposed shared home or run off with his half-cousins, he would surely find something worthwhile to fill his time with.

Making his way through the half-empty streets of Tirion, he slid his body through a few alleyways before breaking into the hills and entering the outskirts of a small forest. A familiar path he took which led to a small pool—a place where he and Findekáno formerly commuted before his successful marriage—now became his fortress of refuge to his unbearable hater.

Being petty, bitter, and judgemental were common traits of the second son of Ñolofinwë, however, you brought the worst out in him. It was only the day you entered the picture with your desirous hatred towards him, his boring life became infuriating. There wasn’t a day you didn’t make his life a living hell.

Wanting nothing more than to refrain from continuing his thoughts on you before his head exploded, he undressed and took a midnight swim, spending the rest of his wedding with peace of mind. He would deal with you another day with the guarantee to make you regret hating him.

The first year of marriage was always described as challenging and for God’s sake how fucking true it was. You weren’t even past the first three months without wanting to launch objects at him, which you had already done numerous times before. But the point was that you wanted to launch the entire dining table at him for interrupting your peace of mind. Why did he have to show up at the same hour? Did he not have something more important to do like die?

“Can you not eat so loudly? It is breaking my concentration?” you retorted sharply.

“Then cover your ears. To eat I must; to hear, you can choose,” he lazily replied in a bored tone.

Your left eye twitched as did the cutlery in your hands as you pressed the knife and fork into the porcelain plate to evidently create a hairline fracture. Casting a look at the servants lined up on each side of the room with a monotonous expression, you felt a wave of embarrassment.

“What, no counter to my response? Finally realised how foolish you appear hating me unnecessarily?” he mocked.

Deeply inhaling, you managed, “I merely asked you to cease chewing so loudly. Is that not a possible task, something a Prince of your lowly status can adhere to?”

Countering without waiting for a second, he stated with plainness, “I must chew if I am to eat, don’t you know that or have you forgotten the fundamentals of eating?”

“Then don’t eat, starve and die.”

Turukáno’s lips twitched as he fought a sarcastic grin, instead, scoffing as his breathing fumbled before he lifted his head to gaze at you across the table. Your seated presence at the opposite end, surrounded by an array of candles left a glowing aura casting a glow on your figure to appear as some omnipotent being…a demon in sheep’s clothing.

“My dear, have you not paid attention to the tranquillity of the room? A pin drop can be heard; thus you will hear my chewing, same can be said for yours.”

“I do not chew loudly!” you snarled, visibly vibrating in your seat.

“Of course not, how rude of me. Where are my manners?” he satirically replied, casting a mocking smile at you; his turquoise eyes shining brightly under the glow of the candles. “Allow me to clarify, you yap like a goat.”

Springing from your chair, your palms came crashing down on the table, prompting the ornaments to tremble, even the servants shifted on their feet at the intemperate tension. “You should have care how you speak; it might be your last.”

“What are you planning on doing? Launching another poor object at my head and missing like you did in the last fifty attempts? Best of wishes, may your aim be true, or would you prefer I stand within three feet, so you don’t miss?” he snickered with a shake of his head.

Darkly whispered, you picked up your butter knife and stabbed it into the napkin. “I could end you right here and now,”

“How terrifying?!” he dully muttered and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Somebody save me!”

“Would you stop that!”

“Ah, so it would appear that I have struck a nerve?” Turukáno grinned delightedly and took a sip of his wine while appreciating the sight of you pointing your knife at him.

“You have been a pain in my ass since the day I met you!” you rumbled, jabbing the knife through the air towards his figure peacefully sitting unbothered.

Wanting nothing more than to bask in the glory this unnecessary argument brought, he rose from his chair and strolled around the table. Fingers gliding along the tabletop as he took his time to approach you, he appeared smug. “What you are telling me, is that I’ve always been on your mind? I’m touched. No one has ever thought of me so much as you did, my number one supporter and hater. Makes this union worthwhile because you can continue to think of me even more while allowing it to consume your every thought.”

At this point, Turukáno was standing before you as your body had turned to meet him head-on, the knife in your hand still focusing on him. Despite his towering figure, you were able to match his height with the passion in your eyes that made you grow. Those turquoise eyes of his darkened and narrowed into slits as the gazed down at you. No one dared to whisper a word, only the sound of heavy breathing which was still too soft for the other’s ears.

Suddenly, his left hand gingerly reached out to grab the wrist of your right, which held the knife and brought it to his throat. He knew you couldn’t cut him with a butter knife, yet he wanted you to realise your folly. The action urged the servants in the room to break their formation and panic as they looked on. He felt the trembling of your hand as he held onto it, steadfast, while the expression on your face spoke the reason for him. All bark and no bite.

“Do it,” he taunted with s whisper, gazing his playful eyes at your paralysed ones and pushing the knife harder against his skin.

You wanted to reply. Counter as equally as petty as his insults or even take actions, but the wheels in your body weren’t rotating. You didn’t know why, but the longer you stared into his slithered eyes; you noticed the ring of green around his iris, the small mole under his left eye and his neatly shaped wine-stained lips. His change in demeanour made him appear ridiculously attractive and you fought to deny it, but comparisons between him and the sons of Fëanáro’s beauty had already crossed your mind.

It outmatched a few of them.

You struggled to catch yourself the longer you focused on his face, grip on your knife slipping, yet the grip around your wrist tightened and tugged. Your lips parted and your head inched closer, grateful for your height, you were able to lean into his personal space, breathing in his air. Wine and spearmint. The alarms were blaring in your head that it was a precarious move you were making, but his standstill stature encouraged you to persist and bridge the gap.

Turukáno didn’t know who moved first, he or you; all he knew was that his hand gripping your wrist had tossed it over his shoulder, with the knife still intact, as his lips moulded against yours. It was full of anger, confusion and hidden truths as your bodies were entangled in an unceremonious form of solving the argument. Lips breaking apart to gasp for air, catching your breaths before returning to the task, his hands were busy cupping your cheeks to tilt your head to increase the vigour. He forgot—or rather, didn’t care—about the knife in your hands behind his neck as he pressed his body closer, wanting you to experience his heat, raging from the passion you sparked tonight.

Yet nothing was ever long-lived as you caught your biting his luscious lip and pulled away, gasping. Casting your eyes downwards, a questionable frown appeared. Unable to take the confusion and possible humiliation of the suddenness of the scene, you muttered a curt, “Excuse me,” and slipped out of his embrace, vacating the room while leaving him hoping.

You began to avoid him even more; more than what you normally would, yet failure was the start of something different. Your mornings were clashing, him showing up at the same time for breakfast, exiting and entering the house, and needing to share the same space. It was as if fate was playing a sick joke on you to remember your kiss. He appeared the same, refusing to bring it up and make any eye contact, however, his persistence to irritate and aggravate you never ended. The night of the dinner was just the beginning of him goading you to commit your desire.

Standing at the entrance of the drawing-room, you fixed your body behind the pillar that rested a vase and observed him. He appeared relaxed and a level of comfort you wished to achieve in the shared household. How was he able to be unbothered? Didn’t your presence usually provoke him? Was he not thinking about you the way you always thought about him?

“Cease your staring from behind the pillar, please. I know that I’m not the best-looking elf compared to your idolised house, so spare me your soft gaze as though you considered me,” he huffed and turned the page of his book without lifting his head to make contact.

Soft gaze?

“I was not gazing at you, I was glaring…” He was right, whether you were gazing at him or not, you were silently observing him. Clearing your throat to avoid making a fool of yourself, you stepped into the spotlight and clasped your hands together. “I was coming to call you, There’s an invitation addressed to you…and I.”

“My grandfather?”

“Hmm, a dinner party.”

The room fell into silence as you both took in the silent meaning behind the invitation. This was the first event after the wedding that would display the depth of your relationship with his family and others.

Turukáno’s eyes lifted off the pages to fall on your nervous figure standing in the doorway. No animosity or disdain was held in his eyes as they softened on your appearance; he almost felt sorry for the discomfort you were about to be placed in, similar to himself. Gatherings involving the entire family usually made him cautious and uninterested due to the typical outcomes.

“You can stay at home if you are uncomfortable attending. I’ll make up an excuse that you’re unwell and request tranquillity,” he suggested while shutting his book and placing it on the table.

Puzzled at the sudden shift in the atmosphere, you wrinkled your forehead. “What about your grandfather when he questions why you’re not at home looking after me?”

“I’ll make up some lie, whatever comes to mind,” he monotonously muttered, drifting his eyes to meet your astonished ones.

“Why?” Your question lingered heavily in the air like it weighed a ton. A sudden increase of pressure showered over you, leaving him wondering if he had made a mistake in his response to warrant your opposition.

“Why not? You’re not interested in meeting my family for known reasons, and if you want to stay at home, you are welcome to.”

“But don’t you hate me?” you delicately uttered. “You shouldn’t be concerned about how I feel or whether I desire to stay at home; you should ignore me like you have always been doing.”

Opening his mouth to counter, he closed it and dropped his gaze to your feet. The look of puzzlement decorated his face the longer he contemplated a response while reasoning with himself for the corner he was backed into. There was never a discussion he wasn’t able to counteract, but here you were causing him to fumble. A sharp look at your face, the squinting of his eyes and a nervous chuckle he conjured a response rattled off the tip of his tongue. “I don’t hate you; I don’t particularly like you, but ignoring you is incredibly difficult when you have an unmistakable aura that causes me to consider you in whatever way I can.”

His eyes widened at the acknowledgement of his words. Unable to feign his mistake, he rose immediately off the sofa and marched to the opposite exit of the drawing room.

“You…You don’t hate—”

“Forget what I said. Simply do whatever you want for the dinner, it doesn’t matter to me.” With that, he departed the room and rushed to his chamber, slamming the door.

In the following days, Turukáno had done his best to avoid you after his slip-up while you became fixated on decoding his grand speech and his nonchalance towards his actions. It wasn’t like him to use words which didn’t coordinate with his enmity-like personality. All the screaming, shouting, slamming the doors and throwing objects at each other died down, and all you received were his typical smart-ass comments which started carrying a two-meaning message. You were positively sure that he was not aware of his choice of words; he never mixed his vocabulary.

For the prim and proper Prince he was, he was enunciated.

Hence why you were gawking at him all night from behind a pillar, avoiding interactions with his siblings and cousins to observe his mannerisms. His face seemed to be a lot more relaxed, visibly pleased, lips stretched into a grin, and laughing. You had never seen him like this around you, it was a side he withheld during your arrangement, and it stung that you would never be fortunate to experience it due to his hate towards you. No sweet moments exchanged, smiles and words reserved only for you, or another kiss like that night.

Licking your lips and biting it, your fingers touched your lower lip as you held eye contact with his figure. The events of that night were still unexplainable.

“Staring at my brother.” The teasing voice of Princess Irissë came from your left before you felt her arm linking with yours and pulling you closer to her. “Well, you should be, especially after how great your relationship with him is going. Look at how much my brother is smiling; he’s talking about you.”

“Y-Your Highness?!”

“Relax. You can drop the formalities for now. It’s a family dinner and we’re all family, so call me nésa,” she laughed which resembled crystal bells tinkering.

Feeling overwhelmed by the plethora of information you consumed, your chest felt tighter all of a sudden, as though the dress shrunk. “I uh, do not understand what you mean by your brother. He is talking about me?”

Surely not good things, no wonder why he was smiling. Prattling his cousins’ heads about how terrible you were to live with. You felt your heart sink to your stomach, not realising how much you hoped for good things to be spoken about you.

“Of course he is! You’re his wife!” she exclaimed and gave you a small shake before guiding you away from the pillar. “He was asked to produce grandfather with a report at the start of the dinner in private, we were all there, and we heard him speak about how things are looking brighter, and that he’s pleased. So that means you two no longer hate each other and grandfather’s idea worked.”

Holding eye contact with her before looking at the wine in your hands, you felt uneasy at the explanation. “I guess it did,” you uttered in disbelief.

It didn’t take long for interrupting footsteps to break your concentration. Knowing the echo and presence before the voice rippled into your ear, your head snapped up to gaze at him already looking upon you with softer eyes and a tender smile. Your lips quivered as you bit back the urge to cry the longer you held his gaze, unable to focus on the sound emitting from his lips.

He was cruel and unkind to make you feel such a way.

“Is everything alright? You haven’t responded to a word I said,” he inquired worriedly, inching his head closer to yours. At this time, Irissë had slipped free and sauntered away to annoy her cousins, leaving you two to embark on your hateful-love relationship.

“I um, I.” Why was speaking so trivial? Just spit out your words for they were at the tip of your tongue. “I must speak with you, immediately.”

You had no time to witness the painful frown on his face as you swivelled and marched out of the ballroom with him following a few metres behind, confused. Exiting the room and meandering through the corridors, an earful away from eavesdroppers, you fumed in your mind at how careless you were to allow things to escalate to immeasurable heights. You couldn’t undo what had been done, not even the sea could wash it away. Though Turukáno hoped he had not said anything during the day to disrupt your tranquillity, he was most mindful of his words and behaviour due to his joviality.

“Have I said or done something to displease you, Y/N?”

“Yes! Yes, you did!” you shouted and spun on your heels to stand in the middle of the corridor and face him. “You, You, ugh, you infuriate me on levels beyond comprehension! How can you say those things so openly without disgust?”

“What things?! What have I said about you?!” he cried and took steps closer, still maintaining his distance.

“You–…I hate you! I hate how you…how you were talking about us and the house and how things are getting better! Or how you were smiling and happy and laughing and making everything seem like it is perfect and great when it’s not because I hate you!” Your temper flared as millions of reasons raced across your mind, and yet you were able to stutter out jumbled words, making a smile stretch across his face. “I hate the way you look at me with those eyes and I hate the way you look at others because you’ll never genuinely look at me like that. I want your eyes on me, but you’ll never because of how I hate you!”

“You hate me?” he questioned in an affectionate teasing voice.

“Yes, I do! Because ever since this arrangement began, you made me feel crazy and I found myself unable to think of anything else! I am utterly consumed by you, and I hate it! I’m supposed to hate you!”

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you struggled to breathe and glared at him through the crystal droplets. You knew he was looking at you the same way you wanted and hated. Your emotions were truly a bitch who couldn’t make up its mind.

Turukáno grinned and took more steps to bridge the distance between you both. Standing three feet apart, he looked down at his boots as his voice rumbled in his chest. “I know and I accept this,” he softly whispered. “I’m not the best at emotions, but I also hated you till it was aggravating. You were constantly on my mind every second of the day, consuming and leaving me thinking about you more than I breathed. I thought of everything about you, even your insults. You were able to contest me, a feat no one else could muster and still stand facing me; I enjoyed the pleasure it brought, drinking and desiring more. Then I started seeing you as my equal and no longer my source of hate, but my reason to look forward to each day. I considered you and thought about you too much, I bent the knee before you…”

Standing there baffled, you wanted to know who this individual was.

“I know, I know,” he shrugged. “I’m not great with emotions so it was impossible for you to notice my changes. I thought I was subtle, and neither are you.”

“Excuse me?! You’re telling me about how I feel?” you sniffled.

“You claim to hate me, but you don’t,” he breathed as he finally bridged the gap, standing in the same proximity as the kiss. His fingers twitched with urgency to hold you again as they remembered the last time they held you closely. “You don’t tell someone you hate them; you show them, make them feel it. And how you feel for me is what I feel for you, it was only masked by hatred.”

Scoffing with a teary eye roll, allowing a few drops to roll down your cheek, you countered with a teaspoon of attitude, “What do you know about how I feel? You’re just a foolish Prince who thinks he knows people better than themselves.”

Lifting his hands, he was allowed to cradle your face, thumbs wiping away the tears. Smiling along with his thoughts, he felt relieved that your flame had not been diminished. “Of course I am, but you’re no different. Foolish for hating me till it makes you look ridiculously in love.”

“You should stop talking because you’re not making any sense like you always do.”

“Then silence me if you dare.”

The silence that followed rang sharply in your ears as your eyes locked and dropped to each other’s lips.

This time, you were aware of who had made the first move when your lips moulding against one another. Grinning into the kiss, this time you were able to bite his lower lip without feeling disgusted as it only deepened the kiss, causing him to groan from your actions. Turukáno’s hands cupped your cheeks and tilted your head higher to allow him to take over the kiss while your arms contently encircled his slender waist. There were a few blissful sighs and breaks to take in air as you lazily kissed in the open corridor, unconcerned by the possibility of being trespassed upon. Regardless, Turukáno had the decency to break away first with his soft turquoise eyes roaming your face, landing on your lips one last time before exhaling.

“Tell me,” he muttered affectionately. “Do you still hate me?”

“Irrevocably.”

“And do you hate me for getting us into this arrangement?” he asked again.

“No,” you gently murmured. “I can live with it.”

“Then that is enough for me.”

Masterlist

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choking-on-ice · 5 months ago

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my "warm up sketch" got out of hand yet again, so now I have a sheet full of moe Lex Luthor and Jimmy Olsen that i'm definitely gonna have to ink and colour later

anyway, love these two, and I think it's a crime that there's nothing about them being enemies to lovers or even friends. (yes, i know, Lex is evil, but when has that ever stopped a ship before?)

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wandesu · 8 months ago

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「邪魔をするな。」

Day 5 of Bumbleby Week! Evil Yang/Blake (or both)

Credit to @hiru315 for these designs! I'm obsessed with their "messed up Yang Branwen AU", don't think she's meant to be "evil" but love the fits :>

#bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #bumblebyweek #bumblebyweek2024 #bumbleby week #bumbleby week 2024 #bmblbweek #bmblb week #my art #sapphic #wlw #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers au #evil au

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escapizm · 4 months ago

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hiii! first of all, i love your moodboards, they're so aesthetic💜

and second of all i wanted to make a request for a moodboard: so i'm writing an enemies to lovers ff for hyunjin, basicallg hyunjin is the model and y/n is the designer and they are forced to work together

thank you in advance 💕

"Make it to the high fashion

Fashion, fashion, a-a-a, fashion

I'm addicted to my passion"

-Britney Manson, "FASHION"

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tbzhours · 2 years ago

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come to me

hyunjae x you, enemies to lovers au, college au, fluff, smut

[summary] hyunjae may be the (annoying) key to your heart [warning] smut [words] 2.7k [a/n] i don’t think this is much of an etl but i still hope you all like this! ♡

Watching the clock, you stumbled through the kitchen with your backpack on as the last resort, getting the warm toast in the toaster before heading out of the door. Your hair was a mess but you didn’t want to miss today’s class and get a tarty mark. You were ready to fail another class because you couldn’t get up early enough.

With the toast hanging in your mouth after you closed your door, you heard Hyunjae, your next door dormie, walking out of his apartment room at the same time too. He looked like he just got out of bed, like the usual, when you both stared at each other for a second, hands still on your own door knobs.

There wasn’t a chance to let him beat you as you both scrambled down the hall, shoulders bumping into each other through your paced walk. You took out the toast from your lips and held onto it when you suggested, “Hey, why don’t you take the stairs today?”

“Ha, nice try. The elevator fits more than one but if I get there first, bye bye.” He waved at you while your race was still on.

You huffed, “I’m gonna get there first, don’t you dare.”

“Try me.” Hyunjae took your toast from your hand and took a big bite before your eyes widened. He handed it back and smiled before he saw the elevator door opening.

You took it back and ran into the door with him, getting stuck on the edges. You gave him a glare and pushed him on his side to give yourself room to go through before he whined in pain, covering his mouth or the food would fall out.

“Tried, and I won.” You smiled in victory, taking another bite from your toast.

“Not really.” He chuckled and clicked on the main floor button. He made a face at you, shaking his head along. “Because I’m already in here.”

You squinted another glare and crossed your arms as the door closed. He was definitely more annoying than last semester. It took you days of seeing him on your apartment floor a few weeks ago before you realized he was the TA in one of your old classes. He was so strict and such a smartass that seeing him in his regular lazy outfits made you wanna clown him, but that wouldn’t work because he would just clown you back and you would lose. Again. Luckily, you didn’t have any classes with him except with the fact that he’s now your next-door mate, and everyday, it would cross your mind of the damn chances.

The elevator door finally opened and Hyunjae stuck out his tongue at you before walking out first. You almost threw a punch but held it back. You hoped you wouldn’t meet him here again when you come back later.

That evening after your busy day, you were at ease, a relieved smile squirming through your face when you reached your floor. There was no one in sight as you hopped through the hall, hands in your pockets as you hummed a happy tone.

Once you reached your door, you realized you didn’t grab your keys before you left that morning. You hit your head before you sent a text to Jacob, the residential coordinator of the building, before sighing with your head against your door. You whispered and shook your head, “The perks of living alone.”

Minutes later, you heard the elevator door open. You jotted your head up and turned it toward the sound but you had a disgusted look when you saw Hyunjae. His laugh echoed through the hall as you turned back to your door, setting your head there again with your eyes closed. You wished he would just ignore you but you knew he wouldn’t.

“Got locked out again?” He questioned, a lofty smirk painted across his face as he grabbed his keys out from his pocket.

“Get lost.” You demanded, soft-toned though filled with irk. It only made him chuckle with his lips closed. You barely heard it, other than the shuffling breaths from his nose.

“If you’d like, you can come over until Jacob gets here.” He offered but you sent a threatening squint.

Right then, Jacob reached your floor and called out your name, giving you and Hyunjae a wave. You smiled in relief and gave him a wave back. You looked at Hyunjae once more before sticking out your tongue. He shook his head with a tiny smile before he opened his door and left the scene.

Days went by without seeing Hyunjae much. You only recalled seeing him in the library, studying prettily with his coffee and hearing him through your door when he left his place or when he came back. The only weird thing was that he was the first thing in your mind when you woke up this morning. You got up earlier than usual and fixed yourself a good breakfast before you leaned onto the kitchen counter with a cereal bowl in your hands.

A good thought of his determined face when walking out of your rooms made you laugh. Right before you took a spoonful, you slipped out a ”Sure, he’s pretty cute-”

You stopped chewing, realizing what you just said, and you knew how much this meant to you when it shouldn’t. Your heart was racing and you couldn’t comprehend what your words were telling you. You got up and took a million bites of your breakfast before you set the bowl in the sink.

“I don’t like him, I don’t like him.” You repeated to yourself when you gathered your things and left your place. You were whispering them as you walked through the hall, pacing up just like when you did with Hyunjae almost every day.

Once you got to the elevator, staring straight at your door after going through the doorway, Hyunjae suddenly came out of his room, looking like the usual mess he was. You had already stopped chanting but once he saw you and started to run toward you, you repeated the words as you tapped on the close button so he wouldn’t make it.

Your heart didn’t feel at ease still, when Hyunjae screamed your name in defeat as the door closed.

Even later when you came back first, waiting by the main floor elevator, you didn’t expect Hyunjae to stand next to you when you got lost in your crushing thoughts.

You jumped, holding your chest when he stood there, glaring at you because he wasn’t going to fight you this time. You fixed yourself and glared back before facing the elevator door, noticing your shared reflection.

“I’m gonna beat you next time.” Hyunjae whispered loud enough just for you to hear before you glared at him through the door.

When the door opened, you both walked in without fighting and stood in silence. Your hand was holding onto the strap of your backpack and it brushed against when it came down. The quietness got awkward as both of your eyes widened. Your face blushed with your fingers curling into your palm while he held in his breath. You peeked at the floor number and wondered why it was so slow. It didn’t beat your racing heart as you cursed in your mind.

Once the door opened up on your floor, you ran off first, whispering to yourself in a chant again, “I don’t like this feeling. Please make it stop.”

Hyunjae was still standing in the elevator, his hand holding his heart before hitting it, wondering why it wouldn’t stop.

Nights later, Hyunjae came up to his room and found you standing in front of your room, a deja vu to him because your head was on the door. You slowly turned to his direction when you heard his keys jingling.

Upon seeing his face, your cheeks bloomed. You remembered seeing him in the same cafe you were studying in today, realizing how awkward interacting with him was then, other than his sneaky tongue two days ago. His laugh was admirable as you saw him smiling with his groups of friends but you quickly looked away, denying that the sunlight behind him was blinding you and not him. He didn’t catch you staring but little did you know, there had been a soft touch from his lips when he looked at you.

It almost seemed desperate, wanting to see Hyunjae close just to kick his ass again but you held back, inhaling to perhaps start a conversation but he beated you.

“Last chance to come into my apartment room.”

You lost as he let you in. You followed him, eyes gazing through the room that mirrored yours. You looked back at him when he offered some snacks, leading you to the kitchen. You quickly complied and leaned your back against a counter. When he turned away, you couldn’t help to stare at him and as if he could tell, you looked away again and crossed your arms awkwardly.

You cleared your throat, “Don't think I’m staying long.”

Hyunjae smirked. It wasn’t cocky but somehow it ticked you off. He shrugged and set some snacks on the counter next to you. “Just until Jacob gets back. I heard he’s taking care of some deep secret business.”

You scoffed at his sneaky voice and thanked him quietly for the snacks when you opened a bag. Hyunjae did the same, watching how quiet you had gotten. He cleared his throat too, to lure the awkward air away and leaned onto the counter beside you.

“Anyway, you live alone?” He asked and flashed a smile.

“Yeah. You too?”

“No. I have a roommate but he’s barely here. I only see him on the weekend.”

“Weird.” You commented, not knowing what to ask next. It’s even weirder that you just realize it now.

Hyunjae smiled at your single word and turned forward. There was something tingling in his heart but he couldn’t pick it out.

“I think it’s time for me to ask Jacob for another spare key.” You sighed.

"Why? You might lose it again anyway.” He bickered, his voice in a tease. You glared at him but he continued to bother you with that smile. The second you looked away from him, he suddenly softened his tone. "I mean, you can crash at my place if it ever happens again.”

“What? Are you asking me to sleep over?” You stared at him in disbelief. He was more annoying than before but deep down, you could tell, he was sincere, for once that was. For a second, you knew what he meant but you weren't so sure too. You hated implied requests, despite the gush of warmth running through your touching arms but all of a sudden, you felt like you wanted him. Being this close, your stomach had already lit a bubble needing to be filled.

The evening didn’t seem so cold when Hyunjae heard your laugh afterwards. It's not weird at all, having such a normal conversation with you because you both would always bicker at each other. He's thinking too much that you shook your head, discarding the question when you turned around.

"Anyway, where are your cups? I need a drink." You opened a cabinet above you as Hyunjae smiled.

He got up and walked around you to open the cabinet next to you. He grabbed a cup and handed it to you. "Here you go."

"Thanks." You quickly turned away so he wouldn't see your blush. He hummed as you could feel him staring as you poured the drink into your cup. You took a sip and set it down before slowly turning to meet his eyes. No, actually, your eyes were lingering at his lips that you had to ask him, "Can I kiss you?"

"W-what?" Hyunjae was taken back, not expecting that to come out of you. He laughed, "(Y/N), why would you-"

His eyes widened at your tight kiss. Your hands were lapsed on his shoulders for a good five seconds before you pulled back, lightly gasping for air. Right before you could apologize, he moved in and connected your lips together. His arms wrapped behind you to pull your body to his and his lips were moving in desperation, wanting you more than ever.

The session intensified as he pushed you against the counter, your cup tipping over as the drink spilled. It didn't take long before he pulled you up onto his hips with the help of the counter. Your legs tangled behind him when you felt your butt getting wet.

Hyunjae walked you over to his room, your every part still touching as the door closed. He fell over you on his bed before gazing at you in a sneaky smile.

"Tell me this is what I came over for." You whispered, catching your breath underneath him. Your arms were tangling over his shoulders as your hands ruffled his hair.

"You keep forgetting your damn keys." He argued, obviously playing around when he tilted his head.

"Fuck those keys. Just fuck me."

Hyunjae loved the sound of that. Your lips danced against each other as you both took your clothes off, giggles whispering through as he got back over you. He planted kisses all over your body. He could smell the juice that soaked through your pants where it left a sweet smell on your butt cheek. You giggled when he planted a wet kiss there. Quickly, he got up to put protection on when you sighed, taking a deep breath from your racing heart.

You gasped when he pulled you by the thighs, making you fall your head over his pillow. He hovered over you and kissed your lips with his moving jaws, sliding his bulge against your wetness below. You moaned softly and long, feeling weak against his mouth then he looked down and guided his dick into you, one deeper push at a time.

Your moans went over your head as your hands gripped on his bedsheets. You thought it was sexy of him to cover your lips with his where your moans sang together. His thrusts were slow but when he left your lips and held his hands on the head bed behind you, he went faster and deeper, shaking the bed as you grip behind his hips.

You were blazed up all over, buckering your hips for a better hit from him and you rolled them against his pound, causing him to groan. He leaned beside your ear, whispering as it shivered down your spine. "You're good at this."

"Should of done this sooner." You teased back before reaching up to kiss him.

Hyunjae continued to push into you as your lips glided down to his shoulder and neck, leaving marks as he held a hand at your butt cheek to maintain the glorious thrusts. You were going to come through but you cursed instead of telling him.

"Holy fuck." He didn't slow his pace and tried to thrust harder into you and repeatedly as he chased his high. He held onto your hips with both of his hands and his strings shot out, one at a time into you. He threw his head back as he was shaking. You were still rolling your hips as you moaned at the tipsy feeling in your stomach, letting him finish before he breathed hotly.

Hyunjae gazed at you as you lied there, a chuckle shared before he kissed your lips. This time, softly. He slipped out of you and rested beside you. He held onto your hand as you both were catching your breath the millionth time today.

“Do you want to study together sometimes?” He asked. It sounded like a date as you shook your head and got over him to fix his hair and plant a big smooch on his lips back at him.

The next time you met was at the same cafe and you already ordered some things before he arrived after his class ended. Hyunjae didn't know that he was going to take a bite of your favorite muffin when you tried to win it back. Maybe he did know when he really took a bite of it with that funny smile. "Oops.”

#the boyz imagines #the boyz #hyunjae #hyunjae imagine #tbz imagines #kpop imagines #the boyz scenarios #tbz scenarios #college au #enemies to lovers au #smut

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youneedsomeprompts · 8 months ago

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~ I HATE YOU BUT I LOVE YOU ~ ENEMIES-TO-LOVERS PROMPTS

requested by: anonymous request: hello I'm writing a lovers to enemies to lovers book but I really need some prompts bc I think there's too much bickering and not enough fluff 😭😭 pls help

Feel free to use and reblog!

saying one thing but meaning the other aka acting hateful but having loving feelings

^ "You're the worst person" *while being super gentle/caring with the other*

"I'd do everything to ensure that they don't get away with it." *literally helping them get away with it*

A: "Ugh, I hate [Person B] so much" C: "But they're so sweet and nice to you." A: "Yeah, exactly. That's so hateful of them."

the other person has always made their blood boil but it takes them a while to realise that the reasons have changed

how can someone be so aggravating and so arousing at the same time?

being mean and provoking upfront just to do nice and thoughtful things behind their back

*both bickering* *Person A suddenly going quiet and grinning at Person B* Person B: "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Person A: "Because you're just arguing so much with me because you like me." *Person B turning red*: "... nOo..."

realising their feelings for the other person but it just makes them meaner because they're overcompensating (after all, no one should know that they're actually in love with person B)

they have been very snippy and full of snide remarks towards person B but since they realised they have feelings for them their mind goes blank and they go mute in front of person B

avoiding the other person as they're enemies but full on ghosting them once they realise their own feelings for their enemy

trying to mask their feelings in the least obvious way: just openly telling them how they're feeling because they wouldn't believe it anyway

^ "Do you know that you actually have a special place in my heart? Oh, how I love and cherish you!" "Yeah, fuck you too!"

A: "Do you sometimes feel that the line between hate and love can be very thin?" B: "They are the strongest feelings after all. Maybe they're actually the same and it doesn't make a difference whether you hate or love."

A: "Stop messing with me! You could never love me!" B: "Oh, if only you knew! I hate how much I love you!"

#enemies to lovers prompts #enemies to lovers au #writing prompts #prompt list #prompts #writing inspiration #writing ideas #writers on tumblr #writeblr #otp prompts #otp #fluff prompts #enemies to lovers #dialogue prompts #fanfic prompts #setting prompts #15 prompts

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celestialwrites · 1 year ago

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enemies/rivals to lovers in a marital arts academy, prompts

(dialogue + prompts) requested by: @habibaxdd <3

☆ “do you want to go out with me then?” “depends on how hard you hit me.”

☆ they slammed your body into the mat with such force the wind near on evaporated from your lungs. god, you were going to kill them.

☆ their breathing hitched when they saw you. too bad you were about to beat the crap out of them. literally.

☆ “did you just hit me?!” “yes.” “oh so that’s how it is.”

☆ “i love you.” “i just (choked/kicked/hit/etc) you..?”

☆ they used to trip you in the halls around the academy when you first got accepted, now they can barely keep up with your progression. but good god do they love a good challenge.

☆ “what techniques do you specialize in?” “(insert)” “me too, guess i have another fly to squash, see you later (nickname)”

☆ they love nothing more than to tease your poor/and or good technique whilst giving you nicknames that send blush rushing over your face and a shiver down your spine.

☆ “this would be easy with daggers…” “so you could stab me? where would it be (last name)? you going to shot for my heart?” “obviously, it’s a secured kill.” “you don’t need to stab me to take my heart, you already have it. plus what’s the point of coming to this stupid school if you have to rely on weapons?”

☆ when you’re sparring with each other you look for every single weakness they have until you realize that the only weakness left is you.

☆ “do you know what happened today? you beat me! me! i’ve never been beaten in my own specialty (last name), you may be intriguing to say the least but you have just made yourself a very powerful enemy.”

☆ you would try to make each others lives miserable at the academy, try to shoo one or the other away, but it never worked. oddly enough you two started having trouble staying away from each other.

☆ “you kissed me?! as a distraction?” “so? i used all means necessary to win the spar and i did.”

☆ “you were always just my competition, now that schools over i guess that’s it.” “i don’t just want to be your competition, i love you!”

☆ during your last spar on your very last day at the academy you were trying to come up with one last insult, one last jab to their ego, then they kissed you.

requests are open<3

#tysm for requesting this!! it was super fun to write<3 #dialogue prompt #romance prompts #writing prompts #writers of tumblr #prompts #writers on tumblr #fluffy prompts #fluffy romance #enemies to lovers au #enemies to lovers prompts

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blusthings · 1 year ago

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back at it again with another fic this time enemies to lovers here you go I hope you enjoy<3

#eivor varinsdottir #randvi #acv #assassins creed valhalla #female!eivor #enemies to lovers au #ao3 #shit

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scary-grace · 20 days ago

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just read opposites attract and im absolutely obsessed! cant wait to see where it goes🫶🫶

I'm so glad you like that fic! It's one of my favorites that I've written and there's a lot of fun stuff yet to unfold. I'm going to see about getting an update out in the next week or two, but in the meantime, here's part of Chapter 4:

“Are you and the other establishment puppets still trying to find his hideout?” “Maybe.” You activate your insurance policy to stall him as he goes back for another mushroom. “Why?” “You’re right.” That one takes you a second. “Wait, it’s here?” “That’s right. You owe me.” Shigaraki’s smiles always look just a little insane. “That’s not even the only present I got you.”

#asks #anons #enemies to lovers au #shigaraki x reader

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jadesaturn · 2 months ago

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Sutures - a Lestappen surgeon fic

First Chapter of Sutures is out!!! So excited for this one, and happy birthday to Max <3

After years of grueling battles, academic rivals Max and Charles part ways upon graduating from medical school until they meet again as surgical interns at the same hospital. Their age-old feud continues, as expected. ***** Grey’s Anatomy Enemies to Lovers but make it Formula 1.

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doodle-pops · 6 months ago

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Cruel Summer Love

Erestor x reader

Request: Hi! I saw that you were taking requests! this is the first time I've done this so i think i am doing it right. I was wondering if you would be willing to write an Erestor x Reader enemies to lovers fic? If you need more info or anything let me know! :) I love your blog <3 - Anon

A/N: Another attempt at an enemies-to-lovers AU, and I hope I scored well with this also. Enjoy!

Warnings: enemies to lovers, witty banter and snarky remarks

Words: 1.6k

Synopsis: When your summer trip to Rivendell takes a turn and causes a clash with the Chief Counsellor, you find yourself in a begrudging truce, slowly leading to a change of heart.

The halls of Rivendell gleamed with the soft ethereal light of early summer morning, the song of distant waterfalls creating a serene symphony. It was a place of timeless beauty and serene tranquillity, where the soft rustling of leaves and the gentle flow of the Bruinen River created a haven of peace. Yet, beneath the tranquil surface, a tension simmered—a tension that seemed to follow you everywhere. And its source? Erestor, Chief Counsellor of Lord Elrond.

You had arrived in Rivendell several months ago, an emissary from Lothlórien. Your diplomatic mission was meant to be a peaceful collaboration, yet from the moment you met Erestor, sparks flew—and not in the pleasant kind. His cold and calculating eyes seemed to judge your every move, every word. The way his voice dripped with condescension when he addressed you, always finding flaws in your plans, drove you to the brink of madness.

Today was no different. Seeking solace, you found yourself wandering into the grand library’s vast collection, pouring over ancient texts in search of a solution to a recent border skirmish. The tranquil ambience did little to soothe your frustration.

Pulling a scroll from a high shelf and settling into a secluded corner, the tranquillity was short-lived. His presence, commanding as ever, entered the room and ushered to his desk. As he made careful steps, he paused upon seeing you, a frown creasing his brow.

“Are you following me now?” you snapped, more out of exhaustion than anger at the possible argument of the rise.

“This is my domain,” he replied icily. “if anyone is an intruder here, it is you.”

You turned your attention back to the scroll, determined to ignore him, but the words blurred before your eyes. you could feel his gaze lingering on you, a mixture of disdain and something else—curiosity, perhaps?

“Must you handle those so carelessly?” Erestor’s voice was a cold reprimand, slicing through the quiet.

You glared at him; your patience had worn thin. “If you didn’t insist on micromanaging every little detail, perhaps we could finish this task sometime before the next Age.”

Erestor’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, instead, he focused on his own work, though his mind kept drifting back to your grip on the scrolls, your defiant stance and the fire in your eyes. Then, his voice cut through the quiet, his presence like a dark shoulder over your shoulder. “That document is irrelevant.”

You stiffened, refusing to turn and face him. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion, Counsellor.”

He rose from his desk and moved to stand beside you, too close for your liking. His scent, a mix of parchment, peppermint oil and something uniquely him, filled your senses. “And yet, here I am, offering it. This is a matter of great importance, one that requires more than a cursory glance at outdated and delicate texts.”

Your grip on the scroll tightened. “Unlike you, I believe in understanding history before making decisions that affect lives.”

Erestor scoffed. “Understanding history is one thing, being paralysed by it is another. If you would stop dwelling on the past—”

“And start making reckless decisions like you?” you snapped, finally meeting his gaze. His dark eyes flashed with anger, but beneath it, you thought you saw something else—something softer, more vulnerable.

“You presume much, diplomat,” he spat, his voice dangerously low.

“And you presume too little,” you shot back. “Perhaps if you spent less time criticising others and more time considering their perspectives, we might actually make progress.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, taut and heavy. Then, to your surprise, Erestor sighed and ran a hand through his long, silky, dark hair. “Perhaps there is merit to your words,” he admitted reluctantly.

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden shift. “Excuse me?”

He glanced at you, a hint of a remorseful smile playing at his lips. “I am saying that you might be right. We have been at odds since your arrival, but perhaps we both seek the same goal.”

Your heart skipped a beat. This was the first time he had shown anything other than disdain. “Are you suggesting a truce?”

“Of sorts,” he muttered. “If we are to resolve this conflict, we must work together, not against each other.”

You studied his face, searching for any signs of deceit, but found none. Reluctantly, you nodded. “Agreed. For the sake of our people.”

Days turned into weeks, and slowly, the nature of your interactions began to change. The barbed comments and icy glares gave way to the civil discourse and even, on rare occasions, laughter. You discovered that beneath the Chief Counsellor’s aloof exterior lay a sharp mind and dry wit that could rival your own.

One evening, as you worked late in the library, you felt a presence behind you. Turning, you found Erestor watching you, his expression inscrutable. “Can’t sleep?” you asked, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest.

He shook his head. “I find myself restless. You?”

“These texts are proving more elusive than I anticipated,” you admitted, gesturing to the piles of scrolls and books.

Erestor stepped closer, his eyes scanning the documents. “May I?”

You nodded, and he took a seat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. For a while, the two of you worked in companionable silence, the only sounds were the rustle of parchment and the occasional murmur of agreement. As the hours passed, you found yourself stealing glances at him, noticing the way the candlelight played on his features, softening the hard lines of his face. You realised, with a start, that your feelings for him had shifted. The animosity had given way to something deeper, something you were not ready to name.

“Thank you.” Your voice broke a long silence with a soft whisper.

He looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes. “For what?”

“For this,” you gestured to the workspace you shared. “For helping me. For seeing me as more than just your adversary.”

Erestor smiled a genuine smile that made your heart ache. “And thank you for challenging me. It has been…refreshing. Not many are brave nor bold to step to my level.”

The air between you seemed to change, charged with an unspoken tension. You wondered if he felt it too, if he sensed the shift in your relationship. As if reading your mind came naturally, Erestor reached out his hand to cover yours. The touch was light and tentative, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Perhaps we are more alike than we thought,” he said quietly.

“Your breath caught in your throat. “Indeed, perhaps we are…”

In the days that followed, the tentative truce between you blossomed into something more profound. You found yourself gravitating towards each other, seeking the other’s company even outside of your shared duties. The camaraderie that had once been a reluctant necessity now felt like a vital part of your lives.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling meeting with Lord Elrond, you and Erestor found yourselves alone in the gardens. The night was cool, the stars were twinkling above, casting a serene glow over Imladris.

“Walk with me?” Erestor suggested, his voice softer than usual.

Nodding, together you strolled through the winding paths, the scent of blooming flowers filling the air and the sound of tinkling laughter in the distance could be heard. Nonetheless, the silence between you was comfortable—each lost in your thoughts. Finally, Erestor was the first to stop walking and turned to face you. “There is something I need to say,” he began in a serious tone.

“What is it?” you asked with a slight skip in your heartbeat.

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. “I have been a foll. I let my pride and prejudice blind me to what was right in front of me. You.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he held up a hand, stopping you.

“Let me finish,” he begged. “I see now how wrong I was, how my arrogance and fear drove a wedge between us. But in these past weeks, I have come to respect you, to admire you. And more than that, I have come to care for you deeply.”

Your breath hitched, emotions swirling within you. “Erestor…”

He stepped closer to bridge the gap, his hand reaching out to cradle your cheek. “I know I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I am asking for it anyway. I am asking for a chance to prove that I can be more than your adversary.”

“You started off as the worst thing I could have ever encountered during my time here,” you began, watching keenly at his sheepish grin, “making my days unbearable, until they weren’t.”

Erestor laughed softly, dipping his head to hide the look of humour. “I know this, and I deeply apologise for the trouble I have caused.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you placed your hand over his. “You already have,” you breathed. “And I…I care for you too. More than I ever thought possible.”

A look of relief washed over his face, and he took the opportunity to lean in cautiously, his forehead resting against yours. “Then perhaps, we can start anew. As allies, as friends…and maybe something more.”

Smiling through your tears, you nodded. “Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, Erestor. I would like that very much.”

Utilising the opportunity granted, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with the promise of new beginnings.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life

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