They hate eachother. "From deep hatred to fierce desire, their rivalry transformed into a love that burned brighter than their conflicts." Describtion generated by ai becouse theres no way describing this story. Its chaos. An enemies ENEMIES to lovers fanfic. Including every single tag, trope whatever you think of. Literally.

Niall hates his neighbor, Zayn Malik. He's covered in tattoos, smokes more than anyone Niall knows, and spends all of his time at the local tattoo parlor called Urban Ink. They spend most of their time yelling at each other, until Niall gets dragged into Urban Ink through an unfortunate series of events that may change Niall's heart forever. Or, the one where Niall slowly falls for Zayn and Zayn has secretly loved Niall since the beginning, but it's not easy or smooth sailing at all.

The last time I'd seen him shirtless was years ago when we were still friends - before puberty. I was so focused on his body that I didn't move when he lowered his shirt. I froze at the same time he did, his eyes meeting mine. --------- Jax Wilson and Rocco Denver are like fire on fire - only bad things could come out of their rivalry and deep-rooted hatred for each other. When Rocco disappears, Jax is convinced he is up to nothing good. But when he does find him, it only leads to more questions. Who is he looking for, Rocco or himself? Will he find either, even if it means leaving everything safe behind?

Reese Wilkerson is straight. So when he beats up Tony Moreci for laughing at him, he doesn't expect to finish it off with a kiss on the lips. Now, suspended from school, he faces off against his fed-up mother. She invites his victim over for dinner and an apology, unaware of their forbidden smooch. Can Reese keep the cocky, blonde-haired asshole from spilling this secret to his family? Is there more to Tony than meets the eye?

When he opened the Impala, he allowed himself a moment to observe how Sam had messed it up and he sighed, dejected: his brother was soaked to the skin from head to toe. Under the thick wool blanket that a firefighter had wrapped him in, his summer clothes were dripping as much as his hair locks and the teenager was shaking badly because of the bitter cold that had leaked in his bones. His hands, purple, were holding on tight to the edges of the blanket; his feet, covered only by socks that by then looked like chewed seaweed, had never stopped rubbing against each other in a useless attempt to retrieve at least a glint of heat. "We fed him for sixteen years for nothing", Dean had thought implacably when, not an hour before, he had understood in what kind of trouble Sam had got into.