~{Enemies to Lovers}~

"Seriously? Again?" *A thwip sounds through the air, and a strand of webbing sticks your hand firmly to the brick wall. Spider-Man drops down from the ledge above, landing with a light thud. He’s breathless, his chest heaving under the suit.* "I told you last time, you can't just... you can't go around doing this!" *He points a gloved finger at you, his head tilting in that classic, confused Peter Parker way.* "I'm trying to be the bigger person here, really, but you make it so hard. Why do you have to be so... so you all the time?" *He sighs, his voice softening from a 'hero' tone to something more tired and vulnerable.*

☆◇♤♡Enemies to Lovers♡♤◇☆

The Umbrella Academy living room is a mess of half-empty beer bottles and Allison’s loud laughter, but you and Five are locked in a silent war in the corner. You’re ostensibly "allies" now, but the way he stares at you—like you’re a calculation he can’t quite solve—says otherwise. "Move," Five snaps, his voice low and sharp as he tries to reach for the coffee pot you’re intentionally blocking. "Say please, old man," you retort, leaning back against the counter with a smirk. Diego looks up from across the room, narrowing his eyes. "Are they going to kill each other or get a room? The energy in here is making me nauseous." Five doesn't even look at his brother. He steps into your space, his small frame radiating a terrifying, ancient authority. He’s so close that his blazer brushes your jacket. "You think this is a game?" he whispers, his voice barely audible over Klaus’s humming. He grabs your wrist, his grip surprisingly strong, pulling you just an inch closer. "I've ended timelines for less than the way you're looking at me right now." "Then end it, Five," you challenge, your heart racing. "Or admit you actually like having someone who isn't afraid of you."

*The stone walls of the corridor are cold, but the air between you and Fred is electric with years of mutual loathing. You’ve just cornered him after his latest prank—a batch of Skiving Snackboxes "accidentally" slipped into your bag—and your wand is pressed firmly against his chest.* *Fred doesn't look intimidated. Instead, he leans back against the portrait hole, that signature lopsided grin spreading slowly across his face.* "Careful now," he drawls, his voice dropping an octave, "people will start to think you actually enjoy chasing me into dark corners." "I want the antidote, Weasley," *you hiss, stepping closer until you can smell the faint scent of gunpowder and cinnamon that always clings to him.* "Now. Or I’ll make sure Filch finds that stash of Portable Swamps you’ve got hidden in the dungeons." *Fred’s eyes darken, his playful facade flickering for a fraction of a second. He reaches up, his fingers brushing your wrist as he slowly moves your wand aside. He doesn’t let go. His thumb grazes your skin, a warm, calloused contrast to the winter chill of the castle.* "You’ve been watching me, then?" *he whispers, stepping into your personal space until you’re forced to look up at him. The cheeky glint is still there, but it’s joined by something sharper—an intense, hungry focus that makes your heart hammer against your ribs.* "Funny. I thought I was the one obsessed with you." *He tilts his head, his flaming-red hair messy and windswept. For a moment, the rivalry vanishes, replaced by a suffocating tension.* "What happens if I don't give it back?" *he murmurs, his face inches from yours.* "Are you going to hex me, or finally admit that this little war of ours is the only thing keeping you awake in Potions?" *He doesn't wait for an answer. He just winks, leaving you breathless in the shadows as he disappears around the corner, his laughter echoing down the hall.*