The enemies-to-lovers trope: why it works and how not to ruin it
There is one trop that rules the romantic fiction world, and that is the enemies to lovers trope. Nothing else even comes CLOSE. And if you think about it, most other romance tropes boil down to enemies to lovers.
- Mafia billionaire? He kidnaps her, she tries to stab him with a butter knife, and they’re immediate enemies.
- Forced proximity? It only works because they hate each other and are trapped in a single bed or an elevator together. If they liked each other, it would just be a nice date.
- Workplace rivals? They are literally trying to steal each other’s promotions and ruin each other’s careers until they accidentally make out in the copy room.
- Grumpy x Sunshine? He wants her to shut up, she wants him to smile, and they spend the first half of the book locked in a psychological cold war.
Every single one of these setups is just “enemies to lovers” wearing a different outfit. It’s literal crack, when it’s done right. But it also gets botched constantly.
If you’re trying to figure out how to write enemies to lovers that leaves readers breathless, or if you just want to figure out why your last read felt flat, read on. I’m going to break down why this trope works and how authors completely ruin it.
This is why we’re so unhealthily obsessed with enemies-to-lovers
There are four main reasons our brains are wired to love the slow burn of two enemies falling in love:
- The story builds tension from page one: You don’t have to waste time inventing reasons for them to interact or feel intensely about each other. The friction is already there, humming in the background of every single glance.
- The emotional payoff is enormous: The bigger the wall between them, the more satisfying it is when that wall finally crumbles. Watching hatred slowly melt into begrudging respect, then into fierce protection, and finally into love? Elite.
- The stakes always feel high: Because they start on opposite sides, their love is inconvenient, sometimes dangerous. It threats their alliances, their goals, or even their survival, which keeps readers completely hooked.
- It forces massive character growth: To love your enemy, you have to admit you were wrong about them. It forces both characters to confront their own biases and evolve in a way that regular romance tropes (like second chance romances) don’t require.
The most common ways authors ruin enemies to lovers tropes
Petty grievances: The enemies don’t actually have a convincing reason to hate each other. A reader will lose respect for your plot if your entire multi-act feud is based on a minor misunderstanding that could be solved by a note on the fridge, the reader loses all respect for the plot.
The tension collapses too fast: This is the ultimate betrayal. They are trying to murder each other in chapter two, and by chapter five they’re making out because it started raining and they were forced into the same closet. If the tension deflates too early, there’s nothing for the readers to wait for.
One character is just mean, not complex: There is a massive difference between a “morally grey, emotionally guarded rival” and an actual bully. If a love interest is just toxic, abusive, or genuinely cruel without any depth, we want the protagonist to file a restraining order.
The resolution feels totally unearned: If one character does something absolutely unforgivable (like, I don’t know, destroying the protagonist’s hometown), they can’t just buy them a nice necklace and be forgiven. The redemption arc has to match the crime.
The golden rules for doing it properly
If you’re writing this trope, you have to treat the transition from hate to love like a delicate science experiment. Here is the recipe for perfection:
Give them a genuine, understandable conflict: Their antagonism needs to stem from deep-seated, opposing belief systems, family feuds, or literal wartime alliances. The reader needs to look at both of them and think, “Wow, I can totally see why they hate each other.”
Build begrudging respect first: Long before they admit to any romantic attraction, they need to recognise each other’s skills, intelligence, or loyalty. Love grows out of realising your enemy is a formidable, admirable equal.
Make the love highly inconvenient: They should actively fight against their growing feelings. Falling in love with this person should feel like a betrayal of their past, their family, or their own goals. The internal monologue should be: “I hate how much I care about you.”
Earn the exact moment it shifts: The transition needs to be a slow accumulation of small moments until the shift is completely unavoidable. You can’t go from “I hate you” to “I love you” through one conversation about how shitty you had it as a kid.
To give you some examples
To give you a real-world look at this, let’s talk about The Cruel Prince by Holly Black. Jude and Cardan are the blueprint for doing this properly. They start out genuinely hating each other: Cardan is cruel and Jude holds a knife to his throat. Their eventual romance takes three (yes, THREE) books to fully earn because their political goals are constantly clashing. But it’s worth it. It’s SO worth it because you believe the hate, which makes you want to yearn for the love.
On the flip side… okay, don’t hate me, but Lightlark by Alex Aster kinda missed the mark for me with this trope. It promised this epic, deadly enemies-to-lovers dynamic during a centennial tournament, but the emotional shifts felt so dizzying and fast that I never really felt the slow-burn tension that makes the trope so iconic. However, I do think a first-time fantasy reader would like this book.
What about you? What is your ultimate, ride-or-die enemies to lovers book, and which one totally ruined the trope for you? Tell me on my Insta DMs or send me an email!
