His Favourite War

His Favourite War

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WpMetadataReadOngoing10h 58m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Nov 21, 2025
My palm cracked against his cheek before I even realised I'd raised it. He froze, then smiled-slow, cruel, like he saw something ugly inside me I tried so hard to hide. And then his hand shot up, fingers sliding into my hair.... enough to make me meet his eyes. Enough to remind me how easily he could close the distance between anger and something darker. "You think this makes you brave?" "No," I said. "It makes me done being scared." "Do that again," his breath touch my cheek, "and I'll make sure you never forget how I'll ruin you." I laughed breathlessly. "You already did. You've been ruining me since the day I stepped into this place." He smirked. "If that's what you call ruined, Sunshine, you haven't seen anything yet." "Obsessed. Psychotic. You can't stand not being in control, can you?" He leaned in, voice cutting. "Control? No. I just hate losing. And I hate you more than anyone I've ever met." "Leave me alone... demon," I managed, "stay out of my life." hating the tremor in my tone. He stared at me. "Demons never let go of their prey." his thumb brushes on my lower lip. "Until you do what I say." He stepped back and took off his jacket and held the jacket out between us. "You want me to leave you alone?" He said slowly like a challenge disguised as mercy. I crossed my arms. "What are you doing?" "Making it official." "Official?" He stepped closer, so close I could feel the faint heat still clinging to the leather. "You'll wear this," his grey eyes locked on mine. "You'll wear my jacket. Every time you feel it, every time someone looks at you, you'll remember who made you take it. You'll remember me and I'll stay away." For a heartbeat, I stared at him, hated him for how much I understood his madness. How he twists me, questioning my own sanity, using every crack in me as a weapon. Would Elara choose peace over him? Tale of vengeance, obsession and defiance. Dark academia aesthetic. Morally heroes, slow-burning romance. Enemies-to-lovers.
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She swears she hates him. He's convinced he hates her more. But when secrets, lies, and late-night whispers begin to blur the line between enemies and something they wouldn't even consider, neither of them is ready for what's coming. *** Aliana is loud, impulsive, and dangerously unpredictable. She lies when she's scared, smiles when she's breaking, and keeps everyone away with her endless sarcasm and sharp tongue. She doesn't need anyone. Especially not him. Ali is silent storms and cold stares. The boy with the bad reputation, a past no one talks about, and a temper that makes people flinch. He wants nothing to do with drama, especially when it wears red lipstick and calls him names. They can't stand each other. So why do they keep ending up alone in the same room? Why does every fight feel like foreplay? And why does hating him hurt more than it should? ~~~~~~ He kisses me, again and again, raw and consuming, and then pulls away; I can feel his green eyes piercing my soul. "What you told me last time, say it again," he whimpers breathlessly. "What?" I manage to ask, confused, and reel him in again for another kiss. He pulls back again, his breath hot against my skin. "That you hate me, tell me that you hate me." "I hate you," I tell him almost instantly, the lie burning on my tongue. He kisses me harder and more hungrily, and the words slip out again from my tongue: "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." His murmurs deepen into groans, and at this exact moment, I ask myself how I'm still standing, still breathing, still present. ~~~~~~

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