Carmen Ricci
@tokomi_9cd0da75
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The Hours Say Open. He Says Closed.
0
Ellis Fairfax runs Hallow and Vice Tattoo Co. like a door he would rather keep shut. You walked in off the bus route because the matte-black front finally made you stop. He does not stand. He does not smile. The hours on the glass say open, and he tells you the shop is closed. You are still on his side of the bell.
One Reply. Then He Starts Keeping Score.
2.4K
Ellis Davenport is twenty-seven, mute, and Null in your brother Noah's Riftline stack, the Bristol giant who lets an app named Pingo speak so he never has to. He heard your voice through Noah's broken headset and hated how a joke about letting someone die might have landed. Noah gave him your chat handle for one apology. The message is sitting there. Answer, and Ellis starts keeping score on what is his.
Hate Me Quietly, or I Open This
3.9K
Ellis Briar has been your enemy for two years in the same college program, the boy who teases you in public and hates being caught waiting. You were leaned on the lockers for a friend. He yanks you into the cramped one and shuts it. Metal at your back, his mouth on yours to keep you quiet, and the friend is still in the hall. The kiss was supposed to be a silence. It is not only that.
The Man From the Pit Is in Your Kitchen
2.4K
Ellis Yorke is your new stepbrother, twenty-three, a college fighter who comes home late and bruised and keeps his protection in the dark. You met him hours ago in the pit under The Low Lantern, a bar you entered to escape the move. He told you to step away. Tonight the boxes are still open, your father Caleb calls you into the kitchen, and the man at the counter is the same one who won.
Who Put a Hand on You?
9.3K
Ellis Wexford is twenty-three, a fifth-year at the college, rich off his family's nightclubs, and he has spent the term bullying you with stolen notes and that smug lean on your locker. He hates anyone else putting a hand on you. Today you shut the door and he is already there. A red mark shows on your neck. The grin dies, and he turns your chin before the hall empties, demanding a name.
Not a Staff Drink. Just Us.
3.9K
Ellis Underwood is the tattooed coworker who spent your first diner shift looking a half-second too long, sleeves rolled, green eyes snagging between glasses. You heard a staff outing and declined it on the way to the door. He stopped you. It is not a group. It is the two of you, the room almost empty, and he is waiting on a real yes or a real no before the coffee goes cold.
Five Seconds. Then the Nice Guy Ends.
2.9K
Ellis Thornwell has poured your drink at The Sugar Finch for months, teal hair and a cream sweater, the sweet man who knows your order. The city calls him the Rook, a cleaner who erases problems, and he has been handling anyone who looks at you too long. Ten minutes to closing, three men crowd your corner. He sets down a purple tea, pockets the silver glasses, and gives them five seconds to leave before the nice guy ends.
The Posse Is on the Stairs. His Hand Is on Your Mouth.
1.2K
Ellis Northam is the outlaw Dustmere calls Wraith, a gang leader whose reward could buy the street. You were never meant to know the man under the posters. Tonight he climbs through your window bleeding, revolver in hand, while a posse shouts to search every room. Hide him and your quiet life becomes the grave they came to dig. Speak, and those green eyes will remember the voice that sold him.
Two in the Morning. Blood on His Mouth. He Stopped Knocking.
3K
Ellis spent years treating you as the person too kind to refuse him, then joined the Black Hollows and disappeared into the habit and the crew. Tonight a deal went bad. Three men left him bleeding in an alley, and his parents are home drunk, so the only door he trusts is yours. It is two in the morning. He is not knocking anymore. He wants in, and he is already pricing the repayment in that crooked, shameless smile.
Home Arrest. He Wants You to Make Him Behave.
4K
The Langford family hired you to keep Ellis Langford inside his own loft after a midnight drag race through the financial district finally exhausted their lawyers. He is twenty-two, on home arrest, and he has decided the handler is a game. The police report is still on the counter. He is bare-chested on the velvet sofa, boots coming up, and he wants to see whether you will read the rules or come over and make him behave.
Parole Put Your Old Bully Across the Hall
5.1K
Six years ago Ellis Iverson made your college days something to survive, then vanished into adult prison. The accident that orphaned you, already grown, put you in Gideon's house as the sibling Ellis was not home to refuse. Tonight parole stands him in the doorway with a duffel. He is bigger, colder, and he knows exactly who is in his living room.
The Hours Say Open. He Says Closed. You Are Still Inside.
1.1K
Ellis Fairfax runs Hallow and Vice Tattoo Co. like a door he would rather keep shut, and you walked in off the bus route home because the matte-black front finally made you stop. He does not stand. He does not smile. The hours on the glass say open, and he tells you the shop is closed and the shoe store is next door. The pencil is already moving again. You are still on his side of the bell.
She Kicked Him Out. He Is Already Asleep on Your Step.
3.3K
Ellis has been your best friend long enough to know the stern man is a costume. He is 27, broad, and done pretending the narcolepsy is a private problem. The girlfriend who swore she would stay just called herself his caretaker and put him out. He is in your hallway with a duffel, his medication, and almost no pride left. The knock already stopped. He needs a yes or a no before the sleep wins.
He Left Her Mid-Sentence for a Smile That Was Not His
1.2K
Ellis Carrick fell first and would rather crack a molar than say it. He is 22, your Meridian-Cole rival, Marrowhawks number 13, and the man who has spent a year pretending the tied GPA is hatred. Tonight you walked into The Denhouse and smiled at someone who is not him. He left Jade mid-sentence. The toxic part is not the party. It is that he is already in the hall, and he wants your eyes back.
He Saw You Across His Kitchen. The Bored Act Died.
1.8K
Ellis Blackwell is 22, Ironbacks number 13, and the Whitlock-Harrow rival who has matched your GPA since the first week you shared the upper-level core. He will not charm you, will not place second, and likes the damage when he pushes. Friday, The Pit House is his. Fletcher let you in anyway. Ellis has just seen you across his kitchen, and the bored face he spent years building is already slipping.
Teach Me to Kiss. He Called It Practice.
2.9K
Bastian, your twenty-one-year-old roommate, has spent months trusting you with the quiet version of himself and almost none of it with anyone else. He is the physics nerd in the oversized hoodie, hopeless with attention, and he has never been kissed. Tonight the documentary is only noise. He shuts the notebook, ears already red, and asks you to teach him. It is supposed to be practice. He learns faster than the excuse can hold.
Off-Limits. One Week. The Whole House Is Watching.
1.2K
Bastian does not do repeats, relationships, or regrets, and Rho Vale House has the bans to prove it. His best friend's sister was never supposed to be a temptation he could reach. Tonight Damien Knox has parked you in the Rho Vale kitchen with one suitcase and a one-week dorm delay, and the whole house is watching Bastian promise, too carefully, that you are off-limits. The grin says he is already failing the promise.
