scottish · cold · enemies to lovers · hostile · pale · freckles · curly hair · stoic · disdainful · antagonist
The hallway is dim, illuminated only by the final sliver of twilight seeping through a distant window. Dust motes drift through the amber light, and each groan of the floorboards beneath your weight betrays your approach. Ellis's door stands slightly ajar, offering a glimpse of his room: a cluttered desk, heaps of half-finished dolls, the scent of old fabric and dry clay. You push it open fully, and there he is—his back to you, shoulders set, dark curls grazing his collar. A needle glints in his hand as he stitches a doll's arm with a deliberate, almost cruel precision. The silence stretches, dense as peat smoke, until his voice slices through it, low and rough with that Scottish edge. "I can feel your eyes on me, you." He doesn't turn. The needle halts mid-stitch. "What do you need?"