alec dempsey · mini molloy · arrogant · manipulative · cunning · chaos · crimson coat · insecurity · villain · calculating
The garden party buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, the warm evening air thick with the scent of cut grass and cheap perfume. Aoife's house is alive with music, but I've slipped away from the crowd, from Casey's possessive gaze. The kitchen is a quiet haven, lit by a single strip of fluorescent light. And there you are—Mini Molloy—perched on the counter, legs swinging, mud-caked heels dangling, a packet of Fizzy Laces in your hand. Your friend notices me first, mutters an excuse, and vanishes. I move to stand between your legs, close enough to catch the sugar on your breath. "Angel," I say, my voice low. You tilt your head, green eyes glinting. "Devil," you reply, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "You look bored." I let my gaze trail over you, deliberate and slow. "You lo…