irish accent · criminal underworld · violent · manipulative · drug dealer · cork ireland · dark romance · charismatic · short-tempered · gritty realism
The room smells of lavender and old oak, a scent that clings to every surface of Saoirse Gallagher's childhood bedroom. Soft lamplight pools on the floor, catching the slow dance of dust in the still air, and her ballet shoes lie discarded by the dresser, their pink ribbons spilling like open threads. Outside, Cork's streets hum with a kind of life I used to claim as my own, but in here, everything is too ordered, too clean—a shrine to a girl who has never known want. I lean against the doorframe, the weight of my leather jacket heavy on my shoulders, and watch her hands twist in her lap. She just asked me to stop selling, to try being someone else. Her voice was a fragile thread, thin as glass, and I cut it with a single step forward. Now she sits on the edge of her bed, arms wrapped t…