Tadhg Lynch, the legend. One look warns you, one step finishes you. He is popular with girls but never settles down. Haunted by a past he can't shake. He lives with PTSD in silence, trying to stay in control while everything inside him keeps falling apart. Bree Connolly, the heartbeat. Her voice attracts people, her attitude keeps them. She is the middle of three children. Her sisters are her life; she cares for no one else. What leaves her without friends and a one-sided daily life. What happens when Tommen College brings them together?

❝ I was supposed to break her heart, not give her mine.. ❞ • ୨💌୧ 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 . . . Cairo Holland and Rory Kavangh BOOK ONE OF THE HAUNTED PHANTOMS OF TOMMEN

❝ I looked at her once and forgot how to look away. ❞ • ୨💌୧ 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 . . . Liahla Lynch X Chris Holland BOOK TWO OF THE HAUNTED PHANTOMS OF TOMMEN

Tadhg Lynch was bad news. He didn't belong at Tommen College, he didn't belong with the Kavanaghs, and he sure as hell didn't belong with stability. He was comfortable with that. Comfortable with the idea that he would always be the worst of the lot. The dangerous. The reckless. The black sheep. They could look at his scarred past all they wanted-because he didn't give a shit. But when Liv Twomey becomes determined to steal that reckless label for herself, the black sheep is forced into the last role he ever wanted: saving the principal's daughter. Liv Twomey didn't get punished. Ever. She fit perfectly into the box her parents built for her: pretty, smart, the principal's perfect girl. But when being good only earns you neglect, what's the point? Good girls stay tucked in at night. Bad girls go everywhere. She's ready to burn her perfect life to the ground. So why the hell is the most dangerous boy in school determined to catch her before she hits the floor?

Liam Lynch. Everyone says his name like it explains him. The town's golden boy. Lizzie likes him. Teachers like him. Old women in the shop like him. He remembers birthdays and asks about your granny and carries bags without being asked. He is always there. That's the part I can't get my head around. He stands too close sometimes. Not in a scary way. Just... close. Like he's afraid if he steps back, I'll disappear. He says he loves me. I nod when he says it because that's what you do. I don't know what love is meant to feel like in the body. People say it's warm or fizzy or like fireworks, but my chest just feels the same as always-tight, flat, like someone's pressed pause. Sometimes my stomach hurts around him, but I don't know if that means something good or something bad. Hunger and nerves feel the same to me. Fear and excitement too. Everything is all mixed up, like colours bleeding together. He doesn't leave me alone. Ever. If I walk home, he walks with me. If I sit somewhere quiet, he appears like he's been summoned. People say I'm lucky. They say he's protective. I don't know the difference between protection and being trapped. Sometimes he smiles at me and my chest tightens sharper than usual. Sometimes I want him to stop talking. Sometimes I want him to stay. I don't know which feeling is which. I don't know if what he calls love is what I feel, or if what I feel is nothing at all. *** Maeve O'Neill ruined me the second I saw her. Not in a loud way. Quiet. Permanent. She doesn't say much, but I don't need words from her. I'll read the silences. I'll fill the gaps. I'll love her enough for both of us if I have to. Even when she looks at me like she's trying to solve a puzzle and can't find the edges, I don't get angry. I get patient. I can wait. I don't care if it costs me. I don't care if it hurts. I'll protect her. I'll help her. I'll stay beside her until she understands what love is-or until I disappear trying.

Charalotte Biggs and Johnny Kavanagh were the perfect couple, until they weren't. With lies, rumours and fear keeping the two apart, can the invisible string between them bring them back together or will it snap, finally realising the two from each other? Trigger warning: Violence, physical assault, PTSD, panic attacks, sexual assault Boys of Tommen Fanfic OC x JOHNNY KAVANGH

Everyone remembers the Lynch fire. Everyone remembers the bodies carried out. But no one remembers the boy left standing in the middle of it all. Tadhg Lynch isn't the golden Lynch boy. He isn't the baby who got shielded from the worst, or the oldest who carved a new life with a family of his own. He's the one in between. The one who saw everything, took the blows meant for his younger brothers, and carried scars no one wanted to look too closely at. Brave. Bold. Mouthy. A joker when he can manage it. And broken enough that nothing ever really sticks. Bethany Gibson is the girl who shouldn't have lived. She was three when the water took her under, when her father gave his life to save hers. She grew up in the shadow of grief, wrapped in the protection of a brother who bled for her in ways she only half understands. Sweet, funny, too kind for her own good-Bethany knows what it is to survive, but not yet what it means to live. When Bethany collides with Tadhg at Tommen, it's fire meeting oxygen-sharp words, sharp looks, a pull neither of them can shake. He's crude, cruel with his jokes, too much for anyone to handle. She's soft where he's jagged, sunshine where he's ash. He calls her Barbie. She calls him an arsehole. And somewhere between the laughs and the fights, they start to see the cracks in each other. But fixing what's shattered isn't simple. Not when trauma festers. Not when grief never loosens its grip. Not when love means putting your hands into the fire all over again. Funny. Raw. Heartbreaking. Fixing 9 is a story about the girl who wouldn't stop caring, the boy who didn't know how to be cared for, and the brutal, beautiful mess of trying to save each other when the world already tried to burn or drown you alive.

17 year-old Tadhg Lynch is a hot-headed hurler, haunted by a past that his family appears to have moved on from. Despite his tough and violent exterior, he is left vunerable after the trauma his parents left on him. All his siblings have someone to confide in after the events held 5 years ago, except for him. May Robbins is an English girl currently studying her final school year in Ireland ever since she moved during the summer. Troubled by her sick mother, she attempts to start fresh at a new school after the events of the previous year. A hopeless romantic at heart, she loves reading and writing, and dreams to be an author after she leaves school. Will she get a fairy-tale romance of her own?

"𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞, 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫." 𐮚𐮙𐮚𐮙𐮚༄ 𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐇𝐆 𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐇 grew up in an abusive household for the first few years of his life, and his life turned around when the Kavanagh's took he and his family into their home. Now at age seventeen, he's going into his fifth year at Tommen College, but despite the area code change and his new upbringing, he still holds that trauma that flows through his veins, refusing to let anyone get too close to him. That is until he meets Aisling Byrne. ‎𐮚𐮙𐮚𐮙𐮚༄ 𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐍𝐄 has been on the run from her abusive father for six months, and has finally found solitude in County Cork, Ireland, in the town of Ballylaggin with her grandparents, her mother, and older cousin, Niall. Entering her fifth year at Tommen College, Aisling is determined to stay focused and stay alert, not letting anyone get too close. But when Tadhg Lynch, the troubled and violent, but beautiful student, enters her life, there's no way she can stay away, and neither can he.

Joey bloody Lynch. The local junkie of Elk Terrace and, lucky me, my next-door neighbour. When I first moved here, I'll admit, I was curious. I mean, he's got that whole brooding, strung-out thing going on. I used to wonder, what's his deal? Who is he, really? What's the story behind the lanky lad who looks like he hasn't eaten in three days and acts like the world owes him something? Well, spoiler alert: he's a walking disaster. Personality-wise, he's an absolute car crash. Rude. Arrogant. Moody as sin. Honestly, one year. That's what Auntie Lisa promised. And then I can go. Back to London. Back to people who actually know how to hold a conversation without twitching every five seconds. But here I am, stuck in some grim corner of Ireland with Joey Lynch keeping me awake every bloody night. He's in my head like a bad pop song. And maybe that's what hate does. It doesn't burn hot-it festers. Keeps you up. Gnaws at you. And yet, for some infuriating reason, I can't look away. *** Olivia bleedin' Smith. Lives right next door, and thinks she's queen of the estate. Walks around like she's got a crown on her head and diamonds in her shoes. You'd take one look at her and think, "Ah, she's sweet. Bit posh. Keeps her head down." But nah. That girl's got fire in her belly and a tongue like a feckin' dagger. She's the type that'll look you dead in the eye, tell you exactly what she thinks of you, and not even flinch. And trust me, she's told me plenty. Thinks she's above it all - above me. Gives me this look sometimes, like I'm some grubby stain on her fancy trainers. All sharp jawlines and pouty lips, always flicking her hair like she's in some perfume ad. She's insufferable. Stubborn as hell. Always has to have the last word. And yet... there's something about her. Something I can't shake. She's like nicotine. One glare from her and I'm hooked. Can't decide if I want to scream at her or kiss her just to shut her up.