─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀 ⨟ completed fourth wing short story | no sequel | discontinued ✧. ┊fem!oc 𝒙 ridoc © amilliondreamzz

Brian O'Neill. The coldest fella Tommen's has ever seen-or so they say. And I get it. He walks down the halls like he owns the place, never says much unless he has to, face like it's carved out of marble, always unreadable. He's like a winter prince-untouchable, a bit terrifying, and way too beautiful to be real. But he's mine. He's my boyfriend. He makes my heart beat like a bloody war drum every time he so much as looks at me with that stormy gaze of his. Protective to a fault. He'd burn the whole world down if it meant keeping his siblings safe. They're everything to him-his whole bleeding heart, even if he acts like he hasn't got one. And he fights. Not schoolyard scuffles. Not rugby scraps. I'm talking about underground, illegal fights. The kind you don't talk about. The kind you pray he walks away from. *** Daisy Biggs. If sunshine had a body and a runway walk, it'd be her. She's Ireland's it girl-covers of magazines, Vogue campaigns, CHANEL deals before she was even out of third year. Everyone knows her name. Every girl wants to be her, and every lad stares a bit too long when she walks past. But she's mine. She's my girlfriend. Yeah-me. The cold bastard with blood on his knuckles and bruises under his hoodie. I don't know how I pulled her, honest to God. Maybe 'cause she sees something in me no one else bothers to look for. But we keep it quiet. No one at Tommen's knows. Can't risk the papers finding out, or the other students. She's soft with me. Gentle in a way that makes me forget I've got cuts across my ribs or a busted lip. When I show up to her place, bleeding or shaking or just not right in the head after a fight, she never freaks. She just pulls me in, cleans me up, and wraps her arms around me like I'm something worth saving. I know she hates the fights. Hates what they do to me. Hates what I have to do to win. But what am I supposed to do? When you've got a da who treats you like a weapon, you learn real quick that choices are a luxury.

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.

❝ 𝖢𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾, 𝖧𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗒 ? ❞ 𝗥𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗞𝗔𝗩𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗚𝗛, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝗈𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗥𝗔 𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗢𝗡, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 . . 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗐𝗄𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖿𝖿, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗅𝗒--𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. Rory Kavanagh, the boy built from pressure and expectation, knows how to run a pitch--not how to breathe in a world that's too loud. Silence is his sanctuary, but it's also his cage. Ciara Wilkinson, the girl crafted by her mother's ambition, has never known who she is when she isn't performing. Beauty is her armor, but it's also her curse. When the golden boy meets the pageant beauty, it's not fireworks--it's recognition. Two people built from everything but choice, finding peace in the one person who sees past the noise. [BASED ON THE BOYS OF TOMMEN SERIES BY CHLOE WALSH]

" Save me from the sickness that I love Take me to your sweet oblivion I'm kneeling at your altar I'm down here on my knees Take me to your sweet oblivion " - SWEET OBLIVION , David Kushner BOYS OF TOMMEN GERARD GIBSON x FEM! OC BEFORE BINDING 13 - KEEPING 13 BOOK 1/2 IN THE SWEET OBLIVION DUOLOGY BOOK 2/4 IN THE ENAMORED SERIES

Niamh Lynch is used to surviving. She's the girl with fire in her blood, fists always clenched, and walls built so high no one dares to look over them - not even her twin brother, Joey. Between school fights, late shifts, and raising her younger siblings in a house ruled by silence and bruises, Niamh doesn't have time for softness. Or love. Or hope. She's burning herself out to keep everyone else warm. Then there's Gerard Gibson. Loud, ridiculous, golden-hearted Gibsie - the boy who makes people laugh without trying, who hides his own cracks behind chaos. He shouldn't see her. But he does. And worse, he stays. Even when Niamh gives him every reason not to. This is a story about broken kids from broken homes, about anger and tenderness, violence and healing. It's about finding light in the wreckage - not because you believe you deserve it, but because someone refuses to stop giving it to you. Niamh doesn't believe in love. But Gibsie never needed her to. ------------------------------- Gerard Gibson x fem!oc

𝘼𝙍𝘼𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙇𝘼 𝙂𝘼𝙇𝙇𝘼𝙂𝙃𝙀𝙍 never asked for permission. She had money, charm, and a last name that made doors swing wide open - but she also had a talent for chaos. And the second she set her sights on Shannon Lynch, she found herself tangled up with the one person immune to her effortless pull. 𝙅𝙊𝙀𝙔 𝙇𝙔𝙉𝘾𝙃 wasn't impressed by Arabella's car, her smirk, or the way she could turn his sister's world upside down with a snap of her fingers. Protective, sharp-edged, and impossible to intimidate, he had one rule: keep his family safe. Arabella leaned across the table, smirk tugging at her lips. "Careful, Lynch. Scowling like that'll give you wrinkles." Joey didn't look up from his phone. "And talking like that'll get you smacked." She gasped theatrically, clutching her chest. "Violent and charming. Be still, my heart." For the first time all day, Joey's mouth twitched - the ghost of a smile he refused to give her.

Rory Kavanagh was fine until Maeve Gibson started dating his worst enemy. She's his best friend. She's not supposed to get under his skin like this. Now she's pulling away, and Rory can't stop watching, can't stop wanting. Something's off. Something's wrong. And he's running out of time to stop it.

"All mine?" "All yours, 𝗛𝗼𝗼𝗸." 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 a demi-god and a pirate can't seem to forget about each other, 𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 aphrodite decided to mess with her niece's love life. [ ON PAUSE | DISCONTINUED] - ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵠᵘⁱᵗᵉ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵍʳᵃᵐᵐᵃʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵛᵒᶜᵃᵇᵘˡᵃʳʸ ᵐⁱˢᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ descendants 𝟐 & beyond fem!oc 𝐱 harry hook ~𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠~ fluff, strong language violence, smut & more.

The World of Love wants no monsters in it. JJ MAYBANK ⎯ written 2025