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

Hughie Biggs. The love of my bloody life. The fella I swore I'd grow old with, get a ring on my finger from, have the big church wedding, the lot. I used to lie awake at night and picture his hand in mine, picture his laugh bouncing off the walls of our kitchen. Back then, I didn't have the faintest clue about the way the world could chew you up and spit you out. I remember us when we were younger, before everything went sour. When Caoimhe was still alive, when her laugh could still fill a room. When I still had friends-real ones, the kind you'd sit on the green with till it got dark, passing a bag of crisps around, talking rubbish and thinking it meant the world. Back then, we were untouchable, or so we thought. But nothing lasts, does it? Not love, not family, not even friendship. Everything rots eventually, like fruit left out too long. Secrets crawl their way to the surface no matter how deep you bury them, and when they do, they choke you. That's what happened to me. That's what happened to Hughie. The truth came crawling, and it ruined everything. So I've made up my mind. I can't stay here, not in this cursed town, not walking the same streets where his hand used to brush mine, where Caoimhe used to skip beside me, where I laughed like I actually believed in tomorrow. It's all poisoned now. Every corner, every memory, every face that looks at me like they know more than they should. I'm leaving. For good this time. I'll pack a bag, take nothing but what I can carry, and I'll vanish before anyone can stop me. No goodbyes, no explanations. Just gone. Because the truth is, there's nothing left here for me anymore-only ghosts, and I've had enough of them to last me a lifetime.

Blurb: Joey Lynch has never known softness. With his older brother gone, an abusive father looming, and the weight of four siblings on his back, Joey's learned to survive by shutting the world out - with fists, fire, and heroin. But just when the darkness feels permanent, a quiet voice begins to pull him out. Keira Kavanagh is known for her kind smile, her gentle presence, and her last name - sister to Johnny, Tommen's golden boy. No one sees the secrets she carries. No one knows that behind her perfect mask lives a memory she's buried deep, one that still haunts her every breath. He's chaos. She's calm. He's breaking. So is she. And yet, when they collide - it's not perfect. It's not pretty. But it's honest. It's healing. And maybe, just maybe, it's enough. Set in the world of The Boys of Tommen, this is the untold story of two souls surviving what they never should have had to - and holding on to the kind of love that demands to be fought for.

✷ ━ 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾 ◞ ⌞ ❛ 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗒 ❜

WLW Fanfic based on Boys Of Tommen. Fem OC x Fem OC Saoirse Marie Lynch has always been a contradiction. She's the strong one who never lets herself cry, the caretaker who's falling apart when no one's looking. With her cropped blonde hair, black eyeliner, and a cigarette constantly between her fingers, she looks untouchable-hard, bitter, unbreakable. But inside, she's just tired. Tired of carrying Joey, tired of playing mother, tired of fighting demons that never stay dead. She scars her own skin just to feel something real, but no one knows. Not Joey, not her mother-only the girl she never wanted to need. Niamh Molloy doesn't look like the kind of girl who could save anyone. She's small, shy, and blushes when strangers talk to her. But she's sharp in ways no one expects. She listens. She notices. And with Saoirse, she never stops talking-stories spilling out of her, laughter breaking through the heaviness like it belongs there. Niamh has always loved Saoirse, long before she let herself admit it. Maybe it was the eyeliner. Maybe it was the way Saoirse's armor cracked when she thought no one was looking. Or maybe it was just inevitable, because Saoirse has always been her weakness, her center, her storm. They don't call it love-not out loud. Saoirse hides behind smirks and cigarettes, Niamh behind endless chatter. But when the nights get heavy, when Saoirse's hands shake and the silence is too loud, it's Niamh she lets in. Niamh, who never asks for the truth but already knows it. They're Nana and Hachi in their own way-one jagged, one soft, tied together by something bigger than either of them can name. Saoirse tells herself she doesn't believe in love. Niamh believes enough for the both of them. And somewhere in the middle, between storm and sunshine, they exist-messy, broken, undeniable.

𝙅 𝙊 𝙀 𝙔 𝙇 𝙔 𝙉 𝘾 𝙃 was broken from the start. Born into a shattered family as the second son, he lost his only protector when he left town. With no one else to step up, he was forced to become a father to his siblings while still just a boy himself. To survive, he fell into a world he never wanted, a desperate reality of drugs and addiction. It was in this darkness that he found a fleeting, impossible light: Orla Gallagher. She looked like an angel, but her words were laced with a sharp, undeniable wit. To him, she wasn't just a girl-she was magic. He became entranced by her light, consumed by a desperate need to make it glow forever, to save it from the very world he inhabited. But as the lines between friend and lover blurred, a terrifying truth emerged. Joey Lynch was a boy who knew how to keep people out, a boy who built walls around himself, and those walls were suffocating the one person who mattered Now, he faces the most agonizing problem of his life: his last chance at salvation, Orla, might not open the door he so desperately needs her to walk through.

Tadgh Lynch doesn't lose focus. He's sharp, volatile, and not here to play nice. First year at Tommen, he's already collecting enemies-and Leah Daly's at the top of the list. Leah Daly's fierce, stubborn, and hiding the kind of damage you don't talk about. She's built for survival, and Tadgh's the last person she wants anywhere near her. She hates him. He hates her. That should've been the end of it. But the more he sees, the more it looks like his history repeating itself. And once he recognises it, walking away isn't an option. Even if saving her burns him all over again.

Brendan Clearly. He was the lad I liked since I was barely out of pigtails, the one who never slagged me off when the rest of the boys thought it was gas. He was different. Always smiling, always asking me if I'd eaten, like some little mammy trapped in a seventeen-year-old fella's body. It sounds stupid, but those tiny things kept me going. And then I went and wrecked it. Not just with him-no, I managed to shatter it with all of them. My friends, the ones who made the halls feel less lonely, the ones who kept me tethered here when the world felt too heavy. Gone. Because of me. Just a mistake, that's all it was, but a mistake that cost me everything. And now when I see him across the yard, laughing with the others, it's like a knife. He doesn't even look my way. And I deserve that, don't I? *** Caoimhe Kavanagh. Once upon a time she was my best mate. The kind of girl you'd sit on a wall with for hours, talking about nothing and everything. She was soft, kind, never the type to go looking for trouble. But now? I hardly recognise her. She's gone cold, sharp, always hanging 'round with that crowd-the type of people you know are only bad news. Ciggies tucked in their sleeves, mouths full of poison. And she's right there in the middle of it, like she belongs to them now. Part of me wants to write her off, tell myself she's not the Caoimhe I knew. That girl's dead and gone. But... I can't. I remember too much. The way she used to laugh, the way she'd defend you even when you were being a gobshite, the way she cared more than she ever let on. That's still inside her, I swear it is. I don't care how hard she tries to hide behind the mask she's wearing now-I know my friend is in there somewhere. And I'll drag her back if I have to. Because she's worth it.