- BoT headcanons - (boys of tommen by chloe walsh) we've never done this before, so if there are any similarities to other's works then it is completely accidental. thanks for reading! BOYS OF TOMMEN SPOILERS - THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING

Sixteen-year-old Eleanor "Ellie" Biggs is done. Done with London, with the bullies who broke her, with the whispers that she's defective like her mam, destined to burn out or fade away. Back in Cork- for good, she's promised herself one thing: no one gets close. Not friends, not boys, not anyone. But then there's Cillian Ryan. On the surface he's Tommen's golden boy - the rugby star captain with the grin everyone falls for. Underneath, he's crumbling under the fists of his father, the silence of his mother, and the weight of protecting a little brother who's running out of smiles. Neither of them are looking for each other. But when Ellie's walls crack and Cillian refuses to walk away, something shifts. She's the girl who swore she'd never trust again. He's the boy who swore he'd carry it all alone. Together, they might just be brave enough to face the storms no one else sees. Messy, magnetic, and unflinchingly real - this is a story about first love, family scars, and finding light in the dark.

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.

Conor Kavanagh. The heartthrob of Tommen College. The biggest playboy in the school - cocky smirk, rugby jersey practically sewn onto him, always with a smart comment and that maddening wink. He's friendly, charming, flirty as hell. The kind of lad who'd carry your bag for you and somehow make it seem like your idea. But don't let that fool you - he's trouble. All sharp jawlines and swagger. And somehow, he's decided I'm his next bloody charity case. I hate it. I hate how he shows up when I don't ask, how he looks at me like I'm breakable. I don't need saving - I've got it sorted. The drink, the pills, the temper - all of it. My mess, not his. And every time I tell him to back off, to leave me be, he just gets closer, like I'm speaking in code. I don't need his pity or his perfect face. I don't need him. So why does part of me keep hoping he'll show up again tomorrow? *** Sinead Biggs. The reigning queen of Tommen. Sharp-tongued, sharp-eyed, and terrifying in heels. Everyone thinks she's just Cath's little sister - until she opens her gob and makes half the school cry before lunch. She walks those halls like she owns them, and honestly? She kind of does. The lads are scared of her. The girls want to be her. And me? I'm hopelessly, pathetically into her. Everyone knows it. My mates won't shut up about it. Even when she's tearing strips off me with that mouth of hers, I'm there grinning like a gobshite. Because deep down, I remember. I remember when we used to be best friends. When she used to laugh like a lunatic at my stupid jokes, when her hand would brush mine and neither of us would move away. But then came Owen Rice - the prick. Then came that night. The accident. The hospital. And when she came back, she wasn't the same. She'd built up walls with barbed wire. She'd become someone colder, louder, crueler. But I still see her. The girl I knew. And every once in a while, when no one's looking, I think she sees me too.

AJ Lynch is the bane of my existence. He's like a rock in my shoe-small enough to ignore for a little while, but always there, annoying me until I lose my mind. He's the golden boy, the one who gets perfect grades, charms every teacher, and never steps a toe out of line-or so his parents think. Joey and Aoife Lynch's pride and joy, right? Wrong. Because here's the thing: AJ isn't as perfect as everyone thinks he is. He has a secret. A big one. And I, Catherine Biggs, the girl he loves to torment, am the only one who knows it. AJ Lynch is a racer. Yep, that kind of racer-the illegal kind. The kind that sneaks out at night to tear up the streets and put that shiny car of his to work. The golden boy isn't so golden after all, and trust me, I'd love nothing more than to use it against him. Too bad he's too clever for his own good. *** Catherine Biggs. The mean girl of Tommen School. The girl every guy pretends to hate but can't stop looking at. She's the one who gets a kick out of tormenting people, though her favorite targets seem to be boys. Lucky us. If you say anything remotely out of line about her or her little circle of friends, she's on you faster than you can blink. And honestly? She scares most of the lads here. Me? I'm counting down the days until she's out of my life for good. This is our last year, and soon I won't have to see her stupid curly blonde hair, or those blue eyes that are just... too much. I swear, her beauty is all she has going for her. Inside? She's rotten, blacker than black. The kind of girl who smiles while cutting you down. And yet... somehow, she's still in my head. And then there's her boyfriend. Cillian Wilkinson. All charm and dimples, like a walking ad for "Ireland's Most Eligible Teen." Everyone loves him-teachers, parents, even the lads. Except me. I hate the way he puts his arm around her, like she's his and no one else's. Because that's the problem with Catherine Biggs-she's not just in my head. She's under my skin.

Mike Biggs-the most handsome boy in Tommen. Bit of a gentleman, but he knows how to shut people up when needed. Never thought we'd be close, but after what happened with Sinead-his little sister and my best friend-things shifted. Do I like it? Can't say for sure. He's different when it's just the two of us. Softer. Kinder. But right now, I don't have time for love. I need to focus on becoming like my ma, playing in the orchestra. That's what matters. Not Mike Biggs and whatever this is between us... right? Bridget Feely-shy, sweet, and has this quiet kind of beauty that sneaks up on you. We've been friends for a while, and maybe-just maybe-I've thought about her as more than that. But I never let myself dwell on it. Until I heard her play the violin. Christ, I had no idea she could play like that. Now? Now I can't stop thinking about her. The way she looks when she plays, the way the music seems to carry her somewhere else. And just like that, I'm completely gone for the girl.

Rory Kavanagh. The best rugby player Tommen has ever seen-well, besides his da, obviously. Johnny Kavanagh. The Johnny Kavanagh. Our parents are basically joint at the hip, best mates since they were kids. And naturally, me and Rory just... became mates too. That's the deal. That's what we said we'd be. Friends. Right? Friends. But like-come on. Have you seen him? His abs? That man has a six-pack like he's sculpted from marble. His hair? Brown and silky, like-like a shampoo ad or somethin'. And those eyes? The kind of blue that makes you forget your own name. I swear to God, I'm not even being dramatic. So yeah... maybe I've a teeny, tiny, miniscule crush on him. Can you blame me? No. No, you can't. I won't hear it. But I'm not saying a thing. No way. What if he just laughs? That'd kill me. So for now, I'll just pretend I don't stare at him for longer than is normal when he talks. For now, it's just friendship. Grand. ...But what if he does feel the same? *** Bethany Gibson. Jaysus. She's been my best friend since we were in playschool, like actually since nappies. She's pure chaos-loud, mad, always in trouble for something-but I wouldn't change a thing about her. Not one thing. She's class. Gorgeous too. Not just like "oh she's grand," no-proper gorgeous. Her blonde curls bounce when she laughs, and I swear it's like the sun's just following her around. Her eyes? Silver. Like not even grey-silver, like a flipping fairy or something. Every time she looks at me, I forget what I was saying. Which is not ideal when you're trying to seem normal, right? I've fancied her since I was about seven. Maybe six. But what am I supposed to do? Tell her? What if she just laughs and goes, "Ah you're gas," and then pats me on the head like I'm some lost puppy? I'd actually evaporate from shame. But then again... what if she does like me back? What if all this time I was too scared to see it?

In which, Ciarán Hawkins can handle just about anything. The boys been put through hell everyday since he was born. Between his mothers addiction, his fathers absence, and his street fighting days where all he did was beat the shit out of grown men for days on end just for a loud audience applause, he was a disaster. So when Lizzie Young shows up with her viper attitude, and her snippy comments, they seem to be the only people who can calm each other down, even if they fire each other up like no one else can.