Trauma; a deeply distressing experience that overwhelms a person's ability to cope, resulting in lasting negative impacts on their emotional, psychological, and physical well-being. ---- "I love you." "It'll pass." ---- Fem oc x Male oc Boxer x Rugby Player -- book 2 of 2 #1 johnny

"𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐧, 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝..." ༇❧𐮙𐮙𐮙𐮙 When 𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀 𝐌𝐂𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐄 returns to Cork County after years away, she's no longer the shy, scrappy girl Patrick Feely once knew. Now attending Tommen College, Nessa is bold, confident, and ready to start fresh. 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐘, Tommen's quiet rugby star, is content to keep his life simple and drama-free-until Nessa crashes back into his world, challenging everything he thought he knew about friendship, loyalty, and love. As old memories resurface and sparks fly, the two childhood friends must navigate the pressures of high school life, their complicated past, and the possibility of a future together. But will Patrick's guarded nature and Nessa's fierce independence bring them closer, or drive them apart?

Longing for someone who only sees you in hindsight. Gerard Gibson x Fem!Oc BINDING 13⸻ADORING 13 Fake dating trope. CAUTION WARNING! Mentions of s/a, abuse, rape. Involves cursing, physical violence, neglect etc etc.

˖᯽ ݁˖· ─ ❝ you're not what i expected lynch ❞ ⭑𓂃 IN WHICH two broken kids in a messed up world learn to lean on each other. ꨄ︎ tadhg lynch x fem!oc ꨄ︎ full description inside

Caden Holland. Honest to God - if trouble had a face, it'd be his. Always arguing. Always correcting. Like he's convinced he's the smartest lad in the room, even when he's talking pure shite. He's got those eyes - dark, quiet, watching everything but never giving anything back. You'd swear he's judging you for breathing wrong. And people talk, don't they? Junkie. Dealer. Bad news. All whispered, but loud enough so you know exactly who they're on about. So I've promised myself one thing: stay away. No smiles. No chats. No pity. Because lads like him drag storms behind them - and you don't even realise you're drowning until you're already under. He's dangerous. Not the loud, show-off kind. The quiet kind. The kind that makes you feel seen and threatened all at once. And I swear on my life - I'm not getting pulled into whatever darkness follows Caden Holland around. *** Mallory Lynch. The name alone sits wrong in my mouth, like something sour. Daughter of the man who put my da behind bars - that's what I was raised on. Fact, not feeling. She doesn't look like danger. That's the trick. She laughs too easily, tilts her head when she listens, pretends she doesn't see the way rooms shift when she walks in. There's a crack in her somewhere. You can hear it if you listen past the cool-girl act. A quiet panic. Secrets rattling around behind her ribs. My plan? Simple. Keep my head. Stay patient. People like her eventually show you who they really are. And when she does - when the truth cracks wide open - I'll be there to watch the Lynch name drop lower than ours ever did. Not out of anger. Out of balance. Because Mallory Lynch smiles like she has nothing to hide - and I know for a fact she's hiding everything.

Blurb: Diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder at six, Evie Finnegan has spent her life being too much for everyone - especially the people meant to stay. Now in fifth year and starting over at Tommen, she's trying her best to disappear. Johnny Kavanagh isn't looking for anyone. Rugby is everything - until she arrives. Quiet. Fragile. Familiar. He shouldn't care. But he does. And when she starts to fall apart, Johnny finds himself doing the one thing he swore he'd never do again - reaching out. Because sometimes, love doesn't shout. Sometimes, it just stays. Right where it hurts. In your veins.

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.

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.

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?

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.