Boys or tommen fanfic-
Sadie Gibson has always been the girl who laughs first, jokes about her weight before anyone else can, and slips through life unnoticed in the shadow of her larger-than-life brother, Gibsie. But in her third year at Tommen College, Sadie is finally being seen-by Garrett O'Neil, a charming fifth-year rugby player who makes her feel wanted, adored, and protected.
At first.
As her relationship with Garrett deepens, the lines between love and control begin to blur. Behind closed doors, the compliments twist into commands, the affection sharpens into pressure, and Sadie starts to lose pieces of herself-so slowly she doesn't even notice she's fading.
Haunted by a past she refuses to name and convinced she deserves the pain, Sadie tells no one.
Not her brother, who cares more than he knows how to show.
Not her friends, who don't see what's happening.
And definitely not Cal Young-
Lizzie's older brother, loud, smug, and maddeningly sharp-who seems more interested in pushing her buttons than being her friend.
But Cal has his own ghosts. Buried beneath his own grief he refuses to name, and an anger he can't control. He's the kind of boy who burns everything he touches-except maybe her.
explores the silent unraveling of a girl who just wanted to be loved, and the long, messy road back to herself.
TW- Eating disorder, SA, Alcohol, drugs, abuse...
I do not own any characters except Sadie and Callum all rights go to chloe walsh
He didn't believe in second chances. She didn't believe in people.
Tadgh Lynch had spent most of his life angry. Angry at his father. Angry at himself. Angry at a world that didn't stop burning even after everything he loved had already gone up in smoke. Now sixteen, living under someone else's roof, wearing the number 11 stitched into the back of his jersey, he was still trying to outrun a ghost with his mother's eyes and a monster's voice.
Everyone in Tommen knew who he was - the hothead with a rugby number and a bruised knuckle, the smile that meant trouble, the boy who never stayed long enough to get hurt.
Flora Feely? She didn't care.
Quiet, awkward, sharp as broken glass when she spoke, Flora had mastered the art of staying unnoticed. It was easier that way. People couldn't leave if they never really saw you. And she was tired - tired of silence in her house, tired of being Patrick Feely's little sister, tired of pretending her heart hadn't gone cold the day her father walked out and her mam didn't ask him to stay.
She didn't plan on noticing Tadgh Lynch. He didn't plan on needing her.
But sometimes the fire in you recognizes the fire in someone else - and it doesn't matter how much you try to smother it. It burns anyway.