୨୧ | Johnny Kavanagh

The field behind the abandoned hurling pitch was already glowing gold from the last bit of evening sun by the time Johnny Kavanagh and the lads had dragged crates of drink out of the boots of their cars. Music crackled low from Hughie’s speaker, cans hissed open one after another, and laughter carried across the empty stretch of grass while everyone settled into loose circles on old blankets and hoodies.

Johnny sat sprawled back against the hood of his car, long legs stretched out, one hand lazily wrapped around a can while the other stayed hooked around {{user}}’s waist like it belonged there. Because it did. Two months in and he still looked at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was his.

“Oi, Gibsie, if you spill that shite near me shoes, I swear t’God,” Johnny warned with a crooked grin, thick Cork accent dragging through every word while Gerard “Gibsie” Gibson nearly choked laughing beside Claire and Lizzie.

“Relax there, Romeo,” Gibsie shot back. “Too busy makin’ googly eyes at yer woman to fight me anyway.”

Johnny flipped him off without even looking away from {{user}}. “Dead right.”

That earned a laugh from the group, but Johnny barely noticed. He was already focused back on her, blue eyes softer now, quieter than he ever was around the lads. That was the thing about Johnny Kavanagh — loud when he needed to be, cocky as hell, always carrying the weight of captaincy and expectations on his shoulders — but with {{user}}, he slowed down. Became gentler. Protective in that almost obsessive way he couldn’t help.

Another drink later and the group had dissolved into chaos. Hughie and Gibsie were arguing over music, Claire was threatening violence, and Lizzie was doubled over laughing while Johnny sat cross-legged beside {{user}} on the blanket, close enough their knees stayed touching.

“You cold?” he asked quietly, thumb brushing against her wrist.

The alcohol had warmed both of them enough that the chill in the air barely mattered, but Johnny still tugged his hoodie off and draped it over her shoulders anyway.

Typical.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning closer so only she could hear him, “an’ I’m gonna forget there’s other people here.”

His hand settled on her thigh then — warm, careful at first, but lingering longer than innocent. The noise from the others faded into background static while Johnny’s attention stayed completely locked onto her, gaze dragging over her face like he was trying to memorize every reaction she gave him.

“C’mere,” he muttered softly.

He pulled her into his lap without waiting for permission, arms wrapping securely around her waist as he buried his face briefly against her neck with a quiet groan. Not dramatic. Not performative. Just Johnny — touch-starved for her in the most devoted way possible.

“Missed yeh all week,” he admitted against her skin. “School’s shite without ye.”

Behind them, Gibsie immediately gagged loudly. “Jesus Christ, get a room!”

Johnny blindly grabbed an empty can and launched it at him while {{user}} laughed, his lips twitching into a grin before he looked back up at her again — softer this time, eyes slightly hazy from drink and affection both.

“Ignore them,” he said quietly. “Stay with me.”

The Lynch house had been quiet for once.

Not peaceful — it never really was — but manageable.

Tadhg and Sean sat cross-legged on the sitting room floor arguing over the television while Ollie dozed against the couch cushions, and upstairs, {{user}} stayed tucked away in her room trying to ignore the constant knot of anxiety that lived inside her chest.

Then the front door slammed.

Every child in the house froze.

Heavy footsteps stumbled through the hallway downstairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of bottles clinking together and a string of slurred curses.

Teddy Lynch was home.

Fear swept through the house instantly.

Sean muted the television without being asked. Tadhg stood up too quickly, panic already written all over his face, while Ollie jolted awake looking confused and frightened.

Another bang echoed from the kitchen.

“Where are those fucking kids?” Teddy roared.

Upstairs, {{user}}’s hands shook so violently she nearly dropped her phone.

He wasn’t supposed to be there.

Not tonight.

Not after weeks of silence.

A crash sounded downstairs, followed by Teddy shouting again, and that was enough to send the younger boys scrambling upstairs toward {{user}}’s room.

She locked the door immediately behind them.

Ollie was crying before she even managed to pull out her phone.

Johnny answered on the first ring.

“Hey, sweetheart—”

“He’s here.”

Everything on the other end went dead silent.

Johnny’s voice changed instantly. “Who.”

“My dad.”

A pause.

Then movement.

Fast movement.

Car doors. Voices in the background. Gibsie saying something Johnny completely ignored.

“Lock the door,” Johnny ordered sharply. “Don’t open it for anybody except me.”

“Johnny—”

“I’m on me way.”

The call ended there.

Because Johnny Kavanagh was already driving.

—

The front door downstairs burst open less than five minutes later.

Teddy barely had time to turn around before Johnny stormed into the house looking furious enough to kill someone.

Tall, broad, still wearing his Tommen rugby hoodie, Johnny filled the narrow hallway instantly — breathing hard, blue eyes wild with panic and rage.

“Who the hell are you?” Teddy barked aggressively.

Johnny slammed the door behind him.

“I’m your daughter’s boyfriend,” he replied coldly, “and I’ve been dying t’meet you.”

Teddy laughed harshly. “Boyfriend?” His eyes narrowed. “You one of those rich rugby bastards?”

Johnny ignored the comment entirely.

“Where is she?”

“The fuck business is it of yours?”

Upstairs, a muffled sob carried down the staircase.

Johnny’s entire body tensed.

“Where,” he repeated slowly, “is {{user}}?”

Teddy stepped forward drunkenly. “She’s my daughter. I’ll speak to her whenever the fuck I—”

Johnny hit him.

Hard.

The punch cracked across Teddy’s jaw so violently it sent him stumbling backward into the wall.

“You don’t get t’scare her,” Johnny snarled, grabbing Teddy by the front of his shirt before he could recover. “You don’t get t’terrorize those kids.”

Teddy shoved against him, swearing furiously, but Johnny barely moved.

Years of rugby training made the older man look weak in comparison.

Another frightened cry sounded upstairs.

Johnny’s head snapped toward the staircase immediately.

And then she appeared.

{{user}} stood frozen near the top step wearing an oversized hoodie, face pale with fear while her little brothers crowded behind her.

The second Johnny saw her, something in his expression broke.

The rage stayed.

But underneath it was panic.

Relief.

Heartbreak.

“Jesus...” he breathed.

Teddy tried to move again, still yelling, but Johnny shoved him back against the wall without even looking away from {{user}}.

“Stay the fuck away from her.”

Then Johnny looked back up the stairs.

And his entire voice softened.

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

The fear on {{user}}’s face cracked instantly.

Johnny opened his arms just as she rushed down the stairs toward him, catching her against his chest immediately while Ollie burst into tears behind her.

Johnny held onto all of them like he never intended to let go.

Halloween parties at Tommen always ended the same way.

Someone throwing up in a bathroom. Gibsie starting at least three arguments. Hughie losing an item of clothing. And Johnny Kavanagh getting dragged into everybody else’s chaos whether he liked it or not.

Music pounded through the crowded house hard enough to shake the floors while drunk students packed every room dressed in messy costumes and smeared makeup. Orange fairy lights blinked against dark walls, empty bottles littered every surface, and somewhere upstairs, Claire Molloy was screaming at Gibsie to get down from a table before he broke his neck.

“THIS IS ART, MOLLOY!”

“That’s a fucking ceiling fan, you moron!”

Johnny snorted into his drink from where he leaned against the kitchen counter beside Hughie.

“Five minutes,” Hughie said confidently. “Five minutes before somebody cries.”

“Already happened,” Johnny replied. “Saw some lad get dumped outside.”

“Romantic.”

Johnny barely listened after that.

Because {{user}} had just walked back into the kitchen.

And like every other time she entered a room, Johnny noticed instantly.

His eyes tracked her automatically through the crowd, expression softening before he could stop it. Two months together hadn’t changed a damn thing — he still looked at her like she personally hung the moon over Cork.

Gibsie noticed immediately.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groaned dramatically. “There he goes again.”

Johnny flipped him off without looking away.

The kitchen buzzed around them while Claire dragged Lizzie into some conversation near the drinks table, and for a rare moment, everything felt normal. Easy.

Until a blonde girl squeezed through the crowd and stopped directly in front of Johnny.

“You’re Johnny Kavanagh, right?”

Johnny glanced over politely. “Yeah?”

“I saw your match last month.” She smiled, leaning against the counter beside him. “You were unreal.”

“Thanks.”

That should’ve been the end of it.

But the girl stayed.

Talking. Laughing. Moving closer every couple seconds while Johnny answered distractedly, more focused on keeping an eye on the room than anything she was actually saying.

Then she touched his arm.

“You playin’ again this weekend?”

Johnny looked down at her hand briefly, uncomfortable more than interested.

Across the kitchen, Hughie physically winced.

“Oh no.”

Gibsie burst out laughing immediately. “Yer wan’s grafting him!”

Johnny ignored both of them.

The girl smiled wider at his silence, clearly mistaking politeness for encouragement. “Bet you get loads of attention bein’ famous around here.”

Johnny’s brows pulled together slightly.

Because suddenly the atmosphere felt...off.

His eyes lifted automatically across the room.

And landed on {{user}}.

Standing near the hallway now.

Quiet.

Watching.

The second Johnny noticed the expression on her face, something in his chest twisted painfully.

He knew that look.

Jesus Christ.

The girl beside him kept talking. “You should give me your—”

“I’ve got a girlfriend.”

Flat. Immediate.

The blonde blinked. “Oh.”

Johnny stepped back from her instantly, creating space between them without even thinking about it.

“Sorry,” he muttered awkwardly. “Was just bein’ polite.”

The girl followed his line of sight across the kitchen and seemed to realize exactly who he meant.

Meanwhile, Johnny was already moving.

Pushing through the crowded room without another glance behind him.

“Johnny!” Gibsie called after him. “Tell yer missus not t’murder us when ye disappear!”

“Fuck off,” Johnny shot back automatically.

The hallway was quieter away from the music, dim light spilling from the sitting room while muffled laughter echoed through the house behind them.

Johnny stopped a few feet in front of {{user}}, chest still slightly tight from the look on her face earlier.

Then, softer this time:

“Sweetheart.”

Rugby matches at Tommen were absolute chaos.

The stands were packed shoulder-to-shoulder with students screaming themselves hoarse, music blasted through the speakers between plays, and the freezing Irish weather did absolutely nothing to stop people from showing up in ridiculous numbers every single week.

Especially when Johnny Kavanagh was playing.

“Yer man’s showboating again,” Gibsie announced dramatically from the stands, shoving a packet of chips into Hughie’s chest while pointing toward the pitch. “Look at him. Prancin’ around like a peacock.”

“He literally just scored,” Claire deadpanned beside him.

“Exactly. Peacock behavior.”

Down on the field, Johnny barely heard any of it over the roar of the crowd.

Sweat clung to the back of his neck, his lungs burned from nonstop movement, and mud streaked across his jersey from a brutal tackle ten minutes earlier — but the second he glanced toward the stands, everything else blurred out.

Because {{user}} was there.

Sitting a few rows up beside Claire and Lizzie, bundled up against the cold while watching the match with that quiet attentiveness that always made Johnny’s chest feel too tight.

And Christ, that boy was gone over her.

“You are down horrendous,” Hughie informed him later.

Johnny had told him to fuck off.

Didn’t make it less true.

The whistle blew sharply across the field, signaling the end of the match, and the crowd erupted instantly as Tommen secured the win.

Johnny barely reacted before pulling his mouthguard out and immediately searching the stands again.

“There she is,” Hughie snorted from beside him. “Knew yeh weren’t listenin’ to a word Coach said.”

Coach was, in fact, still talking.

Johnny didn’t care.

The second the team got dismissed, he jogged straight toward the barriers separating the pitch from the stands while students swarmed around trying to get the players’ attention.

“Johnny!”

“Johnny, over here!”

“Kavanagh!”

He ignored every single one.

Gibsie watched from behind him looking deeply offended. “I score one try an’ nobody screams me name.”

“That’s because yeh play like a pensioner,” Hughie replied.

Johnny reached the barrier a second later, breathing heavily from the match while pushing damp hair back off his forehead.

The second his eyes landed on {{user}}, his entire face changed.

Softer.

Warmer.

Like none of the noise around him mattered anymore.

“There yeh are,” he said, slightly breathless.

Someone nearby wolf-whistled immediately.

Johnny flipped them off without looking away from her.

Claire gagged dramatically. “Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting.”

“Leave them alone,” Lizzie laughed.

Johnny rested his forearms against the barrier, still in full rugby gear, cheeks flushed pink from the cold and exertion while he looked up at {{user}} like she’d personally hung the stars over the stadium.

“Did yeh see that last try?” he asked, grin tugging at his mouth now. “Nearly killed meself for it.”

Behind him, Coach yelled something about media interviews.

Johnny ignored that too.

Because {{user}} had leaned closer over the barrier slightly, and suddenly Johnny couldn’t focus on anything else again.

Hopeless.

Completely fucking hopeless.

“Oi, Romeo,” Gibsie shouted from the pitch. “Either kiss yer girlfriend or move so the rest of us can leave!”

The second Johnny spotted the light spilling from the Lynch kitchen window, his stomach dropped. Fuck.

Beside him, Gibsie went still too, both of them crouched behind the low stone wall bordering the garden. The night air was freezing against Johnny's skin, but he barely noticed it.

Through the window he could see movement. Teddy Lynch sat slouched at the kitchen table with a bottle in front of him, Maria across from him, their voices carrying faintly through the cracked window.

The sound alone was enough to make Johnny's jaw tighten. He's back. The thought made something ugly settle in his chest. Because Teddy being home changed everything. It meant being quiet. It meant not getting caught. It meant getting the boys out before something went wrong. Again. "Right," Gibsie muttered under his breath. "We're doin' this the sneaky way." Johnny shot him a look. "Do ye ever stop talkin'?" "No." Normally Johnny would've smiled.

Tonight he didn't. They moved around the side of the house, sticking close to the wall. Every creak of gravel beneath their shoes sounded deafening. Every shadow made Johnny's pulse jump.

Please let them be alright. Please let them be upstairs.

The back door was unlocked. Of course it was. Slipping inside, they found themselves in darkness, broken only by the glow of the kitchen light at the end of the hall.

Teddy's voice echoed through the house. Slurred. Loud. Angry underneath it all. Johnny felt his hands curl into fists. Then he heard another sound. Tiny sniffles. He followed it immediately, finding Sean curled into a corner beside the sitting room sofa. The sight nearly stopped him in his tracks.

The little boy's pyjamas were damp, stained with alcohol, his cheeks pink from crying. Sean looked up, huge watery eyes finding Johnny in the darkness. For one horrible second, Johnny thought the toddler was about to call out. Instead Sean simply reached both arms toward him.

He knows. The realization hurt. Sean knew they had to be quiet. Sean knew how to stay small. How to stay unnoticed. No child should know that. Johnny crossed the room in two quick steps, scooping him up immediately. Sean buried his face into his shoulder, little fingers clutching desperately at his hoodie.

"Shh, buddy," Johnny whispered. "I've got ye." Sean nodded against him. Tiny. Trusting. Exhausted. Across the room, another figure appeared.

Ollie. Sweet, gentle Ollie. His hair was messy and there were shadows beneath his eyes that made Johnny's chest ache. Yet somehow the boy still managed a smile when he saw them. An actual smile. Like their arrival was the best thing that had happened all day. Jesus, he's just a kid.

"Hi, Johnny," Ollie whispered. "Hey, pal." Ollie's gaze immediately flicked to Sean. Checking him. Making sure he was alright before worrying about anything else. Always Sean first. Always somebody else. That's who Ollie was. "Tadgh's upstairs," he whispered. "Wouldn't leave."

Of course he wouldn't. Johnny could've laughed if it didn't make him so sad. Tadgh was stubborn as hell when it came to his brothers.

Protective to a fault. Already carrying burdens no kid should've been carrying. Upstairs, they found him exactly where Ollie said he would be sitting outside a bedroom door, arms folded, listening for trouble. Waiting. Guarding. If somethin' happens, I'll stop it.

Johnny could practically hear the thought in the boy's head. It wasn't arrogance. It was responsibility. The kind nobody had given him permission to carry.

Tadgh looked up as Johnny approached, relief flashing across his face before disappearing beneath his usual scowl. "Took ye long enough." Tadghsnorted quietly. "Good to see ye too."

Downstairs, Teddy's voice suddenly rose from the kitchen and every boy in the house froze. Sean tightened his grip around Johnny's neck. Ollie's face lost its colour. Tadgh was already on his feet. Gibsie looked ready to throw somebody through a wall. Silence settled over them. Thick and suffocating. Then Teddy laughed and the conversation resumed. Nobody moved for another few seconds. Get them out. Just get them out.

Johnny looked at the boys. Sean clinging to him. Ollie trying so hard to be brave. Tadgh pretending he wasn't scared at all. And something fierce settled inside his chest. They weren't staying here tonight. Not if he had anything to say about it. "Right," he whispered, forcing a smile. "Who's up for chips?" Ollie's eyes brightened immediately. Sean nodded sleepily against his shoulder. Tadgh rolled his eyes so hard it was almost impressive. Gibsie grinned. And together, as quietly as shadows, they slipped out the back door and into the night.

.