MDNI! 18+. Just a Fan Fic obsessed B that has not been on Tumblr since 2017. LOL
Obsessed with Peaky Blinders. All Fanfics are on Ao3 and Wattpad. I'm using this to meet other writers. Feel free to comment, share, and talk. Please only 18+. I'm old.
Hello. My name is Nova, and I am 31 years old. I am always willing to be friends with mutuals. Please feel free to message me. I don't talk to those privately under 18. I am sorry. :( I started writing fanfiction at 15. So...nearly 15 years. Yikes. I also write original work and read a lot. Just your typical ELA degree holder. I'm American, but I hopped continents. My blog is run by an adult meant for adults. MDNI and 18+
Copy
Translate
Post on any other site
Claim as your own
Make fanfiction using my OCs (ask first).
If you want to make fanart, please do and send it to me. I would love you to the moon and back forever.
Period typical violence, attitudes, and language| Canon typical violence, attitudes, and language|Abuse; mental, emotional, physical, and sexual|Dub-Con, coercion, and Non-Con|Mental illness and categories under that umbrella|BDSM.
ohhh haven't participated in tag games since forever
so I go with green flag military man and his space blob clone (I read the movie script, there actually should have been TWO space blob Oscar Isaacs, we were ROBBED)
sloppy collage bc i was making a playlist for him and needed a cover
me writing my main male character intimately feasting on my curvy main female character's 😺 for the single possibility Andrew Scott may play him in a film adaptation
And therefore, it will be redeemed cause I was ROBBED of it. Fucking robbed.
me writing my main male character intimately feasting on my curvy main female character's 😺 for the single possibility Andrew Scott may play him in a film adaptation
And therefore, it will be redeemed cause I was ROBBED of it. Fucking robbed.
me writing my main male character intimately feasting on my curvy main female character's 😺 for the single possibility Andrew Scott may play him in a film adaptation
And therefore, it will be redeemed cause I was ROBBED of it. Fucking robbed.
me writing my main male character intimately feasting on my curvy main female character's 😺 for the single possibility Andrew Scott may play him in a film adaptation
And therefore, it will be redeemed cause I was ROBBED of it. Fucking robbed.
TW - References to child abuse, domestic violence, trauma themes, mentions of drowning, strong language.
Chapter 1 - Tadhg
The first time I laid eyes on Beth Gibson, she was standing on top of a lunch table in the middle of Tommen lunch hall.
“You flick that yoghurt at me again,” she warned some second year boy with a missing tie and too much confidence, “and I'll shove it so far up your—”
“Bethany Gibson!” a teacher hissed from the doorway.
Beth blinked innocently. “Pocket, miss. I was going to say pocket.”
The hall erupted into laughter as I stared across the room, halfway through unwrapping my ham sandwich. Joey followed my line of sight before snorting quietly.
“Jesus Christ,” my older brother muttered. “She's as bad as her brother.”
I finally tore my eyes away from the little blonde standing on the table like she owned the place and followed Joey’s gaze to Gerard Gibson, who was using a ruler as a microphone to loudly serenade Claire Biggs.
“Fuck off,” I laughed. “You’re shittin’ me?”
Joey's mouth twitched like he was trying really hard not to smile. “Swear on my hurl, kid. That wee lunatic is Gussie's sister.”
I looked back at Gibsie.
He had one foot planted on the floor, the other propped up on the leg of his chair, ruler held to his mouth as he belted out the chorus of some song I only half recognised. Claire was sitting across from him with her arms folded, cheeks pink, looking equal parts mortified and besotted.
Johnny Kavanagh was sitting beside them with my sister tucked under one arm, while the other reached out and yanked Gibs down by the back of his jumper. The big eejit landed back in his seat with a grin wide enough to split his face, like being manhandled by his captain was just another part of his performance.
I looked back at the girl who had finally climbed down from the table. The second year boy was still sat there trying to look hard in front of his mates, but she didn’t seem to give a fuck. No, she looked bored now. Like threatening him had taken the edge off her afternoon and she was ready to move on.
I stared at her. I didn’t mean to, but Christ, it was hard not to. There was something about her I couldn’t put my finger on. Might have been the attitude, or the way she looked at people like she refused to be scared of them. Or maybe it was the fact she stood in the middle of the lunch hall threatening lads twice her size without shaking once. Whatever it was, my eyes were glued on her.
Then she looked up and pinned me where I sat with a pair of silvery-gray eyes that looked far too sharp for a girl with features as soft as hers. I sat there, frozen with my sandwich still sitting uselessly in my hands. I watched as her brows pulled together and I felt a strange pull in my chest, like I could hear exactly what she was saying.
The fuck are you looking at?
I felt my lips twitch, There was no fear or embarrassment in her face. She just stared me down from across the lunch hall like I was the fucker who had pissed her off.
So I did the only thing I could do and raised my eyebrows right back at her, pretending I wasn’t even slightly thrown by the way she was staring at me. Her eyes narrowed immediately, full of attitude, and I felt my grin tug wider before I could stop it.
Neither of us looked away for a few seconds, both too stubborn to be the first one to fold.
Then Beth Gibson rolled her eyes and turned her back on me like I wasn’t worth the effort anymore. I laughed under my breath. Cheeky little…
Joey groaned. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Whatever that was.” He pointed his roll at me. “Don’t do it.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Joey gave me a look that fully established he didn’t believe a word that came out of my mouth, and I tore a piece of bread from my sandwich and shoved it into my mouth so I wouldn’t have to answer him.
Joey knew me too well. That happened when someone spent half their life raising you instead of just growing up beside you. Somewhere between school runs, bruised knuckles, hurling practice and stepping between us and our old man whenever things got bad, Joey had learned how to read me quicker than anyone else ever could.
My brother could pick apart my moods from one look. A twitch of my jaw, a bad tone, the way my hands curled when I was trying not to lose my temper. Half the time, he noticed what I was feeling before I did. Which was seriously unfortunate for me.
Joey kicked me under the table.
“Oi.”
I kicked him back. “What?”
“I’m serious,” he said, “Gussie might act the eejit, but he’d go through someone for that girl.”
Something about the way he said it made me look back at her again.
She was laughing, head tipped back slightly, blonde ponytail falling over one shoulder while some girl beside her said something that had her grinning properly for the first time since I’d noticed her.
Then the second year boy muttered something under his breath, and just like that her smile vanished, her chin lifted and her shoulders straightened. The softness was gone before anyone else could have noticed it had been there at all. But I did. I noticed. I didn’t know why, but I did.
She seemed like the kind of girl who moved like she didn’t care who was in her way. Small enough to be missed if you weren’t looking but loud enough that you couldn’t ignore her once you were. There was something about it that I couldn’t place. Something in the way she held herself too straight. Like she’d learned early that small things got stepped on if they didn’t bare their teeth.
I knew a bit about baring teeth.
I knew about making yourself look bigger than you felt. About speaking first, swinging first, laughing first, because if you did it before someone else got the chance, then maybe you still had the upper hand.
Everyone had heard enough about me. That was the thing about being a Lynch at Tommen College. Everyone knew our story, and people thought they knew us before we opened our damn mouths. Me, Joey, Shan… it was the same for all of us. They heard our last name and filled in the rest themselves.
Loud.
Rough.
Trouble.
Temper.
In mine and Joey’s case - Like father, like son.
They never said it to my face, not most of them, they were too smart for that. But I saw it in the way some teachers watched me when another lad shoved me in the corridor. Like they were waiting for me to prove them right. I hated it. Hated it more that I had two younger brothers who’d have the same shit waiting for them too.
Joey shifted beside me. His knee knocked mine under the table and I looked over at him. He was watching me with that usual Joey look on his face, the one that said he already knew what was going on in my head and was only waiting for me to catch up. His tie was hanging loose around his neck, sleeves shoved up his forearms like he was sick of feeling trapped in the uniform.
He looked like he always did. The same lad who called me a thick little bollocks at least twice a day despite having a girlfriend and an entire kid of his own to occupy his time. But sometimes, when I looked at him, I could see the rest of it too. The bits he tried to bury while pretending he wasn’t carrying half the world on his back. It was strange seeing him like this, sitting in the middle of Tommen lunch hall in a school jumper, giving me grief over girls like we were normal. Like we were just two brothers talking rubbish at lunchtime and not two lads still learning how to breathe outside the walls of a house that had taught us to hold it in.
Some days, he nearly pulled it off. Other days, I could still see the old house on him. The old man. The weight of all the things he’d carried before he should’ve had to carry anything at all. And then I’d wonder if people could see it on me too. If that was why some of them looked twice when I walked past, like the Lynch name had already told them everything they needed to know. Trouble. Temper. Like father, like son.
The thought sat rotten in my stomach and I shoved it down before it had the chance to grow teeth.
The Gibson girl had moved from the lunch table now and was walking across the hall, weaving between older kids with the kind of confidence that made people step around her.
She was smaller than a lot of the girls in our year, but there was nothing small about the way she carried herself. It was like if the world tried to shove her, she’d shove it back twice as hard whether she had the strength to or not.
I understood that more than I wanted to. I’d taken hits from my Dad to protect the others when Joey wasn’t around, and it never bothered me that he hit harder, only that he hit me instead of them.
She passed Gibsie’s table and he immediately reached out, catching the back of her jumper and tugging her towards him. Beth stumbled, whirled around, and smacked his arm. Gibsie didn’t let go, pulling her closer and tucking her under his arm. Beth rolled her eyes but she stayed there, and that was the part that caught me.
For all her huffing and shoving and dramatic groaning, she didn’t really try to leave. She just leaned into him for half a second before elbowing him in the ribs hard enough to make him grunt.
I tried to tune back into the sound of Joey’s voice before he caught doing exactly what he was trying to warn me off. Too little too late.
“You listening to me at all?” Joey asked.
“Not really.”
“Brilliant.”
Before Joey could continue whatever lecture he was building himself up for, a hand dropped onto his shoulder from behind.
“Well, well, well,” Aoife Molloy said, leaning over him with a grin in her voice before I even saw her face. “What are you two whispering about now?”
Something in my brother changed before she’d even finished the sentence.
It wasn’t much. Not enough for most people to catch. But I knew my brother better than most, and I watched the tightness ease out of his shoulders as if someone had pulled a thread loose. His jaw unclenched and the hard line between his brows faded just enough to make him look his age again.
That was what Aoife did to him.
She didn’t soften him exactly, because Joey wasn’t soft and he’d probably rather take a sliotar to the face than be accused of it. But she reached some part of him the rest of us could never get to. A part he kept locked up tight unless she was around with that wicked grin and trouble in her eyes, acting like the world was a game she intended to win.
“Molloy,” he said fondly, tipping his head back to look at her.
“Joe,” she replied sweetly.
She slid into the empty seat beside him and tucked herself into his side. Joey’s arm went around the back of her chair, his fingers brushing once against her shoulder before settling there.
I’d seen them together my whole life, or near enough. Aoife had been around through it all. She’d seen Joey at his worst, the parts of him most people whispered about, the parts he hated more than most. But she’d stayed. No, more than just stayed. Aoife Molloy had planted herself in front of my brother and refused to move, even when he was doing everything he could to make himself impossible to love. And she’d not only loved him, she’d loved all of us.
“We’re not whispering,” Joey told her.
“Oh, you absolutely are,” she said, glancing between us with bright, suspicious eyes. “And you both look guilty.”
“I don’t,” I said.
Aoife turned that grin on me, and I immediately regretted speaking.
“You always look guilty, baby Lynch.”
I scowled. “Don’t call me that, I’m thirteen.”
“Exactly,” she said, reaching across the table and tapping two fingers under my chin before I could lean back. “A baby.”
I swatted her hand away. Aoife had always been like that with us. From the second she met us, she’d accepted us. We weren’t just Joey’s baggage, not to Aoife. Shannon adored her. Ollie followed her around like a duckling. Even Sean, who trusted about three people on a good day, would let Aoife fuss over him.
And me? I pretended she annoyed me, especially because she loved us in a way that made it impossible to stay angry at her for long.
Joey smirked at my expression. “He’s after discovering Gussie’s sister.”
Aoife’s eyebrows lifted and her gaze slid across the lunch hall to where Beth Gibson was standing, ponytail swinging as she argued with her brother about something I couldn’t hear.
Aoife’s mouth curved. “Beth?”
“You know her?” I asked, because apparently my mouth had decided to betray me.
“Yeah,” Aoife said, still watching Beth. “Gibs talks about her all the time,” She turned back to look at me, “Fair warning, he’s very protective of her.”
Joey snorted and Aoife gave him a look that said ‘really?’, like he was one to comment on anyone being protective.
She leaned her elbows on the table, chin propped on one hand, and lowered her voice. “She nearly died when she was little,”
“What happened?” I frowned.
Aoife shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know the full story, just that she fell off a boat. Gibs doesn’t really talk about it, but it makes sense why he is like he is with her.”
Across the hall, Beth was still tucked under his arm, although it looked more like he’d caught her in a headlock and called it affection. She was trying to wriggle free while he spoke over her head to Claire, his hand occasionally dropping to tug at the end of Beth’s ponytail just to annoy her.
I suddenly understood it a bit better, the way he kept an eye on her without making it obvious. I’d seen that before in Joey. He was like it with all of us, but especially with Shannon.
Joey acted like he wasn’t hovering half the time, like he wasn’t constantly counting heads and checking exits and watching people’s hands when they got too close. But he was. He always was. I suppose nearly losing someone did that to a person.
Aoife must have noticed the silence stretching too long because she leaned in and nudged Joey with her shoulder. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m enjoyin’ the peace.”
Liar,” she replied. “You’re being dramatic in your head again.”
Joey looked down at her. “Dramatic?”
“Painfully,” she said, though her tone was all teasing. “You’ve got the face on.”
“What face?”
Aoife reached up and pinched his cheek before he could stop her. “The broody single father in a music video face.”
I choked on a laugh.
Joey stared at her. “I’m not broody.”
“Joe,” she said sweetly, patting his face. “You’ve been broody since you were twelve.”
For a second, Joey just looked at her, then he dropped his head and laughed. Not one of his short, sharp ones. A real one. Low and rough, like it had been dragged out of him before he could stop it. Aoife glanced up at him when he did, and her whole face softened.
I’d seen people look at Joey with pity, judgement, hell, even with fear, sometimes. I’d seen adults look at him like he was a problem that needed fixing or a cautionary tale they could mutter about when they thought we weren’t listening. Aoife never looked at him like that. She looked at him like he was Joey. The lad who’d made mistakes, who’d gone to hell and dragged himself back out of it. The father of her son. The boy she’d loved before either of them were old enough to know what the fuck that even meant.
I didn’t know much about that kind of thing, but I knew enough to know Joey had found it in her, and judging by the way his thumb brushed absently over the back of her shoulder, he knew it too.
“You pair are painful,” I said, because the alternative was sitting there thinking too much, and nobody needed that.
Aoife turned her attention back to me, instantly bright again. “And yet here you are, blessed by our presence.”
“Cursed, more like.”
Joey smirked. “Careful now.”
“What?” I asked.
“You keep mouthin’ off, and I’ll tell Gussie you were starin’ at his sister.”
I scoffed. “I wasn’t staring.”
“You absolutely were,” Aoife said, grinning as she sided with my brother.
“She was standin’ on a table,” I defended, done with the bleeding pair of them.
“And now?” Aoife asked innocently.
I frowned. “What d’you mean?”
She tilted her head towards the other side of the lunch hall and against my better judgement, I looked.
Beth Gibson was already staring back at me like she’d been waiting for me to track her. Her head was tilted slightly, gray eyes narrowed in suspicion while Gibsie argued loudly with another one of the rugby meatheads beside her, completely oblivious.
Joey made a low sound beside me. “Ah, Christ.”
“What now?” I muttered, shaking my head and turning my attention back to my sandwich.
“You’re grinnin’ again.”
I hadn’t even realised, but honestly I didn’t even care.Because across the lunch hall, Beth Gibson was still glaring at me like she wanted a fight, and for some reason, I couldn’t stop grinning about it.
If any of my moots wanna read my new fic but don't really know much about BoT, hop into my asks or DMs and I'll be more than happy to yap with you about it. 😘
