#say nothing

[attaboyanto]

bts of say nothing

photo by hazel doupe

[maikadmonroe]

Anthony Boyle as Brendan Hughes in Say Nothing (2024) EP07

[splittheganthony]

‘Do you have a favourite Gaelic Word?’

[scarletonthegrid]

Ash and Iron: chapter 1

gif by @boyleblr

Summary: Belfast burns outside, but it’s the fire in her eyes that catches The Dark’s attention. One stubborn girl. One hardened man. The beginning of a dangerous connection.

brendan hughes x fem reader warnings: slowburn and political unrest (violence mentioned)

West Belfast smelled like smoke and rain. Always had. It hung in the air — a mix of burnt rubber, fried chips, and anger.

You’d grown up with the rhythm of it — the shouting in the streets, the pounding of boots, the sudden silences when the army trucks rolled past. You could tell the difference between a petrol bomb and a gunshot by sound alone, and you’d stopped flinching ages ago.

Your mother said it had hardened you.

Your brother said it made you stupid.

You said it made you ready.

That’s why you were standing in a dim back room above the pub on the Falls, staring at Brendan “The Dark” Hughes dead in the eye, trying not to let him see your hands shake.

He was nothing like you’d imagined — and exactly what you’d expected. Tall, broad-shouldered, the kind of man who didn’t need to say much to make people listen. His hair was jet black, though a few strands had started to silver near his temples, and that thick moustache shadowed the curve of his mouth, making it impossible to tell if he was smiling or about to scold you.

You’d heard about him all your life.

The Dark.

The one who never broke, never ran. The one who always had a plan — even when there wasn’t supposed to be one.

You’d expected someone older, maybe colder. Instead, he was younger than you thought, eyes sharp and watchful, voice low and steady. Dangerous in a calm way.

Still, you squared your shoulders and met his eyes.

“I want in.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the table. The dim bulb overhead caught the smoke curling around his face.

“In what?”

“Don’t play daft. You know what.”

He studied you in silence, arms crossed over his chest.

“You think this is something you can want your way into?”

“I think I’ve got more backbone than half the lads running messages for you,” you shot back.

That earned you a sound — half snort, half laugh.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, I’ll give you that.”

“Aye, and ears too, if you ever decide to say something worth hearing.”

For a second, you could’ve sworn he smiled — barely. The corner of his moustache twitched, anyway.

He reached for a cigarette, lit it with a flick of his lighter, and exhaled slow. The smoke curled between you like a test.

“You’re from West Belfast, yeah?”

“Born and raised.”

“And you think you’re ready for what comes with this?”

“I don’t think— I know.”

“You do know? You can’t even keep your temper for five minutes, love. You’d have half the Brits knocking your door down before the week’s out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. He wasn’t wrong — you had a temper like fire, and everyone knew it. But it wasn’t fair, not when lads your age were already out there doing what you weren’t allowed to.

“Better that than sitting at home pretending I don’t see what’s happening,” you snapped. “Or waiting for someone else to fix it.”

Brendan studied you — not the way men sometimes did, not like he was looking at you, but through you. Measuring.

“This isn’t some game you can quit when it gets hard,” he said. “You get caught, you don’t get a slap on the wrist. You disappear. You get remembered as a name on a wall — if you’re lucky.”

You met his gaze, jaw set. “Maybe I’m fine with that.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

The room went quiet. Someone downstairs was playing The Dubliners too loud, and the floor vibrated with the beat. Outside, a siren wailed.

You didn’t look away. “I’ve seen lads half as clever as me do more damage in a week than the army could stop in a month. Don’t tell me I can’t pull my weight.”

Something flickered in his eyes then — not amusement, not approval, something in between.

“You’re stubborn,” he said finally, exhaling smoke.

“Determined.”

“Same thing, sometimes.”

“Not always.”

That earned you a grin — small, fleeting, but real. It made him look almost human for a second.

“You want to help?” he said after a long pause. “Fine. We’ll see if your head’s as sharp as your mouth.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you start small. Messages, errands, keeping your eyes open. You don’t breathe a word of it to anyone, not even your ma. You mess up once, you’re out. You mess up twice, you’re done for good.”

“That it?” you said, tilting your head. “Thought you’d make me swear an oath or something dramatic.”

Brendan smirked around his cigarette. “You’ll get enough drama soon enough.”

He turned to leave, but stopped at the door.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Try not to get yourself killed before you’ve done something useful.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the ghost of a grin.

“No promises.”

When he was gone, you realized your hands had stopped shaking.

Outside, the rain started again — soft at first, then heavier, washing the smoke off the streets.

And for the first time in your life, you felt like you were standing right where you were meant to be.

[bloodhaill]

i am going to go crazy

(gif - boyleblur)

[femdelusion]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WEITE SOMETHING ABOUT ANTHONY BOYLE!!!! Maybe a fic about reader visiting him on the set of house of Guinness??

a/n: not proof read and also sorry it’s shit i’ve been having a hard time writing because i’ve had to switch back to academic science brain but i hope you enjoy anon!

warnings: None, just a little kissing and fluff.

Magic man. That’s what you’d been calling your boyfriend ever since he grew that silly little handlebar mustache for his new role. Though you actually loved it… you’d never admit that. Your heart raced as you made your way to the set they’d be filming at that day. No matter how long you’d been together you never got used to the whole famous thing. All the parties and red carpets and premieres… being in the public eye wasn’t for you right now. But you did enjoy visiting him on set, meeting all his new friends.

You blended right in, wearing the badge he mailed you prior. He was still filming when you got there. You watched on from the side and tried to stay back so you didn’t distract him. But oh he’d definitely noticed. He beelined for you as soon as they broke for lunch. He engulfed you in a hug before pulling away to look at you.

“God, I missed you.” It’d been a while since you’d seen each other since they were filming in London for now, but luckily you were able to get some time off to see him and after a lot of driving and the help of a ferry you were there.

Seeing him up close with his costume on, and his grin below the mustache with those stupidly beautiful canine teeth of his that you thought abut to often to be normal. He looked fucking amazing, you might just have to make yourself more public after the show comes out.

You cleared your throat, “I missed you too… magic man…” You say, trying to cover up that you secretly loved the stache as you held up the lunch you made for him and carefully packed in a cooler.

“You spoil me…” He mumbled, pulling you close to kiss your forehead, he than grabbed your hand and tugged you towards his trailer.

You two ate the food you made and talked about your plans for the rest of the day, interjected with his exclamations about how good the food you’d made was and how he “had” to marry you if you kept cooking like this. You however couldn’t stop staring at that fucking patch of hair above his lip.

He’d noticed you staring… but then he realized the odd path of your gaze, “Are you staring at my mustache…?”

“What…? “ Your eyes immediately shot up to his.

“Oh you cheeky little minx- You know exactly what. You actually love the stache don’t ya?”

Before you could even reply, you two were on the makeshift sofa bed with your lips entangled.

“Mm… what… about… your makeup…” You manage to get out between his barrage of kisses.

“Makeup can be touched up… Did you get enough sleep…?” He knew you had a tendency to neglect your sleep and with the nearly ten hour trip you just had he knew you needed a rest.

You just shrugged and he sighed. “You rest alright…” He sat up and stroked your hair. “I’ll grab you a blanket?”

You nod and let out a soft sigh as you rested your head on the cushion. He grabbed one and draped it over you but by the time he did you were already half asleep.

“Sleep well love…” He murmured, kissing your head before heading back out to set.

[hereforthedark]

I'm quite fond of this particular pose