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peterman-spideyparker · 25 days

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Nightmares (Michael Kinsella x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I've had this in my drafts for a while, and I have the day off today, so I figured I'd post it. I initially wrote this a a Frank Castle fic, but when I was reading it over after I was done, it really seemed to fit Michael better (again, obsessed with this man, and I've only seen the pilot episode of Kin). I hope you guys enjoy! :)

Summary: One of Michael's deepest fears comes to life in a nightmare, and he turns to you for comfort, needing to ground himself.

Warnings: Graphic nightmare (dead dove do not eat--Michael, Anna, and Reader tied up in the woods, Michael having to choose between you and Anna, violence, guns, Reader death in dream), swearing calming down Michael after a nightmare, smut (kissing, fingering, praise, biting/nibbling, p in v unprotected sex) cuddling, talking about fears

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 2,097

He doesn’t know where he is. His in some sort of forest, dead, brown, fragile leaves below him. He hears crying—these terrified sobs and whines of horror. Michael’s eyes shoot up and see you and Anna on your knees, your arms tied around your back with blinding headlights shining behind you. He looks up and sees a man standing behind you both, but he can’t make out their face. What he can distinctly recognize, though, is the gun in his hand.

“Choose!” a gruff voice shouts above the cries of the two people he loves most in the world.

“Let ‘em go!” Michael shouts, straining against the rope on his wrists. “Yer problem seems t’be with me, eh? So cut me loose and fight me.”

“You need to choose, Michael,” the voice says. Why can’t he see his face?

“Ye want me t’choose? Alright, me! I choose me!” he protests. “That’s who ye have a grudge against, right? So let them go and off me!”

"Choose!"

Leave begin to rustle beneath where you kneel, and Michael’s eyes flit over to you in a panic. You stand, your body shaking and tears streaming down your face. You lock eyes with him and mouth “I love you” before you turn around and face the faceless man.

“Let them go,” you tremble. “Hurt me, but spare them.”

“No!” Michael shouts, desperately trying to burst out of his restraints, but they only get tighter.

“She has the courage that you so frequently lack,” the faceless man says as Michael protests and Anna cries in fear.

“Anna, sweetheart, close your eyes,” you beg, doing your best not to cry. “It’ll be okay.”

“No, hey!” Michael shouts. “Let her go! Take me, instead! ‘M beggin you. Please! Please!”

“You could learn a thing or two from her.”

“Mikey, I love—.”

Michael cries out when his happens, the gunshot echoing deafeningly loud in the forest as you fall lifeless in the leaves in front of him. Blood is smeared on your head, spreading like a crimson sheet around you, and all Michael can do is cry before letting out a terrible scream at the top of his lungs.

He shoots up, finding himself in his bedroom, sheets in his lap and sweat sticking to his skin as his chest heaves for air.

“Michael,” you say gently, and he looks over to you with panicked eyes. You’re okay. You're alive. Here, with him, in his bed. “Mikey, it was just a nightmare. It’s okay. Everything’s alright.” You run a gentle, cool hand down his sweaty, burning skin. “Whatever it was wasn’t real. You’re safe.”

Michael lets out a shaky breath, his bleary eyes looking over your form before he leans in and wraps his arms around you, holding you tight and weeping into the crook of your neck.

“I thought I lost ya,” he weeps. “I can’t loose someone else I love. I-I-I can’t loose ya.”

“Oh, Michael,” you breathe, running your hand down the back of his hair. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

Michael matches his breathing with yours, eventually calming down and pulling back to look at you with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Leaning in, Michael kisses you deeply. He knows you’re here in front of him, but something deeper in him is desperate to know that you’re actually here in his bed, that you’re not dead somewhere in the woods like what he saw in his dream. You accept his embrace for a bit, but you start to pull back as he tries to intensify the kiss.

“Michael,” you whisper. “Is this what you want? Or do you want to talk about it?”

“I can’t have someone take ya from me. I need’ya right now, love,” he mutters. “Please, just let me have this.”

“As long as you’re sure,” you nod, leaning back in for a kiss. When your lips meet again, Michael is more aggressive in his embrace, taking charge of how his lips crash against yours and how his tongue slips in deep to explore. He guides you down on the mattress, his hands squeezing into your body as he kisses you desperately, sure to leave little bruises behind. Michael’s lips explore every inch of flesh that they can find, pulling little whimpers of pleasure from you as he does so. Any other day, Michael would drag his kisses down and spend hours between your legs, but he needs to be close to your face. He needs to see the sparkle in your eyes, the flush of your cheeks, the little lines at the corner of your mouth when you smile at him. Leaning back up, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply and rocking into the mattress. His hands grip the sleep shirt of his that’s on your body, sliding it off and tossing it somewhere to the side. You let out a soft moan as your breasts are exposed to the cool morning air, something that Michael happily dips down to kiss, lick, and suck on the pebbling flesh before moving back up and marking up your neck.

“Mikey!” you squeal breathily when he hits the right spot. Your nails dig into the soft flesh of his back, scratching angry lines down his body. Michael growls by your ear, nipping at the love bite before moving his mouth over yours and slip his tongue into your mouth. “Michael . . . baby!”

“I need ya,” he growls. “I need to bury my cock in that tight cunt of yers. Make those pretty sounds fall from yer mouth, make my name the only thing you can remember, stuff ya full.”

“Michael,” you whine.

“Ye want tha? Want me ta stretch ya full? Want my cum in ya?”

“Fuck, Mikey, yes, please!”

“Atta girl,” he coos. “Usin yer words like tha. Such a fuckin good girl fer me.”

Quickly shoving down his boxers, he pushes down the fabric just enough, giving himself a few pumps to make sure he’s nice and hard for you before sliding his hand up your thigh and grabbing onto your underwear. He yanks them clean off of you before fingering you, getting you ready. You cry out, your back arching as he pumps his fingers in and out to spread your slick around before moving back to fist his cock and spread your essence around.

“Ready, pet?” he pants.

“Yes,” you say breathily. “Yes, please!”

He presses a deep, passionate kiss to your lips, a moan pulling from your throat as his tongue explores your mouth before he slides in. Your lips part from one another’s as you cry out into the bedroom at the top of your lungs. You’re wet, sure, but not as wet as you usually are, so taking Michael is a bit more of a challenge. It feels like a tighter fit, and you can feel every cell between your legs as you stretch and try to take him. Michael feels it too, biting his lip before moving to bite your shoulder, which only makes the volume of your cries go louder. Your fingers sink into his back, leaving little crescent mark brands on his skin.

“Fuckin perfect,” he mutters, soothing the sting of his bite with his tongue and lips. “So tight. Such a nice cunt f’me, gripping my cock like tha.”

“Michael,” you whine.

“Say my name.”

“Michael!”

“Again.”

“Michael!”

“Who d’you belong to?”

“Michael!”

His pace moves from something tender and sensual to brutal and unrelenting, but you let him take what he needs until you’re screaming out so loud that you, him, and his neighbors know you’ll have a sore throat for days. You cum hard around his length, your entire body trembling with your orgasm as your mind goes fuzzy and you desperately cling to his body. Michael is like an animal as he ruts into you, chasing his high as he prolongs yours. The scruff of his bread scratches against your neck, and your hand slides up the back of his head to tug at the soft locks. He twists his head so his lips meet yours once more, full of lust, but intrinsically laced with passion and love. You nuzzle into his embrace and he bites his lip as he begins to feel the muscle in the lower abdomen tighten before he spills into you with a low grunt. You lie there, tangled together as a sweaty mess as you try to catch your breath. Languid, tired kisses are exchanged back and forth, and Michael can’t help but get lost in your sparkling eyes and how much he loves you, seeing that same love reflected back to him.

“You’re squishing me a little, Mikey,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss his nose.

“Oh,” he blushes. “Sorry, pet.”

You lean in for a kiss as he starts to pull out, rolling to the side but keeping you in his arms. You settle perfectly into his side, your hand warm on his chest.

“Are you okay, Michael?” you breathe into the dark bedroom, playing with his chest hair as you rest on one another.

“Awful dream,” he admits after a long silence. “Nightmare in every sense of the word. You . . . Ye died. Right in front of m’eyes, and there was nothin’ I could do ta save ya. I-I had ta choose between you an’ Anna, an’ I was beggin’ whoever it was t’take me instead. You stood up and you sacrificed yerself.”

He draws in a sharp, shaky breath between his teeth as you hold him tight.

“Baby, I’m,” you start, and you sound like you’re on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

“I think about it all the time,” he continues. “Ways the both of ye could just be taken from me. What I’d do. How I’d live without either of ya, and . . .” He can’t even fathom a reality where you’re both not in his life. He’s already lost his wife, and there’s not a day that goes by where he doesn’t miss her or think about how different his life would be if she was still here. “I can’t loose either of ya. I think I’d die if I did.”

“No one is gonna take us from you, and I’m not leaving, I promise.”

“But what if it’s not yer choice? What if I fuck up again an—.” He sniffles. “I didn’t think love . . . Fuck, I didn’t think a normal life was in the cards f’me. Everything that’s happened is proof of tha’. An’ now, I’m startin’ to believe again that it might be possible. ‘M afraid it’ll come crashin’ down again like it did.”

“Can I let you in on a secret?” you whisper. He looks up at you through his big brown eyes in a way that you can only describe as something a puppy would do. “I’m mortified of losing you, too. Either you die, or someone runs a red and I get into an accident. I’m terrified of what it’ll be like if we’re not in each other’s lives. But I know that’d it have to be some act of God to separate us.” I lean down and kiss him. “I love you, Michael. Forever and always. And nothing will ever change that.”

He holds you tighter, allowing you to snuggle down on his chest so you can hear his heartbeat loud and clear.

“What if we just run away,” he whispers. It’s not a question to you so much as it is a thought he’s mulled over time and time again. “Start over. Have a new life somewhere where all this shit isn’t weighing down over our heads.”

“Mikey . . .”

“I mean it. We’d be safe anywhere but here.”

“You’d be away from Anna.”

“We’d take her with us.”

“Her life is here, Michael. If she wants to leave, it’s her decision.”

“I just need t’keep ya safe.”

“And you will. No matter where we are in the world, I know you’ll keep us safe.”

“Why d’ya have so much faith in me?”

You turn into him, the tip of your nose brushing against his neck. “Because I love you, and you love me. I know the man that you are, and who you’re working to be. You are a good man, Michael Kinsella. And I love you.”

“You rhyme when you get sappy,” he chuckles softly, giving you a squeeze.

You kiss his shoulder, chuckling. “It was unintentional. But true. And it got you to smile. It’s a win-win.”

Michael pulls the blanket up around your bodies, holding you close and placing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

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#michael kinsella #kin #kin amc #michael kinsella fanfic #michael kinsella fanfiction #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x fem!reader #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella smut #michael kinsella x reader angst #michael kinsella x reader smut #michael kinsella x fem!reader angst #michael kinsella x fem!reader smut

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

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Bella's Masterlist of Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Michael Kinsella, & Daryl Dixon Series & One Shots

I am currently working on multiple series and fics for Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Michael Kinsella, and Daryl Dixon. I've updated my Masterlist so that each link will bring you to a separate, organized Masterlist for each specific character because there are just so many now! There's also some "bonus" characters I write for listed at the bottom of this Masterlist (Henry from Eat Locals, Owen Sleater in the future maybe). Always feel free to chat with me about any of the fics or characters I'm writing for. Y'all know I'm chatty!

I post new fics/updates multiple times a week and all of my stories are available fully on tumblr and my AO3. If you'd like information on my tag lists you can find that here.

**I do not currently accept story requests because I have too many ongoing projects at the moment!**

Masterlist of Matt Murdock Fics and Series

Masterlist of Frank Castle Fics and Series

Masterlist of Michael Kinsella Fics and Series

Masterlist of Daryl Dixon Fics

Additional Characters:

Henry x Fem!Werewolf!Reader Mini Series

Forbidden Love [Installment List]

Pairing: Vampire Henry x Fem!Werewolf!Reader

Warnings/tags: Smut, blood, biting (I mean...that's a given), bit of enemies to lovers, maybe some angst and fluff

After awhile you'd grown used to the vampire who often lurked around the woods you hunted in. Though that didn't mean his irritating presence didn't bother you, or that you didn't wonder why he often seemed to be waiting for you–especially since your kinds weren't meant to intermingle.

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siampie · 22 days

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Finding You||Chapter 3

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings/tags: pinning, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome, mention of emotional abuse, mentions of SA

A/N: Enjoy this chapter, you guys. Comments and reblogs are always welcomed, greatly advised and strongly appreciate.

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Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie, @sunflowersandsapphires, @schneeflocky, @danzer8705, @ebathory997

@shouldbestudying41, @beezusvreeland

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Yawning widely, you stumbled into your kitchen. You had stayed over at Michael’s, well into the night. You spoke of many things and of nothing. You caught yourself too late when you had mentioned your father. Michael had returned the courtesy, briefly mentioning his daughter Anna. But the conservations brought you back to Jamie. Which never failed to bring tears to Michael’s eyes. He tried several times to conceal them, to not let you see. In spite of your telling him that he didn’t need to. Not in front of you.

Standing in your kitchen, you waited for your coffee to brew as you texted your coworker; Bessie; to let her know that you would not come into work today. Thankfully, your company was quite lenient on sick days and did not require a sick note for one to two days of sick leave. Then, you sent a quick email to your manager to let him know, you won’t be in at least for one day.

The shrill sound of your phone ringing snapped you out of your thoughts. You jumped onto the counter and answered the phone. “Hello?” No answer. “Hello?” You said again. Still no answer. You could hear someone breathing on the other end, before the call disconnected. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you felt this knot in your stomach. Checking the number, you noted that it was an international call but not a number you recognized. Judging by the area code, it was from your hometown. The knot in your stomach tightened, your heart started beating wildly. Could this be your mother?

You knew your mother had your address but could she also have your phone number? Knowing your brother, it could be in the realm of possibilities. However, you really hoped you were wrong.

Pulling the strap of your bag on your shoulder, you saw Michael coming back to his house, as you were locking your door.

“Good morning.” You greeted him with a smile.

“Good mornin’.” He smiled back as he stepped closer to you. “Yer goin’ to work?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head quickly. “I’m just going to the shops. I need to grab some things.”

He nodded at your words and then, silence fell upon you. You started to feel awkward, standing there, facing him. He scratched the back of his neck; you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder, growing nervous.

“So, I’m sure this is a stupid question but—how are you?” You asked him.

Michael let out a long breath, the kind that one may let out when they were feeling drained and burdened by life. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Been dealin’ with a lot.”

“Yeah, I can only imagine.” You nodded, in understanding. You knew how crazy the next few days would be for him and his family.

He took a step closer. “Thank ya for stayin’ last night.”

“It was nothing, really.” You shrugged before looking down at your shoes.

“It was everythin'.” Michael replied, you looked back up at his face.

You held his gaze, his hazel eyes drawing you in. You didn’t seem to be able to pull your gaze away from him. The intensity in his gaze made you breathless. You swallowed your saliva, your tongue darted out to wet your lips. His eyes fell on them.

“If you—I mean—uh, if you need anyone to talk to, I’m—right next door.” You stammered out, offering once more.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Michael’s lips twitched up at the corner.

You took a slight step back. You needed to break away from whatever spell he had cast on you. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

He nodded with a small smirk, “Yeah.”

You walked away after waving at him. Michael snorted as he watched you walk away as you shook your head in embarrassment, mumbling to yourself.

Seeing you had made his day better, even if it was brief. Michael had met up with Jimmy earlier for drinks. It was clear that his brother wanted revenge for Jamie. And he understood, he did. But he couldn’t do that. Not if he wanted access to Anna. She was all that mattered to him. The most important person in his life. Although he was angry about Jamie’s death. He, too, wanted revenge for the boy’s death, he just couldn’t get involved. If he did, he would lose Anna too. Jimmy had been angry at his refusal, insisting that it would all be in the name of family.

He understood, he did. But Anna was family too.

Things had not gone better after their meeting with Frank, at Birdy’s house. Frank had wanted Jimmy to sit still and not to do anything. He had made it clear that they couldn’t go against Eamon Cunnigham. Jamie’s death had been an unfortunate mistake, they were going after Eric, he said. Even then, Frank refused to take actions against Eamon and his men. And to add insult to injury, Frank had given his brother a bag of cash to compensate for Jamie’s death. From Eamon. As though money would solve his son's death. Jimmy pissed on the cash and rightfully so. Money wasn’t what Jimmy wanted. Jimmy wanted blood. A life for a life.

A knock sounded on his door, Michael opened the door only to find Frank.

“Listen, Michael,” Frank shut the door behind him. “I know this is absolutely fucking shit for Jimmy and Amanda.”

“It’s wrong, Frank.” Michael agreed.

“But we are gonna get Moore,” Frank continued. “In time. Yeah? It’s like Birdy said, we just need to be patient.”

“And what if it had been Eric killed instead of Jamie?” Michael questioned.

“I’d be sayin’ the exact same thing. But it wasn’t Eric. And Jamie is not your kid, either.” Michael felt anger rose within him. He cast his eyes down on the kitchen counter before leaning on it. “Anna is, though. No court is gonna let you anywhere near her if this family is in a feud.”

“Look, I’m stayin’ out of it.” Michael assured him.

“Yeah,” Frank stepped closer. “And see if you can make sure Jimmy doesn’t do anything—fucking stupid—in the meantime. Can do that?” Michael only hummed in response, nodding his head. “Good.”

Of course, it was on him to keep Jimmy out of trouble. Of course, it was on him to make sure Jimmy didn’t start a war with Eamon Cunnigham. It was a shitty thing for Frank to use his desire to get Anna back against him. Just to make sure he wouldn’t agree with anything that Jimmy would ask of him. He was pissed off that Frank had to remind him, insisting that Jamie wasn’t his. He already knew that. Jimmy was his da, not Michael.

But Jamie was his too.

You sat on your kitchen counter waiting for your dinner to cook. This impromptu rest day had been beneficial to you. You had spent the day in town, enjoying yourself. A day away from work and taking people complaints on the phone. It could be draining at times, so this day was much needed. Even your brief encounter with Michael had somehow been welcomed, although it had been sort of awkward and embarrassing.

“What was that wave for?” You facepalmed yourself, still mortified by it. “That was so dumb.”

Your phone rang next to you. Same number than this morning. You picked up the call, there was breathing on the other side but no words were uttered. “Who are you?” You asked shakily. Still no answer. And before you could ask another question, the call was ended.

You had a terrible feeling about this.

“So, did he?” You were with your sister on the phone.

“Yeah, he did.” Your sister sighed. “But that’s not Mom’s number.”

“Then whose is it?” You asked her, panic rising in your chest.

“I don’t know.” Mary replied.

“I don’t like this, Mary.” You rubbed your face. “They had been calling all day. And every time I pick up, no one’s fucking talking.”

“Come on, babe, don’t go into a panic.” Mary tried to soothe you from across the pond. “Why don’t you block the number? It’s just probably someone prank calling you.”

“I doubt that.” You leaned on the wall behind you. “But yeah, I’ll block the number.” You let out a deep breath. “Do you think it might be him?”

“Who?”

“Her husband.” You said shakily. Your sister remained silent on the other side of the line. Her silence alone was enough to confirm it. You were terrified of the man, you always had been.

“I’m going to kill Dave.” Your sister almost growled on the phone. You snorted. “Or I’ll sent Matt after him.”

“There’s no need but thank you.” You moved to your couch. “But you can tell him that—that—he’s no longer my brother. That he can forget about me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Mary asked you softly. “I mean he’s family and—the kids love you. Especially little Sammy.”

“He doesn’t act like family. And as much as I love the kids, I can’t—” You pushed out a tired sigh. “He knew what he was doing and I can’t forgive him for that.”

“I know. Just—it’s just the four of us now. We are supposed to—I don’t know—be close like we used to. Be a family.”

“Yeah, but we grew up and maybe some of us forgot what that meant.”

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, gotta be.”

Growing up, your father had made sure that you all valued each other; that you would put each other first. Which had made you all very close to one another. You were a knit tight group. But as you had mentioned to your sister, you had all grown up. And unfortunately, some of you had grown apart. You always had this fantasy that all four of you would spend countless dinners together with your children and spouses. And that was all it was, a fantasy.

Priorities changed with adulthood, you had your jobs, your own family. You couldn’t prioritize each other anymore. And you understood that, you did. However, it didn’t mean that your brother could just go behind your back and betray your wishes in the way he did.

You were still family though. Was it really worth it to cut all ties with him? Even if it meant you would no longer have access to his children, including your goddaughter.

You blocked the number as you said you would. And just in case, your sister had given you your mother’s number so, you could block it too. Before the phone calls, you were sure that your mother and her husband would not show up at your doorstep. But now, you weren’t so sure anymore.

You woke in the middle of the night. And there it was standing at the foot of your bed, a faceless and shadowy figure. You tried to scream but no sound came out. You tried to move but you were paralyzed. The shadowy figure walked up to your bed, tears pressed against your eyes, your heart was racing underneath your ribcage, breathing was becoming hard. As though something was pressing down on it. The shadowy figure was no longer faceless. You recognized him. You knew him. You tried to scoot away from him as he stood over you with a smile on his face. Again, your body refused to obey to you. He moved his arm to pet your hair—

You gasped for air as your eyes snapped open. You sat up quickly, cradling your chest, feeling it rose as you took deep breaths. You switched on the lamp on your beside table. There was no one in your room with you. You were alone. Still, this knowledge wasn’t enough to reassure you. Your heart did not slow down. You got out of bed quickly. Rushed down the stairs, checking that your front door was still locked. And it was. You pushed down the doorknob four times, making sure it was in fact, locked. You even went as far as looking around your house, switching all the lights on, you looked in every room. Looking into closets and under the beds.

No one.

Eventually, your heart went back to a normal rate. You switched off the lights but you left the television on. Low volume. You laid down on your couch, you couldn’t go back to sleep in your bed. Not after this horrible nightmare. It looked too real. It had felt too real and it was fucking with your head. Although, you knew there was no one, you still looked around in fear.

You stared at the ceiling, praying for sleep to come. You were going back to work in the morning. And you didn’t want to deal with the lack of sleep on top of it all.

The television cast a blue soft glow over the room, the sounds acting as white noise. Your eyes drifted to the wall behind your couch. What was Michael doing at this hour? Probably sleeping, unlike you. You took a deep breath and turned on your side. Your back to the television, your face buried in the cushions, it was stupid, you thought to yourself. To seek comfort in someone that was on the other side of this very wall.

Was it wrong of you to want comfort and reassurance from Michael Kinsella? Maybe, it didn’t matter who was really offering it. Maybe, you just wanted someone to be there. Someone to put their arms around you, to make you feel safe.

And yet, it was Michael’s arms you pictured around you as you fell asleep. It was his voice you imagined, whispering words of reassurance.

As dangerous as Michael may be, it would never be worse than your stepfather.

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#michael kinsella fic #michael kinsella #michael kinsella x fem! reader #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella angst #angst #kin rte #kin amc

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psychedelic-ink · 2 years

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CHARLIE COX CHARACTERS | COLLECTION

* i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, reposted or translated (without my knowledge)

TV SHOWS & MOVIES MASTERLIST

Characters Listed A - Z

Here you'll find all of my fics of the characters portrayed by Charlie Cox <3

🔮 personal favorite || ☔️ smut || 🤧 angst || 🧁 fluff || 🩸 dark content

MATT MURDOCK.

ONESHOTS.

Limerence - Matt Murdock x fem!reader 🩸🤧☔️🔮

“He could hear things happening a mile away, smell the hint of gunpowder before any shot was taken, you couldn’t run from him. Not as long as you lived in Hell’s Kitchen.”

If by chance - Matt murdock x fem!reader 🔮☔️

“you’ve been listening to him for months and one day, you finally meet him in person.”

Two Birds - Matt Murdock x fem!reader 🧁

“when you see a blind man head into an alleyway, you chase after him, assuming he’s lost. How were you supposed to know he would begin to climb up the building like a freaking goat?”

According to you- Matt Murdock x fem!reader 🔮☔️🤧

When you’re distraught by the things your boyfriend keeps on telling you, Matt, sensing your mood shift, offers you a shoulder to lean on and invites you over. When you finally open up to him and tell him what’s been happening, he’s furious. So he takes it upon himself to convince you that everything your “boyfriend” says is utter bullshit.

DRABBLES.

Untitled - Matt Murdock x fem!reader ☔️🔮

❝did i say you could speed up? fuck me slowly like a good [chosen term] or i’ll make you stop completely.❞

Untitled 2 - Matt Murdock x fem!reader ☔️

❝ sit still at my feet and be a good [chosen term] until i’m finished working. if you make a noise without permission or move before i say so, i will add more time. do you understand? ❞

Midnight Love - Matt Murdock x gn!reader 🤧

❝ i don’t think i’m the best person for you, i don’t. but i do know i’m the one that can keep you safe ❞

No Romeo - Matt Murdock x fem!reader 🤧

matt leaves you for electra.

MICHAEL KINSELLA.

DRABBLES.

Untitled - Michael Kinsella x fem!reader ☔️🔮

❝ come here. sit in my lap and tell me what you want, [chosen term for sub]❞

Ends of the Earth - Michael Kinsella x gn!reader 🧁

You know what’s happening but you can't stop it.

The world begins to shift around you, the walls of your shared apartment with Michael swirling, something is squeezing your heart as it painfully beats in your chest and your chest heaves. You stagger forward as you try to reach the couch but you can’t feel your legs nor your arms.

Moments - Michael Kinsella x fem!reader 🧁

michael kinsella taking reader out on a dinner date

OWEN SLEATER.

DRABBLES.

Painkillers - Owen Sleater x fem!reader ☔️🔮

"Owen has you laying on your stomach, your ass raised and his hand pressing down against the small of your back. It hurts, it hurts but it feels so good."

Pleaser - Owen Sleater x gn!reader 🧁

"Owen’s fingers graze upon the frame of your body. A subtle shiver runs up your spine as his lips find the crook of your neck, decorating your skin with soft, open mouthed kisses. You love this. Just laying with him, feeling each other’s presence, away from the chaos that lurks outside. He feels the goosebumps on your skin, humming as his hands travel down to your stomach. "

Fashion Drunk - Owen Sleater x fem!reader 🧁

"You flinch at first but the sense of relief immediately washes over you when you realize who the sultry voice belongs to; Owen Sleater."

EAT LOCALS HENRY.

DRABBLES.

Cherry - Henry x fem!reader ☔️🧁

The thick ropes dig into your skin as you look up from where you were seated. Henry, sits you down on a dusty, gross looking couch. He stands right across from you, gobbling you up with his mere gaze as he lights a cigarette that lays between his lips. Your pulse quickens, a sheer sweat coating your skin while you press your thighs together. Quickly averting your eyes, you swallow, breath stuttering as you try not to think about how his gaze burns you.

TRISTAN THORN.

DRABBLES.

Paper Crown - Tristan thorn x fem!reader 🧁

"Due to your excitement you forgot one very important thing to bring to your date.

A coat. "

#matt murdock x reader #owen sleater x reader #michael kinsella x reader #charlie cox characters #tristan thorn x reader #demonetized

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siampie · 1 month

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Finding You||Chapter 2

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3 k

Warnings/tags: pinning, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome, mention of emotional abuse.

A/N: Enjoy this chapter, you guys. I don’t have much to say about this chapter. Apart from the fact that there’s some set up for Reader’s own story.

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Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie, @sunflowersandsapphires, @schneeflocky, @danzer8705, @shouldbestudying41,

@beezusvreeland

Dividers by @cafekitsune

I have to talk to you, call me.

That was all what your sister;Mary;had texted you. She had sent it last night while you were sleeping. You couldn’t call her that morning. Not being in the same time zone made communication between you difficult but not impossible. It had also triggered your anxiety. What did she want to talk about? Maybe it was nothing too important. You were trying to convince yourself. A feeble attempt to calm your nerves.

Still, you were anxious. You usually called one another on the week-ends. And you never asked to call. It was never a thing. That she went out of her way to ask you to call was strange and worrisome. So being in a different time zone than your sister, you waited for your lunch break to call her.

“So, how’s life in Dublin?” You sister asked you once she picked up the call. You stood outside of the building. Your sister was finishing feeding her son his breakfast as you were calling her.

“Good.” You answered quickly. “How’s the little one?” You knew what she was doing, she was stalling. Whatever she had to say must be really bad if she felt the need to stall. So, you played into it. But the fact that she was stalling only spiked your anxiety levels.

“He’s growing up.” She said, you could hear the smile in her voice. Your sister had always wanted to be a mother and after years of trying with her partner, she became one to a healthy little boy. You were happy for her. “But it always seems like he’s trying to get himself killed.”

You snorted. “It seems like he’s failing so far.” You heard the clatter of utensils on the line. “Why did you want me to call?”

“Oh, boy!” You sister let out a long breath. “It’s about mom.”

“What about her?” You let out a shaky breath.

“Dave may have told her where you live. Giving her your address and everything.” Mary told you.

Dave was your brother. You did not have a good relationship with him. You didn’t hate him but he had failed to show up anytime you asked for his help. While you showed up each and every single time. And he sometimes had the audacity to blame you for being ungrateful for all that he was doing for you. You could not be grateful for something he had never done or that he done once in a blue moon. Whereas he failed to see all the times you had helped him.

He had not been in favor of your moving away. Judging that the money that your father had left you, should be shared amongst you. Because that was what your father would have wanted; for you to share the money equally. But you had refused. You were going to but the fact he suggested the idea. No, not suggested. Demanded that you do it, had made you decide otherwise. You chose to enjoy the money your father had left for you. Mary and Matthew had found it natural that your father would leave that money to you. You had earned it for all the sacrifices you had made for them.

After all, your sacrifices had allowed them to move out, to live their lives. It had allowed them to fall in love and build their own home and family. While you remained behind, taking care of your father, and maybe wasting your life away. They knew what you had done for them. And all they wanted was for you to finally be happy. This money was your reward. And you could do with it as you pleased.

You felt your anger flared up in your veins. You took a deep breath before you spoke. Trying to leave the anger out of your tone. Your sister was not the one who betrayed your trust. She was only the messenger. And you didn’t want to yell at her. Not at your sister.

“What the hell did he do that for?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “All he said was that mom asked and he saw no reason not to tell her.”

“Look, I get why all of you want a relationship with her. I do. But I told you, I don’t want to have a relationship with the woman.” You reminded her.

“I know that.” Mary reassured you. “And Matt knows that. And so does Dave. And honestly, I don’t know why he did that. But you’re in Ireland. She’s not gonna show up on your doorstep. You really think she’s gonna waste money on you?”

“No, I don’t think she will.” You replied, leaning on the wall behind you. “Still, I don’t want her to know where I am. She’s still with that prick, isn’t she?”

“They’ve been together for twenty years. And there’s no sign of a separation. They are more in love than ever.”

You scoffed. “Of course they are.”

“Listen, I don’t think they are gonna come and find you in Ireland. And why would they?” Mary tried to comfort you.

“To stir shit up.” You replied.

“I think she genuinely wants to have a relationship with you. And I know, you don’t. And Dave was wrong to give her your address.” Mary kept on. “I don’t think she’s going to show up, I just needed you to know.”

That gave you pause. “You don’t think she’s going to show up. But you needed me to know that she knew where I was?”

“Yeah—just in case.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Just in case. Yeah, she’s definitely showing up. With her boyfriend.”

“Husband.” Your sister corrected you.

“Fantastic.” You said dryly. “Remind me again why I decided not to go no contact with Dave?”

“Your goddaughter.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course.” Your sister breathed out. “What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t?”

“The bad kind.” You joked softly. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“Say it back.” You frowned up.

“Talk to you later.” And she hung up. You immediately texted back a middle finger emoji.

You laughed when she texted it back to you. You dropped your head back against the wall.

Your mother had left when you were a child. And immediately after leaving your father, she had found love in the arms of her new husband. After years of emotional abuse, and manipulation on her part, of constant walking in and out of your life, you put a stop to it. You couldn’t go through this anymore. It was too painful. Plus, you hated her new husband. He was—he was not good. You had tried to accept him. You wanted to. But something about him, the way he behaved around you, made you afraid and unsafe. You couldn’t have that in your life. You didn’t want to feel that way anytime you were around your mother. You stopped any attempt at having a relationship with her. You no longer wanted her in your life.

Hopefully, your sister was right, your mother would not make the journey to Ireland. You were hoping for it at least. Your life was finally getting together. You were at peace here in Ireland and you wanted it to stay that way.

As soon as you got home, you discarded your shoes by the door, dropped your bags by the couch and fell into it. That day had turned out to be a long one. You loved hearing from your sister but you had regretted to call her at all. Especially with the bit of news she had given you. You should have stayed in bed this morning. Although, if you had—you would not have met your quite handsome neighbor.

Your mind flashed back to his soft hazel eyes, and the lone dimple that appeared under his beard when he smiled. Quite handsome, indeed.

“Damn it!” You cussed. “He’s a criminal. A drug lord and a murderer. You can’t find him attractive.”

You shouldn't and you wouldn't. He was a Kinsella and they were dangerous people. You needed to stay away from him.

Dressed in grey leggings and a large hoodie, you were enjoying your small diner in front of mind-numbing TV. When the red and blue lights flashed through your front windows. The Garda were down your streets. Shortly after they arrived, you heard the heart wrenching wail of a woman down the street. You slowly put your plate down. What had happened? You knew by the sound of that scream that terrible news had just been delivered.

The flashes of blue and red had vanished a while after that. You were lying in bed, hopelessly trying to fall asleep. But your thoughts could not just stop swirling around in your mind. Jimmy and Amanda had lost their son; Jamie Kinsella. The local news had broadcasted the news on their websites. It was brief and they didn’t have much information. But all of them relayed the same information over and over again. Jamie Kinsella had been shot and died on the scene.

You couldn’t help the sadness that taken over you when you read the news. He was barely seventeen. Too young to die. He was just a child. You knew how it felt to lose a parent. It was painful and heartbreaking. In your case, you had time to say goodbye and come to terms with it. It was a loss; it was painful but not in the way the world perceived it. You had known it was coming. And you had already mourned your father before it ever happened. You had expected it.

As for Jamie, it was unexpected. It was so sudden and brutal. How did one prepare for such a death? How did one prepare for the loss of a child? It was not the natural order of things. That was not how it was supposed to go. A parent should never have to bury a child. And yet, it happened.

Why were you affected by it? Yes, it was sad. A young life had just ended but you barely knew him. It shouldn’t bother you that much. It shouldn’t affect you as it did. Your thoughts inevitably drifted to your neighbor next door. How was he feeling? How was he coping with the loss? Was he over at his brother’s to bring his support? Or was he alone in his home dealing with the loss on his own? No one should be alone when dealing with a loss. You knew how terrible it was to receive no comfort. To just stew in your own pain, alone.

Seeing as you couldn’t sleep, you had moved downstairs. You quietly made your way into your kitchen, looking for something that may help you fall asleep. The gold door light of your neighbor was filtering through your large window. Against the dimmed light, you could make out the silhouette of a woman walking away from Michael’s house. It was too dark out for you to be able to tell who it was. You watched as she disappeared behind the brick wall.

It must have been hard on all of them. Especially after they had all celebrated Michael’s release from prison. And now this. The tragic loss of a child. You could only imagine how Jimmy and Amanda were feeling. And Michael—

You took a deep breath and grabbed your keys off of the hook. You stepped out of the front door, in the chill air of the night. After you locked your door, you hugged yourself to keep warm and made your way to your neighbor’s door. You two had just met and this was probably bold of you to assume. But you thought that he might not want to be alone to face this. And maybe you were wrong. Maybe Michael did not mind being alone. That thought alone made you hesitate. Still, you made your way over to his doorstep. Your fist hovered for a few seconds. Hesitating. With another deep breath, you knocked three times. And you waited. You were growing more nervous as the seconds went by. You hugged yourself tighter. The door swung open revealing Michael behind it.

“Michael, hey.” You greeted him. Shoulders slumped, eyes red from crying, Michael looked tired and pained. Although, he tried and failed to hide it all behind a mask. “I saw the Guards earlier—” You went for the direct approach. And mentally slapped yourself for it.

“So, ya know about Jamie?” He nodded solemnly.

“I do.” You nodded. “I just came to see if you were—how you were doing?”

He scoffed, his sorrowful gaze dropping to the ground. “Not great.”

You puffed out a shaky breath. “I don’t mean to intrude or—” You trailed off. “Do you want to be alone?” You questioned him. His eyes snapped up at you. His brows scrunched up in confusion. His eyes roamed your face, studying you. “I know what it’s like to be alone when you lose someone.” You blurted out. “It’s not great but—if you’d rather be alone—” You trailed off.

His sorrowful eyes scanned you over. Studying you. You had surprised him. He clearly did not expect his neighbor that he barely met, to come to him in the middle of the night. Especially not to offer him comfort. Comfort that he desperately needed. Birdy had told him that he needed to be there for Jimmy and Amanda. Amanda had asked him what were Jamie’s last moments like. And for all of them, he had shown a brave face. He had stood strong but he was there too. He had seen it all. And no one had stopped to ask how he was feeling—except for you. His gaze roamed your face, he noticed how you tightened your arms around your middle.

He cleared his throat. “D’ya—want to come in?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. Michael stepped to the side to let you in.

So much for staying away from the criminal next door. There you were, in his home in the middle of night. The layout of his home was almost identical to yours for the most part, kitchen by the front door. The hallway that led to the living room. You left your slippers by the front door and followed Michael to the sitting room. He sat down in his couch as you stood by the doorway. Putting a semblance of distance between you.

“I was there,” Michael said after a few minutes of silence.

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words before your eyes fell shut. Pained to hear that he had seen it happened. He looked up at you, grief etched into every line of his face.

“He was laughin’, messin’ around and then—he was just gone.” Michael said quietly. His face crumpled as a set of fresh tears fell down his face. His hand quickly wiped away any traces of them.

“I’m so sorry you had to see it.” You said quietly, tears pressing against your eyes.

“He was just a boy.” Michael continued quietly.

“I know.” You were itching to reach over and just pull him into your embrace. Would he even allow it?

“Birdy told me I need to be there for Jimmy and Amanda.” His voice cracked. “Losin’ their son and everythin’. But—I—I lost him too.” He buried his face into his hands. “Jamie was—” His voice muffled by his hands. You waited for him to finish his thought but it never came as a sob racked his body.

You quickly wiped away a stray tear from your face. You moved to go sit down next to him. Your arms slowly and gently wrapped around him. And pulled him into you. His hands went up to your forearm, around his neck. You leaned your cheek on the top of his head. Whispering words of comfort as he wept. You probably had overstepped boundaries here. But what were you supposed to do? This was the only way you knew how to bring comfort.

Your ran your hand on his back in a soothing circle. When he seemed to have calm down, he pulled gently away from you. Your arms fell back at your sides. He ran his hand over his face, erasing the tears that had fallen there.

“Sorry.” He apologized as he did so.

“Don’t be.” You shook your head. “It’s okay.” You started to run your hands on your thighs, in a nervous manner. “I just—I’m so sorry about Jamie.”

Michael nodded solemnly; his eyes red from crying. He rested his hand on your knee. Your breath hitched in your throat at the gesture. Your eyes went to his face. He was staring at you, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Thank you,” He said. “For askin’ and for—bein’ here.”

“Ah.” You nodded, smiling softly. “I have no merit. I was just doing my neighborly duties.”

“Is that it?” Michael retorted his voice still thick with emotions. He cleared his throat. “Is that why you here?”

You shrugged. “Like I said, I know how it feels like to lose someone and have no one there with you; to comfort you. When you desperately need it. It feels very—”

“Lonely.” He finished for you.

“Yeah.” You stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds. “And should you need a shoulder to cry on again—I’m right next door. Whenever you need.”

He squeezed your knee gently, as tears welled back up in his eyes. A warm smile made its way onto his face. You had meant it. You probably shouldn’t have offered but you couldn’t help yourself. Michael Kinsella had looked so broken and so pained; it was hard to not offer comfort when he needed it. You knew too well, what it was like to not receive any when you needed it. And Michael needed it.

You just really hoped you had helped a little.

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#michael kinsella fic #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x fem! reader #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella #comfort #kin rte #kin amc #kin bbc

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siampie · 4 months

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Chapter List for Finding You

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains smut, parental death, grief, idiots in love, angst, fluff, eldest daughter syndrome.

After your father passed and after sorting out his affairs, you made the move to Dublin, Ireland. You were happy to have found a two-story house at a cheap price. You didn’t think much of it. And then you realized why the price was so low, you were living next door to the notorious Kinsella Clan. A knit tight family that dealt in all sorts of crimes. And had made headlines a few times. It went from murder to drug dealings. Upon learning this, you made yourself as scarce as possible. You kept your interactions with the Kinsellas as little as possible. You kept away from them, and they seemed to keep away from you too. Not having the means to move out of this neighborhood, you took it in stride and lived your life despite your proximity to the Kinsellas. You made sure not to be seen by them and kept out of their way. That was until your next-door neighbor; Michael Kinsella; is released from jail and moves back into his home. You’ve sworn to yourself to stay away from him. You knew what he'd done to his wife. You knew why he had been in jail for eight years. And yet, you find yourself drawn to your quiet and dangerous neighbor.

List of Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 (Coming Soon)

#michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x fem! reader #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella smut

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siampie · 4 months

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Siampie's Masterlist of Michael Kinsella Fics

Michael Kinsella x Fem! Reader Series

Finding You [Chapter list]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains smut, parental death, grief, idiots in love, angst, fluff, eldest daughter syndrome.

#michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x fem! reader #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fic #michael kinsella smut

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bellaxgiornata · 2 months

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Safe Haven [Chapter Seventeen]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.9k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: Finally y'all get the other part of the night after that meeting with Birdy, Frank, and Jimmy! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @shiorimakibawrites @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattmurdocksstarlight @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @theetherealbloom @24hflower @mattmurdocksscars @schneeflocky @the-nursery @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @danzer8705 @mattys-rat1989 @kezibear

Arms wrapped tight over your chest, you began to make your way down the drive as the bitter wind blew around you. Behind you, you heard the sound of Michael closing Birdy's front door before his heavy footsteps soon caught up with you along the pavement. Your anticipation of an angry outburst from him only rose with each thump of his boots, the hammering of your heart pounding in sync with them.

“What were ya thinkin’ goin’ out like that alone, Grace?” Michael hissed out between his teeth as he fell in step beside you. “D'ya have any idea how reckless that was? How close ya could've been to gettin’ yourself killed tonight?”

You blew out a rough breath in frustration, your eyes focused on your own feet as you walked. Of course you were aware of how stupid and dangerous it had been for you to meet that Serpent alone, but you hadn't really had another option. And it certainly wasn't like you wanted to go to that meeting, either.

Glancing over your shoulder, you took in the sight of Michael beside you. Despite the way the tension had eased from his body and the way the fire had mostly left his eyes once he'd gotten away from his family, you could still see the fear and anger lingering in them as the lights from the Garda car parked farther down the street lit him in a wash of blue and red.

“Of course I damn well know that it was dangerous,” you told him. “But I didn't have a choice. He knows who I am. And not only that, but Birdy was the one to see him leaving the letter to meet him in my sister’s letterbox , Michael. Meaning he knows where both her and I live. What was I supposed to do?” you asked, irritation in your own voice. “Was I just supposed to ignore the letter and put my sister in danger? Because that seemed like the far more reckless and stupid option.”

“No, I wouldn't expect ya to just ignore it,” he snapped back, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “But ya saw me before ya were headin’ out. Ya should’ve damn well said somethin’ to me! Ya shouldn't have dealt with this alone!”

“It was my problem to deal with!” you snapped back, keeping your voice low so as not to draw attention from the Garda. “I didn't come to Dublin expecting help with my situation! And I'm sure as shit glad I didn't say anything to you because I'm sure that Serpent would've happily shot you on sight if you'd come with me tonight!”

Michael loosed an irritated grunt at your words as he followed you up your sister’s drive. Her car was parked in front of the house and the sight of it shot a pang of guilt through you. You'd told her you were going out to work at a coffee shop before her shift at the hospital ended, and that had been quite awhile ago now. With everything that had happened tonight, you'd forgotten to let her know that you were alright. She was probably worried about you by now, wondering what coffee shop was open quite this late at night.

“I can take care of myself,” Michael said, his tone sharp. “It isn't your job to look out for me.”

Your teeth grit together as your hand dug into your pants pocket, feeling for the key to Megan's house as the pair of you approached the front door. As much as you'd felt safe with Michael lately, your situation wasn't his to take on. Especially with what he already had going on with his family and his health. You weren't going to dump your problems onto him, too.

“Well it isn't your job to look out for me, either,” you shot back. “I'd been doing just–just fine on my own for years, Michael. I don't need you or your family risking your lives for me.” Your hand shook as you inserted the key into the lock, intentionally keeping your focus away from him. “I don't need anymore people’s lives weighing on my conscience.”

You twisted the door handle with more roughness than necessary, pushing the door open and eager for a chance to get away from Michael’s wrath for the night. You just wanted to end this shitty day already, but his hand darted out and grabbed you by the wrist, halting you in place on the front step. Your head turned sharply in his direction, prepared to tell him to leave you alone tonight, but the unexpected softness on his face immediately gave you pause.

“Grace, I–”

“Oh my God ,” Megan's voice rang through the house, cutting Michael clean off. “You've been gone for hours! Where the hell have you been? I was starting to get–”

Megan appeared around the corner from the kitchen and immediately stopped dead in her tracks when she saw you. Her eyes darted from you to Michael and then straight to the bandage on your forehead. Her mouth fell open as her eyes grew wide.

“What the hell happened?” she asked you. Her panicked gaze shifted to Michael before you could even answer as she roughly demanded, “What the hell happened to her? Why is she coming home with a bandage?”

“Nothing to worry yourself about,” you grumbled as you stepped into the house, slipping loose from Michael’s grasp before you began to take off your boots. “So leave him out of it.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Megan’s face contort into something stern as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her hardened stare fixed on Michael as he stepped inside the house a moment later, closing the door softly behind himself. Inwardly you braced yourself for another outburst–this time from your sister.

“Like hell I'm leaving him out of this!” she exclaimed, throwing a hand in his direction. “I’m not stupid, Grace. I know you weren’t at a coffee shop writing tonight. You don’t even have your laptop with you! And then you come home late with a bandage on your forehead that I damn well know wasn’t there the last time I saw you! So what the hell is going on? How’d you get hurt? And one of you better fucking answer me with the damn truth!”

“A low ranking Serpent discovered who I actually am,” you said with a sigh, pulling your last boot off of your foot. “He left a message for me to meet with him tonight in the letterbox. Birdy saw him. I didn’t exactly have a choice to not go considering what he already knew. I didn't want to worry or involve you which is why I said I’d be at the coffee shop.”

Megan immediately sucked in a sharp breath, her entire body freezing. For a moment the only sound was Michael behind you, slowly taking his own boots off. Apparently he wasn’t done reprimanding you for the evening.

“So does that mean you need to leave again? Find somewhere new to hide?” she breathed out, her body still stiff. “Is he telling the entire charter? Is Victor on his way?”

You shook your head, running a tired hand along your forehead, careful to avoid the wounded side of it. Everything was finally beginning to catch up to you from today, your body starting to feel completely exhausted from all the stress and fear. You just wanted to collapse on your bed and maybe–if you were lucky–fall into a dreamless sleep where you could forget about absolutely everything for just a short while.

“I’m not leaving, not just yet,” you assured her, brushing past her and making your way down the hall to the sitting room. “He’s after something else and he’s just trying to threaten me with calling in Victor for now.”

“And is that supposed to make me feel any better?” she asked, following closely on your heels. “What could he possibly want from you?”

You sunk into the cushions of the sofa, your body aching as you did. As your attention shifted towards your sister, you spotted Michael entering the room just over her shoulder. He leant against the doorframe to the sitting room, hanging his head almost shamefully as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Me,” Michael muttered. “He wants me.”

Megan’s brows arched up onto her forehead in surprise, her head turning over her shoulder to focus on Michael curiously.

“I can’t give ya any details–family business and all,” he explained, his voice quiet. “But he’s after me. It’s my fault he’s after your sister, that he even knows who she is.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you shook your head. “No, that’s not true,” you disagreed. “He’s after me because of my psychotic ex. This has nothing to do with you.”

Michael’s head rose, his sad eyes meeting yours from across the room. The frustration you’d felt towards him a few minutes ago quickly dissipated at the sight of the pain visible on his face.

“But he was the one tailin’ us after I took ya out for coffee, wasn’t he? That’s how he found out ‘bout ya, isn’t it?” Michael pressed. “He was after me and found ya in the process. So it's my fault he knows who ya really are.”

You pulled a face immediately, your mouth opening to counter his argument. But Megan held out her hands, the gesture quieting both of you.

“Let's not turn this into a battle of who's to blame,” she said, turning her focus back on you. “So the problem stands that someone in the nearby charter knows you’re Victor’s ex and that you’re here. What the hell is being done about that? Because I’m guessing you’re not about to give up your boyfriend to the MC.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you corrected her, your cheeks heating as you avoided Michael’s stare. “And yes, something is being figured out. Like I said, you don’t need to worry about anything right now. I’ll handle it, okay? But honestly after tonight, all I want to do is go to sleep. I’m fucking tired and I just…don’t want to think anymore. It’s late.”

“Fine,” Megan relented. “But are you okay?”

“Yes,” you assured her.

Megan’s eyes narrowed at you before she turned, focusing on Michael across the room. She threw a thumb in your direction and you rolled your eyes when she spoke.

“Is she really alright?” she asked him.

“Took a good hit to the head with the butt of a gun,” he told her, pausing when Megan let out a hiss. “But I think she’s alrigh’ despite that. Though I…was plannin’ on offerin’ to stay the night here if ya didn’t mind, Megan. Sleep on the sofa down here just to make sure that Serpent doesn’t show back up in the middle of the night or anythin’.” A sheepish smile crossed his lips as he added quietly, “I’d feel better knowin’ ya weren’t both here alone.”

“You know, I’d probably actually feel better if you stayed here too after finding all this out,” Megan told him. “So it’s fine by me. I can try to find some more comfortable pillows–”

“What’s there is already fine,” he assured her. “I don’t need anythin’ more, really.”

“Okay, well,” Megan began awkwardly, her eyes darting between you and Michael as she took a step back towards the staircase. “I’ll just go get ready for bed now that you’re finally home safe. I’ve got another early shift in the morning tomorrow.”

Michael nodded his head, smiling at her and murmuring a soft ‘goodnight.’ You watched as your sister made her way quietly up the stairs, shooting you a curious last glance over her shoulder before she disappeared from sight. And then it was just you and Michael in the room.

A silence fell over the pair of you as he remained standing over by the sitting room entrance. Your gaze fell to your hands nervously fidgeting in your lap, aware of the weight of the gun in your jacket pocket once again. Most likely in a few days you’d have to use it. And you certainly hoped you could, when the time came for it.

“I think I’m just going to head to bed,” you eventually said, breaking the silence when it started to feel suffocating.

“Alrigh’,” Michael replied softly.

For the second time this evening you felt your stomach sink to your feet as you rose from the sofa. You were certain you’d somehow gone and messed things up with Michael when you’d lied to him about where you were going earlier and he’d found out. He'd certainly seemed pissed at you for that.

But maybe that’s for the best, you told yourself as you made your way up the stairs. Maybe I shouldn’t get attached. If I need to run again soon, feelings would just make that harder.

Gasping for air, you woke up with a cold sheen of sweat covering your skin. Your eyes flew around the mostly darkened bedroom as you tried to orient yourself while your heart thundered away in your chest. Fear spiking within you at the lingering memory of his voice in your ear, you swore you could feel the cold blade of a knife pressed to your stomach.

Feeling like the bedsheets themselves were trying to hold you down, you began wildly flailing in an attempt to throw them off of you, swinging your arms and feet as you tried to free yourself. A few tears slipped out of your eyes as you did, your panicked mind still replaying threats on repeat.

It was a few moments before you’d finally untangled yourself from the sheets, scrambling backwards against the headboard and sitting upright. Your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath, the back of your hand running along your sweat-dampened forehead gently.

“Just a nightmare,” you whispered to yourself. “Not real. He’s not here.”

But he’s looking for you. And this time he’s probably going to do more than add another scar if he finds you.

Bottom lip rolling between your teeth, your right hand reached down, sliding the hem of your shirt upwards a little. You lightly brushed your fingertips over the three gashes on your abdomen that had scarred over. A brand to your skin that you’d never be able to remove, permanently marking you as his . A strangled noise slipped out of you and you clamped your teeth down harder, trying to quiet the sound.

“Grace?”

You audibly gasped as your head spun towards the sound of your name, your pulse speeding at the fear of an intruder. But in the faint light filtering in past your curtains, you could make out the sight of Michael standing halfway in the doorway, a look of concern etched across his features.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya,” he whispered. “Just thought I heard somethin’ from downstairs and I figured I’d make sure things were alright’.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, quickly lowering your shirt. “Just had a bad dream but I’m fine.”

The bedroom door swung open just a bit wider and you watched as Michael stepped slowly into the bedroom. The corners of your lips curved downwards as you continued to try to calm your breathing. If he was up here to lecture you again, you certainly weren’t interested in hearing it.

“D’ya wanna talk ‘bout it?” he offered.

“No,” you answered simply.

Michael nodded, taking another hesitant step into the bedroom and closing the door partially behind himself as he did. His other hand ran over the back of his neck as he ducked his head. You watched him wordlessly, drawing your legs up towards your chest.

“‘M’sorry ‘bout the way I went off on ya earlier,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that. Ya were scared and tryin’ to do what ya thought was right. But ya…ya scared me, if I’m bein’ honest.”

Your tongue darted out, licking your lips nervously. That was not what you’d expected to hear him say after the way things had played out earlier.

“If somethin’ had happened to ya–especially because o’ me–I don't think I could forgive myself,” he murmured, shifting back and forth on his feet as he focused on the bedroom floor.

“I told you already, it wasn't your fault,” you replied.

“Except it is,” he stated firmly, glancing up at you through the darkness. “That Serpent is lookin’ for a way to get to me. To kill me . And unfortunately you're gettin’ dragged into all my shit because of the things I did. And I can't forgive myself for that.”

You hugged your arms around your knees, guilt flooding you as you pulled them tighter to your chest. You realized that he had probably reacted the way he had tonight because of the accident which had resulted in his ex-wife's passing. Something he didn't know you knew about yet. It made sense then why he was so determined to protect you, and why he refused to let you be the one to take the risk killing the Serpent. He didn’t want your death on his conscience, either. Because it was apparent he'd find a way to blame himself for it no matter what.

“How about we both agree this mess is a combination of both of our problems?” you suggested quietly.

“I would, but the difference is that I actually did things to deserve to be in this mess,” Michael told you. “Whereas ya didn't do anythin’ to deserve the fuckin’ shitty situation your ex has put ya in.”

“Okay,” you said, shooting him a sad smile, “I think I agree with what Megan said earlier. Let's not play the blame game. Pointing fingers at ourselves won't change the situation anyway.”

“Mmm,” Michael hummed. “I s'pose ya got a point.”

Another silence fell between the pair of you, though this one was vastly less uncomfortable than the previous one in the sitting room. You chewed your lip nervously as Michael stood beside your bed, his eyes clearly focused on you through the dark. His presence was beginning to soothe you the longer he stayed and you soon found yourself not wanting him to go back downstairs. Especially not after that nightmare. Despite your better judgment, you found yourself wanting to ask for what you really wanted for once.

“Can I…ask you a favor?” you whispered.

“Always,” Michael replied immediately.

Eyes falling down towards the bed, one of your hands dropped down to your side. Nervously your fingers fidgeted with the sheets, twisting them as you tried to find the courage to ask him to stay here with you. Part of you knew it was safer and smarter to stop letting him get closer to you, especially with danger already looming on the horizon. But the other part of you craved the comfort he always somehow managed to bring you, something you hadn't felt in a long time.

“Could you maybe…stay with me?” you asked, shyly looking back up at him. “Just for tonight?”

“O’course,” he answered. “I'm here whenever ya need me.”

Michael made his way around the foot of the bed, your eyes following his form through the darkness as he did. You saw him pull something out of the waistband at the back of his jeans, realizing a moment later it was the gun he'd had earlier. He set it onto the nightstand before he turned, adjusting the rumpled mess you'd made of the sheets on the bed and pulling them back up before he climbed onto the mattress himself.

You began to slide back down along the headboard, rolling onto your side towards him and slipping back beneath the sheets. As he settled onto the mattress next to you, he turned onto his side, facing you in return. A bit of moonlight crept in just around the edge of your curtains, a thin ray of it illuminating part of his face in all the blackness. The corners of his lips were curved upwards just the faintest bit.

“Didn't think ya would want me with ya tonight,” Michael murmured.

Your stomach fluttered at his words and the position you'd found yourself in with him. Both of you were barely half a foot apart from each other now, eyes locked on one another. You could feel the warmth of his body radiating off of him and heating you beneath the sheets. Your hand clutched tighter to your pillow as you fought the urge to wrap it around him and pull yourself closer to him instead, desperate for connection.

“You make me feel safe,” you confessed, the words falling out of your mouth before you could stop them. “And less alone. For the first time in a long time.”

Gradually Michael’s hand slipped up out of the sheets, reaching out towards you and gently landing on your cheek. His fingertips lightly brushed away a few strands of hair before they affectionately began to lightly stroke your skin. You could feel your heart beating harder in your chest under his touch, the sound of it loud to your own ears. Your skin was beginning to heat beneath his fingers and your own only curled tighter around your pillowcase.

“Ya do the same for me, pet,” he whispered back.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You hadn't expected him to tell you that. You also hadn't expected it to feel so good to hear him tell you that, either.

Michael shifted on the bed, sliding closer to you as his palm cradled your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered shut the moment you felt his soft lips press a lingering kiss to your forehead. A warm, pleasant sensation felt like it was racing up your spine the longer his mouth remained pressed against your forehead. It was a feeling that felt a lot like safety and acceptance.

Without thinking, your hand released the pillow and darted out, wrapping its way around Michael as your fingers clutched at his back. You drew your body in tight against his, raising your head from the pillow as you did. Michael’s lips faltered along your forehead at the movement, but you quickly caught his lips with yours in his brief surprise.

He didn’t pull away or hesitate. Instead, his own mouth molded itself to yours, his hand sliding its way down your cheek and resting along your neck, pulling you in closer to him to deepen the kiss. He kissed you back with such intensity that your fingers fisted his shirt in your grasp, your mind going blank to everything except how good this moment felt. How good he made you feel.

But unfortunately the kiss ended far sooner than you'd have liked.

Michael pulled away only a fraction from you, the tip of his nose affectionately brushing the tip of yours. You could just make out the little smile on his lips in the dark, the sight almost leaving you as breathless as that kiss had.

“For what it's worth,” he whispered, thumb caressing the line of your jaw tenderly, “I'm glad ya found yourself here in Dublin.”

Your hand released the tight grip on his shirt, sliding its way up from out of the sheets and up towards his face. Your own fingertips gently toyed with the dark hairs of his beard, your eyes watching the smile on his face grow wider, his eyes crinkling at the corners. What you wouldn’t give to always see him smile like that.

“I'm glad I found you,” you whispered back.

For however long I can have you.

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #kin bbc

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bellaxgiornata · 4 months

Text

Safe Haven [Chapter Sixteen]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.5k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: It has been so long since this series got an update, but the meeting with Frank and Birdy is finally here! I ended up splitting this chapter in two in order to get this update out sooner, so the rest of the evening will be in the next chapter. Feedback is always appreciated!

Exiting the bathroom and making your way down the hallway, you spotted Michael and Jimmy standing on either side of the entryway to Birdy's dining room. Both of them were absolutely silent beside the french doors that were splayed wide as you approached. You could feel the tension steadily rising in the house as you made your way over, taking in the sight of the brothers where they stood. Jimmy was leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his jacket pockets looking tense, but not nearly as tense as Michael looked with his back to you, his hands tightly curled into fists at his sides. You wondered how pissed at you he still was for secretly meeting up with that Serpent tonight, but now knowing what the biker had wanted, you were grateful Michael hadn’t tagged along and gotten himself killed.

You came to a stop just half a step behind Michael, pausing in the hallway just outside of the dining room. Reaching up, your fingertips gently ghosted over the fresh bandage on your forehead, wincing faintly as the wound stung. Frank shifted in his seat over at the dining table, the movement catching your eye just beyond Michael’s shoulder. Your hand lowered back to your side, your stomach churning uncomfortably at the cold, hardened stare Frank had seemed to reserve especially for you this evening.

A moment later Birdy was making her way down the hallway after you, the sound of her footsteps loud in the growing silence. She had been the one to tend to the wound that the Serpent had given you with the butt of his gun before Michael even had a chance to say anything. The second she’d spotted the blood on your face when you’d appeared on her doorstep, she’d shot Dotser a stern, disapproving look before guiding you wordlessly down the hallway and to a bathroom. She had been nothing but gentle and efficient as she cleaned and bandaged you in silence, though her blue eyes would often catch yours and soften, something that had you looking away and fighting back tears.

But now that your injury had been seen to, you knew everyone wanted to get down to business. As Birdy passed by you on her way into the room and over to the table, you felt one of her hands give your shoulder a gentle, comforting squeeze. Your throat tightened further at the small gesture of support amidst the growing tension in the room–tension you knew was caused by you. The look on Frank’s face had told you more than enough to know that he wasn’t going to welcome you here with open arms tonight. And you figured that once he learned what was going on, he’d be even more displeased with you.

“Is somebody goin’ to tell me what the fuck this is all ‘bout now?” Frank asked in irritation, his voice finally breaking the enduring silence. “Why are we suddenly havin’ this impromptu family meetin’?”

He sat forward in his chair, clasping his hands together as his eyes darted between Michael, Jimmy, and Birdy. He was intentionally ignoring your presence now, you noted. Making it only more apparent how unwelcome and unwanted you were–furthering the point that you weren’t a part of this family. Awkwardly you crossed your arms over your chest, swallowing hard and preparing to answer his question since you knew everyone was here because of you. But it was Birdy who was the one to speak up.

“I called ya here because we’ve got another problem, Frank,” she told him from her place across the table from him. “One I think the Kinsellas should be made aware of now.”

“And what the hell is that?” Frank snapped at her.

“Well,” Birdy said with a sigh, leaning back in her chair as her focus shifted to you, “it appears our new neighbor has a bit of a past. One that’s found her here in Dublin. And it involves the Serpents of Hell.”

Frank’s dark gaze abruptly landed back on you and you stiffened. Somehow the frown managed to deepen further on his face as he glared at you in distaste, eyeing you up and down. In front of you, you saw the way Michael’s shoulders squared at Frank’s obvious scrutiny of you.

“How the fuck is any o’ that our problem?” Frank asked, his glare still fixed on you. “We’ve got enough trouble we’re dealin’ with at the moment already, we aren’t takin’ on charity cases for someone who doesn't matter to the family.”

“Watch yourself, Frank,” Michael warned, voice low.

You watched as Frank’s eyes shifted towards Michael. Something like the look of surprise briefly crossed his features, but that was quickly replaced with growing irritation. Though a warmth sparked in your stomach at seeing Michael come to your defense; you figured he must not be quite so angry with you if he was still at least sticking up for you to his family.

“The Serpents asked her to meet with them tonight,” Birdy continued. “Which is why I had Dotser bring her. And now,” she said, her head turning as her eyes returned to you, “I’d like to know what they wanted. Because I’ve got a strong feelin’ that it’s got somethin’ to do with us.”

All four sets of eyes gradually found their way to you around the room. You took a moment examining each face, noticing how Birdy looked deeply curious with one of her dark brows raised in a silent question. Frank was staring at you with narrowed eyes looking as if he wanted any excuse to tear into you–and admittedly that was making you nervous despite Michael’s presence nearby. Jimmy’s expression looked fairly neutral and hard to place, which once again left you wondering what Michael had told him about you. And while Michael’s face looked stern, his eyes were offering you silent support, urging you to speak up. Licking your lips nervously, you sucked in a breath and attempted to gather the courage to explain what had happened tonight.

“It was one Serpent,” you began, reluctantly pulling your gaze away from Michael and focusing on Birdy and Frank at the dining table. “Just one Serpent who wanted to meet. He appeared to be low ranking from the patches on his cut. But he knows who I am.” You shot Birdy a meaningful look as you continued. “My real name and who I’m running from. Who I’m connected to.”

“And who’s that?” Jimmy asked curiously as he pushed off the doorframe, crossing his arms as he faced you.

“My uh, my ex,” you confessed awkwardly, your hands beginning to fidget at your sides. “His name is Victor, but the Serpents refer to him as the Viper. He’s the Sergeant at Arms for the MC’s mother charter back in the States.”

Jimmy’s head cocked to the side, his eyes narrowing in further curiosity. “Sergeant at Arms?” he questioned. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“He ranks just below the mother charter's President and Vice President. It's his job to uphold MC security and order,” you explained, trying to force memories that were clawing at the back of your mind away. “He’s also commonly used as a sort of…assassin, you could say. The different charters might call him in if they’re dealing with a serious enough problem. And then he…deals with it. Permanently.”

Jimmy’s brows both flew up onto his forehead before his attention shifted over towards his brother. Michael’s eyes met his and you watched as some sort of silent exchange passed between the pair of them. Across the room at the dining table you heard Frank mutter a curse under his breath at your explanation. Clearing your throat, you figured you should probably finish telling them the rest of the truth.

“As you can probably guess, he uh, he wasn’t the kindest to me in the end,” you said, your attention dropping down to the hardwood floor. “Eventually I got away from him and I’ve been running from him for a few years now. Living under fake identities. Moving from city to city. I had no idea there was a charter here in Ireland, though. Or that–that you all were my sister’s neighbors and were involved in the uh, the things that you are.” You paused, noticing the way Frank’s jaw tightened at your mention of their illegal activities out of your peripheral. “If I had, I would have chosen not to come here. But that isn’t exactly the entire issue anymore now.”

You paused again, your eyes briefly closing as you remembered the encounter from earlier tonight. The threat the Serpent had made to you about giving up Michael and what would happen if you didn’t. Your stomach twisted uneasily at the memory of his words.

“It appears you were right, Birdy,” you confessed.

At the table, the brunette perked up, straightening in her chair. “Right about what, dear?” she asked slowly.

You looked up, meeting her eyes from across the room. “The Serpents want Eamon as their supplier,” you told her. “You were right.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Frank snapped, rolling his eyes and slumping back in his chair. “‘Course they fuckin’ do.”

Birdy somehow sat up even straighter, her blue eyes practically piercing through you at this information. She knew there was more to the story than that, it was written all over her face.

“And what did this snake want?” she asked, her voice a deadly calm as if she already knew the answer. “How was he plannin’ to get the Serpents a deal with Eamon by usin’ ya?”

Your eyes briefly flew to Michael as he hung his head. Him and Jimmy already knew this part, the part that was making your stomach roil and fill with the urge to be sick. You could still feel the weight of the burner phone in your jacket pocket, opposite of the pocket that still contained the gun Birdy had given you.

“He wants me to give him Michael,” you replied. “Because Eamon wants all of you dead, but the highest bounty is on Michael. And he…knows that Michael and I have spent some time together, so he figured he could threaten me to give him up in order to keep myself safe.”

A dangerous look slipped onto Frank’s face as he abruptly leaned forward in his chair, his eyes fixed on you. “If ya even so much as think ‘bout doin’ that, there’ll be a bullet in your head faster than ya can blink,” he growled at you. “Even if I have to put it there myself.”

“That’s enough , Frank,” Michael warned again as he took a step towards him. “Ya won’t so much as even touch her, ya hear me?”

Frank sent Michael a look of disbelief, waving a hand in your direction. “D’ya really think this piece o’ ass is worth the hassle, boy? Ya don’t think she’d throw ya to that motorcycle club just to save her own skin? Did your time in prison really make ya that soft, Mikey? That goddamn blind? Ya damn well know what to do when a threat to this family rears its fuckin’ head.”

“That won’t be happenin’, Frank,” Birdy chimed in, her tone dark.

Michael advanced on Frank, his stride cold and deliberate as his hands once again curled into tight fists at his sides. You saw the way Frank recoiled in his chair under what must’ve been that same murderous look you’d witnessed on Michael’s face earlier this evening. A shudder ran through you at the sight of him once again standing up to his family for you, especially considering the circumstances.

“Now I know ya aren’t suggestin’ what I think ya are suggestin’ by that, are ya, Frank?” Michael’s cold voice asked. “Because I really don’t think ya want to be insinuatin’ that. Not to me.”

Frank let out a humorless laugh, but you were quite aware of the terror hidden behind it. You didn’t know much about Michael’s past, not having delved deep enough into it once you’d uncovered the information about his deceased wife, but the way everyone appeared to cower from him–even Frank, who seemed to be the one in charge of the Kinsella clan–had you wondering just how dangerous Michael could be. Especially considering how safe and protected he’d always made you feel.

“Oh come on now, Michael,” Frank began placatingly. “Ya know I’m just lookin’ out for ya. She’s just pussy, she’s not–”

Michael slammed a hand firmly onto the table, the noise effectively shutting up Frank. The harsh noise also visibly caused Birdy to jump in her seat as Jimmy took a cautious step forward, a look of uncertainty crossing his features.

“Call her that again and see what happens,” Michael threatened, his tone dangerously calm despite his body language. “I dare you.”

Silence fell in the room as the tension palpably rose. Michael didn’t move from his intimidating place towering over Frank, one hand still flat along the dining table and trapping Frank in his chair. You figured you should say something, cut the tension and try to salvage the situation. There was a very real issue that needed to be resolved, one you could truly use their help with, and this wasn’t the way to accomplish that tonight.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you blurted out.

The attention in the room returned to you once more and caused you to nervously shift on your feet. Even Michael had glanced over his shoulder, his gaze fixed on you. Though you could still see the dark and dangerous look plain across his face, the muscle jumping in his cheek.

“I don’t want Victor to find me, but I’m also not going to give Michael up,” you assured Frank with a firm shake of your head. “That’s not me. I wouldn’t do that. And if I could just–just disappear like I usually do and have that make this entire situation go away to keep everyone safe, I would. But I can’t. Because if I run, that Serpent will just tell the charter what he knows and then Victor will be out here picking all of you off one by one. And I’m positive he’d include my sister in his body count. So me running isn’t an option this time.”

“So what’re ya suggestin’, dear?” Birdy called out.

“The only logical conclusion I have been able to come to,” you said, trying to keep the tremor from your voice. “He gave me three days to give Michael up. If I run or don’t do as he asked, he’s telling the Serpents about me and we’re all guaranteed to be as good as dead if Victor comes here.”

Michael pushed off of the dining room table, turning on the spot and leaving Frank forgotten behind him. His eyes were narrowed as they scrutinized you, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side.

“What’re ya gettin’ at, Grace?” he asked.

Your eyes met Michael’s as you held his gaze. You knew he wasn’t going to like what you were going to say, but it was the only plan you could think of when you were in the car heading here. It wasn’t like you had a lot of time to think of alternative options. In the end, you needed to do what needed to be done to protect everyone. Even if you didn’t want this to be the solution.

“I play along,” you answered him, ignoring the way Michael immediately bristled. “In two days I tell him I’ve lured you out somewhere. Somewhere private that wouldn’t seem suspicious. Tell him that you’re expecting to meet me. But when he shows up…” your voice trailed off, your eyes darting to Birdy before they dropped to the floor again. “You aren’t there. And I kill him instead.”

“ No ,” Michael immediately responded, voice firm. “Absolutely not. That is not happening.”

“There aren't really any other options here, Michael,” you pointed out.

He took a step towards you, his hand swiftly raising up as he dug a finger hard into his own chest. His face was set firm as a dangerous fire burned back at you from his eyes.

“ I'll kill him,” he stated, jabbing his finger into his chest for emphasis. “This isn't a job ya can handle, Grace. There isn't a fuckin’ way in hell I'd let ya even try!”

Your eyes narrowed back at him in defiance, your own hands balling into fists at your sides. His jaw tensed further as he stared you down.

“You don't think he'd see that coming?” you shot back. “Don't think he'd expect it from you? He's going to want to catch you off guard, Michael. And if he can't, you don't think he's going to immediately realize he's being set up?”

“She has a point, love,” Birdy called out.

A noise like a rumbling growl came out of Michael as he turned, his dark glare landing on her. Birdy looked entirely unbothered as she shrugged a single shoulder at him.

“Now I'm not sayin’ the poor girl needs to be the one doin’ the killin’, but I'm sure this…biker is goin’ to be expectin’ a set up if ya aren't left unaware of what's comin’,” she continued. “He's goin’ to want an easy target, anythin’ less than that is goin’ to raise suspicion, Mikey.”

“I'm not lettin’ her pull the goddamn trigger,” Michael snarled at her.

“They've both got a point, Michael,” Frank cut in, one of his hands rubbing his chin as he gazed down at his lap in thought. “Though I'm guessin’ she's never pulled a trigger before and I'm not sure I trust her not to fuck this up. But…it does seem to be the only solution. If it's just one man…”

“I can handle it,” you assured him, squaring your shoulders and ignoring the racing of your heart. “But you're going to need a way to dispose of the–” you winced, “–the body after. You won't want a Serpent's death possibly being connected to your family at all or you'll have the whole charter coming down on you.”

Michael once again spun around, his fiery gaze back on you. “Ya aren't doin’ this Grace and that's final,” he snapped.

Birdy rose from her chair, a smile on her face as she crossed the room and made her way over to Michael. She wrapped a single arm around his shoulders, though the tension in his body didn't remotely lessen at her touch.

“Grace has had a long and difficult evenin’,” she told Michael as she directed that calm, soft smile on you. “Why don't ya bring her home and make sure she's alrigh’ after everythin’, yeah?” she suggested gently. “Leave the situation to Frank and I to figure out tonight and we'll go over it with ya tomorrow.”

“She's not killin’ anyone, Birdy,” Michael warned her.

“Hey,” Jimmy said, catching his brother's attention as he took a step towards him, “I'll stay and help them figure this all out. I owe ya that for everythin’ ya have done for me lately. Just bring your girl home tonight, brother. Don't worry ‘bout the details o’ all this right now.”

Michael stared at his brother for a long moment, his eyes hard and still alight with something fierce burning in them. Once again it looked as if they were having a silent conversation that the rest of you weren't privy to. After a minute, Michael finally nodded.

“Fine, we'll leave ya to it,” Michael reluctantly replied. “But ya know where I stand on this, brother. She’s not killin’ anyone.”

Jimmy nodded solemnly in response and only then did some tension visibly leave Michael’s body. Birdy gave Michael a quick, one-armed squeeze before she released her arm from around him, shooting you another warm smile.

“Go. Get some rest tonight, dear,” she told you. “Ya deserve it.”

Michael crossed the few steps towards you before wrapping an arm around your waist. You instantly relaxed into his side, grateful of that safety and protection he always seemed to exude. You let him begin to guide you down the hall and out of Birdy's house as the conversation picked back up in the dining room. You already felt better with Michael at your side, but just as he reached out and opened the front door for you, his next words gave you pause.

“Don't think we don't have things to talk about after tonight, Grace,” he warned you. “Because I told ya earlier that I wasn't done discussin’ this with ya.”

A sinking feeling hit you hard, your stomach nearly dropping to the floor at your feet. All you could do was nod slowly before exiting the house, nervous of the conversation that was about to happen. You should have realized he wasn't going to let this whole situation go so easily.

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella #kin

119 notes · View notes

bellaxgiornata · 8 months

Text

Whatever You Want

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You've been having a difficult year adjusting to your life in Dublin, struggling with a few things that you've kept hidden from Michael so as not to burden him further. Though when he comes home unexpectedly early from a family meeting, you realize he's been reading you better than you'd thought.

Warnings/Tags: light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, soft Michael

a/n: Just a short little comfort fic to wrap up my Comfort Fic Week! Always love me a soft Mikey. Feedback is always appreciated!

Grabbing one of Michael’s shirts from the laundry basket on the bed next to you, you proceeded to fold it, your eyes staring absently out of the bedroom window beside the bed. The sky was overcast today, gray clouds hanging low despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to rain this morning. Somehow it seemed like the weather was reflecting your mood–or maybe amplifying it.

Hands moving of their own accord, you neatly stacked the now folded shirt on top of the pile of Michael’s other shirts before reaching into the laundry basket and removing another one to fold. Your hands continued to move mechanically as you worked, folding clothing item after clothing item as you removed each one from the basket.

Inevitably your mind began to wander.

Michael had already been gone by the time you'd awoken this morning. He had yet another family meeting to attend early today despite the fact that it was now Sunday. He'd been busy this entire past week taking care of a 'problem' with the family's supplier before spending the rest of the week cleaning up some issues on the business end of things. You’d barely seen him for days now, which wasn’t the usual between the two of you. And although he’d been excited to see you the handful of times you’d both run into each other at home this week, you had been distant.

Admittedly you’d been struggling for this entire past year that you’d officially been living in Dublin. Struggling under the weight of your own family issues that you often kept from Michael–because he already had enough problems to deal with when it came to his family. You’d also been struggling under the pressures of things at work, forced into playing the mediator between the two owners of your company who fought with each other like actual children on a near daily basis. It had been wearing on you for months now, but you yet again never revealed any of this to Michael. He was busy enough as it was, and even though he was nothing but loving and attentive to you when he was home, you knew he had enough on his mind to worry about. So you always greeted him with a smile when you two were together, choosing to shove everything down, down, down until you couldn’t feel it for a bit.

But truthfully? You felt like you were drowning. You missed your family now that you were living abroad in Ireland so you could be with Michael; a feat accomplished with the help of his family–the one good thing they had managed to accomplish for you both when they had fast tracked your visa. But all the health complications back home had you missing your family even more. And you had quickly begun to hate your job with a passion ever since the owners had begun to bicker and fight, leaving you to solve the company's problems. And the office work you were doing wasn't even remotely your dream job, but you knew it wasn't realistic for you to quit just to pursue a dream.

The sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs met your ears, causing your hands to momentarily pause their movements, the shirt partially folded in between them. You could hear the sound of Michael downstairs, opening the closet door and putting away his jacket and shoes. Brows furrowing together, you wondered why he was home so soon.

“Where ya at, love?”

Michael’s voice rang out through the house, the sound of it drowning out the noise in your head–for now. Stacking another shirt of his onto the pile, you turned over your shoulder and called back to him.

“Upstairs, Mikey. Just doing the laundry.”

You grabbed another pair of jeans from the basket, hearing the heavy and tired footfalls of Michael as he made his way up the stairs. As you sorted the pair of pants in your hands with the others, leaning across the bed to reach the pile, you heard Michael making his way across the bedroom before you felt him come up behind you. His arms were soon wrapping around your waist, his nose brushing back and forth against the side of your neck as he let out a pleased hum.

“Missed ya, pet,” he murmured.

Straightening back up, your hands landed on his forearms, giving them a gentle squeeze before you unwrapped them from around you. You felt the way Michael stiffened against the back of you, his face soon drawing away from your neck. Glancing over your shoulder at him, you sent him a brief, tense smile. He took a step back, his eyes narrowing as he studied you.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you back this morning,” you said, turning back towards the bed and reaching a hand into the basket, pulling out another piece of clothing to fold. “The meeting go alright?”

“Yeah, it was grand,” Michael answered distractedly. “Ya alright, love?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed out. “Just trying to catch up on laundry. Figured you’d be gone most of the day. Knew you were low on fresh clothes with how busy you’ve been this week. Thought I’d take care of it for you today.”

“Pet, ya know I could’ve done the laundry myself later today,” he told you.

You neatly stacked yet another one of his shirts onto the pile beside you, nodding as you reached your hand into the basket. You drew out the last piece of clothing, about to fold it, but Michael pulled the pair of pants from your hands.

“Hey, stop,” he said softly, catching your eye. “Is somethin’ wrong? Ya haven’t been acting like yourself all week.”

You bit back the urge to point out that he hadn’t actually seen you much this past week. Instead, you sent him another tense smile.

“I’m fine, Mikey,” you said, gesturing to the pants in his hands. “Now can I finish the laundry? I’ve got other things to take care of today.”

Michael drew the pants out of your reach, his dark brows knitting together. His lips thinned along his face as concern washed over his features.

“What other things have ya got to take care of?” he asked.

You sighed in irritation, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance with how he was slowing down your list of chores and errands for the day. Michael certainly helped out with many things around the house, but usually when the Kinsellas came to him to solve a plethora of problems for them, you were left to pick up the slack. Which is exactly what had happened this week on top of everything else you’d been silently dealing with.

“The house needs to be cleaned, Mikey,” you pointed out. “And the kitchen is an absolute disaster. I haven’t even managed to finish working my way through all of the dishes from the other night when Jimmy and Viking decided to eat every last damned thing in the house. Which also means I need to pick up groceries from the market still, and I haven’t even had a chance to sit down to make the list. Not to mention, I still have another two loads of laundry to take care of, so can you please just let me finish?”

A frown pulled the corners of Michael’s lips down, his hazel eyes softening as they held yours. A second later he expelled a rough breath, his shoulders dropping at the movement. When he tossed the unfolded pair of pants onto the bed, your eyes widened in shock. Your mouth opened, ready to chastise him for being so uncharacteristically callous, but he’d so tenderly grabbed your hands and drew you towards himself that the gesture quickly left you stunned and speechless. All you could do was stare in confusion at him as he drew you into himself.

“Forget ‘bout all o' that today,” he told you. “I’ll handle it tomorrow. All of it, I promise.”

“But don’t you have things you need to do?” you asked.

Michael wrapped his arms around your shoulders, one of his hands gently guiding your head to rest against his chest. Reluctantly you allowed it, though you were tense in his embrace, your body unable to relax. You really needed to get these things done because you didn’t feel like grabbing groceries at the market after work tomorrow.

“I’ll take the day off,” he replied. “Handle everythin’ at home. Even have dinner ready for us when ya finish work. Yeah?”

“Mikey, don’t promise me something that you can’t follow through on,” you warned him. “I know how your family is. I know they’re going to–”

“Hey, shh,” he hushed you, one of his hands soothingly running up and down your back. “I’ll tell ‘em no. Not to bother me tomorrow. Doesn’t matter what they say. Ya deserve some help ‘round here. Been takin’ care of everythin’ this past week–everythin’ this past year, really. And I wanna show ya that I appreciate it, love.”

“It’s not a big deal, I can handle it,” you told him, the lie almost automatic.

You felt him shift above you, resting his cheek against the top of your head. His hand continued to soothingly run the length of your back over and over, the calming feel of it slowly easing the tension in your muscles.

“I can tell ya have been stressed, pet,” Michael murmured. “Can see it on your face. Somethin’s been goin’ on with ya. It has me worried.”

Nervously your tongue slipped out, wetting your lips. You couldn’t believe he’d picked up on anything being off with you. You thought you’d been hiding everything from him so well. And you certainly didn’t need him worrying about you, too.

“I’m fine,” you whispered.

“Don’t lie to me,” Michael said, voice firm but not angry. “I know ya too well, love. I know ya aren’t alright.”

Turning your head, you buried your face into Michael’s chest, breathing in the scent of him. He smelled faintly like his leather jacket and gasoline, probably from riding his motorcycle this morning to the family meeting. Just beneath the scent of both of those you could smell the bit of his soap that always seemed to linger on his skin. It was something with sandalwood–you knew that because the nights he’d be out working a job and not coming home to you, you’d purposely shower with his soap. Just to feel like he was still there in bed with you. You couldn’t fall asleep otherwise.

“Tell ya what,” Michael said, breaking the silence that had fallen. “How ‘bout I take ya for coffee this mornin’? Your favorite shop. Then we can visit that little bookstore ya love so much. The one just on the corner? I’ll buy ya whatever ya want.”

A small smile slipped onto your lips and you reluctantly withdrew your face from where it had been buried against Michael’s chest, his own head withdrawing itself from the top of yours. Looking up at him, he was smiling warmly down at you, his eyes full of affection and love.

“Yeah?” you asked him softly.

“Buy ya the whole damn store if ya want,” he said, tone light and teasing as he grinned back at you. “And ya know I would, love. ‘S’not like I don’t have the money.”

“Okay,” you answered slowly, your attention shifting back to the laundry on the bed. “As long as you really will have time to take care of everything tomorrow though. Because I have to–”

Michael’s hand gently cupping your cheek and turning your face back towards him quickly quieted you. That warm smile was back on his face, the brightness of it reaching his eyes.

“Go get ready,” he ordered. “I’ll finish the rest of this. And the other stuff I’ll do tomorrow. Promise. Forget ‘bout it already, yeah? Just go take a few minutes for yourself.” His smile briefly faltered as he nervously added, “Then maybe afterwards ya can tell me ‘bout what’s been goin’ on? Ya keep lockin’ me out, pet, and I really wish ya would let me in. I want to help.”

“You just–just always have so much going on, Mikey,” you told him softly. “You don’t need my shit, too.”

“Hey,” he said firmly, his eyes narrowing as he lowered his face towards yours. “It isn’t shit, ya hear me? Ya matter to me. More than ya know. Don’t brush yourself off when it comes to me, love, alright? Talk to me. I’m beggin’ ya.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you slowly nodded. “Okay,” you agreed. “Later, I will.”

“Good,” he replied, gesturing his head towards the bathroom as a smile curved his lips upwards. “Now get your adorable arse ready. ‘Cause I wanna spoil my girl today. I’ll take care of the rest o’ the laundry.”

Feeling giddy at the prospect of having a day to spend where it was just you and Michael, grabbing coffee and buying books, you spun on your heel without further encouragement, hurrying your way to the bathroom to get ready.

°•°•°•°•°•°

You hummed out a curious noise, skimming over the summary on the back of the book in your hands for the second time. Behind you, you heard Michael huff out an amused, light laugh. The sound caught your attention and you looked up from the back cover, eyeing Michael’s smiling face curiously from his place beside you. He held up the small stack of books in his hands, gesturing his head towards the one you were still holding.

“Add it to the pile, love,” he urged. “Ya know ya want to. I can see it on your face with the way you’re lookin’ at it.”

Rolling your eyes you held out the book, a grin on your lips as you added it onto the stack Michael was holding. He shot you a flirtatious wink that only had you grinning wider, but when your eyes landed on the clock on the wall behind him, the grin faded. Surprise washed over you instead, a pang of guilt hitting you instantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me we’d been here for over two hours already?” you exclaimed, wide eyes landing back on Michael. “I’m so sorry, Mikey. I didn’t mean to be here so long!”

Michael only laughed, shaking his head back at you. “Pet, I told ya this mornin’ like I told ya over coffee before we came here–take as much time here as ya want. Buy whatever ya want. I’ve seen how much ya have been workin’ your arse off at that office this year. I know ya haven’t been goin’ shoppin’ or out to dinners with your friends as much lately.” Something like guilt spread across his face as he continued. “And I–I know I haven’t been ‘round as much the past few months, what with everythin’ goin’ on with the family. But I wanna change that. Startin’ today. Besides,” he said, suddenly looking a little shy, “I could honestly spend my day watchin’ the way ya wander ‘round in a bookstore. The way your face lights up when ya find a book–" he paused, that shy smile still on his mouth directed at you, "–the only other time ya look like that is when you’re lookin’ at me," he finished softly.

“Because you make me happy,” you told him, the grin returning to your lips.

“I know,” he replied with a nod.

“And coffee also makes me happy,” you added before gesturing a hand at the shelf beside you. “So do books. Best way to relieve stress is with a good book and some coffee.”

Michael chuckled, nodding his head even more as his own smile widened. "Exactly why I suggested gettin' coffee before buyin' books, love."

The corner of his lips twitched before his expression changed to something serious, his lips thinning as he shifted his weight back and forth on his feet, looking like he wanted to say something else. You hadn’t missed the shift in his mood as you curiously eyed him in return, wondering what was now suddenly on his mind.

"How has work been?" he asked carefully. "Ya seem stressed more than usual lately. Been worried 'bout ya."

Expelling a sigh at the topic change, you turned and made your way out of the aisle of books you both were in, searching for another one in particular as you mulled over his question. Michael followed closely behind you, still carrying the stack of your books in his arms as he walked.

"It's been difficult this year," you admitted slowly, eyes scanning the aisles as you looked at the different genre signs hanging above them. "I can't stand it lately, if I'm being honest," you finally confessed. "My bosses literally bicker in every meeting I have with them and I'm always trapped playing their mediator, always left cleaning up the company problems they don’t even deal with." Hands curling into fists at your sides, you could feel your irritation returning at the thought of work tomorrow. "They don't even talk about work most of the time anymore, either. I swear, they're going to run their business into the ground if they keep it up."

"Then quit."

You abruptly stopped in front of the aisle you'd been looking for at his blunt suggestion. Turning swiftly on your heel, you looked back at Michael in confusion and shock.

" Quit ?" you asked him in disbelief.

He shrugged easily. "Yeah," he answered. "Quit. You've always hated it there and now it's upsettin' ya. So quit. 'S'not like ya need the money. Ya know I'll take care of ya."

"Mikey," you said, pulling a face, "I'm not going to just sit at home and be some–" you waved a hand through the air, "–trophy wife. Or–or girlfriend or whatever," you awkwardly added when Michael’s smile grew at your word choice. "I like feeling productive."

"Your choice, love, but I happen to think ya would make a fine trophy wife," he playfully teased, shooting you another wink. "But ya know I've got ya. So quit. Find somethin' ya like. Because I know that's not what you're passionate 'bout."

With a huff you turned, focusing back on the aisle before you. You stepped into it, eyeing the books on the shelves as you looked for one in particular.

"Say it like it's that easy," you muttered, eyes scanning the various titles.

"It is," Michael pressed. "Give 'em your notice tomorrow. Quit. Do what you're passionate about. Because I know you've been dying to do photography instead. And you're damn good at it, love. And I know ya been dyin' to work for yourself.”

Chewing your lip, you let his suggestion settle in your mind. He was right, you did want to do photography. You'd been talking about it since you'd first met him. And you had been dying to work for yourself, especially with how your bosses had been this past year. It would be nice to do something you were actually passionate about, and you did know that Michael would take care of you while you started up the business–he'd already told you he wanted to marry you. He certainly wasn’t planning to go anywhere.

You hummed out a noise, your hand reaching out and pulling the book you'd been looking for off of the shelf. "Alright," you told him, turning around and placing the book on the stack in his hands. "I'll quit tomorrow," you told him. "You're right, photography is my passion. And if you're going to push me–"

"I absolutely insist ya do, love," he cut you off.

"Alright," you repeated, nodding your head. "I'll do it."

Michael's smile grew even wider, the warmth of it reaching his eyes as they fondly gazed back at you. You couldn’t fight the smile on your own face knowing that you’d never get over how lucky you were to have met him–or how handsome he looked when he smiled at you like that.

Eventually Michael's eyes curiously glanced down to the book you'd so quickly placed onto the pile he was carrying. A look of confusion crossed his face, brows drawing together as he looked back up at you.

"One Hundred Years of Solitude?" he asked.

"Yeah," you said, your smile turning cheeky as you made your way out of the aisle and over towards the register. "It's for you. About time you read something that wasn't a Steinbeck, babe."

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #michael kinsella fluff #bellas comfort fic week #kin amc

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bellaxgiornata · 7 months

Text

I Can't Lose You [part two]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.5k

Summary (slightly updated now): The night doesn't go as planned after being tasked by Amanda to seduce a rival drug lord in order to seal the deal for claim to more territory for the Kinsellas. When Michael finds out from his brother what happened, he's not happy with you for following Amanda's orders. Not only is he determined to get revenge on Titan, but he's even more determined to finally get the pair of you out of his family's business.

Warnings/tags: 18+; light angst, overprotective Mikey, love confession, smut

a/n: So this one shot turned into a short mini series. Who would've thought? Feedback is always appreciated! The first part and following parts can be found here.

Tag List: @danzer8705 @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @shiorimakibawrites @wkndwlff @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza (kept everyone from the first one so if you'd like to be added or removed please let me know!)

Renewed rage was coursing white hot through Michael’s veins as he stopped before the front door of Amanda and Jimmy’s house. As soon as he’d made his way down your drive after that enlightening conversation with you–one that he had been very reluctant to leave–and saw their house at the end of the street, Michael had seen red. Immediately he’d become pissed off all over again at what Amanda had set you up to do tonight. It had been far beyond out of line for her to order you to do what she had, and he had every intention of making sure Amanda damn well knew that.

She’d never try to whore you out again for a job when he was done with her.

Raising a fist, he began to furiously and rapidly bang against the door, his knuckles stinging from the impact. He didn’t let up with his pounding, either. He stood on their front porch taking out some of his fury on the heavy wooden door until he heard the click of the lock in between slams of his fist. Only then did he stop, his shoulders heaving with his sharp, frenzied breaths as his brother swung the door open. The expression on Jimmy’s face as he eyed Michael’s livid one made it apparent that he wasn’t remotely surprised by his visit.

“Wondered what took ya so damn long to show up,” Jimmy said plainly. “Figured you’d be here fumin’ at some point after I told ya what happened.”

“Went to see if she was alrigh’ first since ya said she was hurt,” Michael grunted out, roughly pushing past his brother and making his way inside. “Can’t fuckin’ believe ya went along with that shite plan. Absolutely fuckin’ ridiculous.”

“Figured ya knew what was goin’ on tonight,” Jimmy replied, closing the door after his brother. “Amanda never said otherwise.”

Michael spun on his heel, his jaw clenching. “I'd have never agreed to that and ya both know it. Now Amanda’s goin’ to reap the consequences of her actions,” he grit out. “‘Cause ‘m’not lettin’ this fuckin’ slide. So where the fuck is she?”

“She’s just–”

“I’m right here, Michael,” Amanda said, cutting her husband off as she sauntered out of the kitchen, her heels clicking along the floor with each step. “And there’s no need for all the hostility.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed at the sight of her, his back straightening. The flat and uninterested look on her face had his temper flaring even more. She looked as if she couldn't have cared remotely about the danger she had put you in this evening or the way you'd been hurt. That had the corner of his left eye twitching as he glared dangerously back at her across the entryway.

He certainly wasn't going to leave until he made her understand what a huge mistake she'd made this evening.

“No need?” he ground out, taking a threatening step towards her. “Are ya fuckin’ jokin’, Amanda?”

Amanda’s own eyes narrowed to slits in return, her arms crossing over her chest as she kicked a hip out. “I sent her out on a job, Mikey,” she replied firmly. “‘Cause that’s what she does for this family. Jobs that need to be done. Same as anyone else. And we needed that northern expansion, ya already know that. We’ve got more product than we can push in the territory we already run. We need more buyers if we're goin’ to be bringin’ in any more cash.”

Michael’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles still stinging from where he’d pounded them against the door. It was taking all of his willpower not to start taking swings at Amanda with all the anger burning inside of him. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t imagining knocking that smug look off of her face at her words. Because she’d willingly put you in danger all for the sake of a chance at making more money.

Your safety was non-negotiable in this business when it came to Michael. Amanda had always known that. It was something that had always pissed her off, causing her jealousy to flare up whenever he brought it up during meetings, putting his foot down on jobs she'd try to send you on that he knew wouldn't be safe. Ones he took instead. Yet she often tried to find ways to poke at that by putting you in situations he didn’t agree with but couldn't rightly counter. All because she was jealous that he’d been in love with you for all of these years and not her, leaving her to ‘settle’ for Jimmy instead. And thankfully nothing serious had ever happened from her bullshit schemes–until now.

“We need the expansion, yeah,” Michael agreed, tone low and venomous, “but that wasn’t how we were talkin’ ‘bout gettin’ it. Ya already know that, Amanda. Ya went behind my back and set this up yourself.”

“Because we had a last minute meetin’ practically fall in our lap!” Amanda snapped, throwing her hands out wide in exasperation. “What would ya have wanted me to do, Michael? Let the opportunity to negotiate slip between my damn fingers? Is that it?”

“I expect ya to make the right fuckin’ call!” he roared back. “Ya should’ve sent me in to negotiate! That was the plan all along! I was supposed to handle Titan– not her!”

Amanda rolled her eyes, scoffing loudly as she did. That only further pissed him off, his teeth grinding together as the corner of his eye began to twitch faster. The control he had on his rage was beginning to slip with every word that came out of her mouth.

“Ya were unavailable ‘cause ya were with Anna earlier today,” Amanda shot back. “I needed someone right then–and it needed to be a Kinsella or someone damn near close. Titan would’ve never negotiated with anyone too low rankin’ in the business. And we both know Viking is too hot-headed to handle negotiations. Your brother here isn't much for it, either.”

“Hey!” Jimmy cried out, offended. “That’s a load of shite, Amanda, and you know it!”

Her head darted in her husband’s direction, her eyes cold as she snapped at him. “Stay outta this, Jimmy.”

Michael noticed the way his brother’s composure changed, his body tensing at her order. Though it wasn’t a surprise to him when he said nothing further, quietly seething across the room instead. Jimmy usually always backed down to Amanda, which was partly how she wound up in the position she was in now. Especially because Michael wanted to get you and himself out of the business; running it was the last thing he’d ever want.

“Then why’d ya send her in like a cheap fuckin’ whore, Amanda?” Michael growled, taking another threatening step towards her. “How was that a good fuckin’ plan? Ya could've sent her there just to make a deal, plain and simple. Ya know she’s smart.”

“Come off it, Michael,” Amanda shot in distaste. “It's practically common knowledge that the Titan loves his pussy. I didn’t ask her to fuck him, I only asked her to show interest. Get him comfortable enough so he'd fold to our demands easier.”

“Yeah?” Michael asked, his voice low as he stalked steadily towards her.

He caught the slight flicker of fear that briefly flashed in her eyes at his approach.

A part of him delighted in the sight of it after what she'd done to you–what she'd let happen to you. Something that never should have happened.

Good , he thought, lip curling back into a sneer. You damn well know what I'm capable of. You should be afraid after what you knowingly did tonight.

“If that was the case,” he continued evenly, aware of her arms crossing back over her chest, her own shoulders squaring as she tried to hide the growing fear in her eyes at his continued advance, “then ya could've dressed in that short little dress and pushed your tits into his face yourself, Amanda. Should've played the role o’ whore all on your own if ya want the expansion so badly. Ya claim you’re a Kinsella, yeah?”

Amanda stumbled a step backwards as Michael neared, lowering his face down to hers. Her back hit the wall though, leaving her stuck trying to hold onto the facade of strength while he towered over her.

“Better yet,” he continued quietly, every ounce of anger still very apparent in his words as he invaded her space, “ya could've fucked him yourself. Could’ve let him put his fuckin’ hands all over ya. Why not make him fold to your demands by suckin’ his cock all on your own instead of sendin’ someone else to do it? Shoulda gotten your own hands fuckin’ dirty for once.”

“I’m married, Michael,” she weakly shot back.

A bitter, humorless laugh slipped out of him immediately. Out of all the excuses she could have used, that was the one she was going to go with?

“Your marriage is barely hangin’ by a thread,” Michael retorted. “And your vows sure as shit never stopped ya from fuckin’ ‘round before. It’s ‘cause ya don’t have the goddamn nerve for this business. Ya sit here in your house bossin’ the rest o’ us ‘round, doin’ your biddin’ and playin’ innocent housewife. But the truth is ya don’t really have the stomach for this. Not when it really matters. Ya never fuckin’ did.”

Amanda scoffed, shaking her head. “That’s bullshit, Michael. I don’t do the jobs ‘cause that’s what the rest o’ ya are for.”

Blind fury shot through Michael at her words. Without hesitation, his right hand flew forwards until his palm slammed forcefully against the wall mere inches from Amanda’s head. Satisfaction flooded Michael as she visibly flinched in response, her eyes flying just over his shoulder. No doubt looking to Jimmy for help. But Michael knew his brother well enough. He wasn’t going to say a goddamn thing. He wasn’t going to intervene.

“We do not and have never issued orders for our associates to fuck anyone, Amanda,” Michael growled viciously. “Or to even give someone very dangerous like the Titan that fuckin’ idea only to put our associates in the position where they would either have to or face the fuckin’ consequences of embarrassin’ someone so powerful.” His hand slammed loudly against the wall in his rage and Amanda once again flinched. “Ya damn well knew what was goin’ to happen when ya asked her to do that tonight!”

“Well she–she works for me, Michael,” Amanda countered. “She’s mine to send out as I see fit. She could’ve–”

“YOU DO NOT OWN HER!” Michael roared, ramming his fist into the wall beside her head for emphasis and watching as she shrunk before him. His entire body felt like it was burning with his fury now. “And ya will never send her on a job like that again! Am I fuckin’ clear , Amanda?”

“Ya aren’t the one in charge, Michael!” Amanda fired back.

Furious, Michael pushed off of the wall and took a few steps back, turning and maneuvering around Jimmy who was watching him in silent curiosity. Reaching up, he grabbed onto the long, decorative mirror hanging on the wall beside the front door. Effortlessly he removed it from the hooks before turning back around and throwing it forward. It smashed on the floor just beside Amanda’s feet shattering loudly as glass spilled forth and clattered all over the floor next to her designer heels.

His glare returned to her shocked face, his own set firm as a hand rose to cover her mouth. He needed to make her understand that she’d crossed a line. She needed to know she couldn’t fuck with you like she thought she could. That she didn't hold the kind of power she thought she did.

“Let's get one thing straight. Fuckin’ a Kinsella doesn’t make ya one,” he ground out. “I could throw ya from this business just as easily as that goddamn mirror, Amanda. Step out o’ line with her one more time like that, and I promise ya, no one’ll be listenin’ to a fuckin’ word ya say anymore. Am I clear ?”

“Fine,” Amanda bit out between her teeth.

“Don’t fuckin’ test me on this again,” he warned, pointing a threatening finger at her. “Ya won’t like what happens if ya do, I can promise ya that.”

Michael turned, focusing on his brother who’d remained silent throughout most of the confrontation. There was still one other issue that needed to be dealt with while he was here. Judging by the look of resignation that washed over Jimmy’s face, he already knew what was coming.

“This won’t go unanswered,” Michael told his brother. “O’Brien can’t go beatin’ our associates and gettin’ away with it. Ya know that, brother.”

“Aye,” Jimmy muttered, nodding his head. “Figured you’d be sayin’ that.”

“We are not startin’ a war with him!” Amanda cried out. “That’s the last thing we need right now!”

Michael’s head whipped over his shoulder in her direction, his eyes shooting her a dark glare that had her mouth closing. “Ya don’t have a damn say in this one, Amanda. Keep your damn mouth shut,” he ordered. His attention returned back to Jimmy who was standing there waiting for him to continue. “I’m takin’ him down for what he did to her. Are ya with me or not, brother?”

Jimmy’s eyes fell down to his feet, a hand running over his beard as he mulled over the question for a moment. Gradually he nodded again, his gaze slowly returning to meet Michael’s.

“Yeah,” he replied. “‘Course I’m with ya, brother. We’ll take him down and find a way to take his territory with it, one way or another.”

“Good,” Michael stated, ignoring the way Amanda was clearly fuming from across the entryway. “We’ll figure out the details later. Just need to know ya have my back on this.”

“I always got your back, brother,” Jimmy assured him. “Ya know that.”

Michael stepped towards him, reaching a hand out and appreciatively clapping his brother on the shoulder. His anger was still there, burning inside of him, but he was grateful for Jimmy right now. At least he could be counted on and trusted, even if he wished he’d put a bullet in the Titan’s head the moment he tried to lay a finger on you earlier. That’s what he would’ve done.

“Ya headin’ back over there?” Jimmy asked. “To her place?”

“Yeah,” Michael replied, ignoring the irritated huff Amanda let out. “Had to come over here and deal with this mess first. Which I…really didn’t want to do after talkin’ with her. Apparently she’s felt the same way all this time and I’ve just been…blind to it.”

Jimmy sent his brother a small smile, clapping him on the shoulder with a hand in return. “‘Bout damn time ya fools took your heads outta your asses,” he teased. “Go on then,” he said, gesturing his head towards the door. “Go get your girl, Mikey.”

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella #kin rte

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bellaxgiornata · 10 months

Text

Safe Haven [Chapter Fifteen]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.6k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: Finally y'all get that meeting with the Serpents and a protective and angry Mikey in this chapter. Feedback is always appreciated!

Fingers wrapped around the handle of the gun still concealed in your parka's pocket, the cold metal of it in your hand felt like a comfort as you ascended the large hill just on the outskirts of Dublin. A quick glance over your shoulder allowed you to see the glowing lights of the city just behind you. Somehow that also felt comforting right now.

Dotser had dropped you off just a bit away from the base of the hill where the meeting was taking place in an attempt to remain hidden so the Serpents didn’t know you hadn’t actually come alone. Which had surprisingly taken more coaxing on your part to get him to listen to you than expected–apparently Birdy had made it clear nothing was supposed to happen to you under his care. So he’d argued with you about going up there alone and inevitably had you late for this meeting, but as you finally reached the top of the large hill, there was admittedly a part of you that felt better knowing he was nearby–even if you knew he was too far to truly help. Because even you weren’t stupid enough to think that you weren’t on your own handling whatever happened next here.

“Wondered if ya would show.”

You froze at the accented voice, your hand curling tighter around the gun in your pocket as your heart jumped in your chest. Trying your hardest to remain calm, your eyes focused on the figure emerging from around the single, lone motorcycle parked in the open field. The moonlight glinted off of something in the man’s hand as you saw him swiftly raise it from his side. By the time the realization that he had a gun had dawned on you, it was already too late. The weapon was trained on you, right on your chest. You felt fear flood your veins, your mouth suddenly dry.

But he was alone. And judging by the few patches on his cut–the leather vest all MC members wore–he didn’t appear to rank in the charter. That was possibly the only good news right now.

“You didn’t give me much choice,” you replied.

Your eyes followed his movements carefully, watching as he gradually approached you. He was studying you closely in return, his eyes clearly surveying you from top to bottom. You only hoped you could continue to keep the gun in your pocket concealed from him. You didn’t want to know what he would do if he noticed it.

“Hands out o’ your pockets,” he ordered, gesturing his gun at you. “And slowly. Don’ try anythin’ with me.”

Inhaling a deep, quivering breath, your hand gradually released its hold on the gun in your pocket. You felt like you could hear the pounding of your heart in your ears as your hands very slowly slipped out of your jacket, the chill of the night hitting them instantly. Even if you could still feel the heft of the gun noticeably weighing your jacket down, it felt vastly less comforting with your finger so far from the trigger.

The man continued to approach you, casually closing the distance between the pair of you like a snake stalking its prey. He was sizing you up, his gun still firmly pointed at your chest. You fought the urge to cower or look away from him–you didn’t want to give him any further of an advantage against you. Didn't want to show him the fear you felt.

When his eyes eventually landed back on your face, he spoke your name. Your actual name, not the fake one you’d been using here. Jaw clenching at the sound of it, you fought hard to keep your composure. If he knew your name, you suddenly had a lot of questions that needed answers. How had he found out? Had he alerted Victor yet? Why was he asking you to meet him? Especially considering he was alone and seemed to be operating outside of the MC.

You had questions and you needed answers if you wanted to stay alive, but the only way to get them would be to keep a level head. It wasn’t like you hadn’t dealt with trigger-happy outlaw bikers before. You could handle this. You had to.

“That’s who ya are, yeah?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered.

He nodded, coming to a stop just in front of you. He pressed the barrel of his gun into your chest, shoving the end of it sharply into your sternum. You only straightened your back and held his stare in response, even if internally you were terrified of what he might do. You knew he was trying to intimidate you, and truthfully it was working, but if you let it show, then he had the upper hand. And you couldn’t have that.

"Ya are Michael Kinsella's bitch, yeah?" the man asked.

Unable to hide your confusion and shock at his unexpected question, your brows rose high onto your forehead, a frown settling along your lips. How could he have known you had been somewhat seeing Michael? And what the hell would the Serpents want with him?

You needed to tread carefully.

"What're–"

The Serpent shoved the gun harder into your chest, cutting you off immediately as he lowered his face to yours. You swallowed hard, fighting to keep the tremble from your lips.

"That was a yes or a no question," he growled. "Are ya fuckin' the Kinsella or no?"

Technically you weren't fucking him yet, but you didn't think he cared about technicalities. It seemed like he already knew the answer, too, especially considering he must've known you lived right next door to Michael since he’d slipped something into your sister’s letterbox for you to find.

"Yes," you answered.

"Thought as much when I saw ya both walkin' around the city together," he said with a nod.

Your mind raced, trying hard to piece everything together. There were only two times you and Michael had gone walking anywhere together, which meant…

"It was you," you stated, the realization hitting you. "You were the one tailing us. In the hoodie."

"Figured ya saw me," he replied. "Wasn't supposed to be there or I'd have taken my shot at him. But I was curious 'bout ya when I saw ya with him," he continued. "Thought I might find out who the bitch was that Michael Kinsella was seein'. See if ya could be the bait to lure him out."

Your lips parted in surprise at his words, panic building even further inside of you. Was he trying to use you for bait to lure Michael out to kill him right now? Had you unknowingly just walked into something?

"Yeah, ya see, that was my first thought," he continued, grinning when he saw the look of fear on your face. "But then I looked into ya. Saw who ya really are."

He barked out a harsh laugh, the noise causing you to flinch. The faint glow from the moon above and the city lights behind you cast just enough light onto his face allowing you to see the dark, shadowy expression there. He looked more dangerous now than he had a few minutes ago.

"The Mother charter's missin’ cunt," he said with a sharp laugh. "Right here in Dublin. Imagine my surprise when I found that out. Runnin' from Victor? The Viper ? Ahh, 's’just too good."

"What do you want?" you asked him.

His smile faltered at your question, his eyes narrowing threateningly back at you. The man's lip curled up into a sneer as he pressed the barrel of the gun more firmly into your chest.

"I want ya to give me Michael in exchange for keepin’ your secret," he snapped back. "For now, at least. Might be useful for me to hang onto for a bit."

"Why do you want him?" you asked carefully.

The Serpent barked out another sharp laugh. You stood there entirely still, incredibly aware of the gun bruising the space along your sternum.

“Ya fuckin’ daft?” he asked. “Eamon wants them all dead–especially Michael. He put out a special bounty for The Magician.”

Your frown deepened at the nickname you’d unearthed for Michael when you’d been digging up dirt on the Kinsellas the other week. But what the Serpent said had made sense. Birdy had told you the Cork charter might be looking to get into smuggling and dealing, and apparently Eamon was the main supplier in Ireland. They wanted an in, and Eamon wanted the Kinsella’s dead. It was a perfect opportunity, really.

Eyes dropping down to the front of the man’s cut, you noticed he had a single patch. The singular patch every Serpent member had. It meant he wasn’t a prospect, but he wasn’t necessarily someone that mattered. Gradually your eyes slid back up to his face, your mind piecing things together quickly.

“You’re here on your own,” you said slowly. “Hoping to take Michael Kinsella for yourself to please your President. You want rank.”

“Doesn’ fuckin’ matter, does it?” he shot back.

“It means they don’t know who I am, do they?” you asked him, feeling a little bolder the more you spoke. “None of the others know I’m here, because if they did, they’d have already alerted Victor. And you haven’t told Victor I’m here because then you’d lose your chance of making a name for yourself with the Serpents. Because wouldn’t you look like hot shit taking out Michael Kinsella and in turn winning the Serpents Ireland’s biggest supplier?”

Something flickered across the man’s face in the dark, his back straightening. “Think ya have it all figured out, d’ya?” he growled.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before a single word came out, the Serpent lifted the gun from where he’d had it pressed against your chest. With a solid thwack he slammed the butt of the gun upside your temple. White flashed across your eyes as you cried out, searing pain shooting through your head. Your body crumpled in half as you stumbled a few steps backwards. Eyelids fluttering, you tried to regain your balance, struggling not to fall on your knees before him.

“I’m not fuckin’ playin’ here,” he warned. “I’ll give ya a couple o’ days, but I want ya to bring me Michael.”

He pulled something out of his coat pocket and threw it at you. The object hit you in the shin, bouncing off of you and falling into the grass before you. You groaned, a hand flying to your head where he’d struck you. Immediately you winced, pain shooting through your skull. Something warm and wet met your fingertips–you had to have been bleeding.

Sluggishly your gaze dropped down to what he’d tossed at you. It looked like a small flip phone.

“Ya get Michael alone somewhere, ya text me on that burner phone,” he ordered. “If ya don’, I tell Victor and all the other Serpents in Cork that you’re here. If I smell a trap, I tell Victor and all the other Serpents in Cork that you’re here. If ya try to pull anythin’ with me–try to disappear on me?”

His hand darted out, gripping a fistful of your hair and yanking your head upwards, forcing your eyes to meet his as you yelped in surprise. A dangerous smile was spread across his lips.

“I think ya fuckin’ know what I’ll do,” he told you. “Ya got three days, and that’s me bein’ generous. Don’ fuck it up.”

Forcefully he flung you to the ground, his grip releasing your hair as he did. Your hands scrambled out in front of you, trying to catch yourself as you fell forward onto the grass. Heart violently thundering in your chest, you stayed like that on all fours as you heard the sound of the lone motorcycle rumble to life. Your eyes closed when you heard him rev the engine, fingers curling around the blades of grass.

A few moments later, you heard the bike tear off with a roar, the noise steadily disappearing into the night. When silence finally met your ears, you collapsed to the ground, tears burning at your eyes and racing down your cheeks. No longer needing to try to look brave, you let yourself cry in the grass.

What a fucking mess you’d wound up in now. You had three days to deliver Michael to that nameless Serpent. Which of course meant he was going to kill him, though obviously there was no way you were going to let that happen. But clearly anything deviating from that–if you ran, or if the three days were up, or you had the Kinsellas’ try to take the Serpent out–you’d have the entire Cork charter after you along with Victor on his way to Dublin. And that meant you’d be putting Megan in danger. And Michael. Possibly Birdy and the others.

What the hell were you supposed to do? You would never give up Michael, but you didn’t want to be thrown to Victor, either. He’d only hurt you before he inevitably killed you. And he’d probably find a way to drag it out and make you wish he’d get it over with. That thought alone had you curling in on yourself in the grass, tears pouring down your cheeks even faster.

In the distance, you heard the distinct sound of a motorcycle gradually roaring nearer. The sound shot a spike of adrenaline through you, the familiar rumble causing you to sit bolt upright in the grass, one hand flying to your forehead as the world around you briefly spun at the movement. You winced in pain, removing your hand from your forehead as you tried to focus in on the noise of the bike. It sounded like it was coming from the opposite direction of where the Serpent had just left; it was coming from down where you knew Dotser was waiting for you.

Had the Serpent circled back?

Carefully you rose to your feet, pocketing the burner phone and blinking rapidly when your vision briefly blurred and you’d once again become dizzy. You stumbled forward, having to quickly catch your balance as a hiss of pain shot through your teeth. Recovering seconds later, you stuffed your hand back into your parka pocket, fingers wrapping around the handle of the gun as you began to make your way back down the hill. If Dotser was in danger you weren’t just going to leave him to fend for himself.

As you crested the top of the hill, you caught sight of a motorcycle pulling up beside Dotser’s parked car. You swore you spotted two people getting off of the bike before the headlight on it had turned off, throwing them back into darkness. But it hadn’t seemed like Dotser had been alarmed at the appearance of whoever they were, and you hadn’t heard gunshots ringing out. It must not have been the Serpents–they certainly didn’t share bikes like that anyway. But as you continued on your way down the hill, you wondered exactly who it could’ve been on that bike. Only Birdy and Frank knew you were out here.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out, though. As you continued your descent down the hill towards the two vehicles, your temple throbbing as you felt blood trickling down the side of your face, you spotted someone pulling off a helmet and aggressively throwing it to the ground. Then their figure began storming its way over towards you, moving at an alarmingly fast pace. Your hand squeezed around the handle of the gun in your pocket, but almost one second later a sinking feeling hit you in the gut right before you heard the unmistakable and furious voice of Michael Kinsella.

“What the fuck d’ya think you’re doin’?”

You winced at the anger in his words as he continued to stalk his way towards you. Instead of answering, you blurted the question that was on your mind.

“How did you know I was here?” you nervously called back.

Michael’s enraged steps were swiftly closing in on you, shrinking the distance between the pair of you as he approached, a gun held firmly in his right hand. In the dim light from the moon you could see the sheer fury etched across his handsome features as his eyes bore into you. The look on his face alone sent a chill through you. But then you saw the exact moment he spotted what must’ve been the nasty gash on the side of your head considering how fast his expression switched from murderous to concerned and fearful. His eyes widened, dark brows rising up onto his forehead as his lips parted in surprise. He hesitated for the minutest of moments before he was sprinting the remaining distance towards you, stuffing his gun into the back of his jeans as he ran.

You came to a halt when Michael stopped before you, your eyes guiltily darting away from him and towards the ground. He reached his left hand out without a single word, his fingers carefully gripping your chin and turning your face to the side further as he examined the wound on the side of your head. You heard him suck in a sharp breath beside you before you felt the tips of his fingers on his other hand just lightly brush over the skin next to the injury. You grimaced at his faint touch and something like a rumbling growl vibrated in his chest instantly.

“It’s not that bad,” you whispered.

Michael didn’t reply. Instead, he gently turned your face back towards his, your eyes gradually making their way back up to his. Michael’s hazel stare pierced into yours through the dark, his lips pressed into a thin line. You could practically feel the heat of his anger burning into you just through his glare alone.

“Who did this?” he asked.

You shook your head, his fingers still holding your chin as you did. The Serpents wanted him dead, Michael could not be running off after them just because one of them hit you.

“It doesn’t matter,” you told him. “You’re not going to–”

“Who did this to ya?” he repeated fiercely, releasing your chin and taking a step closer to you, his face hovering before yours. “The asshole on the bike who just peeled out o’ here? He the one, Grace?”

Eyes going wide, your mouth fell open. He’d spotted the Serpent leaving?

“Take that as a yes,” Michael growled, turning on the spot.

He took two steps before your stomach twisted uncomfortably, watching as his right hand withdrew the gun from the back of his pants. You immediately took off after him, ignoring the way pain shot through your head as you bolted forward.

“Michael, stop!”

Your hands reached out, grabbing onto his brown jacket and pulling roughly against it. Michael came to an abrupt stop, turning back towards you with a dangerous look in his eyes as he stared you down. The muscles in his cheeks were twitching and seeing that look back on his face only sent another chill through your body. He looked absolutely murderous.

“Let go of me, Grace,” he ordered, barely contained rage in his voice.

Your fingers curled tighter around his jacket as you shook your head at him. “No,” you told him. “You’re not going after him. I won’t let you. He’ll kill you.”

Michael took an intimidating step towards you, his face mere inches from yours. Though the proximity was anything but intimate with the way his expression was twisted in fury and his sharp, angered breaths were causing his chest to heave as he glared back at you.

“ I’m goin’ to fuckin’ kill him !” he roared at you, ignoring the way you flinched at the volume of his voice. “Ya think I’m goin’ to let some asshole threaten ya and then beat ya? Think I’d let that go unanswered? D’ya, Grace?”

He raised the gun in his hand, the barrel of it pointed upwards towards the sky. Your eyes inevitably were drawn to the weapon at the movement, goosebumps rippling over your arms beneath your jacket. You were torn between fear for Michael’s safety, surprise at his rage openly on display, and absolute admiration for how far Michael was willing to go to protect you.

Though you were immediately drawn back to the matter at hand. The Serpents wanted Michael dead because Eamon wanted him dead. That Serpent that had just left here would shoot Michael on sight without hesitation. And if Michael somehow managed to kill an MC member instead, he'd have a whole new problem to deal with.

He couldn’t chase after him.

“You can’t,” you said firmly, shaking your head again. “You can’t go after him, Michael.”

“The fuckin’ hell I can’t,” he snapped at you. “And don’t think I’m not wantin’ an explanation for whatever the fuck ya think you’re doin’ meetin’ with them all alone when I’m done dealin' with this.” He pointed a sharp finger towards your jacket pocket. " Or an explanation as to why you're carryin' a fuckin' gun on ya, Grace."

He firmly grasped your wrists, removing your hands from their hold on his jacket before he turned back around, stalking off towards the motorcycle he had rode in on. Inhaling a shaky breath, you followed after him, tears stinging at your eyes. You had to make him understand the gravity of this situation.

“The Serpents want you dead, Michael,” you shouted after him.

Michael stopped mid-step, his shoulders squaring as he stood there. Slowly, his head tilted to the side as he listened to you.

"The one I met with," you continued quickly, "he told me they're going after the bounties Eamon put out on all of you. Especially you, Michael. They want Eamon for a supplier. So if you chase after him, he'll kill you on sight."

Michael looked over his shoulder at you, his jaw clenched tight. The fury was still clear on his face but you pushed on, spotting Dotser and Michael’s brother Jimmy nearing the pair of you.

“And if you kill a Serpent, you’ll have the whole charter bearing down on your family here in Dublin,” you told him. “The club is a family, too. You kill one, you’ll have them all after you. And if you somehow prove to be difficult enough,” you said, pausing to draw in a deep, shuddering breath, “they call in the Viper."

You held Michael’s stare unblinkingly. His brows drew faintly together as he processed what you'd said, a look of confusion drawing over his features.

"Viper?" he asked.

You nodded solemnly in return. " My ex. He deals with…problems that any charter can't handle on their own. If you start killing off members in Cork, you’ll have Victor here in Dublin so fucking fast that you might as well put a bullet in my head right now.”

Michael’s eyes dropped to the ground, his left hand rising up to run across his mouth. You could see the tension slowly leaving him as the weight of your words settled on him; even his grip on his gun wasn't as tight and determined as before.

“So I’m–I’m just s’posed to let that fucker get away with layin’ a hand on ya like that?” Michael shot back, his eyes darting back up to you. "Ya expect me to do nothin' 'bout that?"

Your eyes darted to Jimmy who’d come to a stop beside his brother. He was eyeing you curiously, seemingly really noticing you for the first time. For a brief moment you wondered what Michael must have told him about you for him to come out here to help his brother, but now wasn't exactly the time to wonder what Michael’s family thought about you. Attention returning back to Michael, you answered him.

“There’s–there's nothing you can do about what happened to me right now,” you told him, shaking your head. “He told me I needed to deliver you to him in three days or he’d alert the charter in Cork and Victor to the fact that I’m here. So I don’t–don't think it's a good idea to go racing after him and shooting first without thinking it through," you admitted. "Birdy wanted me to meet with her and Frank after this. Right now, I think that's the better option than chasing that guy down. It's better to not make a bigger mess out of everything. Think the best choice would be to be smart and handle this with some thought before action."

"She has a point, brother," Jimmy cut in, gesturing a hand at your face. "And your girl looks like she could use some medical attention. Let Dotser take her back to Birdy’s. We can meet 'em there and figure things out."

Resignation slowly made its way across Michael’s face as he shot his brother a look. Jimmy held his brother's stare for a few seconds as if the pair were silently communicating with each other. Eventually Michael let out a loud sigh, returning his gun to the waistband of the back of his pants.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Just give me a minute with her, would ya both?"

Both Jimmy and Dotser nodded, making their way back to the car and the motorcycle parked a little way off still. Nervously you focused on Michael who was watching the pair of men walking away. You felt guilty for having lied to him before coming out here, even more now that he'd caught you in the lie.

Gradually Michael turned, making his way towards you. He moved quietly, his eyes on the ground as he took each step until he’d once again stopped in front of you. A second later he finally looked up at you, the anger entirely missing from his face now. Instead, there was something warm and caring reflecting back at you in his concerned eyes before they focused on the cut along your head. He winced visibly at the sight of it.

"I'm fine," you whispered.

"Are ya?" he asked as his sad, pain-filled eyes met yours again. "You're in the middle of a lot o' shit right now, Grace. Because o' me."

You shook your head quickly, ignoring the sharp pain as you did. "No, it's because of me. Because of Victor," you disagreed.

Michael scoffed loudly, shaking his own head. "But no one would have taken notice of ya if ya hadn't been with me , Grace," he pointed out.

Hands curling into fists at your sides, you were terrified he'd suddenly tell you he wanted nothing to do with you. That this was all a mistake. That you were safer without him–all things you'd wanted to say and do to keep him safe and couldn't exactly blame him for. Your heart had begun nervously thrumming in your chest in anticipation of those words as his hand reached out, carefully cradling the side of your face that wasn't injured. It felt like you couldn't breathe as you waited for him to speak, his thumb lightly brushing back and forth along your cheek.

"I'm goin' to fix this," he assured you. "Goin' to make this right. To make sure ya are safe. Ya have my word, pet. He'll pay for this."

Gingerly his hand slipped back to gently grasp the back of your head, carefully drawing you into himself. Hands flying up, you wrapped your arms eagerly around Michael’s waist, desperate for the safety and comfort he exuded. He held you securely in his arms in return, one hand stroking affectionately down the back of your head as he lightly rested his against the top of yours.

"I'll keep ya safe, I promise ya," he murmured. "I got ya now, pet. Ya here me? I got ya now."

Burrowing further against Michael's chest, your eyes closed as you relaxed into his protective embrace. Despite how your night had gone, you felt safe with him. Fingers tightening further around Michael’s jacket, you held on to him like he was your lifeline.

You didn't want to let him go.

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fanfic #kin amc

167 notes · View notes

bellaxgiornata · 11 months

Text

Safe Haven [Chapter Twelve]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.6k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: This is a long one where we finally get their first date! And there's angst at the end of it, too... Also big thanks to @loveroftoomanyfandoms for figuring out what Michael is actually reading in Kin! Feedback is always appreciated!

Drawing the warm ceramic mug to your lips, you drank down more of your vanilla latte. The hot liquid was surprisingly not too sweet, the bold taste of the roast actually coming through as it passed over your tongue. You decided you liked this coffee shop, and not just because it was now going to hold the memory of your first date with Michael, but they apparently knew how to make a good cup of coffee.

Across from you at the table, Michael’s fingers were tapping against the side of his steaming mug of coffee, his chin resting in the palm of his other hand. His eyes were locked on yours, crinkles forming at the corners of them and that dimple visible just beneath his beard on his right cheek. He sat there silently, continuing to simply smile at you.

He had just been contentedly watching you as if that alone was enough for him for the past couple of minutes. You swore if he kept looking at you like he’d been doing ever since you’d both sat down, you’d end up throwing yourself over the small table separating the pair of you and crushing your mouth to his. Just that look of enraptured interest he had for you so plainly written across his face was alone increasing your arousal–or maybe it had just been vastly too long since either of you had last had sex. Either way, you were getting turned on and you could feel the sexual tension increasing to a palpable level in the air around the pair of you. Didn’t matter that you were both in public in a coffee shop and Michael was wearing a bulletproof vest under his sweater and jacket. Somehow that only added to your increasing desire.

“You just going to stare at me for the duration of this date?” you asked him, lowering the mug back to the table and wrapping both of your hands around it. “Or do you actually want to talk to me?”

Michael chuckled, that intense look of fondness never leaving his face. “Well I have a beautiful woman sittin’ across from me, and it’s quite early in the mornin’. Maybe I’m a bit distracted?” he teased.

That also didn’t help you control the desire to jump him publicly.

“Laying it on thick, I see,” you joked, unable to fight the smile on your own mouth.

“Well I told ya it may be a bit before I can take ya on another proper date again,” he explained. “And it did take me two times to get ya to say yes to me to begin with.” He shrugged. “Maybe I just want to make sure it won’t take ya six times before ya say yes next time?”

You laughed, surprised at how funny he actually was when you got a little bit past the awkward, brooding, mysterious exterior. Shaking your head at him, your eyes dropped down to the mug of coffee before you. On your walk to the coffee shop this morning Michael had been noticeably more comfortable with you than he had been the last time the pair of you had taken a walk together. Although there had unfortunately been no kissing or hand holding, he had somehow still managed to slip in a bit of overt flirting despite the main topic of conversation.

As you’d both walked to the shop for your date, Michael had been explaining how he really shouldn’t be out of his house because of the feud that had been started between his family and their supplier–this Eamon character that Birdy had initially accused you of getting close to Michael for the Serpents for. Apparently anyone selling for Eamon that had a gun was going to be on the lookout for a Kinsella or anyone working with the family. There had been a very high bounty put on Michael’s head and it wasn’t exactly safe for him to be out–even in public. Which didn’t exactly surprise you, considering how he’d walked into a crowded bar himself a few nights ago and shot the man who’d been responsible for Jamie’s death. But Michael had repeatedly assured you the bounty was still such early news that there wasn’t a high risk of anyone tailing him yet. He’d made sure no one was before he’d come to get you from your sister’s this morning.

To you, it sounded like this feud was more of a war. Especially with the way he was wearing a bulletproof vest under his clothes and occasionally scanning out the window to make sure no one suspicious was watching the pair of you. He’d even intentionally picked a table near a back exit in case the pair of you needed to bolt, and he’d positioned himself so he could keep an eye on the door and still be between you and it. Which was a detail you hadn’t missed.

“So you’re a writer, yeah?” he asked.

His question drew your eyes back up from your mug and to his face. He’d sat up straighter in his chair now, his chin no longer resting in his palm. You watched as he drew his mug to his lips, your eyes momentarily distracted by the movement–and his mouth. It had been too long since you’d last had the opportunity to kiss him, and you really had wanted to pick up where you’d left off the other morning.

“Yeah, I am,” you answered, your eyes finally meeting his again.

“What’s that like?” he asked next.

You shrugged a shoulder, mulling over the question. “It’s nice, I suppose,” you told him. “I get to work from wherever I want–clearly,” you said, shooting him a small smile to which he returned. “Other than making deadlines there’s not too much daily stress during the writing part of things. I mean, besides the pressure I put on myself to actually, you know, write.”

Michael chuckled, leaning his elbows onto the table as he drew himself closer towards you. “And what exactly do you write about?” he questioned.

“I uh, have a series about a family,” you began awkwardly, your eyes dropping down to your coffee mug. “And they do…nefarious things to make money.”

“Such as…?” he prompted curiously.

“Drug trafficking,” you answered, eyes still averted. “Money laundering. Blackmail. Murder.”

“Well that’s…rather dark,” he mused.

Your eyes slid up towards his, one of your brows arching back at him. The corner of his lip twitched upwards in response.

“I am aware of the irony,” he replied, grinning. “I take it ya took inspiration from your life?”

“Something like that,” you admitted.

Michael’s dark brows pulled together on his forehead, a crease forming between them. “I’m surprised your ex-fiance allowed that. He knew that’s what ya wrote ‘bout?”

Nodding, you drew your mug back up to your lips for another drink. You swallowed down the coffee before you answered.

“He knew,” you simply said. “My sister had actually gotten in with one of the Serpents back in the day–before I’d ever met Victor. He’d gone by the nickname Lucky. He actually had epilepsy and was the reason why I knew what to do that other night when I…met you.”

“Mmm,” Michael hummed out, his gaze still intently watching you. “Wondered 'bout that.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, your eyes dropped back down to your nervously fidgeting hands. Your fingers began to drum along the ceramic mug as you spoke; you didn’t particularly like to think about the outlaw MC.

“I’d started writing the series back then,” you told him. “My sister and I, we didn’t exactly have a great childhood. I’d stayed behind and forwent college just to make sure she’d been safe and taken care of until she graduated. I worked two jobs just trying to pay the bills while our mom just…” you slowly trailed off, shaking your head. “But Megan she–she fell for Lucky when he was still a prospect for the Serpents, right before she graduated high school. She was really serious about him. And I started hearing these stories–in the news and from my sister–and I just…I don’t know, I started writing,” you finished lamely with a shrug.

“So ya published them before ya met your ex?” Michael asked.

“The first one, yeah,” you said, your focus returning to his curious face. “The series name The Road to Hell was a quiet nod to the Serpents of Hell MC. Even though it's not actually about a motorcycle club and doesn’t specifically mention any real crimes they committed–because I’m not an idiot and wasn’t trying to get myself killed. But I was apparently good at it. At writing. And I needed the money because a high school education wasn’t getting me shit. So my publisher picked it up. They loved it and contracted me for more and well, that’s what I do, I guess.”

“I’m assumin’ somethin’ happened to this Lucky considerin’ Megan isn’t with him now?” Michael asked.

“Killed,” you answered with a nod. “He’s the reason why Megan went to school to become a nurse.”

Michael frowned at your response. “’M sorry to hear that.”

You shrugged, bringing your coffee back to your mouth for another drink. Swallowing the warm liquid down, you eyed his handsome face across the table from you. This wasn't exactly what you wanted to talk about.

“Not a very light topic for a date,” you mused as you lowered the mug. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself? Something not depressing unlike what I just told you.”

A small smile returned to Michael’s face, one of his hands sliding across the wooden table towards yours. He reached up, gripping onto your right hand and pulling it away from your coffee mug down to the table with his. The gesture instantly stilled your nervous fidgeting, your eyes dropping down to watch as he slowly entwined his fingers with yours. Your heart beat a little harder in your chest.

“What d’ya want to know?” he asked.

Eyes slowly making their way up towards his face, you felt your breath coming in shallower. That look from earlier had returned to his face, and in turn, so had your previous state of arousal.

How fast can I get you home and in my bed?

Bottom lip slipping between your teeth, you tried hard to fight that question from accidentally falling out of your mouth. Michael’s gaze had inevitably dropped down to where you were chewing your lip, his own tongue slowly sliding out to wet his lips as his eyes lingered.

If you didn’t get ahold of yourself soon you’d be dragging him out the back door behind you and seeing how far you could get with him before your mind brought reason back to you. And as tempting as that sounded, that’s not what you were doing here. Blinking hard a few times, your eyes darted out of the window beside you, trying to break whatever trance his eyes had somehow put you into again.

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. “Any hobbies?”

Michael huffed out a laugh, the sound catching your attention again. He was shaking his head as he raised his mug to his lips with his other hand. You watched as his throat bobbed while he drank the coffee down, your tongue running along the back of your teeth as you shifted in your seat, all too aware of the heat from his hand wrapped around yours.

“Ya know where I’ve been the past eight years, yeah?” he asked, lowering his mug back to the table. “Didn’ exactly have the opportunity for hobbies.”

“Okay,” you said slowly. “So you go back home after this and then you do what? Sit on your sofa and stare into the void? There’s got to be something you enjoy.”

He chuckled as his hand not holding yours rose up to scratch at his beard. Your left hand curled around your mug, desperately trying to ignore the way your fingers itched to feel the rasp of it beneath them.

“So I’m goin’ home alone after this?” Michael teased. “That what you’re sayin’?”

Your own brows rose onto your forehead, lips parting in surprise as you gaped back at him. “I–I wasn’t saying that, exactly,” you stammered out.

A slow smile spread along Michael’s mouth, his hand rubbing along his chin as he continued to watch you from across the table. There was definitely some sort of look in his eye, something that had your pulse at a consistent, increased pace again.

“I enjoy readin’,” he said. “‘M not really into watchin’ shows, but I read.”

It took you a moment to realize he was answering your question about his hobbies. But as you sat across from him, your coffee almost finished, you’d found your brain was still stuck on one thing. Shifting again in your seat, you tried hard to focus on the conversation and not how badly you wanted the man you were talking to. The fact that he enjoyed reading was only adding to his attractiveness.

“And uh, what exactly do you like to read?” you asked, the question coming out unintentionally a little breathless.

Michael seemed to catch the change in your tone, his head tilting to the side as he quietly studied you for a moment. You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting to keep yourself from inviting him back to your place right here and now. Though it was beginning to feel like a losing battle. You felt like you might combust if you sat here much longer with him staring at you like that and you pretending like you weren’t dying to do more than just talk.

Clearing your throat, you tried to shove those thoughts away again.

"Actually, let me guess," you began, trying to focus on the conversation. "You don't seem like you'd be into horror and suspense."

"Get enough o' that in my life already," Michael agreed, nodding.

Your eyes narrowed as you examined him closely. "Not romance, either. Or science fiction," you ruled out, noticing the way his smile grew. "Nonfiction?"

Michael shrugged a shoulder. "Dependin' on the topic, yeah."

Becoming interested in this guessing game, you rested your elbow on the table and leaned forward, your right hand still entwined with his. Michael copied the gesture, that flicker of something still in his eyes, his mouth seemingly permanently drawn up into a grin as he lessened the gap between the pair of you at the table.

"Historical fiction?" you asked.

"On occasion," he replied huskily.

Pressing your lips together, you wondered how the hell he was making this conversation so hot. The way he’d gripped your hand a bit firmer in his wasn’t helping.

"Mmm, not a mystery reader," you continued, watching as he shook his head. "Classic lit?"

Michael’s grin widened further. "I enjoy some, yeah," he answered.

Resting your chin in your hand, your index finger absently tapped against your lips as you thought. You only became aware of the gesture when Michael’s eyes dropped down, staring at your mouth yet again. That's when you'd intentionally began running your finger back and forth along your bottom lip slowly, enjoying the way his eyes followed the movement. Apparently you weren't the only one thinking about that right now.

"I'm guessing you're not into bodice rippers," you teased, intentionally directing the conversation towards sex.

Michael’s brows shot up onto his forehead, his eyes returning to yours. "Bodice rippers?" he asked with a laugh. "Is that what I'm thinkin' it is?"

You grinned, nodding. "Yeah, you know, smut. Those books with the overly buff men on the cover and a woman who's heaving bosom looks like it's about to pop out of her top?"

Michael cracked up, his eyes creasing as he tried to contain his laughter. "No Grace," he answered, his shoulders shaking with his barely contained mirth, "I can't say that I read… bodice rippers . But now ya got me wonderin' if you do."

A large smile drew wide across your own face. "Oh I have an entire series of them I wrote," you told him enthusiastically, fighting down your own laughter when his mouth dropped open in shock. "About a pirate and a virgin–well, I guess she's not a virgin anymore. Not with everything they've done with the buried treasure they've found…"

Michael continued to gawk at you from across the table and you swore you saw pink tinge his cheeks. When you saw him struggling to form a coherent thought, you burst into a laugh.

"I'm kidding," you assured him. "I don't have a smutty series about a pirate–but I bet you I’d make a fortune if I did."

He visibly relaxed in his seat, a laugh falling out of him. "Ya definitely had me there," he said. "Wasn't sure if ya were serious and how I was s'posed to respond to that."

"Yeah, I could tell," you said with a laugh of your own. "Pretty sure I made you blush, Mr. Kinsella."

His hand squeezed yours as he chuckled again, his eyes falling back down to his mug. “I don’ know ‘bout that,” he muttered.

“So what are you reading?” you asked him finally.

“Currently?” he asked, continuing when you nodded. “ East of Eden.”

Eyebrows raising onto your forehead, you hummed out a curious noise. The corner of his lip twitched.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said innocently with a shrug. “You seem like you’d read Steinbeck is all.”

His eyes narrowed playfully at you. "And what's that s'posed to mean?" he asked.

"That you should probably find something lighter to read," you teased.

You picked up your coffee mug and downed the rest of your latte, enjoying the bemused expression on Michael’s face as he watched you. Setting the empty mug back onto the table, your eyes dropped back down to your enjoined hands. His thumb suddenly brushed a light stroke across your knuckles and you felt that excited, giddy feeling wash over you. Yet again you found yourself wishing you weren't in a public setting.

“D’ya want another coffee?” he asked, head gesturing to your now empty mug.

“Actually,” you began slowly, eyes gradually returning to his face, “Do you…maybe want to head back?”

Something flickered across his face at your question, an expression so fleeting you barely just caught it before you saw him quickly control his reaction. He cleared his throat, picking up his almost empty mug of coffee, his focus on the remaining liquid as he spoke.

“Already wantin’ an end to this date?” he asked.

“I was thinking more like…moving the date back to my place?” you suggested. “Megan isn’t home and well, you wouldn’t have to keep glancing out the window and being on edge.”

“If that’s what ya would like to do,” he said casually, his eyes still almost nervously avoiding yours as he downed the rest of his coffee.

“And is that what you would like to do?” you questioned back.

Michael paused, his gaze very gradually drawing up from his mug to meet yours. That flicker of something was in his eyes again as he stared back at you for a moment. You felt a heat rising up to your cheeks, but not from embarrassment this time. You wanted to see where this was going to go, and you certainly weren’t thinking about stopping things like last time.

“I’d like that, yeah,” he eventually answered.

You tried to fight back the smile on your lips as Michael released your hand finally, grabbing your empty coffee cup along with his and telling you that he’d take care of them. Your eyes lingered on Michael’s back as he stepped away to deposit them on a nearby cart. Rising from your own chair, you slipped your jacket back on and mentally prepared to face the chilly morning air that seemed to be a constant in Dublin.

When Michael had made his way back to you, your heart skipped in your chest at the sight of his offered hand. Eagerly you slipped yours into it, smiling when you saw his own smile light up his entire face. He led the pair of you out of the coffee shop, his head darting around looking out the shop windows as he walked, clearly keeping an eye out for anyone who looked suspicious.

He’d held the door of the shop open for you, only releasing the hold he had on your hand to do so until you were outside on the sidewalk. His hand swiftly grasped back onto yours, entwining his fingers through your own when you both fell in step beside each other. Biting your lip, your gaze dropped down to your feet as you walked, your shoulder brushing alongside his with each step.

For a few minutes the pair of you had walked in comfortable silence, your mind on the things you’d like to do to him back at Megan’s place. Though you found yourself wondering what he was thinking about right now and if it was something along the same lines.

“I hope–hope ya had a good time,” Michael said nervously, finally breaking the silence.

Your hand squeezed his reassuringly as you glanced at him beside you over your shoulder. His head turned, a small smile on his mouth as he took in the look on your face.

“I did,” you assured him. “Wouldn’t be inviting you back with me if I hadn’t.”

“Quite bold of ya, too,” he mused.

A coy smile spread along your lips in response. “And quite bold of you to assume that’s what I meant,” you countered.

Michael’s expression quickly shifted to something sheepish, his mouth opening and closing for a moment. He looked absolutely adorable as his pace slowed beside you and he grew further flustered.

“Oh, I–I just thought–I mean, you’re right, I shouldn’ have–” he broke off, clearly trying to find the right words.

You laughed, shaking your head and watching his expression slightly relax at the sound. “I did mean that, actually,” you told him. “But you’re cute when you get flustered.”

Michael breathed out a laugh, his head ducking down as his other hand came to rub at the back of his neck. “Don’ think anyone’s called me cute before,” he muttered.

“Well I just did. And I think you are,” you pointed out, eyes still lingering on his handsome face. “Among other things,” you added, the words spilling out of you before you could stop them.

Michael looked up at you from underneath his lashes; there was something undeniably hungry in his eyes as he held you in his stare. That desire you’d been feeling all morning was only steadily growing within you as you saw his eyes scanning your face in the silence that followed, searching for something that you sincerely hoped he found there. But something caught his eye just past your shoulder, his focus shifting as his lips thinned. His expression quickly became serious and your eyes narrowed curiously back at him.

Michael straightened beside you, his posture going rigid as his head spun forward. His hand tightened around yours as he quickened his pace. You were forced to increase your stride to keep up as he pulled you along beside him.

“What–”

“Can’ tell if we’re bein’ followed,” he responded in a hushed tone. “Just keep your head down, pet. Act normal. Don' want somethin' happenin' to ya."

Your heart sped up in your chest for a different reason now, adrenaline flooding you at his words. Someone was following you? Someone looking for that bounty on Michael’s head he’d told you about this morning? The familiar cold prickle of fear rose the hairs along the back of your neck, your jaw tensing as you grit your teeth together.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted someone on the other side of the street. There was a black hood pulled up over their head, making it impossible to make out their face. Their hands were stuffed in the pockets of their sweatshirt, but with them so far across the street, you couldn’t tell if there was a gun in one of their pockets or not. It looked as if they had turned their head towards the pair of you across the street before focusing back on the sidewalk before them.

Were they following Michael then? Here to shoot him and claim the bounty Eamon had put out?

Michael abruptly tugged you sideways, startling you as he pulled you down a small side street. You willingly followed after him, still practically being dragged behind him until he suddenly stopped and turned, grabbing both of your shoulders in his hands. He pushed your back up into the brick wall of the nearby building without warning, a surprised gasp falling out of you at the impact. Michael's arms were soon caging you in between them, the front of him coming to press against the front of you. His face was just inches from yours now, panic and fear written plainly in his eyes as yours met his.

"Just stay right there, pet. I got ya," he murmured, his left hand moving from off the wall to gently cradle the back of your head, easing it down to rest against his chest. "'M so sorry. Didn' think anyone was followin' us when we left."

You didn't respond, too busy trying to control your own increasing panic. Your hands fisted the material of his sweater as your heart thundered loudly in your own ears. Eyes snapping shut, you tried to focus on the smokey cinnamon scent of him, letting it fill your nose as you buried it further into his chest. Michael pressed himself more firmly to the front of you when you'd exhaled an audible, shuddering breath.

"'S'alrigh', I got ya," he whispered, his cheek resting along the top of your head, his other hand still firmly cradling the back of your head to him. "Won' let anythin' happen to ya."

Seconds later you felt Michael tense against you, his entire body going rigid as he covered you with himself. Your fingers curled tighter around his sweater, the solid bulletproof vest underneath it reassuring you in this moment that he would be alright–he had to be. You heard his breath catch in his throat with how closely you were burrowed against him as you waited for what felt like the inevitable, tears pricking at your eyes.

But nothing happened.

The moment felt like it dragged on for minutes, time slowing down, but no gunshot ever rang out. Very slowly Michael raised his head from the top of yours, but he didn't release his hold on you so you remained latched to the front of him. Whoever had been across the street must’ve passed by already now, but Michael was clearly trying to wait them out to make sure they really weren’t about to double back and shoot him. It was a few minutes before he finally broke the silence, your body feeling like it was stuck in a state of panic while you waited.

"I–I think they're gone," Michael whispered. "Musta been nothin' after all."

His hand on the back of your head gently smoothed down your hair a few times, the comforting feel of it drawing a shudder out of you. Gradually you pulled away from his chest, finally releasing the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Michael was looking down at you, an apologetic smile on his face.

“Ya alrigh’, Grace?” he asked softly.

Nodding, your hands continued to keep a firm hold to his sweater underneath his open jacket. Michael’s hand on the back of your head slid forward, gently cupping your cheek and tilting your face up towards his. That sorrowful, regretful look was back in his eyes again as they held yours. Your heart continued to beat wildly in your chest from a mixture of the residual fear and adrenaline, along with the admiration at how easily Michael chose to shield you with himself in the heat of the moment.

“‘M so sorry, Grace,” he repeated. “Fuck, I shouldn’ have taken ya out this mornin’. I didn’ think it’d be a worry today because–”

You lunged forward, closing the brief space between the pair of you and cutting him off when you pressed your mouth to his. Hands releasing the death grip you’d had on his sweater, they came up to grab either side of his face, holding him firmly to you. It took Michael a second to recover from the shock of your action before he was kissing you back, one hand wrapping around the back of your neck and the other gripping your hip. You gasped into his mouth when he pushed you back into the brick wall, his tongue slipping inside when you did.

You moaned next–a loud, throaty sound that only spurred him on. Michael’s tongue was feverishly lapping at yours, the feeling leaving you breathless as your hands made their way back into his hair, gripping the dark strands firmly in your fists. You didn’t know if it was due to the fear of being shot, the flirty, lustful thoughts you’d been having for the duration of the date, or a combination of the two, but you found yourself needing him.

Without thinking, completely forgetting that you were still in public, your hips pressed forward into Michael. His tongue slid back out of your mouth, his teeth biting down on your lip and tugging in response. He rumbled out a noise from deep within his chest as he nipped at your lip. You whined at the sound, pulling at his hair and trying to urge him to continue. Releasing your lip from between his teeth, Michael shook his head briefly. The pair of you stood there on the side street, clinging to each other and breathing heavily.

“Not here,” Michael panted out.

Eyelids falling shut, your head rolled back against the brick building behind you. He was right, now wasn’t the time. Reluctantly you released the grip you had on his hair, your hands instead coming to land against Michael’s chest. You took a moment, trying to catch your breath and calm your body down–from the kiss and the panic–as you felt both of his hands coming to rest along your hips. You could hear the way he was breathing heavily before you, just as out of breath as you were.

After a minute you finally opened your eyes, focusing back on him in front of you. Michael’s shoulders were heaving a little less visibly now, one corner of his mouth curling upwards at you. Licking your lips, you tried hard to push those thoughts aside for the duration of the walk back to your place with him.

“Why don’t we just–just continue this when we get back?” you suggested.

“Probably a better idea,” he agreed.

Michael extended his hand towards you and you easily slipped your hand back into his. The pair of you made your way down the side street and towards the sidewalk, but Michael had come to a stop just before it, making you wait behind him while he surveyed the area. When he seemed satisfied you were safe, he gave your hand a little tug and the two of you continued on your walk.

The entire walk back felt like it had taken forever with every flirtatious look the pair of you kept sending each other. You’d both tried to make conversation, but it seemed only one thing was on either of your minds, making it difficult to keep a topic going for long. By the time you’d reached your street, Michael had already convinced you to come back to his place instead because it was always empty, unlike your place where Megan could theoretically show up unexpectedly.

That was how the pair of you found yourselves once again wrapped around each other. Michael had been reaching for his house key in his pocket to unlock his front door. Unable to wait, you’d grabbed onto the edge of his jacket and pulled him towards you. He didn’t hesitate to respond to you this time, his mouth diving straight down towards yours.

He was kissing you feverishly again, clearly still as worked up from earlier as you were. His hands flew back to your hips, gripping them tight as he walked you the handful of steps backwards until you’d hit the stone fence behind you. Your own hands slid up his chest, wishing you could rip the vest off of him now that you were back because you wanted to feel him beneath your hands instead.

His mouth soon broke from yours, his lips making their way down to your jaw. His beard lightly tickled against your skin as he trailed a few open mouthed kisses along the length of it, a moan vibrating in your throat. The moment he sucked a patch of your skin into his mouth, your eyes rolled back and your head landed against the brick wall behind you. Your arms wound around his neck, fingers digging into the thick material of his jacket as you sighed out a noise of pleasure. His mouth felt so goddamn good.

As he continued to focus on your neck, one of his hands slid down from your hip, making its way around to palm your ass over your jeans. His large hand squeezed and the sound that it drew from your throat would’ve been mortifying if it hadn’t caused him to suck another patch of skin along your neck into his mouth.

“ Fuck, Michael,” you breathed out.

You could feel the wet heat building between your thighs when he drew back from your neck, his plush lips damp with his saliva. His face was slightly flushed, that hungry look in his eyes again. God, you needed him badly.

Throwing all thought out, you pulled him towards you with the arms you had wrapped around his neck. Your lips crashed onto his, kissing him with every bit of that urgent hunger you felt burning inside of you. The pair of you were panting for air against each others' mouths, the kiss a mix of teeth and tongue as you gave yourself over to your desire. When you’d sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, your tongue dancing along the length of it, Michael had let out a groan that had your cunt clenching around nothing.

Releasing his lip from your mouth, your heated gaze locked onto Michael’s. The pair of you were still wrapped around each other, lips swollen from all of the kissing. Michael’s hand was still slowly kneading at your ass over your jeans as your lips parted, the words ‘I want you’ about to fall from them, but then an irritated voice rang out from just behind Michael and the pair of you froze.

“Ya got to be kiddin’ me, Michael!”

He immediately broke away from you, taking a few steps back as your hands inevitably fell to your sides with him now out of reach. Breath still coming in shallow pants, you felt a sharp pang hit you in the chest at how quickly he’d broken apart from you at the appearance of Amanda.

“I've been callin' ya all mornin', Michael," she continued bitterly. "I came over here to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’ important and I find ya over here pawin' at her? Ya shouldn' even be draggin’ an outsider into our shite with everythin' goin' on!” Amanda snapped.

"Amanda," Michael began, his tone placating.

“What if somethin' had happened and I couldn' get ahold o' ya, huh?" she barreled on. "Somethin' like what happened to Jaime? Because ya were too busy lookin’ for a quick fuck with the neighbor?”

Michael ran a hand through his hair in frustration as he eyed her. “Now’s not really the time for this, Amanda,” Michael shot back.

For some reason the fact that he hadn’t immediately clarified that you weren’t just a quick fuck had your chest tightening uncomfortably. Surely you meant more to him than that, even if you two didn’t know each other quite that well yet, right? It had seemed like you’d had a good date, and Birdy had said he seemed interested in you. Yet still, it hurt all the more that he’d not corrected her because you knew that Amanda had certainly meant something to him in the past, considering he’d had an affair with her despite her being married to his brother.

Did she still mean something to him?

“It’s important, Michael,” Amanda said, her eyes taking a moment to rake you over with a look of disdain. “Certainly more important than whatever is goin' on here.”

“Can’t it wait?” he pressed.

Amanda’s eyes narrowed back at Michael. “ No, Michael, it can’t. Your family needs ya. More than your neighbor needs ya for a fuck,” she growled, gesturing a hand at you. “ She’s not important. Family is.”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief at her words and the blatant disrespect in them. Gaze flying towards Michael, you expected him to say something–anything at all–but all he did was sigh, his shoulders sagging as he did. Slowly his head turned over his shoulder back towards you, a sad, apologetic look in his eyes.

“Grace,” he began, “I’m gonna have to deal with this right now.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. Was he serious? He was going to let her talk about you like that and then just ask you to leave? As if that’s all you really were was a quick fuck at what was now becoming an inconvenient time?

Eyes hardening back at him, you felt anger and jealousy beginning to burn inside of you. How had you misread this situation so badly? You thought there was more going on between the pair of you, but apparently that was one-sided. Of course he’d just want a fuck fresh out of prison, and you were easy pussy next door, weren’t you? Seemingly desperate yourself.

Michael’s brows drew together at the change in your expression, confusion slowly drawing across his face as he turned towards you more fully. His mouth opened as if he was going to say more, but you cut him off.

“Don’t worry about it, Michael,” you retorted coldly, beginning to make your way past him.

“Grace–”

“And don’t call me, either,” you added.

“Grace,” he tried again.

You saw Michael reach out to grab your arm as you passed by, but you pulled it out of his reach. At the end of the driveway, you saw a faint smirk spread on Amanda’s lips as she watched the scene unfolding before her, crossing her arms over her chest as you neared. When you walked past her, it took every bit of your strength to resist smacking that pleased look right from her face.

You rounded the stone fence and made your way back to Megan’s house, ignoring the sound of Michael’s voice behind you. He only stopped calling your name when you heard Amanda tell him to–as if she apparently still had some pull over him.

Drawing the house key out of your coat pocket, you bit the tip of your tongue as you unlocked the front door. You didn’t want either of them to hear you crying; you were waiting to do that after you’d locked the door behind you and buried yourself in your sister’s couch cushions where no one could witness the tears.

Because of course he must still want her, even after eight years in prison. What an idiot you were to think you were more than easy sex to him. You were just a distraction from her.

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x f!reader #michael kinsella #kin amc #kin fanficiton

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bellaxgiornata · 7 months

Text

I Can't Lose You [part one]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: The night doesn't go as planned after being tasked by Amanda to seduce a rival drug lord in order to seal the deal for claim to more territory for the Kinsellas. When Michael finds out from his brother what happened, he's not happy with you for following Amanda's orders.

Warnings/tags: light angst, overprotective Mikey, love confession

a/n: This mental image of an upset and protective Mikey going off on Reader hit me hard and I wrote this almost entirely in one day because of it. And honestly, part of me wouldn't mind expanding on things with these two at some point because I sort of love them already... Feedback is always appreciated!

Michael Kinsella One Shot Tag List: @danzer8705 @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @shiorimakibawrites @wkndwlff @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza

Holding onto the wall for balance, you slipped out of your heels by the front door. Worn out, you slowly took them off one at a time, dropping each one to the floor with a groan. Your body was stiff and sore from the night's horrible turn of events and you were just glad you'd made it home alive.

With your heels finally off, you bent down to pick them up and put them away in your closet, but abruptly you paused halfway, hissing in pain as your hand flew to the bruise that had to be forming along your ribs. Gritting your teeth together, you straightened back up. Awkwardly limping down your entryway hall and past your kitchen, a hand still pressed to your side, you made your way through your house and towards your bathroom. You’d just leave your shoes where they were, too sore and exhausted to deal with them tonight.

Flipping on the lights in the bathroom, you limped over to stand before the sink. Carefully your hands reached down to your mid-thigh, pulling the hem of your dress all the way up to your chest. You winced as you saw the dark mark forming, stretching all along the left side of your ribs reflecting back at you in the mirror. It was only a matter of time before that became a disgusting and angry looking bruise.

With a sigh you released your dress, the fabric easily falling back down and covering you. Burying your face in your hands, you internally cursed yourself for having made such a stupid mistake. You knew better than to have reacted the way you had, but O’Brien had crossed a line. One you weren’t willing to cross for the sake of Amanda’s orders. But you certainly hadn’t expected that sort of reaction out of him. Thankfully it had been Jimmy she’d sent with you for the job instead of Eric–or God forbid, Michael . There probably would’ve been bloodshed had they accompanied you this evening and witnessed the way Sean O’Brien had treated you.

The sound of your front door flying open and the handle roughly slamming into the wall tore loudly through the stillness of your house. Hands flying down from your face, you startled in terrified surprise. Had O’Brien’s men come for further revenge? Had you embarrassed him that much?

But then you heard Michael’s familiar and enraged voice calling your name sharply through the house. Eyes closing, you grimaced at the sound. He was pissed, you could hear it in the way he was shouting your name. Which meant Jimmy must’ve told him what happened tonight already.

"Where the hell are ya?" he yelled. “I know you’re home already!”

Shoulders dropping in defeat, you realized you weren’t going to be able to hide this from him like you’d planned to do. Cautiously stepping out of the bathroom, you turned the light off on your way into the hallway. Swallowing thickly at the sound of his angry footsteps storming into your sitting room, you gradually made your way down the length of your hallway towards him. Stopping in the entrance to the sitting room, you leant up against the wall, eyeing Michael’s tense form as he scanned your back garden through the window.

“I’m right here, Mikey,” you weakly called back.

He spun swiftly on his heels, his lips set in a thin line as he fixed you with his hardened stare and that stern expression etched over his features. Eyes pinching tight at the sight of you, he briskly crossed the room in a few quick, agitated steps. You could feel your heart slamming nervously in your chest over and over the closer he neared. That look on his face was not one you saw often, and certainly not one he’d ever directed at you. He looked ready to kill.

When he reached you, he immediately slammed both of his hands onto the wall on either side of your head with a sharp bang , caging you in between his arms. You flinched at the harsh noise as both of his palms hit the wall while he lowered his face to yours. With him standing this close, you could see just how livid he was, his hazel eyes practically alight with rage.

“What the hell were ya thinkin’?” he growled low. “Are ya fuckin’ daft now? Is that it?”

“Amanda wanted the deal set with O’Brien,” you told him, your own blood beginning to boil at the way he was speaking to you. “If ya have a problem with that, maybe ya should take it up with her instead o’ crashin’ into my place hollerin’ at the top o' your lungs.”

Michael’s head tilted to the side, his eyes twitching at the corner as he stared you down. “I know ya aren’t this fuckin’ stupid,” he hissed. “ Seducin’ Sean O’Brien? That sounded like a grand idea to score the deal, did it? The fuckin’ Titan–ya know that’s what they call him, don’t ya?”

“I don’t give a sheep’s arse what they call him,” you snapped. “He’s a goddamn prick and we needed his northern territory to expand, Mikey. Ya already know that.”

“So what?” he asked, voice lowering to something dangerous that had the hairs on the back of your neck raising. “Ya were just goin’ to fuck ‘em, were ya? Like ya were nothin’ better than a goddamn whore? That what ya wanted? His filthy fuckin’ hands all over ya?”

You pulled a face at his words, hurt and rage coursing through you at the cruelty and crassness in them. That wasn’t like the Mikey you’d always known, not even when he was upset with you. Without thinking, your hand rose up, swinging forward through the air in anger. Though Michael saw it coming. His hand darted forward, catching yours by the wrist and immediately halting its movements. Jaw clenching, you fought to free your hand from his hold, but all he did was pin it to the wall beside your head.

“Jimmy said he hurt ya,” Michael continued, his tone softening. His eyes lowered, scanning what he could see of your body. “What’d he do?”

You tried to shake out of his grip, but Michael didn’t move. He stood solidly just before you, his eyes darting back up to yours. The muscle began to jump in his cheek in irritation when you remained silent.

“What’d he do?” he asked again, an edge to the question.

“Hit me,” you grudgingly ground out.

Michael’s eyes narrowed, an emotion crossing behind them that you couldn’t place. You knew he’d react horribly if he’d found out what happened tonight; you'd known that the moment Amanda ordered you and Jimmy to schmooze O’Brien. Especially when she asked you to wear this particular dress that didn't cover much and demanded you openly flirt with him. But you certainly hadn’t expected that Michael would be quite this pissed–not at you, at least.

“He hit you?” he asked, his voice terrifyingly calm as he enunciated each word.

“And threw me around a bit,” you answered stiffly. “Because I did what Amanda asked but refused to go so far as to fuck him.” You glared venomously back at Michael as you bitterly added, “Because I don’t consider myself a damn whore .”

You heard the rough hiss of breath he expelled at your words, his nostrils flaring sharply. That rage was burning just behind his eyes again now. You could practically feel the heat of his anger as he kept you pinned to the wall.

“Show me,” he ordered. "Jimmy said ya were hurt. So show me."

“Michael, I don’t–”

“Show me,” he demanded more fiercely.

You stood there for a second, contemplating if it was possible to get out of this. To get him to calm down and just leave. But truthfully you knew better than that. You knew Michael better than that. He wasn’t going anywhere until he got his answers–which apparently included visual proof of what happened earlier.

Sighing, you lowered your left hand–the one which Michael didn’t still have pinned to the wall with his large one–and gradually began to pull the hem of your dress all the way up your body to reveal your ribcage. You shuddered at the cold air on your skin, goosebumps raising as Michael’s focus shifted downward onto your body. You were vaguely aware of the fact that your underwear was on full display with how high your dress was pulled up, leaving you in a state of undress that Mikey had never seen you in before. One you’d often wished for–but certainly not like this.

The moment Michael took in the sight of your injured side, his entire expression shifted instantly. The anger quickly dissipated, his features softening. His right hand left the wall beside your head, lowering down to your side before he gently brushed his fingertips along the skin beside the quickly forming bruise. He winced, his brows pinching tight together on his forehead.

“I’m goin’ to get us out o’ this,” he whispered, fingers still gently brushing along your skin. “I promise ya, I’ll get us out o’ everythin’.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, “so ya always say.”

His gaze drew back up to yours, something sad and pained in them reflecting back at you. It was a haunted look you’d seen often on Michael’s face in the years you’d been friends with him. One that seemed to have a more permanent place in his eyes after his time in prison.

“I can’t lose ya,” he whispered.

You lowered your dress, pushing his hand off of you as you did. The emotional walls you usually kept up felt like they were returning now, your anger at the way he’d been speaking to you only moments ago returning.

“Neither of us are gettin’ out o’ this shit, Mikey,” you spat. “You’re damn family wouldn’t let it happen. We both know that. So if ya got a problem with the way things happened this evenin’, I suggest ya take it up with your precious Amanda instead of fumin’ at me. I’m fuckin’ tired and it’s the last thing I need tonight.”

Michael’s head tilted to the side, confusion crossing his features next. Slowly, he released your wrist, and you immediately crossed your arms over your chest, covering a bit of your cleavage that the dress displayed all too well.

“What the hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” he asked, shaking his head. “"My precious Amanda'…?”

“Oh come off it, Mikey,” you snapped, still irritated with how he'd barged into your house and yelled at you. “I know ya still love her. I’m not an idiot. So why don’t ya take your anger out on the one who thought it a good idea to whore me out this evenin’, yeah?”

“I am not in love with Amanda,” he stated firmly.

You scoffed loudly, rolling your eyes. “Absolute bullshit, that is. You’ve been chasin’ after her for ages. And when she chose Jimmy over ya…”

You trailed off, mouth snapping shut as Michael’s anger appeared to be quickly returning. As pissed as you were, you didn’t have the heart to mention Allison. You weren’t cruel.

Taking a sharp step forward, Michael was suddenly back in your face. His eyes were narrowed as they darted back and forth between yours, almost searching for something. You remained absolutely still, your arms hugging yourself a bit tighter at his reaction.

“I’ve never loved Amanda,” Michael growled out. “Not even back then, when we were kids just messin’ around. Because all these fuckin’ years I’ve always only ever been in love with you.”

Mouth falling open in shock, you felt like the air had been knocked from your lungs. Had you just heard him correctly?

“Except you have never wanted anythin’ serious with anyone! Ever!” he continued in a frenzy. “You’re the only one I ever wanted, but all ya ever wanted was to see what else was out there! And here I thought about ya every damn day–even when my arse was in that fuckin’ prison, just hopin’ one day I’d finally get out o’ there and fulfil my promise to ya. To get us both out o’ this shit,” he roared, chest heaving as he grew more impassioned. “And now I come to find ya were out seducin’ the goddamn Titan tonight and–and gettin’ beat for refusin’ to fuck him? Ya think I’m not goin’ to be fuckin’ angry ‘bout that, d’ya now, pet?”

You were still standing there with your back pressed against the wall, entirely shocked at everything he’d just said. All these years you’d thought he was in love with Amanda. You thought he’d married Allison because Amanda had chosen his brother over him. Figured that you were never anything more than just his friend and a part of the Kinsella business. Someone passed over when it came to his feelings.

But he loved you?

“Michael–”

He held up a hand, cutting you off. “I don’t want to fuckin’ hear another damn word,” he snapped. “I’m goin’ to deal with that damned O’Brien my-fuckin’-self. But first I’m goin’ to have some words with Amanda because what she set ya up to do tonight is never happenin’ again. And don’t think I’m done yellin’ at ya for what happened, either.”

“Michael–”

“Because I’m not!” he continued, loudly talking over you. “This isn’t what ya do for us! And ya shouldn’t have agreed to it–”

“Michael!”

“You’re better than this!” he shouted. “Ya deserve better than this! And I won’t stand for–”

“Would ya shut the fuck up for just a damned minute so I could tell ya I love ya too, ya fuckin’ arsehole!” you yelled over him.

Michael stiffened before you, blinking hard a few times as he finally grew quiet. You could feel heat creeping up your neck, unable to believe you’d finally admitted it aloud to him after all this time. Now he knew, after you’d spent so long trying to hide that truth from him.

“What?” he breathed out.

Licking your lips nervously, your arms hugged yourself tighter. “I’ve always been in love with ya. But ya always were so focused on Amanda.” You shrugged, eyes dropping down to the floor. “Figured I was nothin’ more than your friend, Mikey. So I did my best to hide my feelings. Didn’t want to make things…weird between us. I only ever slept around because I couldn’t have ya. Not because I was tryin’ to see what all was out there.”

“So–so all this time…?” he whispered, his eyes growing wide.

You nodded slowly, looking back up at him as the shock of the truth was still hitting you. That he had feelings for you as well.

“Yes,” you answered.

Silence fell between the pair of you in the hallway, both of you standing there with your eyes locked on one another. Neither of you moved, though you saw the way Michael blinked harder a few times before his attention dropped down to your lips. Pulse quickening, your focus shifted to his mere inches from yours. You could feel your breath beginning to come in shallower, the sound of it loud in your ears in the stillness.

How long had you thought about kissing him? How many years had passed where you dreamt about it? How many long nights had you laid awake in bed knowing he was with someone else, feeling it tear at your insides?

And now here he was admitting to having always loved you. Possibly having spent all those same years feeling the jealousy and hurt that you did.

Slowly, your eyes made their way back up Michael’s handsome face. His hazel eyes were already focused back on yours. You'd barely inhaled half a breath before he took you by surprise, abruptly lunging at you as both of his hands darted forward, firmly grabbing your face just before his mouth crashed hard onto yours.

Every single thought disappeared from your mind the second your back hit the wall behind you. Michael’s mouth was moving frantically against yours, the sound of sharp gasps filling the air each time his mouth broke away only to reconnect to yours. You weren’t even sure if it was you, or him, or the both of you making those hurried, desperate noises as your hands wrapped around him, fingers digging into the toned muscles of his back through his sweater. You were too busy struggling to keep up with the feverish and hungry way Michael’s mouth was moving against yours, as if he'd been wanting this for as long as you had. As if he physically couldn’t stop himself from kissing you.

And you were just as eager. Your fingers were wildly clawing at his back, trying your hardest to draw him closer to you while simultaneously trying to not to press your injured side to his body with the way you were holding him to the front of you. But you wanted him. Needed him.

But when he abruptly pulled back, you whined loudly in frustration and protest. Eyes flying open and hands fisting the fabric of his sweater, you glanced up at him. He was breathing heavier, his brows knitted together as his lips glistened with both of your saliva.

“I need to speak with Amanda,” he breathed out.

Something white hot shot through you, your face immediately twisting into anger at his words. That was not a name you wanted to hear at the moment. Michael clearly saw the way your expression shifted and he was quickly opening his mouth before you even had a chance to respond.

"I'm goin' to tell Amanda off for what she asked ya to do tonight," he told you, shaking his head. "She's never doin' that again. I'm goin' to make damn sure of it."

"Can't ya do it tomorrow?" you asked. "Stay with me instead tonight, Mikey?"

He smiled softly back at you, both of his hands still cradling your face between his palms. One of his thumbs began to lightly stroke your cheek, the gesture so tender and gentle. You leaned into his touch, your anger rapidly leaving you.

"I'll be back right after, love," he promised. "I want to finish this, I do. The conversation we need to have and–and whatever else might happen after that,” he said, a faint smile brightening his face before it melted away again. “But Amanda crossed a line tonight, and I'm damn well goin' to make sure she fuckin' knows it. ‘M'not goin' to let it go until the mornin'. It's far too important for that. You’re far too important for me to put it off. Then I’m goin’ to have a word with Jimmy. What O’Brien did to ya won’t go unanswered, either. I promise ya that, pet."

Overcome with emotion at Michael’s fierce protectiveness, you closed the distance between the pair of you once more. Though this time when you pressed your lips to Michael’s, it was far more delicate than the kiss the pair of you had shared a moment ago. His mouth responded immediately, his lips moving so sweetly against yours as he continued to cradle your face, keeping you close. Your arms were tightening around his back, pulling him into an embrace that you wished you’d never have to leave.

“Come back to me after?” you whispered, reluctantly breaking away from his lips.

Michael’s hand slid back, tucking some hair behind your ear. Lowering his forehead to yours, he affectionately nuzzled his nose to yours next, the gesture drawing forth a smile from you.

“Always, love,” he murmured. “I’ll always come back to ya.”

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #kin (amc)

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

Text

Safe Haven [Chapter One]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.3k [Series Masterlist]

Summary: Contracted to work on your next novel, you leave the States and move in with your sister in Dublin in hopes of a quieter, peaceful place to work on your writing. And somewhere safe to hide. But you weren't expecting to meet your sister's attractive and curious neighbor, the one fresh out of prison–Michael Kinsella. And you certainly weren't expecting to become his safe haven, or for him to become yours–especially when your past eventually finds you.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: In this series, Reader is American and has a backstory and family (though if you'd like to pretend Reader was adopted at birth to feel more like a reader-insert to fit you, feel free). She will use a fake name as well. This story is also fairly dark at times, but if you watched the show you should be just fine. Though it's not all dark, because I just really want to give our man Mikey some happiness and comfort! You get Mikey in chapter two though, sorry! You can find the chapter list for this series here.

Also I apologize in advance for incorrect terms of things--I'm American but I am trying my hardest to get correct terms/slang/dialect as I go. But I know there will be mistakes. Feel free to kindly point them out to me if you know something is incorrect!

Head resting against the car window, your eyes scanned the row of houses as your sister drove slowly down the street she’d just turned onto. With each passing moment since you’d left the Dublin Airport, you’d felt a weight steadily easing off of your shoulders. You were free. For now, at least.

Your body was aching from your time trapped in that cramped seat in the airplane for the more than seven hour flight from Chicago to Dublin, and you were certainly worn out from the time change. In Chicago it would’ve been the middle of the night, but here it was just after nine in the morning. Despite the sun shining bright with the promise of a brand new day, you were desperate for sleep.

As Megan turned and pulled the car into the driveway of the house at the end of the street, you began to unfasten your seatbelt. You were eager to get out of the car and grab your bags before settling in. Maybe you’d manage to grab a nap after your long trip. It had certainly been exhausting.

Your sister turned off the engine before shifting in the driver’s seat, shooting you a bright smile. "Well, this is home," she told you. "What do you think?"

You leaned forward to look out of the windshield, eyeing the white house with the bit of brick on the front. It was the last house on the corner, with a tall stone fence surrounding the driveway and separating it from the one just next door. Your eyes shifted, taking in the sight of the house just beside it from what you could see over the stone fence. They looked almost identical.

"It's nice," you told your sister, settling back into the seat and focusing on her again. A tired smile made its way onto your face. "Looks cozy. How do you afford it with just a nurse’s salary at Dublin Central?”

Megan’s shoulders sagged at the question, her bottom lip catching between her teeth as she stared at you quietly for a moment. And then her mouth curled into a sheepish grin. “I suppose I can be honest now that you’re here,” she said.

“And what is that supposed to mean, Megan?” you asked her.

“The house actually sold for a bit under value,” she admitted. “Because of the neighbors.”

Your eyes narrowed instantly at her, one brow rising curiously up onto your forehead. “The neighbors? What do you mean?” you asked. “Are they noisy or something?”

Megan’s eyes dropped down to her lap, an awkward laugh leaving her as she fidgeted with her car keys. “I mean sometimes, sure. But no, it’s uh, it’s because of who they are.”

You rolled your eyes with an amused huff, your attention returning to the house before you. “What? Like you live next door to a damn crime syndicate or something?” you teased.

A heavy silence fell over the pair of you in the car. When she still hadn’t answered, you turned to look at your sister beside you. That sheepish smile was still on her face and it immediately had the amusement on your own dying instantly. Shaking your head roughly at her, your eyebrows flew up onto your forehead.

“You’re kidding, right?” you pressed. “This is a joke?”

The sheepish smile didn’t fall off of her face. Eyelids slowly lowering, you muttered a curse as your right hand came to rub at your forehead.

“The Kinsella’s,” Megan said softly. “They’ve got a house across the street and the two next door to me. Though the one right next door has been empty for a bit. But uh, Birdy was telling me that’s changing. In a couple of days now, actually.”

Your eyes landed back on the house beside Megan’s, the one that looked almost identical. “Who’s Birdy?” you asked. “And why was that house vacant?”

“Her name’s Bridget but she goes by Birdy,” Megan answered. “She’s the sweet lady across the street. The one with the curly, dark hair. She was interested in meeting you, actually. Very welcoming woman. Brought me a nice housewarming gift when I moved in just over a year ago.”

“She’s part of this crime family?” you questioned.

“Uh, well, yeah,” Megan admitted awkwardly. “But she’s real sweet. And none of them have really been any trouble since I’ve lived here.”

Your attention returned back to your younger sister beside you, eyeing her carefully. You gestured your head at the neighboring house. “So why is that one about to not be empty this week?” you questioned.

“It belongs to Jimmy Kinsella’s brother,” she answered slowly. “He lives in the big, fancy gated house just next door to it with his wife and two sons.”

You shot your sister a pointed look. “You’re avoiding answering the question,” you stated.

“Okay, fine,” Megan said with a huff. “The house belongs to Michael Kinsella. He’s been in prison for eight years–and no, I have no idea for what because I don’t really go poking around into their business. So don’t even ask. But I guess he’s being released on Wednesday. Though Birdy was saying she’s not sure if he’s going to even want to stay there anyway, so it may remain empty.”

“Fucking hell, Megan,” you growled, throwing your head back onto the headrest. Two fingers flew up to pinch the bridge of your nose as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this before I agreed to move to Dublin?”

“Because you needed somewhere to go!” Megan answered earnestly. “And I just wanted you here and safe with me. I promise you, they’re not going to be a problem.”

“You know I’m trying to keep a low profile out here, Meg,” you shot. “You know that.”

Megan’s hand gently rested along your shoulder as she softly said your name. You bristled instantly, your body tensing.

“I told you not to call me that here,” you warned her. “Not my real name.”

“Alright Grace ,” Megan corrected herself, overly emphasizing the name you’d chosen. “I promise, they’re not going to go digging into you. You’ll remain private and hidden for as long as you want here, I promise. You tell them you’re Grace Moore and you’re my half-sister and no one will bat an eye. I swear. They’re too wrapped up in their own shit to care.”

Holding your sister’s gaze, a frown spread across your lips. “I hope for both our sake’s your right, Meg,” you told her, tone firm. “Because if word gets out that I’m here–”

“It won’t ,” she pressed.

Your eyes narrowed back at your sister as you continued, “If word gets out that I’m here, we’re probably both as good as dead.”

“Yeah, I understand the situation,” Megan replied. “You can drop the doom and gloom, though. You’ll be fine here.”

A knock on the window just beside you caused you to startle in your seat, a hand flying up to cover your chest, just over your racing heart. Spinning quickly towards the noise, you spotted a dark haired woman standing just beside the car door wearing a dress and heels. A bright smile was spread across her lips. She sent you a wave with one hand, holding up a bottle of wine in the other.

“That’s Birdy,” Megan whispered.

You forced a smile onto your face as you gazed back up at the woman through the car window. Through the smile and gritted teeth you whispered back, “Just remember my name is Grace Moore here, sis.”

Reaching a hand out, you opened the car door as Birdy took a step back, giving you room to exit the vehicle. The smile on your face felt stiff and worn-out, but you kept it plastered along your lips.

“Well good morning to ya both,” the woman said, her bright blue eyes fixed on you. “Your sister told me she was picking ya up from the airport this morning. Thought I’d stop by and introduce myself.”

She held out a hand towards you, the gesture drawing your eyes instantly at the movement. For a moment your gaze lingered on her offered hand.

“Bridget Goggins, though you can call me Birdy,” she introduced herself, her accented voice drawing your attention back up to her smiling face. “And you must be Megan’s sister, yes?”

“Half-sister,” you corrected quickly, your hand sliding into hers. “Grace Moore.”

“Oh well that’s such a lovely name, dear,” Birdy said.

The smile never wavered from her lips as your hand returned to your side, but the calculated and scrutinizing look in her eyes wasn’t lost on you. You were going to have to be careful around her, be extra cautious that you didn’t slip up. She looked like the type who’d notice the tiniest detail and store it away for later, all while still displaying the friendly facade.

What the hell had Megan done keeping her goddamn criminal neighbors a secret from you?

“Oh, and this is for you, Grace,” Birdy said, holding out the expensive looking bottle of merlot to you. “Consider it a welcome to the neighborhood gift.”

Your mouth felt strained with the effort of maintaining the tight smile on your face as you accepted the wine. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” you replied.

“Your sister Megan is such a lovely young lady, I’ve truly enjoyed having her in the neighborhood,” Birdy continued, her blue eyes piercing through you as she spoke. “I certainly expect you’ll be just as wonderful an addition as she has been.”

Teeth gritting together, you felt the edge of something like a threat in her words. A warning to stay out of their business.

“I’m rather a private person,” you replied, noticing the faint arch to her brow at your words, “but I’m sure we’ll get along just fine, Birdy.”

“Ahh, lovely then,” Birdy said easily. “I suppose I’ll let ya get settled in, dear. I’m sure it was a long flight for ya from the States. Wonderful chatting with you both.”

“You as well,” you told her. “And thank you–” you said, raising the bottle of wine in your hand, “–for the welcoming gift.”

Birdy’s smile somehow only grew, though whether the smile was genuine or still meant as a warning you couldn’t quite decipher. But it had unsettled you a bit.

“Of course, dear," she replied. "I’m sure we’ll chat again quite soon.”

You watched as she turned, her heels clicking along the pavement as she sauntered off down the driveway and across the street. She’d left you with a strange feeling in your stomach, wondering whether she truly was as friendly and safe as Megan made her out to be or not. But there was certainly more to her than just being the sweet lady from across the street.

Spinning on your heel when Birdy had disappeared, you turned and raised a brow at your sister on the other side of the car. Megan rolled her eyes.

"What?" she asked in exasperation. "She was nice ."

You pointed a thumb over your shoulder in the direction Birdy had just left. "That's nice to you? Because to me that screamed keep your fucking head down and stay out of our shit."

Megan shrugged, making her way to the trunk of her car. "So? You'll be doing exactly that anyway, why does it matter?" Megan asked.

"Because I'd like to keep my head," you told her, making your way over to the trunk.

Your sister opened it, grabbing one of your suitcases and pulling it out with a huff. You reached in, tossing your duffle bag over your shoulder before pulling out the last suitcase. As you adjusted the strap of the bag on your shoulder, Megan reached up and closed the trunk. She hesitated, eyeing you seriously as her hand wrapped around the handle of your luggage.

“I’ve already told you, they’re not going to take an interest in you,” she pressed.

“Oh, really? Is that why I’m getting a welcoming gift from what I presume is probably the damn matriarch?” you whispered harshly.

“Good lord you have written too many of those damn mafia books,” she muttered, turning and dragging your suitcase to the front door with her.

“Well I certainly had enough fucking inspiration for them,” you whispered under your breath.

You followed up the driveway behind your sister, coming to a stop as she took a minute to unlock the door. A moment later she opened it and you were stepping inside behind her, your eyes examining every inch of her house. It was certainly cozy, with a small kitchen and table just off of the front little entryway. Everything looked clean and well organized. You spotted a few plants near the big window.

“So, this is the kitchen, obviously,” Megan said, gesturing a hand at the space as she kept walking forward. “Here is the living room,” she continued as she pointed out the big room just past the kitchen and a staircase to your left. “Though here they call it a sitting room.” She paused, shooting you a smile over her shoulder. “You’re going to sound very American for a while here.”

“That’d be because I am,” you replied.

She rolled her eyes playfully at you before gesturing to a door just in the corner of the space. “Half bathroom.” She turned, gesturing to a sliding glass door on the far end of the living room. “The backyard. Or the garden I suppose is the term here. And then,” she said, hefting your bag up into her arms as she began to ascend the stairs, “the bedrooms are up here.”

Getting a good hold on your bag, you followed your sister up the handful of stairs. Eventually you came to a short landing, setting your bag down as your sister tried to catch her breath.

“Feels like this weighs a hundred pounds,” she complained, pushing some hair off of her forehead. “Right, well, my room is just here,” she told you, pointing at the door on the far left. “Full bathroom here,” she said, gesturing to a door in the middle. “And then your room.”

Megan led the way to the room on the far right, pushing the door open with her shoulder as she pulled your suitcase inside. Dragging your other bag behind her, you made your way in and took in the sight of where you’d be staying for a while. The room wasn’t large, just big enough for a queen sized bed and a small, upright dresser in the far corner. There was a big window just beside the dresser too, a curtain drawn across it.

“You like it?” Megan asked hopefully as she set your luggage by the bed’s footboard.

Nodding, you stepped over to the bed, rolling your suitcase up against it before dropping your duffle bag onto the mattress. “Yeah,” you told her. “It’s bright in here. And you always had a knack for decor.”

“It’s nothing extravagant,” she told you as you made your way over to the window. “But it’s big enough for the both of us. And the garden is nice, you’ll love it out there.”

Pushing back the curtain, the first thing your eyes saw was another window directly across from it. It looked like it was barely ten feet away from yours. There were curtains drawn over the window, but despite that you could easily surmise it was probably the bedroom window of the aforementioned Michael Kinsella. A frown settled onto your lips at that realization.

Great, so the man fresh out of prison could easily peep into your room while you slept. That certainly didn’t make you uncomfortable.

Sighing, you turned back around towards your sister, crossing your arms over your chest. You sent her a smile, one which she readily returned.

“Sorry I’ve been an ass,” you apologized. “I appreciate what you’re doing, letting me stay here. Really. It’s just been a long trip and the time difference is killing me. And I’m–I’m a little stressed knowing there’s people just next door who’d probably be very uncomfortable knowing a neighbor is living here under a false identity.”

“Not like you’re a threat to them,” Megan said.

You blew out a rough breath, your head turning over your shoulder to glance out the window behind you. “No, I’m not,” you agreed softly, eyes lingering on the neighboring window. “But I know how people like them think. One little thing seems off and then they’re all over you. Wondering if you’re an undercover fed or cop.”

“Guard,” Megan cut in, catching your attention. “They call the garda–the police here–guards. Just so you know. But I highly doubt they’re going to take an interest in some quiet novelist.”

“Well, considering I write ‘those damn mafia books’,” you said, uncrossing your arms to air quote your sister’s words, “and they're under my real name, I’d think they could get curious.”

“You’re already telling people it’s a pen name,” Megan said with a wave of her hand. “No one’s going to bat an eye.”

“Right,” you mumbled. Feeling the weight of your fatigue settling in, you asked her, “You uh, you mind if I just have a chance to settle in? Maybe grab a shower and a nap?”

“Oh! No, sorry,” Megan said quickly, making her way towards the door. “Get comfortable, of course. I bet you’re beat. I’ve got spare towels under the sink in the bathroom, too. And if you need anything just holler. I don’t have a shift at the hospital until later tonight so I’ll be around. And there’s some food in the fridge, help yourself to whatever.”

You sent Megan a warm smile as she headed to the door, but after a few steps she hesitated in the doorframe. Eventually she turned, glancing at you over her shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered.

“Me too,” you replied.

You watched as Megan made her way out of the room and across the landing, listening to her footsteps as she descended the stairs. When you finally were alone, you trudged over to one of your suitcases, lying it down on its side. You unzipped it, digging around a minute for some comfortable clothing to dress into before grabbing your bag of toiletries. Afterwards you headed out of your room to the bathroom just beside it.

You set your clothes and toiletry bag onto the bathroom counter and then bent down, searching for a clean towel in the vanity. You pulled out a soft, fluffy blue towel and then rose to your feet, spotting an extra towel hook by the shower. Walking over, you hung the towel up before reaching a hand into the shower, turning the water on and letting the water warm up. The spray came out loud, the noise sharp to your ears in the silence.

Turning around, you grabbed the hem of your sweater and slipped it up and over your head before tossing it to the floor. You discarded your bra next before slipping out of your jeans and underwear. But before you could focus back on the shower, your eyes caught sight of your reflection in the mirror and you paused.

There were a few bags under your eyes, no thanks to the flight you’d just endured and the stress of actually getting onto that flight and getting out of the States. You certainly looked as tired as you felt. And your hair looked a little dingy, in desperate need of a wash. Inevitably your eyes dropped lower to the sight of the three long, thin scar lines that were drawn across your stomach. Your right hand reached up, fingertips lightly tracing the length of the healed-over skin.

Exhaling a shuddering breath, your hand eventually dropped back to your side. Forcing your eyes back up to meet your own in the reflection, you reminded yourself that you were safe now. Hidden. And if you laid low long enough, maybe one day you’d truly be free again.

#michael kinsella x female reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x reader #kin fanficiton #michael kinsella fic #kin amc

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bellaxgiornata · 10 months

Text

Safe Haven [Chapter Fourteen]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.6k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: This chapter will certainly leave you wanting more, I'll say that much. Feedback is always appreciated!

Fingers flying across the keyboard of your laptop, you sat at the kitchen table with a steaming mug of hot coffee beside you. You’d woken up just before Megan had disappeared for her shift at the hospital and settled down to write shortly after. So far your day was wide open and there wasn’t much else for you to do but focus on your work.

For the past couple of days that’s what you’d been doing–focusing on your writing. You had not managed to see Michael beyond the occasional fortuitous meeting at your bedroom windows. You hadn’t even run into him out in the back garden the few times you’d sat out there to work. Though he had sent you a few text messages on and off over the past two days. He’d repeatedly apologized for being so busy and promised that he still planned to make you dinner sometime this week as an apology for the situation with Amanda.

You were aware that he was still dealing with the fallout from the shooting the previous week. You also knew he was still dealing with the bounties on his and his families’ heads while they struggled to continue to run their very illegal business. And now the Garda were permanently parked at the end of the street for twenty-four hour safety measures and you didn't need Michael to tell you that they were only further complicating matters for the Kinsellas.

On top of all of that, you knew he had also mentioned that he had an appointment today for a CT scan to hopefully figure out what was going on with his sudden seizure episodes. Michael had told you that his brother was taking him to the appointment when he’d messaged you this morning. You’d been on edge ever since his text this though, waiting for him to message you back when he’d made it home safe afterwards. You had asked him to let you know because you’d been worried, even if you felt like an absolute idiot asking him to let you know when he’d gotten home safe. But you knew it was dangerous for any of them to be out of the house right now with the bounties on their heads–the memory of leaving the coffee shop with him the other day was still fresh in your mind. If you read between the lines of the few things Michael had told you, you’d easily gathered that they were all dead men walking.

But despite how hard you really did try not to let it bother you that you’d barely seen Michael the past few days, knowing he genuinely had a lot going on, you admittedly still missed him. You wished he’d just stop by, even for a few minutes, or that he’d invite you over for a short bit in the evening. Even just five minutes to see him–just to feel his arms around you–would have been enough for you. You had a feeling he could use the brief break from the stress of everything he had going on, and you certainly could use some comfort with how worried you'd been over the strange silence from Victor.

It didn’t help that you found yourself feeling lonely with your sister constantly off at the hospital for work. And while you tried to remind yourself that you had far more human connection here in Dublin over the past few weeks than you’d had in the couple of years that you’d been on the run, all that did was make things worse. Because you’d found yourself growing accustomed to not being alone since you’d been here. You’d found yourself looking forward to more than just the phone calls from Angela. But you knew that was dangerous because it meant you were growing attached–to this city and the people here–which would make needing to run in the future that much harder.

And all that alone time you'd had lately after Michael had apologized to you had also given you time to feel guilty. Guilty for knowing the personal things about him that you had dug up the other week when Birdy had been threatening you. You still hadn’t known how to bring it up to him, but you felt like you needed to tell him that you knew. Because it wasn’t right that you knew the reason he’d gone to prison or that you knew he had a daughter who you’d thought you’d seen the other day outside his house while Michael still had absolutely no idea. Though you were afraid to tell him considering just how personal the information was. You didn’t think he would take the news well. But the longer you kept it in, the worse you figured it would be.

With a sigh you glanced over at your coffee cup beside your laptop, feeling a headache coming on as your thoughts began to distract you from your writing. Picking up the mug, you drew it to your mouth for a long drink. Desperately you wished it would actually succeed at making you feel awake this morning. While you drank down the comforting liquid, movement out of the kitchen window just beside you caught your eye and you glanced up, spotting Birdy making her way up your sister’s driveway with what looked like the mail in her hand.

Slowly you set the mug back down on the table, watching as Birdy sent you a friendly wave through the window. Your eyes narrowed as you noticed the strained smile on her face, watching as she neared the door. Frowning, you closed your laptop before rising from the kitchen chair, making your way out of the kitchen and over to the front door. Birdy had knocked mere moments before you unlocked it, swinging it open to reveal that tense expression on her face even more clearly.

“G’mornin’ dear,” Birdy greeted, raising her hand that had been holding the stack of your sister’s mail. “I think we need to have a little chat this mornin’.”

Your frown only deepened on your face at her words. What could she possibly need to chat with you about and why the hell was she snooping through Megan’s mail? Opening the door wider, you moved aside and watched as she stepped into the house. Closing the door behind her, entirely baffled as to what she was up to, you followed behind her as she made her way straight to the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen yourself, you watched as Birdy tossed the few letters in her hand onto the kitchen island. She stalked around to the other side of it, her piercing blue eyes focused on you as she pulled her purse from her shoulder, setting it onto the countertop beside the stack of mail. Both of her hands came down to rest against the island, her eyes silently raking you over.

“Why are you going through my sister’s mail, Birdy?” you asked her, breaking the silence. “I’m guessing that’s still illegal here in Ireland, isn’t it?”

Birdy’s eyes only further narrowed at you in return. “That’s the least of my worries, dear. And truthfully the least of yours.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned her.

“Have ya even taken a look at what’s there, dear?” she asked, her head gesturing towards the pile of mail on the countertop.

“What? Why?” you asked. “I don’t get mail here, Birdy. No one even knows where I’m–”

You stopped mid-sentence when your focus shifted down towards the pile, the letter on the top of the stack immediately catching your eye. There was no postage on it. As if someone had slipped it in the letterbox themselves. But what was alarming was what was messily drawn on the envelope. In the corner of it there was a small, upside down crucifix with a serpent wrapped around it. You felt the blood immediately drain from your face, your entire body freezing on the spot as fear struck you like ice in your veins.

“What is that doing in with the mail?” you whispered, eyes glued to the symbol.

“That’s what I was curious ‘bout,” Birdy replied. “Y’see, I saw someone lingerin’ out front of your sister’s house quite early this mornin’. Dressed in a dark sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. Saw them slip what I’m presumin’ is that–” she continued, gesturing at the letter, “–into the letterbox with the post. I was curious.”

Panic shot through you at her words, your eyes going wide as you glanced up at Birdy. “I’m not–not with them, Birdy,” you told her quickly, shaking your head. “I wasn’t lying to you. I’m not helping them with anything.”

Birdy sent you an apologetic smile, her expression softening. “I know that, dear,” she told you gently. “What I’m concerned ‘bout is how they know you’re here and why they’re slippin’ ya letters.”

“I don’t know,” you breathed out, your attention returning to the letter. “I don’t know.”

Silence fell over the pair of you, your heart feeling like it was pounding away in your chest. You could feel a small tremble beginning in your hands. Anxiously you wrapped your arms around yourself, hugging your body tight as if that would help stop the shaking. You didn’t want to have a panic attack, not here in front of Birdy.

“Aren’t ya goin’ to open it, Grace?” she asked.

“What if–if it’s him?” you whispered, tears stinging at your eyes. “What if he’s found me already? Is just messing with me?”

“Well ya won’t know if ya don’ open it,” Birdy pointed out.

Nervously chewing the inside of your cheek, you hesitantly reached a hand out towards the kitchen island. Very slowly you slipped the letter off the top of the stack of mail, the shake in your hand entirely visible as you did. You could feel the weight of Birdy’s eyes on you as you brought the letter towards yourself, flipping it over and staring at the sealed back.

You didn’t want to open this. You didn’t know what was inside, but there was no way it was anything good. On top of that, you didn’t know how someone from the Serpents had found you here at your sister’s place, but you didn’t like it. The knowledge made your skin crawl.

But Birdy was right. You wouldn’t know anything if you didn’t just open the damn letter.

With a sharp exhale, you slipped a finger underneath the seal, tearing it open easily. Holding your breath, you reached inside and pulled a small slip of paper from out of the envelope. As your eyes scanned it over, you weren’t surprised to see there was barely much written on it. You didn’t recognize the handwriting sloppily scrawled along it, either.

For a minute you read the words over and over, your mind racing as that panicked feeling only further took hold of you. Your hands were shaking a little harder as the weight of the message settled on you, tears welling in your eyes and blurring the writing.

“Well,” Birdy prompted impatiently, “what’s it say?”

"They want me to meet with them," you answered quietly. "Tonight."

A dark look crossed Birdy’s face as she took a step towards you. "Who?" she asked.

You shrugged a shoulder, a tear spilling down your cheek. "I don't know," you replied, voice breaking. "The Serpent’s charter in Cork, I imagine."

Birdy’s shoulders squared, her expression darkening further. "Obviously ya aren't goin'," she stated.

"I don't have a choice," you whispered back.

“O’course ya have a choice,” she said firmly.

You shook your head, holding the paper out towards her. Birdy reached out, quickly grabbing the slip of paper from your hand. You watched quietly as her eyes darted across the page rapidly, and then you watched as she reread the words a few times herself. Once again your arms wrapped around yourself, your entire body slowly beginning to shake.

"They know who I am," you whispered. "If I don't go, they're going to tell Victor that I'm–I'm here. And I can't have that." Your fingers clutched at the sweater you were wearing, clinging desperately to the fabric like it was a lifeline. "My only options are to meet them or to run, Birdy.”

Her eyes looked up from the letter in her hand, that piercing stare of hers landing on you.

“Ya have more options than that, love,” she pointed out.

“No,” you disagreed, shaking your head. “I can’t ask any of you to help me with this. I won’t ,” you stated. “Besides, it’s not safe for any of you to help. It’s not safe for Michael to help. Eamon wants him dead, right? He can’t be out traveling to Cork dealing with the Serpents or showing up with me to that meeting. He’d be a dead man and you know that.”

“So what? Ya are just goin’ to run?” Birdy questioned.

Your gaze dropped down to the island countertop, your lips pressing firmly together as you thought. Admittedly your first instinct was screaming at you to do exactly that. To get out of here while you were still breathing. Every warning bell was going off in your head right now. That meeting screamed danger. Them knowing who and where you were screamed danger. But that was what made running now an impossible choice, one you couldn’t do.

“If I run,” you began slowly, staring at the countertop as another tear slipped down your cheek, “they'll most likely tell Victor I was here. And he’ll be led straight to this very house. To my–my sister ." You shook your head firmly, eyes flying up and holding Birdy’s stare. "And I can't have that, Birdy."

Across from the kitchen island, you watched as Birdy sighed in resignation. A second later her head tilted to the side, eyeing you for a moment longer in silence.

“So you’ve decided then, have ya?” she asked. “Made up your mind to go?”

“I don’t really have a choice,” you replied. “There’s really only one option I have.”

“Well then,” she continued, her attention shifting down to her purse.

You watched in silence as she unsnapped the bag, both of her hands reaching inside. Brows drawing together in confusion, you watched as her hands pulled something wrapped in what looked like a scarf out of her bag. She cradled it gently in her palms as she gingerly lowered it to the countertop. Gradually she pulled the dark material back, and your eyebrows shot up high onto your forehead at the sight of a gun.

Birdy’s eyes slowly shifted back up towards yours. There was a small, almost dangerous smile on her lips.

“I told ya I’d get ya a gun, Grace,” she said. “And I figured if there was someone spyin’ on your house like that, ya could use one now rather than later. But if ya are goin’ to meet the bastards head on, ya might want a little protection of your own, dear. Ya said ya know how to use one, yeah?”

Swallowing hard, your eyes still glued to the gun, you nodded. Your heart was thudding even harder in your chest at the sight of it just lying there on the kitchen island. You certainly knew how to use one, but having the ability to use it on someone–to use it with the intention to kill–was another story.

Birdy slowly slid the gun towards you along the counter, your pulse jumping when it was sitting innocently there just in front of you. Fingers digging into your skin through your sweater with how tight you were hugging your arms around yourself, your eyes remained fixed on the weapon.

“Ya should bring it with ya tonight,” Birdy told you. “And ya should let me set it up with Dotser to bring ya to this meetin’. Ya shouldn’ go alone.”

Shaking your head quickly, your attention returned back to her. “No, Birdy. You read the note. It said to come alone,” you replied. “I can’t show up with anyone. They won’t be fucking around, whatever it is they want. And if one of your men are with me, it might just cause more trouble for your family. So no.”

Birdy’s eyes narrowed back at you, her arms slowly crossing themselves over her chest. “Fine,” she conceded after a moment. “He won’t come with ya to the meetin’, but he’ll bring ya and bring ya back home after. Ya need a safe way there and back, anyway. I’ll have him pick ya up a couple o’ blocks from here and drop ya off near the meetin’ place.” She leaned forward towards you, her body language meant to be intimidating. “And ‘no’ isn’t an option here, dear.”

Chewing your bottom lip, you eyed her for a long moment. She ultimately had a point. You weren’t about to walk or take a taxi all the way out to meet whoever it was that had dropped that letter in your sister’s letterbox, and it’s not like you had a car and a driver’s license in Ireland, either. Your options were quite limited.

“Fine,” you relented.

“Good,” she replied. “And when Dotser drops ya off home after, I want ya to meet with Frank and I back at my house before ya head on home. If there’s trouble on our doorstep, I think we ought to know ‘bout it.”

“Alright,” you agreed slowly.

“And I think it goes without sayin’, love, but ya shouldn’ mention a thing to Mikey ‘bout any o’ this,” Birdy warned you. “‘Bout the gun I gave ya or this meetin’ tonight. No doubt he’d be rushin’ in guns blazin’ and puttin’ himself in a heap o’ danger if he knew. And like ya said, it isn’ safe for him to be out.”

Your stomach knotted uncomfortably at her words. Just more lies and secrets to keep from him. You didn’t like it, but she had a point. With the way he came rushing over to your sister’s house, from her retelling of the night you’d gotten drunk and she’d found you a bloody mess in the bathroom, you knew Michael would refuse to let you go to that meeting. You also had a strong feeling he’d go in your stead, probably making threats that would only end up getting him shot.

“I won’t tell him,” you promised her quietly. “You’re right. He’d only throw himself in harm’s way without a second thought to himself. And it’s not safe for him to go–to the meeting or out in general. So I won’t tell him. Because I won’t have him dying for me.”

A slow smile gradually drew itself across Birdy’s lips as she stared back at you. The look of something like pride was clear on her face. Her expression only confused you until she’d spoken again.

“I like ya, Grace,” she admitted. “You’re a strong one. Smart, too. You truly make quite the match for my Michael.”

If you weren’t so struck by fear about how your evening was about to play out later, you might’ve felt something more at her words. But as of the moment, you were currently struggling to keep yourself together. Because you were terrified about this meeting tonight, unsure what was to come of it. You didn’t know anyone from the charter in Cork so you didn’t know what to expect, and you certainly didn’t have a clue about why they’d wanted to meet you instead of just telling Victor you were here. What could they possibly want?

Across from the kitchen island, Birdy closed her purse back up before slipping the strap of it over her shoulder. She made her way around the counter, stopping just before you. Both of her hands came out, landing on your shoulders and giving them a reassuring squeeze as she held your gaze.

“You’ll be alrigh’, dear,” she promised you. “Don’t let them see your fear. And bring the gun. Don’t be afraid to use it if ya have to. We’ll figure it all out after if ya do end up needin’ it.”

Mouth feeling like it had long gone dry, you nodded in response. You didn’t know what to even say to that. With the approving smile still on her face, she squeezed your shoulders firmly before she released them, turning and making her way out of the kitchen to leave.

“I’ll text ya the details for Dotser to drive ya later,” she called back to you. “And make sure ya come and see Frank and I afterwards, dear. I’m sure there’ll be some things for us to discuss.”

You stood there rooted to the kitchen, your eyes following her retreating form until it disappeared down the hallway. A moment later you heard the front door open and close before your focus slid over to the kitchen window, watching as Birdy made her way down the driveway. When she reached the end of it and turned past the stone fence, your eyes slowly dropped down to the gun still lying on the dark blue scarf.

Your hands were stuffed into the pockets of your green parka as you made your way down your sister’s driveway. Her shift at the hospital would be finishing soon so you’d sent her a text a little bit ago, not wanting her to wonder where you’d gone when she arrived back home. Of course you lied and told her you were going to a coffee shop that was open late, suddenly struck with some writing inspiration that needed the ‘right vibe.’ You figured she’d buy the bullshit line well enough not to question it.

In actuality, you were on your way down the street and then over two more blocks to meet Dotser before he took you to meet the Serpent who’d left you that note. According to the brief bit of information Birdy had given you about Dotser, he worked for the Kinsellas’ and was quite personally trusted by Frank himself–who you were incredibly nervous about meeting later tonight after this meeting.

Assuming you survived it, of course.

As you reached the end of the driveway, you turned left. Jaw clenching tight, you became very aware of the cool metal of the gun in your parka pocket as your eyes landed on the Garda car at the end of the street. It certainly wouldn’t be good for you if they stopped you and found a gun in your jacket.

You continued on, trying hard to act casual, but you’d barely made it halfway past Michael’s driveway before you heard him call out to you. Instantly your heart flew up into your throat, surprise washing over you. Head whipping in the direction of his voice, you saw he’d been unlocking his front door before spotting you. He’d turned around and was heading towards you now, a tired smile drawing itself across his mouth. Stopping in your tracks as your heart hammered nervously away in your chest, you smiled back at him.

You’d been missing him over the last few days, desperate for a few minutes in person with him, but right now you’d wished you’d ran into anyone else but him. You were terrified he might see through you or that you might accidentally give something away. Because you were certain if Michael had any inkling about what was going on, he’d be rushing down to that meeting armed himself.

“What’re ya doin’ out so late?” he asked as he neared you.

“I–I was just going on a bit of a walk,” you answered awkwardly, hands curling into fists in your parka pockets. “Just needed a little air, you know?”

Michael’s smile widened a little further. “Would ya like some company? I haven’ seen ya in a bit,” he replied.

“Oh, uh, well I was actually hoping to sort of…think about some plot things? For my book?” you said, grasping at the first lie that came to your mind. Your heart twisted in your chest at the sight of his smile slipping. “I mean, normally I’d love you to come with, especially because it has been a few days since we’ve really seen each other,” you continued in a rush. “But I–I have Angela on my ass about a deadline and I just got hit with writer’s block. I’m desperate to try anything to give me some ideas so I figured a walk might help. And you–you really shouldn’t be out of your house. It’s not safe.”

Michael nodded slowly, his expression still looking a little downcast as he did. “I understand, though I don’t think ya should be walkin’ around by yourself right now, either,” he told you.

“Well I won’t be out walking long,” you replied–which wasn’t exactly a lie.

He nodded, a small smile making its way back onto his face as he focused on you. Gradually the disappointment of your rejection to his company slipped from his expression and he stepped closer, closing the space between the pair of you. His hand reached up to push some hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering along your temple as the rough pads of them affectionately brushed your skin. For a moment you almost forgot about what you were about to do with the way he was staring back at you, your pulse increasing for a reason besides fear for the first time today.

“I missed ya, pet,” he murmured. “Been a shite couple o’ days without ya.”

“I know what you mean,” you whispered back.

He lowered his forehead to yours, his eyes creased at the corners as his warm palm cupped your cheek. You leant into his touch, closing your eyes and wishing you could just stay here with him. Maybe turn around and head back into his house with him. Throw everything that you’d been hiding from him out on the table and hopefully get past it. Maybe spend the evening together.

But you couldn’t do that. Not tonight.

Inhaling a deep breath, you knew you needed to go before you were late to this meeting. You didn’t want to know what would happen if you were. But before you could get a single word out, Michael’s mouth cut you off.

His lips caught yours so softly, his mouth moving tenderly against yours. His hand was still carefully cradling your cheek while the other was resting lightly on your hip. But while he was kissing you so sweetly, your own hands were flying out of your pockets and wrapping around his neck, pulling yourself flush to the front of him. Desperately you wished you could cling to him and the safety he radiated. You hoped some of his strength would somehow transfer to you as you deepened the kiss, your mouth moving in any way but soft against his.

Michael quickly responded in kind, his own mouth moving hungrily before you felt his tongue sliding along your bottom lip. Your fingers were digging into the back of his neck as you kissed him hard, and in return, Michael’s grip on you became a little rougher. But the moment his hand slipped a bit farther down your hip, nearing the gun in your pocket, you instantly pulled away from him.

He was left standing there at the edge of his dimly lit driveway looking confused. You sent him a sheepish smile, running a hand over your forehead.

“Sorry,” you muttered, trying to catch your breath. “I uh, I got a little carried away. I should probably get started on that walk before it gets too late.”

“Right,” he agreed slowly, his dark eyes carefully studying you.

You cleared your throat, stuffing your hands back into your coat pockets. The fingers of your right hand brushed the cold metal of the gun immediately and your back stiffened.

“Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow,” you told him, backing up from him.

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes gradually narrowing. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, Grace.”

Shooting him a tense smile, you abruptly turned and ducked your head, walking fast down the street. You just wanted to make it through the rest of this night already. Hopefully tomorrow you could talk to Michael.

#michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella #michael kinsella fanfic #kin amc

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