#michael kinsella imagines

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Self-Indulgent HCs

pairing(s): Frank Castle x fem!Reader, Matt Murdock x fem!Reader, Michael Kinsella x fem!Reader

summary: How each of the boys would care for you when you were sick, headcanons bc i am tired

warnings: non-graphic, general descriptions of sickness (just cold/fever, not covid)

a/n: this month was already rough on my allergies but i came down with quite possibly the worst cold I’ve ever had. (It’s literally so bad i had to use PTO instead of WFH days? I am literally dying.) I wrote this when I was feverish and couldn’t sleep to make myself feel better. I hope someone out there likes it 😭

Frank

I think Frank would worry a lot when his partner was sick.

He’s lost so many people and he doesn’t have a huge circle so i think it takes him by surprise a little.

But he’d do his best to hide his worries by going about his day and comforting you.

He’d get fresh produce from the store and make you delicious soup, pick up tissues and medicine for you, threaten anyone who tried to make you go into work

“Your boss still pullin’ that shit? Gimme the phone, let me talk to ‘em”

He loves being your big spoon anyways but he would not let you go if you looked or sounded ill. You’d be nestled carefully against his chest while he stroked your back until you fell asleep.

He’d keep you entertained by reading to you or watching whatever TV your fever-ridden mind is craving.

Above all, he wouldn’t leave your side until you were feeling better.

The smile on his face the next time you take him out would be brilliant. He’s just so happy that you’re here with him and feeling better.

Matt

Personally, i hate the idea of getting people sick more than actually being sick sometimes but i think this would especially be the case with Matt

His senses are so delicate, I wouldn’t want to fuck with him by being gross and loud or by getting him sick.

But there is no way this man isn’t the biggest self-sacrificing-mother-hen when someone he loves is sick.

He’d sense your illness before you would, and encourage you to take it easy and sleep a bit extra that week (above all, he’s a hypocrite.)

Of course, he’s a bit embarrassed of everything he can do, or maybe you don’t know the extent of what he is capable of, so he plays it off as “you’ve been working so hard lately, sweetheart, you need to take it easy.”

A day or two before the bug hits you like a truck, he’d come over with a bag from the pharmacy that’s just chock-full of DayQuil and Tea and cough drops and like a single bandaid

He poorly plays it off as “uh, your first aid kit was low, remember?”

Once you’re well and truly sick, he’d be stubborn as a mule if you tried to keep him away. You lock him out of your apartment? You wake up from a nap wrapped in a Devil-shaped blanket to find that someone picked your window lock.

At that point, you just cave and let him stay because you are so cold and he’s so so warm.

Mikey

Not afraid of using his puppy dog eyes to get you to stay home or in bed.

Also not afraid of crying wolf and pretending that he’s not feeling well to make you take a break

“Sorry, pet, my head is hammerin’. Think we could lay down fer a bit?”

Combined WITH the puppy eyes? You don’t stand a chance.

Though you usually take care of the housework while he’s dealing with his family’s business, he wouldn’t let you lift a finger until your temperature was normal and your voice came back.

It’s as if you’re the only person that exists to him, he’s running around trying to anticipate your every need.

It’s been a while since he’s dealt with the real world so he might ask Birdy for advice on how to care for a sick person.

Lots of home remedies (idk just vibes.)

He would have you lean against him in a scalding shower to clear your sinuses or draw you a nice bath.

Keep cool water and a cloth by the bed to bring your fever down.

Hand you cup after cup of tea until you have to threaten to tie him to the bed.

“Just lay with me, please”

“Of course, pet. Anything fer ya.”

[kendallsroyco]

CHARLIE COX' WIFE-STEALER ROLES: (aka his homewrecker filmography 🤭)

Owen Sleater (Boardwalk Empire, 2012) - slept with his boss' wife

Michael Kinsella (Kin, 2021) - slept with his brother's wife

Jonathan Hellyer Jones (The Theory of Everything, 2014) - slept with Stephen Hawking's wife

Jerry (Betrayal on Broadway, 2019) - slept with his best friend's wife

[lene-loki]

I'm watching Treason for the millionth time right now and I just don't get why there are no Adam Fics out there 😭

Maybe I should change that 🤭

[farfromstrange]

I got a Michael Kinsella fic idea while we were driving in the car to this little island we were making a trip to (I did not know we had islands in this country, but it’s like on a lake and it’s so pretty). Anyway, I wrote it down and I think I’m gonna write it soon.

I also got my first sunburn this year. On my nose. My face is a different color than my face now. The sun here is no joke and my pale ass skin is not used to it even though IT HAPPENS EVERY YEAR. (Nothing compares to Italy sun though. NOTHING.) But I realized I’m getting freckles, so that’s cool.

And I met this lil’ guy. I don’t know, seems like I should call him Charlie.

I didn’t touch his wings, don’t worry, he came to me. They had like a whole house of butterflies in different shapes and sizes AND colors and they are all so used to humans being there, they just sit down anywhere they like. Including my head. And my hand.

Also, this was kinda cool??

But these guys…

I just love butterflies and I’m even more in love now.

[charliethomascoxuniverse]

Teen star of RTE's Kin reveals how show got her in trouble at school

School goer Hannah Adeogun plays Michael's estranged daughter Anna

SHOWBIZ By Katie Gallagher   11 OCT 2021 (X)

...Lifting the lid on how she tapped into that inner emotion within her complex character, Hannah revealed writer and creator Peter McKenna encouraged her to draw from her own life experiences and life as a teenager today.

And the star, who caught her first break three years ago as Ella on Irish drama Women on the Verge, said that often proved draining to portray.

But she credited the show boss, and her co-star Charlie Cox, who plays Michael for helping her throughout the process.

“It was really great having them there to help me because becoming Anna is emotionally draining and it takes a lot to pull all those emotions.. Because she is going through so many emotions. And to have them there, to say you are doing great really helped. Becoming Anna with them was really great and I couldn’t have asked for better people to do it with.”

The school goer also told how she and her parents couldn’t help but ‘fangirl’ over the group of huge stars she was starring alongside in the new RTE hit.

“Especially Ciaran Hinds,” she said. “I was a big fan girl over Ciaran Hinds because he was in the last Harry Potter movie, so when I found out he was in it, I had a really big fan girl moment. I’m not in any big scenes with him, but knowing he is in the same TV show that I am in was such a big achievement for me, and it made me really proud of myself.

“And my dad was obsessed with the fact I was working with him [Charlie], because he was in Daredevil. And when I found out he was in it, I watched it, and was even more intimidated by it and I was so shocked and like ‘oh now I have to up my game and be really mature with how I do this.”

~*~

National World

Charlie Cox interview: the actor on Irish crime drama Kin and when he’s returning to the MCU as Daredevil

Charlie Cox discusses the UK debut of his crime drama Kin, his upcoming Netflix show Treason, and his Marvel Cinematic Universe return

By Alex Moreland     24th February 2022 (X)

On another note, but kind of picking up on that idea of family, which is a big theme in the show: some of your best scenes were with Hannah Adeogun, who plays Michael’s daughter. She’s 15, which is a little bit younger than you were when you started acting professionally – did that prompt you to reflect back on your own career at all? Did you have any advice for her at all?

Charlie Cox: “Hannah was fantastic, and I loved doing the scenes with her. I loved working with her – it was really exciting to me, and challenging, because it’s the first time I’ve played a father on screen, and I am a father. It was exciting to kind of, you know, bring my own experience into that relationship.

I feel like – I know it’s probably only a few years difference – but I got my first professional job I think at 19. For me, there was a big difference between 15 and 19. I also I think Hannah was 14 when we shot this? Maybe I’m wrong about that. But I had left school, and I’d also had other jobs and stuff, I’d worked, so it was slightly different.

I don’t tend to offer advice unless I’m asked, and Hannah seemed to have it all. I remember, there was an audition where they asked me to read with her. She did it one way, and it was good, it was fine. And then Diarmuid [Goggins, who directed the first four of Kin’s eight episodes] spoke to her a bit about the scene and blah blah blah – she did it again, and it had a new depth to it. That was enough for me, and for all of us, I think to say right, well, she’s got whatever it takes. She’s got it. I guess, you know, the thing with acting is it’s about how easily can you access it, once you’re in front of a camera or in front of a crew? That’s the question.”

~*~

[bellaxgiornata]

Predawn Bliss

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Mom!Reader Word Count: 650 [Collection Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: nothing but tooth-rotting fluff and a soft Mikey

Summary: You wake early in the morning and briefly witness a sweet moment between Michael and your newborn daughter.

a/n: I couldn't resist the mental image of a little early morning Michael bottle feeding a newborn. Hopefully my lack of sleep has not affected my editing of this, either. Feedback is always appreciated!

Collection Tag List: @danzer8705 @glowstick-lesbian @flowher @geminadeckerwritesstuff @shiorimakibawrites @beezusvreeland @ebathory997 @maryyymothhh @4happilyeverafter @sleepysleepymom @kezibear

Hushed, indecipherable murmurs met your ears, the sound lulling you gradually back to consciousness and away from the hazy fog of sleep. Body feeling leaden from the constant exhaustion you'd been struggling with over the past few days, you sighed against your pillow before slowly opening your eyes. A dim blue light coated the usually pitch black bedroom, your tired eyes burning as they adjusted to the soft glow. Stretching your legs beneath the bed sheets, your muscles feeling stiff and sore, you paused the moment you heard the gentle, familiar voice coming from your left.

“You're a hungry little one tonight, love,” Michael whispered through the dark. “I can't begin to imagine where you're puttin’ all that milk inside o’ that little tummy o’ yours.”

Raising your head from off the pillow, you glanced up at Michael beside you. He sat in bed shirtless, his back resting against the headboard of the bed as the blue hue of the baby's night light illuminated the little swaddled bundle resting in the crook of his arm. There was a warm, sleepy smile drawn across his mouth, his eyes half-lidded as he lovingly focused on the little newborn. A slow, contented smile spread over your own lips as you watched him silently feed your week old daughter in his arms, completely oblivious to the fact that you were now awake and watching him as he did.

“Anna said she's excited to meet ya later today,” he continued quietly. “She’s comin’ back from uni this weekend just to see ya. I think you’re goin’ to like her, too.”

The smile remained on your lips as your head slowly sunk back down to the pillow, a wave of peace washing over you at the sweet moment you'd unexpectedly stumbled upon. Michael's soothing, tender rumble of a voice mixed with the quiet suckling of your daughter hungrily guzzling down the bottle in his hand, the sounds creating what you’d now come to consider familiar in the early morning hours. You found yourself quickly enraptured by the pair as you silently listened to Michael talk, your heart feeling full every time you watched him interact with her. He’d been amazing with her from the second he’d cut the umbilical cord–not that that surprised you.

“Apparently she always wanted to be a big sister,” he confided to the little baby, emotion briefly flickering across his face in the faint, blue light. “I never knew that. So she's certainly excited to meet ya–already plannin’ on spoilin’ ya from the sounds of it.”

Eyelids growing heavy from fatigue, you found yourself fighting to keep them open as you lay there listening to the one-sided conversation. Michael chuckled softly as you felt sleep steadily creeping up on you, the past week with a newborn waking you at hourly intervals inevitably taking its toll on your body.

“Ya know,” Michael murmured, an amused smile suddenly tugging at the corner of his lips as your eyelids fluttered back open, “watchin’ ya drink this milk is like watchin’ your mum with her mornin’ coffee. Even more so now since ya were born. Swear she gets just as fussy for it as ya do when ya need a bottle. Seems like you're already takin’ after her.” Michael leaned down towards the little bundle before whispering, “But don’t tell her I said that. Can imagine the look she’d give me.”

An amused, breathy huff quietly left you as your exhaustion steadily began to win out. Your eyelids continued to lower shut, far too heavy for you to keep them open. You felt sleep begin to settle into your limbs, your body soon sinking comfortably back into the mattress. Though before you drifted off, you caught one last thing from Michael’s lips.

“I’m lookin’ forward to havin’ all my girls home today,” he whispered. “Can’t wait to have all o’ ya finally here together. Safe with me.”

[siampie]

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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Masterlist || join my taglist

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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[munsonownsmyass]

Michael Kinsella x reader

Authors note: I have been through the emotional ringer lately and after listening to a Hozier song today, I just felt I needed to put this down on paper.

Sometimes life is hard, but it's important not to lose hope.

Thank you to @e-dubbc11 for ensuring me that the first thing I've written in almost two months aren't shit. Love you hun ❤️

Warnings: Angsty, bad self image, a hopeless romantic feeling anything but love, hopeful endings, a smidge of fluff.

Words: 1.1K

I never really thought I was worth anything and so far, life hasn’t really showed me anything to prove me wrong. This is not a sob story where I go into detail about how my parents didn’t have time for me or how I didn’t have any friends growing up. I won’t force you to sit through pages upon pages of me telling you about my countless wrecked relationships, how I’ve been ghosted more than a haunted house or about all the times I’ve thought to myself ‘This is it. I’ve found it.’, just to be proven wrong again. To once again have my heart shattered.

I know deep down that the problem might be me. I mean, all these things do have me in common. Maybe I’m just not worth it? Maybe I should just move to a cabin in the woods, get a bunch of dogs and live happily ever after as an author, alone and content… Given that my books could even sell, that is…

You see, my problem is that I’ve always believed in true love. Happily ever after. That one day I’d look into the eyes of another and find the missing piece of my soul and finally feel like I belong somewhere for the first time in my life. But I’m starting to believe that true love only exists in fairytales and that it’s never going to happen to me. I remain hopeful, but I wouldn’t bet any money on me finding my one true love.

You know that one person you’d want to look at every night before you go to sleep and can’t wait to see again in the morning as the sun shines through the blinds, falling perfectly on their face. Don’t we all want that all-consuming ‘can’t live without each other’ love? I certainly do and I remain hopeful… Or I try to.

Cause what is life without hope? Would it even be worth getting up in the morning? I go to bed some nights not sure if I even want to wake up the next day, but I still wake each morning, lying to myself that it will get better. That today might be the day that everything changes.

Okay, before I start sounding like I’m a depressed little person, I would want to say you’ve caught me at a bad time. Just got ditched again after thinking he was the right guy. I had already started mentally moving into a little cottage where we could grow old together, but alas… I was again proven that some men are just dicks or that I’m the problem… And I really don’t want to think about the last one.

So yes. Right now, I could curse every single man to hell, but who am I kidding? Give me 5 minutes and I will look into the eyes of a new stranger and fall a little again. As Hozier sings ‘I fall in love just a little bit every day with someone new’, cause I’m weird like that. I always see the best in people, and I always imagine how they might be like, what kind of music they might listen and if they are a cat or dog person.

This is my fault, I’m sure. If I really have to think about it. I fall too easily. So I’ll try to stop. This time I’ve promised myself I will not even look at another guy again. I’m better of alone.

---

So… It only lasted two days. I actually did manage to not even respond to that random dude who sled into the dm’s on my social media or the flirty guy at the counter as I hand him his coffee. I remained strong until he came in.

He’d been coming into the coffee shop for two months now, always the same solemn expression on his face. He’s always lost in thought, like there’s a million things going on in his mind. Whenever he comes in, I want to ask him what he’s thinking. What have caused him to have those haunted eyes so full of unspoken emotions. But I never do.

Today his pattern changes. He comes in, gives me that slight smile as he places his order and waits patiently for it go get done, but instead of going, he sits down in the corner. He’s always so quick to leave again, like he doesn’t want anyone to see him, yet today he sits there by the window, looking out.

He looks lost somehow, like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. Like life hasn’t exactly treated him kindly either. He looks… almost like me. I know I should leave him alone, but I wonder if a small act of kindness from a stranger could lift that veil of sadness. If maybe I could make him smile. I bet he has a beautiful smile.

Damn. I’m doing it again. I should have learned by now not to fall so easily. Cursing under my breath, I try to work and not look at him, which proves hard. He is just so beautiful. Those expressive hazel eyes, his plump lips encircled by that full beard and the tattoos on his arms. And he probably has a nice body under that shirt, considering how it clings to- No… I got to stop this. This is the kind of thinking that always gets me in trouble.

As he gets up from his seat, I already start looking forward to the next time he comes in. Maybe he’ll stay again the next time? Maybe even stay a little longer, so I could conjure up some courage to talk to him? But to my surprise, he doesn’t walk to the door, but comes back to the counter.

“I-” He starts but stops again. His eyes find mine and I feel my heart skip a beat, like it always does when he looks at me. “I’ve been trying to get the courage to ask you out for over a month now.”

The small smile grows into a nervous one, but all I can think is what this man has to be nervous about. Surely, he must know I’d say yes in a heartbeat. Which was almost exactly what I blurt out. Thankfully it makes him smile wider and I was right. A very beautiful smile indeed. ´

“Fine, then. Tomorrow at 8.” He says with a smile and for the first time, it reaches his eyes. The small wrinkles and the shine in his hazel orbs make it impossible not to smile too.

“Tomorrow.” I confirm with a giggle, barely able to speak without stumbling over my words. On his way out he turns to me, giving me a little wave with the smile still adorning his beautiful face. Once he is out the door, it takes several minutes before my breathing is back to normal and my heart is done making backflips.

I have a date. A date with Michael. And in that moment, I don’t even care if he turns out like the others and leaves me broken. But something tells me he isn’t like the others. That this time it will be different, because… We have to keep hoping, right?

Maybe I could fall again… Just a little bit?

Tagging: @mindidjarin @itwasthereaminuteago @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @mattmurdocksscars @theradioactivespidergwen @chvoswxtch @pedrito-friskito @yarrystyleeza @murdock-and-the-sea @saintmurd0ck @boliv-jenta

[shelikesorchids-archive]

2024 Housekeeping

Happy New Year friends!

I have some exciting things in the works for y'all, and one of those includes the conclusion of Cadence! Every day I wake up and have new notifications on that fic here and on AO3 bring a smile to my face! I never expected a silly little idea would go so far, but I'm glad for it!

But, since some new things are coming, I have decided to say goodbye to a few fics as well.

First Do No Harm: I hate to say goodbye to Paramedic!Frank Castle, but sadly he left me. But don't worry! I'm actually going to be re-working it into a new story with Frank as a counselor at the VA. So, be on the lookout for that.

Golden Hour: Okay, so Photography Professor!Peter Parker isn't going away completely! I will be re-writing this as an OC fic instead of a reader insert because I have fleshed out a character that I just CAN NOT wait to introduce to y'all. You will love her, I promise!

Imagine Being Loved By Me: While the premise was sexy, I just can't bring myself to continue a fic that's based on infidelity. I can't do that to my darling Michael Kinsella, because a certain pharmacist already did that to him. I'd rather give him a happy ending.

I'm going to be making a little "Coming Soon" post with an ambitious new fic for a new fandom soon. That's right, we're adding more blorbos to the masterlist!

So, out with the old and in with the new! Let's have some adventures this year!

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Waiting for the Storm

Prologue

Series Masterlist Chapter 1

pairing: Michael Kinsella x fem!Reader 

summary: "If you spend your whole life waiting for the storm, you'll never enjoy the sunshine." -Morris West

When Michael's release day finally arrives, he isn't too optimistic about his future. The most he's hoping for is a relationship with his daughter and a new path forward. The world, however, has bigger plans for him after he meets a timid, yet lovely, children's book illustrator who has more in common with him than it seems.

warnings: swearing, emotional and physical abuse (very brief descriptions here but these will be recurring themes in this story), descriptions of prison, descriptions of family loss

a/n: Ahhhh! My first Mikey story because I FINALLY had inspiration. I am way too excited about this WIP so I really hope this lil tidbit gets y'all intrigued! The general vibes will be fluff and hurt/comfort because Mikey deserves to be comforted. I hope you all enjoy!

w/c: ~900

There was something comforting about the rain. Peaceful and cleansing. Water vapor rising unburdened by the impurities of the ground to the heavens and falling back again like a gift, washing away the sins below with every splattering drop. 

When she was a child, the other girls bemoaned their hometown’s climate and constant precipitation. “Rain brings noise, and floods, and mud, and worms!” They’d lament to her after every storm. She never knew how to tell them that none of those consequences bothered her. 

Floods were rare, and more a symptom of poor drainage systems than the rain itself. Mud was mostly avoidable, and easy to wash away. Worms were necessary for composting and agriculture, not to mention completely harmless. 

The noise, well, this she understood. When she was a toddler the loud smashes of thunder and cracks of lightning terrified her too—scaring her under the covers night after night, hands clamped over her ears. But then her life became less quiet, and the storms were less loud by comparison. 

See when your home is full of screaming, and crying,  and the echoing slap of skin hitting skin, thunder is a lot more appealing. It’s easy to focus on. If you try hard enough, you can let it drown out the sounds of your father putting another hole in the drywall, of your mother’s car pulling out of the driveway for the last time—the tires screeching as she leaves you behind.  

The spattering of rain against the windows became her anchor whenever the universe was kind enough to offer it to her. When her father rages around the house, destroying every trace of his estranged wife, she would lay in bed—eyes glued to the droplets splashing against the glass. 

On the especially bad nights, she pictured a safe haven: a set of cliffs, composed of worn shale threaded with lush green grass. She could feel the cracked sandstone through the fabric of her pajamas as she sat along the edge. Fat raindrops drenched her scalp, trailing down her face, over her heavy eyelids and exposed collar bone. The ground beneath her grew increasingly damp, each swirl of water wafting the scent of petrichor towards her nose. Somewhere in the distance, waves crested over rocks—the sound getting lost in the patter of the rain. 

As she aged, she continued to dream of this place. Throughout her tumultuous teenage years and every disagreement with her father. Each and every time she felt lonely after moving to another, sunnier, state for her bachelor’s degree. 

The image was especially helpful as her relationship with Xavier turned sour. Every insult, threat, and smack fading into the drum of raindrops on rock. She’d lay awake at night, bruises blooming on her limbs, imagining the rain. 

And it was the steady pounding of droplets on the roof that gave her the courage to pack her things and leave. Trekking across town, over multiple bus routes, until she stood her friendly coworker’s doorstep—soaked to the bone, and more unhurried than she’d been in years, all thanks to the rain. 

Michael had never minded the rain. A symptom of living in Dublin his whole life, he supposed. When every other day brought a shield of clouds over the sun, you adjusted or you fled to brighter pastures. 

He sure as hell didn’t mind it when he was in his cell, listening to the jeers and yelling of the other prisoners night after fucking night. The thrum of raindrops against cinderblock were a welcomed static noise. 

At first, he was grateful for the solitude of his protected status. It gave him time to grieve the loss of his wife, to repent for his hand in her death. His stint in prison meant he was temporarily relieved of the burden placed on his shoulders by the family and it gave him time to grow and reflect. 

But it also meant losing Anna, grieving and spiraling on his own for eight excruciating years, and being closer to his father than he’d ever wanted to be again. It meant that he’d lost everything that mattered, because he’d been too careless to protect it. 

He missed freedom. He missed his family, his daughter more than anything. He missed fresh air, and hot water, and home cooked meals. He wanted to feel the wind against his chest, the rain on his face, anything but the stale breath of hundreds of other prisoners and the bite of the cool cement against his back as he drifted off. 

His release day approached slowly, at first. But after the first few years, the days began to blend together. Seasons rolling by like a strip of film in a projector, bursts of green coming and going as the plants in the sparse outdoor yard sprouted and died. The tunnel was quickly ending, but he wasn’t yet sure if there was light at the end of it. 

Regardless of what lay waiting for him outside of those gates, he’d regain his autonomy, he’d try to see Anna, he’d try to move forward. 

This is what the rain sounded like, when it pounded against the foundation of the prison. It sounded like liberty, like family, like achievable peace. 

If he could feel the rain again, he could keep going. And he would.

[kendallsroyco]

Posted this tweet here last year about Matt Murdock but I'm bringing it back because it applies to Michael this season and because Charlie's wife is literally an executive producer on Kin 💀

[lene-loki]

Good evening guys ❤️

Just wanted to ask a quick question!

Let me know please :)

[farfromstrange]

Butterfly Effect | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Masterlist

Chapter Five: Double Espresso

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Barista!Reader (I used she/her pronouns this time)

Summary: When Jimmy knocks at Michael's door, things are bound to escalate, and Michael makes a decision that is gravely going to affect both of you.

Warnings: ANGST, arguing, violence (brothers hitting each other), mention of seizures, mentions of canon character death, lots of swearing, Mikey is in pain so he's an ass

Word Count: 5k

A/n: I'm sorry for this chapter. I know some of you are going to absolutely hate me for this, but I promise that the next chapter will clear all that pain up and then we have another sweet epilogue chapter, I promise. Also, I did notice that having a clear plan for this miniseries made it so much easier to write, so the chapters are coming so fast after another because I know what I want to write and where I want it to go. If my other WIP’s could only flow like that *sigh* (also this plays after Michael’s release and before Jamie’s death, which might be important to note for some of the dialogue in here)

Read All Other Parts Here…

The sun behind the clouds casts a soft pink glow across the sky. Michael stands in his backyard, watching the sunset from the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame as he takes in the sight of the beautiful evening. He’s holding a cup of chai tea. After tasting the cup you were so kind to bring him, he decided to brew some espresso as well and add that with a little bit of milk and cinnamon. It’s nowhere near as good as yours, but the taste of the Dirty Chai runs on his tongue like ice cream and he feels at home. 

He gets to breathe fresh air now, he tells himself, he has a bed, proper food, and coffee, something he couldn’t have in prison. He can watch the sunset from his backyard and imagine what animals the clouds above him could portray. With a little bit of mindpower, he manages to make out a possible turtle and a knight, but he’s not sure how his brain sorts the pompous cloud as a knight; it has a striking resemblance with one of the pictures out of his history books. 

Sipping his Dirty Chai, he allows himself to rest for a moment. His lips curl into a soft smile as the wind brushes across his face and through his hair. It’s not particularly cold, not colder than usual anyway, but the oxygen feels good in his lungs, and his skin jumps in glee at the fresh air. 

You told him that you try not to let the world get to you. You try to be an optimist and that makes you happier. You’ve made peace with how your life is, even though you still feel guilty for not being able to finish the things you want to, and he envies that. He wishes he could do that. It would make life so much easier, but he also knows that even though you like to pride yourself on how well you’re doing, staying positive is hard and you’re struggling just as much as him. It makes him feel less alone to know he’s not the only one who feels so inevitably stuck. Your situations may be different, but he gets how you’re feeling and he could tell just from talking to you that you understand him without knowing all the details because you can see his pain, and his pain is something you yourself have felt before. Most of the time, you still do. 

He has to learn how to live with himself too, just like you. He has to learn that there are things he cannot change, but that those he can change require his full focus and that he needs to be happy with what he has before the yearning for something that’s so far out of reach breaks his heart completely and he will find himself in an even more helpless position. He doesn’t want to go back to being the man he was. He has changed for one person and one person only, and she deserves a father who is a hundred percent dedicated. He needs to be that man and to be that Michael, he needs to learn how to live with himself. Plain and simple. He needs to take a page out of your book and not try so hard to hide who he is just to appease others.

He can’t keep others safe when he’s running himself into the ground, and he can’t get Anna back like that either because then no court will ever grant him visitation rights ever again, and her grandma will have him dead before he can even breach the front door. Although he figures that might happen anyway. After what happened with Allison…

Michael shakes his head. He can’t let these thoughts in, not now, not when the sun looks as ephemeral as it does now. Sunsets are supposed to be relaxing, so relaxed is what he tries to be. Just for this particular moment, he wants to be completely free and not think about anything other than the relief he felt in the safety of your understanding arms. 

After the sun has set, he stays outside for a little while longer until he starts getting cold. He returns inside, cleans his now-empty mug, and finds himself once again staring at the napkin you left him. The Sharpie is barely readable anymore after all of his tears landed on it, but the X is still there. There is something so adorable about how nervous you are around him, and it even shows in the notes you left him. He still regrets throwing the cup away, but he has the napkin and he cherishes it like it’s an antique.

A knock on the door disturbs his peace. At least with you, the world around him didn’t exist, but now he’s alone and everything seems to be rushing back in. 

Michael makes his way to his front door and opens it. He expected it to be someone from his family, perhaps Birdy because the woman likes to check in on him from time to time or ask him for a cup of tea, knowing he tends to get lonely, and he appreciates her maternal bones, but it’s not her. In front of him stands his brother, Jimmy, and he doesn’t look happy. He never does, but he looks particularly grouchy tonight. 

He steps aside and lets him in, albeit hesitantly. 

“We need ta talk,” Jimmy says when he’s already halfway through the door. 

“About what?” Michael asks, closing the lock again behind him. 

He doesn’t want to talk, which is why he hasn’t been answering his brother’s calls, but even if he did, it’s been a long day and he is tired. Whatever Jimmy has to say to him, he doesn’t want to hear it. 

He looks around the house with curious eyes. 

“What’re you doin’?” 

“Are ya alone?” 

Michael nods. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. Amanda told me somethin’,” Jimmy says. His eyes look dark, almost vacant in the dim living room light. 

There are a million things she could have told him, and he likes none of them. His heart stops. The history between Michael and Amanda is something he promised to keep hidden, although his brother isn’t stupid and the signs have never been clearer, considering the rather awkward reunion after he was released from prison. But why would he come to him now? Why would Amanda tell him? 

It’s not like Michael has ever been in love with his brother’s wife. He’s not sure why it happened; his feelings were conflicted back then and he screwed up. He always does. He lets the demons in his head guide him against his better judgment, and then shit happens. He’s not proud of it nor does he want to find excuses because what he did hurt not only his brother in a way but his wife and the family he’d always wanted and then lost. He doesn’t want to talk about it because he can’t explain himself – Michael knows he’s an asshole, but saying it to his brother’s face would be even more humiliating than carrying the knowledge around with him.

He tries not to show that he’s panicking. Instead, he moves to the kitchen and grabs both of them a beer. “Oh yeah?” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, although the guilt makes his eyes look particularly sunken in the darkness. “What did she tell ya?” 

Jimmy takes one of the bottles from him. He doesn’t look like he wants to punch him just yet, so maybe Amanda didn’t tell him about them. He’s not sure what other secrets she’s keeping, he can only remember the elephant in the room, but his mind is foggy and he tends to forget a lot, especially when it comes to the past. He either pushed all the memories away or his brain decided for itself to forget certain things to protect himself – and the seizures, not to speak about them. His family doesn’t know, but he does, and he hates to admit that they’re happening, but ever since getting out, they have only become more frequent.

His life is a mess and as Jimmy is standing before him now, ready to let some kind of guillotine fall on him, Michael wishes nothing more than for you to be there and take some of the edge off that is pushing him forward toward the abyss. 

“Have ya been goin’ out lately?” his brother asks.

The question surprises him. In his mind, he’s playing a game where he’s scratching off the things Amanda could have told her husband like a bad game of bingo, but they’re all over the place. 

What does his private life have to do with Amanda and Jimmy? He hasn’t been doing anything illegal. He is trying to go straight, they know that. Everyone knows that. They hate it, but he’s insistent. Michael is certain he didn’t do anything wrong and he isn’t planning on doing so anytime soon. 

Maybe it is about Anna? But that wouldn’t connect directly to Amanda and it wouldn’t be Jimmy but his lawyer and maybe Birdy because the woman actually cares. He’s not always sure if his brother cares like he pretends he does because there is a lot of unresolved tension – once again, he thanks himself for being such an idiot and Amanda for being herself – and that’s how he knows that Jimmy would be the last person to knock with news on his fight to get his daughter back. 

“What do you mean?” Michael asks with a frown. 

“Have ya been goin’ out?” Jimmy repeats his question. “On the town, tryin’ to pick up ladies, that sorta thing?”

His frown deepens. “What?”

“C’mon, ya can tell me, Mikey. I’m your brother.”

He is, but this feels more like an intervention than a friendly chat. It’s starting to dawn on him. While his visits to the café may have gone unnoticed, you came to visit him at work today, the same place that is a front for laundering money for all the Kinsella family business and Amanda was there this morning. She could have seen you. You kissed him across the street from the big windows and she could have easily watched the scene unfold, watched you hug him and kiss him, and Michael indulged in the kiss. 

Amanda must have seen you and she went right ahead and snitched to Jimmy that he has been spending time with you. You, the last person who should have to deal with his mess. You, someone normal and authentic. You, someone who has never done anything bad in your life. And you, the person Michael has found solace in and started telling his story to. He didn’t tell you details, but he told you his name and you could figure it all out if you wanted to, and he dragged you into it even though he knew he shouldn’t have. 

It’s you Jimmy is referring to, and his muscles instantly lock up. This isn’t about him anymore, this is about someone who has nothing to do with this life, you’ve just chosen to show the wrong man the best kind of affection and he refuses to let his brother or Amanda ruin this for him, let alone ruin you. 

“I don’t know what yer talkin’ about,” Michael says through gritted teeth. 

Jimmy scoffs. “Did Amanda see a ghost then?” 

“If ya told me what this is about–“

“You’ve been seein’ a woman, haven’t ya, Mikey?” he asks.

There it is. 

Michael puts his bottle down and stares at his brother. His features darken. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Start this.”

“Start what, exactly? I’m just tryin’ ta have a conversation with my brother.”

“Ya know exactly what yer startin’, Jimmy. Don’t play coy.”

“Amanda saw you kissin’ a stranger and she said ya keep disappearin’. Ya don’t answer our calls. I’m sorry fer gettin’ worried about ya. Yer family, after all and I care about ya, Michael.”

It sounds like he’s blaming him now, which, given the circumstances, feels neither fair to him nor to you.

“Ya don’t know shit about my life!” He hasn’t raised his voice in a while, but when he does, it’s pure anger and a tinge of vulnerability that strain his vocal cords. The glass of the bottle hits the counter. 

“Hey,” Jimmy warns, “take it easy!”

He doesn’t want to take it easy. He’s far beyond the point where he can.

“I don’t know how this is any of your business,” says Michael, his eyes still staring coldly at his brother, “but yeah, I’ve met someone, and she’s good ta me. More doesn’t fuckin’ matter.”

“Michael, ya know what I’m gonna say and I hate ta say it.”

“Ya don’t have to.”

“I do ‘cause if this were anyone we know, I wouldn’t give a flyin’ fuck, but tha’ girl–“

“Leave her name out of your mouth or I swear to God–“

“Who is she?” 

“Doesn’t matter. I told ya.”

“A normal civilian then,” Jimmy says. “Amanda said she looks like that girl who works at the café down the street.”

Now they know who you are, too. His skin turns as cold as ice, and he can feel his blood boiling in his veins.

“Ya know what tha’ means, Michael?”

“Fuck,” he runs a hand over his face, “Of fuckin’ course I know.”

It means a lot of things.

“If yer not careful, she’s gonna get killed. Ya just got out of prison, yer a Kinsella… The stakes are higher now. The danger is greater. We can’t deny that.”

Michael groans. “Since when do any of ya have the right to dictate my relationships? Especially Amanda. She’s the last person on this godforsaken planet that should get a right to have a say,” he says. “Just because ya want me back in the saddle–“

“Ya wanna know since when, huh?” Jimmy snaps, breaking his assumption in two. “Since ya’ve got your wife fuckin’ killed, that’s when!”

The beer bottle soars across the room, barely missing his face before it shatters against the wood on the wall behind him. Michael steps forward, his finger pointed at his brother, grabbing him by the collar and pushing him into the nearest object. He towers over him, even though he is smaller, and all of the humanity in his eyes has vanished. 

Whatever Jimmy’s problem is, he’s moving on very thin ice, and the ice is about to break through.

“Watch yer fuckin’ mouth!” he growls. “Ya can tear me down and attack my life, but Allison and Anna? Ya keep your fuckin’ mouth shut about them! And her–“ Your face flashes in front of his eyes like a Polaroid picture. “Don’t fuckin’ dare compare her to them or what happened before I went to prison because I know.” His voice is barely above a whisper; he sounds almost like a snake. Michael doesn’t have to yell to cause goosebumps.  

“I know, Jimmy,” he says, “I know she’s in danger ‘cause of me and this family, but I promised Anna I would go straight now because she’s my daughter and I deserve to get her back, I deserve to make amends, and I won’t let ya or Amanda tell me what to do as if I have anythin’ to do with the shit yer doing anymore. You tryin’ to sabotage my relationships won’t bring me back.”

Jimmy grabs his wrists. “That’s not how it works,” he says. There is a flash of concern in his eyes.

Michael sneers. “How would you know? You have yer wife and yer sons. Ya have everything. You don’t know what it’s like to lose a fuckin’ child!”

“Yer right, I don’t, but you think it’s gonna help Anna if ya start a relationship that might end anyway? Ya want more grief? More heartbreak? Does she even know?”

Michael tightens his grip around his collar. “Oh, fuck off, Jimmy! Ya don’t know me, and yer certainly not the boss of me, ya fuck!” 

His spit pearls off his cheeks, and his eyes turn feral. “Are ya so used to gettin’ and corruptin’ what you want that ya can’t see the bigger picture?” 

He lets go of him, distancing himself almost immediately. His fist twitches. Jimmy’s face looks so inviting, he has a hard time controlling himself. He tries not to let his words touch him, but he’s got him riled up and he can’t come back down. 

“Maybe I should let ya make your own mistakes,” he says. “Let you run into the knife ‘cause ya seem to have a real knack for fuckin’ up everything. When yer little girlfriend ends up dead, maybe then you’ll learn that sometimes, family is right. Or ya just kill her yerself because ya just seem so fuckin’ good at it–“

The loud crack of bone breaking fills the house. Jimmy howls when Michael’s fist connects with his nose, and the bridge breaks clean through. It tilts at the most painful angle without popping back in place. Blood spills from his nostrils. He falls to his knees on the floor, clutching his broken nose.

Michael towers over his brother, his irises fully black now. His chest heaves, his knuckles are covered in blood, and his wrist is already starting to swell. 

“Get the fuck out of my house, Jimmy!” he says. He doesn’t even leave him time to recollect himself. 

Jimmy rises to his feet, his nose still dripping. He stares at him with a mixture of pride and shock; without another word, he launches at him and strikes his fist across his face. 

It’s Michael’s turn to fall onto his knees with a surprised groan. He didn’t get his full nose, but something did break upon impact. 

Jimmy huffs, staring at his brother who is now bleeding just as excessively as him. “Gladly,” he says, satisfied with his work, and then he leaves, but not without emptying his beer on his way out and leaving the bottle right at the entrance for him to clean it up. 

The door falls shut behind him. 

He stays on the floor for a while, feeling the floorboards under his fingers. The worst part isn’t that Jimmy said these outrageous things. Michael would be angrier if he had lied to him, but that wasn’t the case. He said the truth and nothing but the truth. And it eats him alive that his brother is right – the worst part is that he is no good for you and the wisest choice is to let you go before you’re too far in to crawl back out.

And that kills him inside. 

He finds himself on his bedroom floor again that night, nursing a bottle of whiskey. He leans back against the bed. The alcohol is slowly hulling his brain into a fog, numbing the pain, numbing his emotions, but most of all, it makes the thought of you go away and turn into bitterness instead. You, Allison, Anna… he wants to forget it all.

His finger ghosts over the ‘send’ button on his phone, but instead of sending the text, he switches to the icon in the top corner and presses ‘call’. 

The line clicks. “Hello?” Amanda’s voice sounds from the other end.

“Are ya proud of yerself?” he asks. He’s too exhausted to be angry, but there is a force behind his words that goes beyond being tired.

There is silence before she answers. “Michael,” she says his name oh so softly.

He doesn’t want to hear it. He wants to yell at her and tell her why she told Jimmy and ask her why this is such a big deal and that he hates her and he hates this family and… he hates himself.

“Jimmy just wanted ta talk.”

He scoffs. “I just wanted ta tell ya that ya should be proud of yerself. Ya can tell Frank I didn’t change my mind, but good try and ya should be proud of yerself, truly.”

She ruined something very good for him, and she made him loathe his reflection again. 

“We care about ya,” she says. It sounds almost like she’s arguing. “And we want ya to think things through, especially with your history and this family, and you don’t want another person ta suffer because of a risk we couldn’t control, do ya? That’s why I told Jimmy. I just wanted ta help. This isn’t personal. And this isn’t about Frank.”

But oh, it is personal. She lies shamelessly through her teeth and right now, Michael hates her guts as much as he loathes himself, which is a lot. He hates his family. He hates everyone. And most of all, he hates the universe. 

“Yeah,” he sniffles, “I did think ‘em through. And it is personal.”

“Michael–“

“Thanks for nothin’, Amanda. Good night.”

He hangs up, leaving behind only silence and the taste of whiskey on his tongue as he continues to stare at the ceiling until inevitably, he passes out right there, still leaning against the bed and praying that his life will soon turn out to have been nothing but a bad, bad dream.

The next day, the café buzzes with activity as customers come and go, their conversations blending into a steady hum. You're back behind the counter, but you're not paying attention. The radio plays a Taylor Swift song and you hum along, scribbling something on one of the coffee cups, waiting for the next wave of people in need of coffee to come through the door. 

You're not working with Sarah today, so at least you're not getting smart comments about your floaty state, but his lips... you wish you could should his name at the top of your lungs. You can't get him out of your head – his hands on your body, touching and grabbing everywhere, his lips moving against yours as he breathes all of you in, even your bare soul; it's a picture you wish you could replay like a 3D movie, but the memories come and go in a blur. You need him. You crave him. He's messing with your head and while it's annoying, you can't get enough. You're addicted to Michael Kinsella. 

What started as wanting to comfort a man who came to the café in need of an escape has evolved into a physical yearning for his touch, not just getting to know his soul in a way you still haven't been able to, but you've seen more of him the day before and you're proud of yourself for picking apart the walls he's built around his heart piece by piece. You're so happy, you could burst. 

Every ring of the bell above the door catches your attention, but then your heart drops when you see it's not him. The longing for Michael begins to feel obsessive, yet you can't deny the thrill it brings you. And then, as if the universe has answered your unspoken plea, he walks in, and your heart stops, only to beat twice as fast.

"Michael," you greet him with a bright smile. "How are you?"

Something is off about him today. You notice there is a cut on his nose and the bridge is starting to turn blue. His hand is bandaged again. He doesn’t smile, he doesn’t even try to fake it. His eyes are vacant, almost, like he’s empty inside, the pain having moved deep enough to burn his soul to ashes. The numbness he displays while also keeping a cage locked tightly around himself makes your own heart ache for him.

What happened to him? When you parted ways, you both seemed more than alright. It was awkward, but it was great. Or did you misinterpret something?

“I’ll take a double espresso,” he answers the question you haven’t even voiced yet. “Just a double espresso. Nothin’ else.”

“Are you sure?” you try to sound as cheery as before, but the sight of him has your light dimmed a little. “We have other options,” you say. 

He’s not acting on your recommendations today. His stare is blank and his voice sounds harsh when he repeats his order, though this time making it sound like a demand that makes you flinch. Men scare you, that is no secret, but Michael had never scared you before. Up until this point, you never thought it possible, he never struck you as the scary type, but the tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine, uncomfortable ones, and he leaves no space for you to argue or be playful with it. 

You bonded over coffee before. His demeanor has you second-guessing everything. Did you misinterpret his intentions? Was it all a facade? Why did he come here if he intended to hurt you? 

You finish the double espresso with millions of thoughts racing in your mind. Right before handing it to him, you take a deep breath and decide to write your number on the cup. You should have done it long before. He might not want to talk now, but maybe later, or maybe he won’t ever call. You’re not sure why the hope is still there, but it burns brighter than your fear or your anger. 

"Double espresso," you call out, hoping he'll stay a moment longer.

Michael approaches the counter, his eyes avoiding yours as he snatches the cup from your hands. Your fingers brush. You keep him there. 

“Hey,” your voice softens, “Are you okay?”

He avoids your eyes. 

“You seem… different today.” That’s an understatement. 

“Yeah,” he says and tears the cup from your hands. “Bad day. I have to go. Thanks.”

That’s what he wants to leave you with? The interaction tastes bitter. He doesn't even spare a glance at the cup. He doesn’t acknowledge you. He doesn’t listen. It's as if he's determined to shut you out, to sever whatever connection you had.

You shoot your colleague an apologetic glance before tossing your apron on the counter and sprinting after Michael. 

“Michael!”

At the call of his name, he stops in his tracks. “What do you want?” he asks. He sounds defensive, guarded even. There seems to be an entire army fighting inside of him, against him, and against you. 

You’re not strong enough to withhold the storm. Yet, you still take a step forward to somehow bridge the gap that is not just literally but figuratively between you. The space hasn’t been there before, it’s new and you hate it. He won’t even reach your lifeline because he’s swimming out far enough that he can’t reach it. It’s almost as if he’s doing this on purpose, destroying himself, slowly killing himself, and you’re helpless. 

“I want to be there for you,” you say, gentle yet determined. “I’m not sure where we went wrong, where I went wrong, but you’re not alone in this. Just tell me what happened and I can try to fix it. I can help you. Either way, I can tell you’re hurting and I don’t want you to push me away. Not after we’ve come so close.”

You’re grasping for straws now.

Michael turns to look over your shoulder. You see a flicker of regret flash up in his eyes, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared. Left behind is only an empty shell. 

“Please,” you beg. 

He studies your face for a moment. He hesitates, he's uncertain, but he's gone. You can tell he's gone; he disappears right before your eyes, slipping through your fingers and this time it feels final. It shouldn't hurt, you don't know him, but it burns like acid on your skin and get through to your heart. It shouldn't hurt, you're not like that, but you can't deny that it does. 

As if a wall slams shut, he shakes his head and takes a step back. "Ya don't get it," he says.

“What don’t I get?”

“Everything! It doesn’t fuckin’ matter anyway.”

“Come on, talk to me. Maybe I can help. I–”

“Maybe ya should stop tryin’ so hard all the fuckin’ time.”

You didn’t expect that. 

“People might like you more if ya weren’t tryin’ so hard,” he says, taking your heart like a piece of paper and ripping it straight through. “People pleasers are exhausting, and yer no better than tha’.”

Your throat tightens as the words start to sink in. “What?” you whisper. 

“Ya heard me.” He turns back around, his eyes leaving yours. “It’s best if we end this here. Fer both of us.”

There wasn’t much between you anyway and yet he wants to take his fist and shatter it like glass hard enough so that you won’t be able to pick it up. That sounds cruel, and it feels even worse. His words remind you of your childhood and the time after that, all the people who laughed at you, who told you that you were too complicated, that you needed to change to fit in, that you would never be good enough, and they remind you of your parents and the friends you’ve lost simply because no matter what you did, it was never good enough. They used your kind heart and destroyed you in the process. Not once did you think Michael would do the same. 

“I didn’t realize, I– I’m sorry,” your voice cracks. 

He huffs, still not looking at you. “Like I said, yer exhausting,” he says as if he hasn’t done enough. “I’ll stay away from ya from now on. It’s better tha’ way. Try not to please everyone so hard or you’ll end up miserable.” He says your name, but you feel like your ears are underwater and all of this is just a stupid dream. A nightmare, even. 

Michael says goodbye and then he’s gone. You’re not sure where to, but he leaves, and you don’t make an effort this time – you don’t follow him. He managed to break your heart with what little you shared about yourself and that is not something you can easily swallow. 

Your colleague stares at you when you storm back into the café, but you ignore her. You leave your apron where it is, holding your breath as you hold the tears in the corners of your eyes, your feet carrying you to the back room. And you cry.

You break down and cry because Michael used the power of words shamelessly to hurt you in a way that runs deeper than your skin. You break down, and you curse Michael Kinsella all the way to hell. 

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms @acharliecoxedfan @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella

[1988-fiend]

Nope, not me imagining which journal I would have in the fictional world in meeting Michael Kinsella thanks to @bellaxgiornata and @farfromstrange in the event my muse helps me think of a fanfic of my own

Not at all

[bellaxgiornata]

What would you get our traumatized Irish Catholic boys for Christmas? And what about our traumatized Italian Catholic and cocky Vampire?

Ahh Soulie I love this question so much but OMG I had to THINK for this one!! Mostly for Owen and Henry because we don't learn too much personal stuff about Henry (plus he's a centuries old vampire so like...what the hell would you gift him?). And I think I'm only just starting season three of Boardwalk Empire so what I thought of for Owen is more of a funny gift. I'd probably have a better answer once I've seen more of him in the show if I'm being honest. But anyway, for those who're curious on my gifting ideas and thought process for Matt Murdock, Michael Kinsella, Frank Castle, Owen Sleater, and Henry (whatever his last name is 😆), I'm putting everything below the cut cause y'all know I'm longwinded 😅

Also feel free to join in on ideas in the comments because I'd love to hear what other gift ideas y'all would have!

Gifting something to Matt Murdock seems like...an impossible task to me. Whenever I write fics, I honestly hate coming up with ideas for a character to gift him something 🤣 Why? Because this man doesn't remotely scream materialistic. I mean he barely makes any money at his law firm and is all too happy to be paid in bananas. And his only hobby is illegal and probably going to get him killed. So what the hell do you get Matt?

Personally, I'd gift him some sort of spa day or a long ass massage. He'd certainly need to be forced to take the time for himself and use it, but you know that man's battered and worn body would welcome a nice, long massage. Then maybe treat him to a nice dinner at a great restaurant because I always worry this man isn't eating enough.

Bonus gift: I'd give him a weighted blanket, too. I feel like it would help relax him on the nights he doesn't go out beating criminals.

Okay, this one came far too easily to me for Frank Castle. I'd gift him a rescue dog. Why? THIS MAN NEEDS A DOG OKAY. Frank and a dog just go together in my mind.

I also think Frank would thrive and heal a little from the unconditional love of a furry friend. And he could certainly use the company from a canine companion. I just know a dog would bring a smile to this man's face and bring out that softer, non-murder-y side that we all know is there inside of him. And honestly, I worry about how incredibly alone Frank feels after losing his family. So a dog would be perfect.

Bonus gift: Possibly some new books to read because I imagine this man doesn't enjoy much television in his downtime.

This one also came far too easily to me. I'd gift Michael Kinsella with a little vacation literally fucking anywhere calming and peaceful outside of Dublin. He desperately needs to get away from the stress of his family's business and just his crazy, shitty family in general. They're obviously not good for his health and I think he could seriously use the break. I'd also get him some less depressing books so his ass stops just reading Steinbeck and starts reading something else. You need some new books, Mikey.

Bonus gift: I'd surprise him by having his daughter Anna come along on the vacation. After eight years in prison, those two could really use some bonding time without Mikey's meddling family.

This is where things started to get tougher for me. Like I said, I'm barely in season three of Boardwalk so I feel like I don't know much about Owen personally. He hasn't had that much screen time besides some killing, scheming, and sex. So this gift idea was a bit more on the entertaining/funny side. I think further into the series I could come up with something far better.

I'd gift Owen an expensive bottle of Irish whiskey and lots of condoms. I mean, it certainly seems like he'd use both of them. The man is...definitely a flirt who has every intention of following through on his flirting 👀

Bonus gift: I don't know, me? Do I count? You can have me for Christmas, Owen.

Okay so Henry is the toughest one for me to answer this for. I mean he's a vampire and he's a few hundred years old and the movie doesn't give that much background or personal information on him. So what would I gift him for Christmas?

Considering he's a few centuries old, I doubt he's materialistic (certainly doesn't seem that way). I doubt he'd like a vacation because I mean...he's probably well traveled. We know he's got some morals since he doesn't feed on humans because he used to be one. So I imagine this vampire would enjoy literature and maybe art--things that connect him to the human side he lost. Though I assume he probably already owns and has read all the classic novels, so maybe I'd gift him something that's current that might resonate with him that he hasn't read yet.

Bonus gift: Maybe an engraved lighter? The vampire does seem to enjoy smoking. Or maybe something handmade and sentimental.

[mattmurdocksscars]

Yall wanna come talk about Mikey Kinsella with me? 👉👈 maybe some headcanons/prompt requests?

——that scene from the trailer where he tells Amanda that everything has changed…I can just imagine that being a pivotal point in a relationship where he has to do the whole “let you go because I care for you” bit or he has to double down and bring them even further into his life.

"... So, let me get this straight. You want to break up. Because things are difficult right now?"

"Don't play dumb, pet. Things are a lot more than just difficult right now. Being wit me could get ya killed and I'm not willing ta risk that."

"That's not your decision to make, Michael! I should get to decide whats too dangerous for me!"

"Yer judgement is clouded because of yer feelings-"

"And yours isn't?" Michael's face scrunched up in frustration. "What do I have to do to prove to you that I can handle this? I told you a long time ago that I was all in and I meant it then and I mean it now."

"Its not a matter of whether or not ya can handle it, pet."

"Then what is it? Damnit, tell me, Michael! Give me one good reason-"

"I just want ya safe!" For the first time in your relationship, Michael raised his voice at you. It caused you to step back, eyebrows raising as you stared at him. The silence rang loud in the wake of his shout.

"I'm safest when I'm with you, Michael. You really think they wouldn't come after me just because we broke up?" Michael flinched, panic and pain flooding his face. He began pacing like a caged animal, hand running through his hair.

"I don't know what ta do, pet. This is... We've basically started a war and I can't lose ya in the crossfire." You cautiously stepped up to Michael, halting his pacing. You reached for him, smiling sadly when he let you cup his cheeks.

"You stop pushing me away and... well, you teach me how to defend myself. You keep me close, because as I said, I'm safest when I'm with you." He cracked a broken smile, the edges cracked.

"I'd argue the opposite but... okay. If this is really what you think is best. Just promise me somethin?"

"What?"

"Promise me you'll do as I say if we get into a situation. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. You do what I say so I can keep you safe."

"Okay. I can do that." Michael pulled you in then, his arms like bands of steel around you.

"I love ya, pet. Don't ever forget that."

"I love you too, Mikey."

You didn't know what was in store for the two of you but you did know one thing.

You could do anything with Michael by your side.