#Now I want soup | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1988-fiend · 1 year ago

Text

😍😍😍

A warmth of a start like a great soup and a large blanket

She Lit a Fire [Chapter One]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's been nearing six months since your mother passed and nothing about your fast-paced life feels right anymore. Not knowing what else to do with the inheritance left to you, you quit your job on a whim and book a few weeks stay at a seaside cottage in a small town in Ireland. Unsurprisingly, you're quickly drawn to the handsome bartender at the local pub who curiously doesn't drink–and who also happens to live just down the beach from your cottage. The pair of you end up in a whirlwind romance, but when it comes time for you to leave, Michael is crushed when you refuse to continue things. Though you're certainly surprised to find yourself Stateside two months later pregnant with his child.

Warnings/Tags: 18+; contains smut, mostly fluff but some angst, and an eventual unplanned pregnancy

a/n: Okay, I wasn't planning to share this for another couple of days, but I got it edited up and I was just too excited. I've started on chapter two already, so here you go! Feedback is always appreciated! Full chapter list can be found here.

Standing before the little white cottage nestled in front of the green hillside behind it, you heard the taxi that had just dropped you off beginning to drive away. The gravel road to the right of you crunched loudly under the car’s tires as it disappeared. And then, not even a minute later, you were alone.

Readjusting the duffle bag slung over your shoulder, your left hand clutched the handle of your suitcase as you stared at the wooden front door. For a moment you stood there, mesmerized by the view of the place you’d be staying and the picturesque background behind it as you fingered the single key on the keyring in your right hand. Without the rumble of the taxi's engine in the driveway, you could hear the sound of the waves crashing ashore behind you accompanied by the sound of the gulls flying overhead. It was already far more peaceful here than back at your apartment. Back home all you heard were the sounds of traffic and police sirens on the streets below and the occasional shouting rising up from the sidewalk.

Coming to Ireland had been something you’d admittedly done without much forethought. You weren’t entirely sure why you’d picked this small seaside town of Dunnis Port out of anywhere that you could’ve gone, either, but when you’d been absently scrolling through places to stay on Airbnb, you’d spotted this cottage by the ocean and something about it had drawn you to it instantly. Maybe you were being a little ridiculous, but you swore it had been your mom somehow pushing you to come here. So you’d booked the cottage for the next handful of weeks and then immediately booked a flight to Ireland.

And now here you were, silently wondering what the hell had made you quit your job and disappear to another country. Though you didn’t know how else to spend all the money your mother had left behind to you. You were, after all, her only child. And your father had never been in the picture. Admittedly, you'd also grown tired of the monotony back home ever since your mother’s unexpected passing. Everything had just felt…pointless. You found yourself yearning for something more, though you had no idea exactly what it was that you seemed to be missing. You hoped getting away might help you discover whatever it was, though.

With a deep exhale you took a step forward, beginning to make your way up the paved walkway and towards the cottage as you rolled your luggage behind you. It was nearing seven in the evening here in Dunnis Port and the sun was starting to hang lower in the gray, overcast sky. A shiver ran down your back as you stopped in front of the door, placing the key in the lock. You wished you’d have at least looked into the weather in Ireland before you’d left. How foolish of you to assume that a seaside town in northern Ireland would be warm just because it was the beginning of June–it was barely sixty degrees fahrenheit when your plane had landed and the temperature was only dropping. You hadn’t exactly packed for this weather, which meant you were now going to have to do some shopping tomorrow.

While fortunately Kenmare Cottage was about a mile walk from Dunnis Port's downtown, unfortunately Dunnis Port had no transportation services. Which meant you’d be walking everywhere unless you called a taxi service in one of the larger cities almost twenty minutes away. And that also meant tonight you’d be on foot making your way to the Sheep’s Head Pub that you’d spotted when the taxi had driven through the village’s small downtown a bit ago. You figured you’d find a market tomorrow and deal with having to carry groceries back to the cottage when it wasn’t dark and hopefully would be a bit warmer outside. After that long flight you’d just gotten off of–and with how late it was getting–you figured you’d toss your luggage down, get a good look at the cottage you’d be staying at for a few weeks, and then begin your little trek to the pub for some food and a much needed drink.

Which is what you were doing now. Rolling your suitcase just into the sitting room, you’d rested it up against the back of the gray sofa before dropping your duffle bag onto the sofa’s cushion. Absently rubbing a hand along your sore shoulder from where the strap of your bag had steadily been digging into it, your eyes took in the quaint decor in the cottage. It certainly looked cozy and comfortable, just like the pictures had made this place seem. You figured when the sun was actually out and shining there would be a lot of natural light in here. Looking out of the large window to your right, just beside the little television, you noticed you had a perfect view of the beach and the waves rolling up on shore.

Meandering to the little kitchen just off of the sitting room, you weren’t surprised to see it was barely larger than the kitchen in your apartment considering the size of the cottage itself. All of the cabinets were white with rustic black handles and the countertops were a beautiful butcher block. There was a small wooden table with two chairs situated underneath one of the windows. On the adjoining wall just beside the circular table there was a door that led out to the small, fenced in back garden. A myriad of colorful flowers were blooming against the stone fence and you noticed a cozy bench on the paved patio. A perfect place to read when the weather was nice, you figured.

After having quickly examined the kitchen, you made your way towards the short hallway just off of the sitting room. Poking your head into the room on your right, you found a decent sized bedroom with a queen sized bed that was covered in multiple decorative pillows resting atop a white duvet. Your body practically begged you to step inside and collapse onto it after that long flight, but you knew you’d regret not grabbing dinner if you did.

Glancing through the door to your left you found the bathroom which boasted a large walk-in shower. You’d figured the owner of the property must’ve remodeled this bathroom recently based on the appearance of it. There was a white and black patterned tile floor and that luxurious shower which you hadn’t anticipated being quite so large–it looked even more inviting than it had in the photos. Though you were a little nervous about the uncovered little window situated beside the shower; even if Kenmare Cottage didn’t have neighbors immediately next door, you still worried about someone spotting you stepping out of the shower through it–though it did offer plenty of natural light.

Eyes still focused on the little bathroom window, you noticed it was steadily getting closer to sunset. You had no idea what time the Sheep’s Head Pub stopped serving food, but you hoped if you started your long trek there now, you’d be there in time to eat something and have a drink or two. Maybe the alcohol would warm you up for your walk back to the cottage afterwards. And maybe someone working at the pub would be able to direct you to a place to buy better clothes and some groceries tomorrow.

°•°•°•°•°•°

By the time you’d reached the pub, you were shivering beneath your sweatshirt. You’d long since shoved your hands into the pockets of it in the hopes of keeping them warm while you’d walked. As the sun had further sunk lower in the sky and the night had gotten colder, the walk managed to somehow feel like it had doubled in length. By the time the sights and sounds of Dunnis Port’s downtown met your eyes and ears, you felt a sense of relief flood you. You didn’t even care if the pub was still serving food at this point so long as you could warm up somewhere for a few minutes and have a drink.

Reluctantly removing your hand from the pocket of your sweatshirt, you opened the door of the pub and were immediately met with a wave of warmth and a myriad of chatter and laughter. As you stepped inside, the energy of the place itself almost seemed to wash over you like a soothing balm to the cold. There were a few patrons scattered about at various tables talking animatedly with each other and a few others seated on the stools at the bar counter, partially full glasses of beer in their hands. This place seemed far more lively than you’d anticipated it to be considering what a small town Dunnis Port was.

Taking a moment, your eyes curiously scanned around the pub that was somehow both a mixture of modern and rustic simultaneously melded together. As you made your way over to the bar counter, pulling out a red stool and settling down onto it, you couldn’t help but notice this place felt oddly welcoming. Despite the unexpected temperature, Dunnis Port seemed to have been a good destination choice.

While waiting for one of the bartenders to take notice of you, you glanced back over your shoulder through the front windows of the pub. The sky was a wash of faint purple and pink as the sun began to vanish below the horizon, the colors contrasting with the gray clouds still hanging low in the sky. The opposition of the bright, warm colors overtaking the gloom was beautiful and you couldn’t help but lose yourself in the view as you watched the last sliver of sunlight slowly fade away.

“Somethin’ I can get ya?”

Startling on the stool in surprise at the sound of the voice, you swiftly spun back around. On the other side of the counter was a man who looked just a few years older than you judging by the slight gray in his dark beard. He had dark brown hair and tattoos along his right arm that were visible beneath the sleeve of his black and somewhat fitted tee-shirt. But what really caught your attention was the glimmer of something light and undecipherable in his hazel eyes as he stood there leaning forward with both of his hands splayed wide on the bar counter, a white towel slung over his shoulder and a friendly smile on his face directed at you.

He was easily the most attractive man you’d ever encountered and you were quickly overrun with nerves.

His head tilted a bit to the side, the corner of his lips quirking up a bit higher. “Not from ‘round here, are ya?” he asked.

“What makes you say that?” you questioned back.

You were shocked at how much bolder the question had sounded than you actually felt with his eyes on you. He chuckled in response, the sound of it pleasant and captivating. He dipped his head towards you in something akin to a nod before he spoke.

“American accent is a dead giveaway,” he pointed out, his own Irish accent only further drawing you into him. “And I happen to know just ‘bout damn near everyone in Dunnis Port.”

“Ahh,” you replied, your hands nervously coming to rest on the bar counter as you clasped them together. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Are ya stayin’ at the Carrigan House?” he asked curiously, dark brows knitting together.

“The what?” you asked.

He grinned, shaking his head. “Take that as a no,” he answered. “The Carrigan House is the bed and breakfast ‘round the corner from here. But if ya aren’t stayin’ there, I assume you’re at Kenmare?”

You nodded, fingers tightening nervously around each other. You hadn’t expected this handsome stranger to be so interested in chatting with you. Though, you figured he must not get too many new people to chat with outside of his usual patrons. You were probably just a novelty to him.

“Kenmare Cottage, yeah,” you answered him.

“Bit of a walk dressed like that, isn’t it?” he asked, eyeing your sweatshirt.

Biting your lip, you awkwardly ducked your head. Heat made its way up your neck and into your cheeks, embarrassment flooding you. “I suppose now is where I admit to not realizing just how cold it actually is here,” you replied sheepishly. “I may not have expected the weather to be like this in June and didn’t exactly pack accordingly.”

The man chuckled again, the sound only further causing your face to flame. Internally you cursed yourself for being so ignorant when you’d booked this trip. You should have looked into the weather and done some research for the place you’d planned to spend a few weeks. You shouldn't have been so uncharacteristically spontaneous.

“Ahh, well, it’s usually ‘bout twenty or so degrees durin’ the day,” he told you. “Or, s’pose you’d call that seventy or so? Get’s a bit cooler in the evening’s though. And it tends to rain.”

“Great,” you muttered under your breath.

He laughed lightly yet again, the sound causing you to look up at him from beneath your lashes. His eyes were creased at the corners, a genuine smile spread across his lips. You had a strong feeling that you'd get lost in those eyes if you stared too long.

“Not the beach holiday ya planned, I take it?” he asked in amusement.

You shot him a tense smile, shaking your head. “No, not exactly,” you admitted.

“So,” the man asked, pushing off of the bar counter and straightening back up, his demeanor turning almost business-like, “you waitin’ on your other half or can I get ya somethin’ to drink?”

Eyes narrowing curiously back at him, you asked, “Other half?”

“Oh,” he replied, his head once again tilting curiously to the side as his brows faintly drew back together. “I just assumed ya were here on your honeymoon. Newlyweds are the ones usually stayin’ over at Kenmare.”

A nervous laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it and you quickly shook your head. “Oh, uh, no,” you told him. “I’m not newly married. Or married at all, actually. It’s–it’s just me.” Clearing your throat, you nervously averted your eyes towards what appeared to be the kitchen behind the bar counter. “Is the kitchen still open? My flight got in not that long ago and honestly I’m starving.”

“Yeah, it is,” he answered. “I can get ya somethin’ to eat if you’d like?”

Attention returning to him, your eyes lingered on the way he was staring back at you. He almost seemed to be studying you even more closely now than he had been previously and that had you feeling even more nervous. You shifted in your seat, your hands clasping and unclasping awkwardly along the countertop.

“Is there something you’d recommend?” you asked shyly.

The bright smile gradually returned to his face as he nodded. “Certainly, though I doubt it’s what ya would probably order,” he replied.

One of your brows rose up onto your forehead. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned carefully.

“It means,” the man continued, his smile turning almost cheeky, “that ya look like you’d order the fish and chips off the menu because it’s familiar and safe.”

Your other brow shot up onto your forehead as you openly gaped at the man. He laughed at the look on your face, which normally would have sent you bolting straight to the door, but when his own face lit up with a warmth that reached his eyes, your breath briefly caught in your throat and your mind went nearly blank. What you wouldn’t give for this stranger’s playful teasing to be something more than friendly banter.

“Do you make a habit of insulting your customers?” you asked, trying to recover while ignoring the heat of embarrassment once again on your face.

“‘M’sorry, I didn’t mean it as an insult,” he said, his laughter subsiding but that glimmer of amusement remained in his eyes. “Ya just look like you’re…tryin’ to play it safe? That’s the sayin’, isn’t it?”

“And you think I shouldn’t be?” you asked back.

The man shrugged easily as he rested a single hand back onto the counter and leant in towards you. Your pulse sped up at the way he was looking down at you, his hand half a foot away from your clasped ones.

“‘M’just sayin’ if you’ve come all this way to Ireland then ya might consider tryin’ somethin’ ya normally wouldn’t," he suggested.

Swallowing hard, you fought the urge to blurt out something you'd regret–like how you'd like to try him . You weren't generally the type to have casual one night stands, nor had you come to Ireland with any intention to have some sort of romantic fling while you were here. Though, truthfully, you had no idea why the hell you'd come here to begin with, but maybe he had a point. Maybe you did need to step out of your comfort zone.

“So what do you recommend?” you asked him.

“Potato soup.”

You shot him a flat look. That was not the suggestion you were expecting.

“Soup?” you asked in disbelief.

"Hey now," the man said, holding up a hand and grinning back at you, "don't say it like that. ‘S’good soup and it'll warm ya up. Trust me."

"I don't even know you," you said, the comment slipping out before you could stop it.

He laughed lightly again before reaching a hand up and pulling the towel from off of his shoulder. Entranced by his hands, you watched as he wiped them on the towel before he tossed it back onto his shoulder. After, he extended his right hand towards you over the counter with a smile still lingering on his lips.

“Name’s Michael," he told you.

You hesitated a moment, eyeing his outstretched hand before you gradually unclasped your own, nervously placing yours into his. Clearing your throat, you told him your name, your heart racing when his calloused and warm hand firmly gripped yours in response.

"Now ya know me," he teased, releasing your hand. "So, would ya like a menu or would ya like to trust me?"

"I uh, I guess I'll trust you," you replied, quickly clasping your hands back together on the countertop and awkwardly wringing them together.

"Ya want a beer with that soup?" he asked, raising a questioning brow.

You nodded, lip caught between your teeth. You swore you could feel the ghost of his hand still lingering on yours. It was distracting.

"Yes, that'd be–be great," you stammered.

Still grinning, he lightly rapped his knuckles along the countertop, his gaze holding yours as he did. Something stirred in your chest at the extended eye contact, your stomach knotting anxiously.

"I'll be right back with that for ya," he said, murmuring your name softly.

Continuing to worry your lip between your teeth, you couldn't fight the way his shift in tone had affected you just before he’d turned away. Your eyes tracked his movements, watching him walk away from you and towards the kitchen. Unable to help yourself, you took in the view of the muscles along his back with the way his shirt was clinging to him. Just before he disappeared around the corner, your eyes dipped down and caught the way his dark jeans hugged the curve of his ass. Immediately you inhaled a sharp breath, eyes dropping down to your hands.

This man was going to make it damn near impossible for you to ever visit this pub again. You were positive you’d only end up flushing and stammering around him like a teenage girl. And that would certainly be embarrassing.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Sliding out of the bar stool, you felt warmed from the inside out. It probably shouldn’t have surprised you that Michael had been right about the potato soup–it was a vastly better choice than the fish and chips you’d surely have ordered otherwise. And that beer he’d poured you had certainly done wonders on warming you up. It was admittedly stronger than you were used to, but you hoped that meant you’d just be more resistant to the cold on your trek back to the seaside cottage.

There was a small part of you that was a bit disappointed that you hadn’t spoken with Michael again after that brief interaction when he’d dropped off your soup and your beer. Though you kept telling yourself it was for the best. Developing feelings for a man who lived in another country–and who might also be married or seeing someone himself–seemed like a very bad idea. You didn’t need to further complicate things in your already complicated life. But still, you couldn’t help but let your eyes occasionally stray towards him as he chatted with an older couple at the opposite end of the bar while you ate. You’d also expected him to be the one to give you your bill before you’d left, but it had been a sweet albeit blunt older woman who’d told you her name was Debbie. She’d also given you directions to a market downtown that you could visit tomorrow to pick up some groceries to stock the cottage.

Now that your meal was paid for, you were ready to get back to Kenmare and settle in for the night. Stuffing your hands back into your sweatshirt pockets, you turned and headed towards the pub’s exit. Your mind was already back on that bed you’d seen before you left; you were looking forward to getting back and kicking off your shoes before climbing in and falling asleep. But you barely took two steps towards the door before you heard someone calling your name. Pausing mid-step, you turned on the spot in confusion before seeing Michael standing behind the bar counter, a small smile on his lips. If you were being honest, he almost looked a little nervous himself right now.

“Sorry, just meant to tell ya that ya should stop by Flanagan’s before ya left,” Michael called out. He gestured a hand towards you as he added, “For some more weather appropriate clothes while you’re visitin’. It’s just down the street from here.”

Awkwardly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you sent him a timid smile. Somehow that beer wasn’t quite dulling your nerves but making them worse.

“Thanks, I’ll do that,” you told him.

Turning back around, you were about to leave until you heard Michael speak again. The sound of his voice drew you to an abrupt halt and left you wondering why he seemed determined to continue the conversation.

“Was the soup a good choice?”

Looking back at him over your shoulder, you noticed the smile on his face still looked somewhat shy. Which was a stark contrast to the bold teasing he’d been doing with you just a bit ago.

“Yeah,” you answered. “It was actually. You should tell your chef that it was delicious.”

Michael’s grin widened at your words, that timid edge to him melting away as he leaned forward, resting an arm along the bar counter. That little glimmer returned to his eyes. “Ya just did.”

“Oh,” you said, overcome with another rush of nerves with the way he was eyeing you. “Well I–I certainly enjoyed it.”

“Glad to hear it,” he replied. “S’pose I’ll be seein’ ya ‘round then.”

Your stomach gave a nervous jolt at his words. It was almost as if he wanted to see you again, but that seemed a little far fetched. Humming out an affirmative noise, you sent him a quick wave before ducking your head and hurrying towards the door. The sooner you got back to the cottage, the sooner you could bury your burning face into the pile of pillows on your bed and overthink this entire interaction. And maybe while you were at it, you’d also scream into that pile of pillows about the fact that you’d suddenly gone and formed a stupid crush on a man who lived almost three thousand miles away from you.

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella #she lit a fire #kin amc #fanfic #chapter one #story time #now I want soup

111 notes · View notes