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jemej3m · 5 years

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To the Good Place We Go (p.1)

part one! hope u like this crossover. hopefully it makes sense???

I read @gluupor‘s hilarious Good Place au and wanted to have a crack at my own! note to gluupor, i’ve changed things around a bit but thanks for the idea!

link to their the good place au here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16782301

part two here: http://jemejem.tumblr.com/post/182518336942/to-the-good-place-we-go

Dan was having the worst day.

And this was the Good Place. She wasn’t supposed to have bad days. She’d spent her life trying to wade through misgivings and a lack of opportunities: Now she was dead, and she was supposed to be happy—forever!

Instead, she was staring at her living room, which was on fire, and wondered what the frick she did to deserve such bullshirt.

Neil—always, Neil—pointed at Kevin. “He did it.”

“Dan, I’m so sorry—“ Matthew Boyd begged. “I tried to get them to stop yelling, but Kevin fell back onto a candle and so Andrew went to get water to put it out, but he thought it’d be funny to pour Vodka instead—How he got Vodka, I don’t know—“

“It was me!” Nicky cheerfully chirped from the corner.

“And so Kevin was really on fire, so Allison asked Nicky to turn on the sprinklers, but not before she could ask for an umbrella, but she never specified which sprinklers, so whilst your garden is currently being nicely watered, Kevin’s whole ass is exposed and your living room is a mess!” He wore his pathetic puppy eyes, and whilst he’d been pestering her to go on a date (“We’re soulmates, Dan! Think about it! We could be happy together, forever, if you just listened to me—Hey! Where are you going—!”) He was seemingly sincere.

Kevin was sitting in a bucket of ice, teeth chattering. Neil was laying on the sofa, grinning up at Andrew, who smoked lazily. Dan hoped he hadn’t used Kevin’s fire catastrophe to light his cigarette, but knowing Andrew, he probably had.

“Oh, dear.” Renee said, softly, from Dan’s side.

Here’s how this all started:

Dan got into the Good Place. Wymack, the ever-present, genderless guardian of their neighbourhood who used he and him pronouns, F0X35, had greeted her at her initiation. She’d died in a brawl outside a strip club, her strip club. She knew she’d been protecting her fellow stage sister, but couldn’t understand how she’d ended up in the Good Place.

“Sex isn’t necessarily immoral, Danielle.” Wymack reminded her. “Neither is stripping. And saving your friend’s life with non-violent negotiations—very brave, and very effective!” They sighed. “Such a shame he had to stab you in the back out of fury as you were escorting your friend back inside. Would you like to hear a recording of how he is experiencing the Bad Place? Your friend stabbed him with your murder weapon out of anger.”

“She what?” Dan had blanched. “Is she alright?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Don’t you worry.” He huffed, arms flexing as they stood out of his chair. “Welcome to the Good Place, Danielle. Would you like a cup of coffee before Nicky escorts you to your new home?”

“But sir—“

“No buts.” Wymack pointed at her. “Tea, coffee, lemonade or scoot.”

She stood obediently, nodded in thanks and left.

She hadn’t need to worry about her unremarkably neutral life, wherein she’d done just as many shirty things as she had good things, because her soulmate—Matthew Boyd, an overbearing young man with horrifically spiked hair and pouted lips—confessed to her immediately.

“I don’t know why I’m here.” He whispered. They were sitting together on her couch: She was in a studio-style house, with a jacuzzi and a large bed. It was sophisticated but not excessive: It was perfect. “I overdosed on drugs at a socialite’s party, with a bunch of rich shirt-heads! Oh, gosh, Wymack’s going to kick me down to the Bad Place, isn’t he?”

“Shh.” Dan hissed. “I was a stripper and totally scammed and stole from all my customers so I could support my aunt and my baby cousin, I wasn’t much better.”

Matt looked relieved. “Oh, thank gosh. I was terrified of having to keep my secret for all of eternity. This must be why we’re soulmates.”

“Because we’re shirty people in disguise.” Dan said dryly. He looked sheepish. “Whatever. Whatever’s happened, it’s probably a mix-up. Do you want to go down to the Bad Place, because I don’t. My killer is there. So keep your mouth shut.”

“Yes ma’am.” He muttered.

That was how she’d found out about Matthew. The others had all followed suit: She found Kevin and Neil trying to beat each other up in a secluded spot by the lake, yelling censored profanities at each other and insulting each other with petty accusations.

“You stole Andrew’s whisky!”

Kevin blanched, before scowling furiously. “You were there!”

Dan tore them apart physically then tore into them verbally. By the end they were sullen but quiet, and Dan walked down the lake’s jetty, her heart thudding in her chest. How many of them were frauds? The neighbourhood only had three-hundred and twenty-two of them, and she could count four that definitely didn’t qualify to be there.

Andrew sailed past the jetty she stood on, laying on his back in a little row boat. His eyes were closed, arm thrown lazily over his face. In his hand, he spun a terrifyingly sharp throwing knife.

“Interfere with my things again and I’ll get you kicked out of here.” Andrew floated away, leaving Dan struck silent.

Make that five people.

Eventually, she discovered the rest. Some, on accident: Some, like Kevin and Neil, because of truly stupid and avoidable situations. Some, like Matt and Renee, just came right out with it.

That’s how all ten of them — Allison, because she was ‘deprived of gossip’, Renee, because she was at least somewhat moral, Matt, because Dan couldn’t shake him off her tail, Seth because he was arrogant but not stupid enough to miss this entire sham, Kevin, Andrew and Aaron, because they went everywhere together, Neil because he was like a lost puppy, and Nicky, because someone had called for him—ended up in Dan’s living room and promptly wrecked the place when she’d gone to check the perimeter for nosy neighbours.

She never remembered lighting those candles, anyway.

“Everyone,” She said, barely able to contain her anger. “Shut up. Don’t move. Or so help me, I’ll kill you all.”

“Too late.” Neil harped, before Kevin whacked him over the back of the head and he sulked into the couch.

“We’re going to figure something out, as a group, okay?” She insisted. “Okay?”

They mumbled in assent.

Dan sighed. If all the shirt she’d endured in her short life hadn’t aged her, trying to conceal eight people’s true moral standings so that they wouldn’t be struck from a peaceful afterlife surely would.

Welcome to the forking Good Place.

“Now, Renee, do you understand?”

She nodded. “Ingenious, really, sir.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fortunately for you, Renee, much of your reformation happened whilst on earth. The others didn’t get that chance, so it will take much longer for them to come forward about their true moral standings. You must not tell them that it’s a test, okay?”

“Okay.” She promised. “I hope they succeed.”

This was honest, as Renee stood by honesty: She had confronted Wymack on her first morning, after their introductory seminar in the town square, telling him her true upbringing, her crimes and her regrets. He had smiled with relief and sat her down in his office to explain the truth: A select group were all unqualified for the Good Place, but could earn their spot if dedicated enough. He’d known about her all along.

“I hope you all do.” Wymack confirmed. “This—Middle Place Project—Nicky!”

Nicky popped up from behind the desk, next to Wymack. Renee smiled at him and he waved, curls bouncing. “Yes, sir?”

“From now on, we’re referring to F-0-X-3-5 as MPP, for efficiency purposes, and also to keep it discreet. Also, tick off Renee Walker’s name from MRPFMPPL1.”

“What does that mean?” Renee inquired.

“Moral Rehabilitation Process For Middle Place Project List 1.” Wymack frowned. “That is a bit much, isn’t it. Nicky, change all the MRPFMPPL’s to just Test and whatever number it is.”

“Of course!” And then he disappeared again.

It was an odd thing, the afterlife. And while Renee had placed all her faith in God, she wasn’t disappointed to find a non-denominational place for a peaceful existence after death. Besides, Wymack was practically at the bottom of the chain in regards to omnipotent guardians.

He turned back to her. “Where were we?”

“Discussing the Middle Place Project.” She reminded him. “You were saying you hope we all succeed.”

“Right, right. Well, my superiors think it’s a bad idea. They’re a bit old-fashioned: Everything’s black and white for them: There’s no such thing as second, third, fourth chances, not for lost causes. Sound familiar?”

She nodded.

“We’re working on it, but it’s not your concern. Okay?”

“Okay.” She promised. His words were always soothing, so any unrest she felt was immediately eased.

“Alright, well, that should be everything.” He stood. “Get lost, Walker, and have fun.”

She hesitated by the door. “Wymack?”

He looked up at her from the papers on his desk. They hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Hm?”

“Do you believe in lost causes?”

He paused. A tiny smiled appeared. “Is there anything else worth believing in?”

She beamed and closed the door behind her.

Andrew wasn’t interested in his own wellbeing, but he’d promised Kevin that he wouldn’t let Riko take him down to the Bad Place, and he’d promised to always stand by Aaron’s side. Turns out Walker — not-so-innocent Walker — had beat him in Wymack’s honesty race.

Andrew had planned on telling him about his mother, the four homophobes at the bar, the arson and thievery, the violence. That’d surely get him sent to the Bad Place, where he’d wipe Kevin and Aaron’s names from record and then get to spend the rest of eternity being the Devil’s incarnate, or whatever.

So when Wymack had congratulated him, called his pet robot to strike his name off the list and informed him that it was all a stupid forking test, he’d felt a flicker of rage—towards himself, for not suspecting this.

Then his attention turned elsewhere. “Just me and Walker, right?”

“Correct.” Wymack nodded.

“So can you tell me about Neil?”

Wymack frowned. “What about him?”

“Well, he’s a liar and a threat.” Andrew said, petulantly.

“Is this because he’s your soulmate?” Wymack furrowed his brows. “I understand that with your past, such an intimate proposition might be intimidating, but I assure you that—“

What? Neil, his soulmate?

Irrelevant. Not true. Andrew didn’t have a soul, so how could he have a soulmate? He flung the fleeting idea aside and bludgeoned on. “No, I’m saying that Neil’s a threat to the safety of this whole fricking mission of yours and if you got your stupid fricking omnipotent head out of your frigid ash, you’d see the same. Ash. You know I’m trying to say ash, not ash. Fork.”

Wymack shook his head. “You’re not the boss here, Andrew. Okay? Leave me to worry about these things. Talk to Nicky about talking to someone, wont you? Trauma is best dealt with through professional therapeutic techniques.”

Andrew bristled, standing up.

“Storming out is very immature!” Wymack called.

“Fork you!” He yelled back.

So Wymack had given him a non-discreet warning to leave the problems to him, but since when had Andrew ever obeyed a request, or failed a promise? Never. And he wasn’t going to start now, not even in death. So he decided to take care of Neil himself.

Step one: Intimidate.

Glaring didn’t work. They were all standing around, socialising from behind glasses of champagne. Andrew let his eyes linger on Neil’s lithe form, the high cheekbones. And yet, when Neil noticed Andrew’s heavy stare, he simply rose his eyebrows up as a challenge.

He tried a more tactical method, being, shoving Neil up against a white-and-gold patterned wall in an abandoned corridor—who’s house was this, anyway?—his forearm against Neil’s throat.

“You’re not meant to be here.” He hissed, leaning in close enough that their noses were practically brushing.

“Really?” Neil snapped. “What about you, murderer?”

The accusation slid off Andrew like water off laminated paper, so he bared his teeth and leaned impossibly closer. “All bark, no bite, rabbit.”

“Rabbits don’t bark.” Neil’s lips curled up, ever so slightly.

Andrew shoved off him and made himself scarce.

So. Intimidating didn’t work. He moved onto step two: Investigating.

Nicky was useless, smiling in a way that made Andrew want to pull his teeth out and shove them into his eyes. “I can’t reveal personal information about other residents. I can, however, provide you with a Wikipedia page.”

Neil Josten.

It came up with nothing.

“Thanks for nothing.” He said, dryly.

“You’re welcome!” He beamed, before disappearing again. Good lot of help that was.

So, once again, he upped the theatrics. Nicky, though disapproving, gave him a dozen sachets of cracker dust. It was only a matter of time before Allison hosted another stupid party, as though she was trying to better her parents in the afterlife. Ridiculous.

“A drink?” Nicky offered him. He was deliberately standing by Neil, who was refusing to admit his discomfort and move away. Stubborn little shirt.

“Whisky.” He hooked a finger under Neil’s chin. “You?”

“I’m fine.”

“He’ll get a soda.” Andrew amended.

Neil frowned. “Why are you being nice?”

“Got off on the wrong foot, didn’t we? Wouldn’t want to continue our eternal partnership as soulmates hacking at each others throats, would we?”

The colour drained from Neil’s cheeks. “We’re what?”

Nicky appeared with the two drinks: Andrew intercepted, a sachet ready in his palm, and handed Neil the soda. It was still swirling around its glass when he took a massive gulp, positively shaken by Andrew’s admission.

“You seem shaken, Neil.” Andrew leaned forward. “Didn’t think a monster such as myself could have a soulmate? That’s very hypocritical, if my suspicions about you are correct.”

He drained the glass in an attempt to avoid answering Andrew’s pestering, but he was already wobbling on his feet. A secure arm around the waist kept him upright until they’d found themselves in what looked exactly identical to wherever they were before; Allison’s place was a fucking maze.

“What did you do!” Neil spluttered, furious. Scratching at his skin, his voice became hysterical and breathing became laboured. “I forking swear to gosh, I’ll kill you, I will—“

“What are you doing here, Neil?” Andrew demanded. “Are you from the Bad Place? Trying to drag us all back down there?”

“You think I’m a mole?” He said, incredulous. He was readily turning a putrid shade of green. Andrew wondered if what Nicky gave him was actually cracker dust. Could have been asbestos. cyanide, maybe even ground up Lucky Charms: There was no way of telling. “Are you out of your Gosh-darned mind, you psychotic forking midget?”

He was the midget? Neil was only three inches taller. Andrew leaned into his ear. “Give me one good reason to let you stay, and I’ll back off. Clear?”

“I’m going to be sick.” Neil moaned, shoving weakly at Andrew.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Then he left, leaving a very poorly and bewildered Neil alone. There would always be another day: This was the afterlife, after all. This was eternal.

What he wasn’t expecting was Neil Josten in all his blatant honesty, sitting on the roof of his own house at sunset. He had two cigarettes on hand, offering one to Andrew and looking out wistfully over the rolling fields and fellow neighbour’s abodes.

This house was identical to Cass’s. It was meant to be all his, empty of his old demons and offering only the best memories. If only Andrew’s mind was remotely functional: Then he would be able to isolate the good and the bad, and be able to live in peace under this roof. Except he couldn’t, so he had to stare at a forking muffin tray and think about the time his foster brother forked him half to death.

It’s why he had a hammock drawn up between two trees at the bottom of his garden. He was creating a nice little space for himself, behind a large bush that obstructed the house from view.

“I don’t really know why I’m so terrified of the truth when I’m already dead.” Neil said, thoughtfully. “I suppose I’m scared of meeting my father again if I’m sent down there. He’s the one who killed me, by the way. What am I saying—I know I’ll see him again. He’s my worst nightmare. He’s bad enough that they probably promoted him in anticipation of my arrival.”

“Why are you telling me this.” Andrew said flatly, despite the leap of his heart.

Neil shrugged, eyes cast downwards. “I know you wont turn me in. I don’t know how I know, or why I’m so sure, but I just—“ He waved his hands around. “I don’t forking know.”

Andrew could attest to that. Nodding, they smoked in agreeable silence. What was surprising was the weight of—could it be—guilt? It pressed down on his shoulders, and he hated. So he straightened up, looked right at the sun like he was never able to on Earth, and said; “Truth for truth. This house is a replica of my almost adoptive family’s home. I hate it.”

Neil was looking at him. Andrew hated that too. Why was it, that when they had all of eternity stretched out in front of them, he felt like spilling every secret he’d withheld on Earth? It made no sense. This made no sense. Neil made no sense.

Especially when he said; “So come stay at mine.”

So, yeah. Neil’s strange brand of honesty shocked Andrew enough for him to forget that nothing ever took him by surprise. But only for a moment. And yes, his devastatingly sharp cheekbones and incredibly blue eyes were horrible and Andrew hated every atom of Neil’s being, but he found himself smoking in silence beside the young man and finding it—comfortable.

As far as he knew, it was still just him and Renee who had confronted Wymack. A few weeks had to have passed since, but Andrew had no way of knowing the time or date, so he couldn’t say for sure. What he could say was that Wymack was frustratedly pacing grooves into the carpets of his office, waiting for one of them to step forward and prove their integrity. Neil was a jumble of lies and dead-ends, and the only thing he’d come clean about were his motives for staying in this place.

Neil would be the last to confess to Wymack. Andrew was sure of it.

Which was why, when Neil stood up at a neighbourhood meeting, Andrew’s entire being came to a grinding holt

He had the sun illuminating a red halo from above, the ferocity of his gaze intense and determined.

“I don’t belong here.” Neil admitted, in front of dozens and dozens of people. “I’m not who you think I am, and I don’t belong here.”

Oh, Andrew thought. Fork you, Neil.

hope u enjoyed!

#andreil #the good place au #the good place #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #aftg #david wymack #dan wilds #the foxes #the foxhole court #part one #jem writes

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thorne93 · 7 years

Text

Just My Luck (Part 5)

Prompt: Imagine accidentally walking into the men’s bathroom and seeing this fine specimen (James McAvoy)

Word Count: 1300+

Warnings: Language, fight

Notes: Collab fic with my girl @cocosierra94!!! Internal thoughts are in Italics, texts are in bold

Tags: @marvel-imagines-yes-please @nilalovessadness @tacohead13 @captain-fuckinglevi @bohemianrhapsody @amarvelouswritings @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise19982sand @missinstantgratification

@thejulesworld

~~~~~~~~~

“I'm guessing James is back in London today?” Rachel asked you cautiously, she could tell you were a bit frazzled by his departure.

“Yeah….And before you even ask, I'm okay,” you said, smiling a little, just to reassure your friend and possibly even yourself of your well being.

It had been a wonderful couple of weeks that you and James had spent together and you knew he had to go back to work, but it didn't make the pain any different to watch him leave for the airport.

“So are things getting pretty serious between you two? I mean I know it's only been a few months since you two met, but I mean... come on, I haven't seen you smile this much since you got your first camera.”

“Oh shut up.” You playfully pushed her, smiling down to the ground. “I…. do think it's getting serious. Ugh, Rachel! I get all nervous around him, he makes me laugh, respects me, makes me feel safe, he makes me feel--”

“Love… Y/n, you're in love.”

“I'm …Rachel what do I do?!” you asked in a panic. Love scared the shit out of you. After Michael, you didn’t want anything to do with relationships or love. Love lead to hate.

“Enjoy it! It's a good feeling, especially when it's real.”

“Well should I tell him? When? What should I even say?”

“First of all, duh! Don’t worry, I'll help you.. but you'll need to take a week off.”

You frowned at your best friend. “What, a week? Why?”

“Because here.” She handed you a plain white envelope.

“Rachel, what is this? This better not be your funny way of firing m--” You stopped as soon as you saw the contents of the envelope. “This is a ticket to Spain. Why am I going to Spain?”

“James called me asking if I would be interested in going to Spain, but I told him you'd probably enjoy it more than me.” She laughed as she wrinkled her nose at you as she sat on your desk.

You sat with the ticket in your hand, stunned.

“Spain. But...but..but I have work!” you spluttered, your head spinning.

Rachel grinned and responded, “And now you don't. Since you've been working for me the most you've ever taken off was two days to go see your family. It's time you used vacation for its true purpose!”

“What's that?” you asked innocently.

“To have fun! You do remember how to do that, right?”

“Rachel...I don't know. A foreign country with a man I just started dating. Is it too soon?”

“Well, what do you think? Are things moving too fast?”

You blushed and responded meekly, “Well no.”

“Then go. What's the worst that'll happen? You have a good time with a great looking guy?”

“I guess you're right.”

“Come on. It'll be fun. We’ll go shopping after work for some things.”

“Shopping? I've got clothing.”

“No, you have clothes for work and clothes for being a hermit. You don't have clothes for shaking your money maker on a beach”

“Rachel!” you chastised, blushing.

“What? It's true. You need some sexy numbers.”

You sighed with humor.

-------

After work, Rachel and you went to some high end shops in Soho. She picked out some things that were entirely too revealing. A leather mini skirt, a white shirt that tied around the waist, a loose maxi dress with spaghetti straps, and a few skimpy bikinis. You were trying everything on and showing her.

“Come out! Come on!” Rachel urged as she browsed mindlessly for herself.

“No!” you shouted back. “I can't do this. I look stupid.”

“No, you don't! Come on!”

You sighed and came out, covering yourself with your arms. You were in one of the skimpy bikinis with a wrap around sheer skirt.

“Rachel, this is too much!”

“No it's perfect! Now all you have to do is a little strip tease,” she cooed as she danced around you.

“I most certainly will not!” you said adamantly, blushing.

“Well if you don't tease him at least wear this stuff.”

“Why? Why do you care so much?”

“Because I'm living through you and you need to slut it up for me. If not for me, do it for James.”

“But so far he likes me in my over sized shirt and jeans self.”

“And now he'll get to see what you're hiding under all that, sweetie.”

“You really think he'll like it?” you wondered, chancing a peek at your reflection. You did look somewhat good. But good enough for James? Maybe not.

“I know so. Good rule of thumb, if you feel comfortable, you're doing it wrong. Cleavage out, butt up, legs shaved.”

She slapped your ass and you yelped.

“Now. Grab that and I'll let you wear my black bikini. Next, we need lingerie.”

“Lingerie?” you said in a small voice.

---------

The next week came quicker than you expected. You had decided not to tell James you were coming, telling him you were sick. Instead, you made plans with his personal assistant to surprise him. She arranged for a car to pick you up at the airport and take you to the hotel he was staying at. Suitcase in tote, you headed up to the penthouse suite.

You could hear him in the room talking to his personal assistant, “ ...I just feel bad I'm not there taking care of her. Maybe I should just leave tomorrow to go see her.”

Your heart did a somersault at his thoughtfulness, there was also a hint of guilt because he was worrying for nothing. To quiet the beating of your heart, you knocked on the door, and announced, “Room service!”

James was probably frowning, stating, “I didn't order room ser--”

He opened the door, beholding the sight of you before him. His eyes went wide and he seemed shocked into speechlessness.

“Surprise!” you said with a wide grin and a laugh.

“Y/n! You're here!” He swiftly moved to embrace you. He wrapped you in a tight hug before finally telling his assistant that he didn’t need her any more and hanging up. “Y/N--You--you’re---how did you get here?”

“I thought you were smart,” you said sarcastically with a grin. “The plane ticket?”

“Right! I’m sorry. I forgot, I’ve been so worried about you...and apparently for nothing!” he reprimanded, shaking you a little. “Well come inside!” He ushered you in. “I have the whole week planned! There is so much I want you to see and do!”

“Well good,” you said with a laugh. “I’ve never been to Spain so...You’ll have to be my tour guide.”

“I bet I’m the most handsome tour guide you’ve ever had,” he said in a low voice as he slowly leaned in to kiss you.

You nodded your head side to side. “Eh, maybe top five,” you joked. In a more serious tone, you admitted, “I missed you, a lot.”

“I missed you too.”

----------------------------

The next couple of days were incredible! The architecture was stunning. The perfect place to photograph. James was patient with you while you stopped to snap pictures of people, places, animals, the sky, nature, cars. Literally everything caught your eye. He took you to the beach two days in a row and at first you were incredibly insecure, until he continued to hold you, play with you, splash you in the water, and you caught him admiring you a handful of times and your worry started to melt away a little bit.

Tonight, he said he had a special surprise for you. He lead you through the warm streets just as evening was starting to a sort of club. It was a restaurant but most people went for the dancing.

“Come on, Y/N,” he urged as he grabbed your hand.

“What? No! No! James, I can’t dance!”

“Nonsense, just let the music move your body. I know how to lead.”

“But--”

“Have I steered you wrong yet?” he asked seriously, those sparkling blue eyes piercing yours.

“Well...no…”

“Then come.”

You nodded as you obliged. He lead you in the middle of several bodies, already warm and sweating from dancing all night in the heat.

This was, unsurprisingly, out of your comfort zone. It wasn't like you were a terrible dancer, you could keep up with the rhythm fairly well, you just weren't used to dancing with other people around. Especially not A list actor people.

“He’s handsome, a great cook, a great dancer.. what's not to love.”

“Y/n, stop thinking so much, love! Just focus on the music. What is the beat telling you to do?” He glided his hand down to your hips and guided them from side to side, swaying to the beat. You closed your eyes and listen to the Spanish melody playing around you.

“Despacito

Quiero respirar tu cuello despacito

Deja que te diga cosas al oído

Para que te acuerdes si no estás conmigo”

In that heated moment, your body knew exactly what to do. He lead your every sensually slow movement. Dancing closer and closer, you could feel him breathing in your neck slowly, driving you insane.

“I love this song,” you spoke with a soft rasp in your voice.

“Why is that?” he practically growled in your ear.

“It's about a man wanting to enjoy every second of being with his woman...slowly.”

“Is that so?” he purred before he turned you so that your legs were positioned between each others. His hands still on your waist as he guided your hips, so that they were swaying with every movement. Before you knew it, the people around you had slipped away, as if you were the only people in the room. Naturally, you began slightly grinding on his leg as his hands dug into your hips, gripping you even harder, making your arousal spike.

You looked at him, eyes glazed with ecstasy. “He wants to remember every detail of her body… slowly.”

“I definitely understand how he feels.”

You could feel just how well he understood as he pressed himself against you. You tried not to, but you let out a small whimper. You bit your lip trying to get a hold of yourself.

“Why don't we get out of here and go back to the room?” he whispered in your ear, nipping at it slightly, rendering you speechless.

All you could do was nod as your mouth went dry.

Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the music, maybe it was the way everyone was sensually moving around you, maybe it was the mystique and adventure of a new and foreign land. Whatever it was - you wanted James, now.

Immediately, he grabbed your hand and you two nearly ran through the streets like children on a quest. Laughter erupted from your mouths, until, James pulled you aside in an alleyway, a few blocks from your hotel.

“James, our hotel--” you started but he interrupted.

“I know, but I need you now. I can’t wait any longer,” he nearly growled, desperation in his voice as both hands went to cup your face before his lips crashed onto yours in a furious frenzy of passion. He backed you up against a stucco structure, your backside feeling the building behind you as he pressed into you.

Uncontrolled by you, a gasp and moan escaped your mouth as he kissed your neck, trailing down to your collarbone. Your hands wrapped around his back, your fingers digging into the blades.

In a swift, unforeseen motion, he grabbed your thighs and hoisted you so your thighs wrapped around him and your dress fell to the side.

“Are you alright with this?” he questioned, want and permission making his pupils balloon out.

“Mhm,” you said as you nodded, slightly grinding against his groin.

“Alright then,” he agreed before going back to work on you….

------------

Morning came and your body felt as if you got a new skin. A night with James was surely one to remember. Especially when he made magical moments happen in an alley and three times back at the hotel room.

James suggested going down to the beach and you happily said yes. You could finally put on the infamous black bikini that Rachel had worn on numerous occasions that won over at least a dozen men each time. You could’ve sworn it had magical power. And now that James had seen you naked, you weren’t nearly as nervous being in it.

You put on the sexy little number, wrapped a beach wrap around you so you could surprise James when you got to the beach, and you two headed out, hand in hand.

Once you got down there, you both realized you needed towels. James said he’d be right back to fetch some from a small shop right on the beach. He gave you a chaste kiss and raced off. As soon as he was gone, you dropped your beach wrap, hoping that when James got back, the lacey black ensemble would send him reeling.

“Want some help with that?” a random voice asked as you looked up into the bright sun, not a cloud in the sky.

“I’m sorry?” you said once your eyes focused. It was a tan man with long black hair, a close shaved black beard, and muscles you usually only see on the cover of sports magazines.

“I said, would you like some help? Applying the sunscreen?” he asked again, his voice having a bit of an accent. You figured he was probably a local.

“Oh, yeah, sure! Thanks! Could you get my back?”

“Absolutely.”

He knelt down and handled the sunscreen, meanwhile, your boyfriend was watching another man rub all over you in the skimpiest thing he’d ever seen you wear.

“I love your bikini,” he noted.

“Thank you, it’s my friend’s. She’s letting me borrow it while I’m on vacation.”

“Oh, are you here with anyone?”

“She’s here with me,” James voice said as he stood over you two.

“Oh, hey there,” the stranger greeted as he got up.

“Hi, thank you for taking care of my girlfriend but I’ll be assisting her now.”

“Fine by me. Have yourselves a lovely day,” he said as he walked off. James stared after his form.

“Thanks for getting the towels,” you said sweetly as he fanned one out and sat on it.

“Yeah,” he noted, not his usual sparky self.

“Would you like me to get your back with the sunscreen?” you offered.

“No, no thanks.”

“Well...would you like to go in the water?”

“I’m fine right here,” he quipped.

“Okay...Well, I’d like to cool off,” you noted as you stood up. “Do you like my bathing suit?”

“It’s alright I suppose. It certainly got that local’s attention…”

“What’s with you?” you asked, wondering where the sour mood came from.

“Nothing, just-- go enjoy the water, love.” Agitation filled the space between you two.

You scoffed at his poor attempt of trying hide his emotions, “Okay well when you're ready to be an adult and talk about what's bothering you, you know where to find me.”

You couldn't understand why he was being so moody. You were determined not to let it bother you, “He said it was nothing, so don't think about it! Just relax.”

The more you tried to put it out of your mind, the more you thought about how suddenly his mood had changed. What exactly caused the atmosphere to go from being warm and inviting to cold and distant? You looked back at James only to find, he wasn't there.

---------------------------

You found yourself staring at the empty beach chair in disbelief.

“Are you freaking kidding me?!” you thought.

In one swift, furious second you were striding up the beach to grab your belongings and head to the room.

Thankfully you managed to remember the spare room key, you opened the door to find him on the couch flipping through the tv channels.

“Back so soon?”

“Cut the crap, James, why the hell did you leave me down there?”

“I told you I didn't feel like swimming.”

“Okay but you were fine when we left, so what changed? And don't bullshit me either!”

He paused for a brief moment, debating on whether or not to be completely honest with you.

Taking in a deep breath, he spoke calmly, “I didn't appreciate the way that guy had his hands on you.”

It took you just a second to gather your wits. Wondering if you misheard him, you said, “Are you serious?! He was just being nice!”

“No, he wasn't! I saw the way he and his friends were watching you, the same way I was watching you. Which I can assure you was not in a friendly way!”

“So this is about you being jealous?!”

“No! Y/n, this is about you being too naive to see when a guy is trying to hit on you!”

You were floored by the anger in his voice. The words were like a swarm of hornets attacking your heart. Tears brimmed your eyes threatening to fall.

“Look, I didn't mean it like that, I just---”

“No, James, I know what you meant. Don't worry, my naivety and I will be out of your way from now on. I'll just get my stuff and go back home.” You b-lined it to bedroom, locking the door behind you.

“Y/n, please, don't leave. I'm sorry.” Hearing the pain in his voice pushed you to your breaking point. Those tears gave way. He could hear you quietly crying, trying to comfort yourself. You didn't know it, but hearing your sobs, knowing he caused the hurt, pushed him to his breaking point. He couldn't bear to watch you leave. He grabbed his phone and stepped out on the balcony.

In a flurry of anger and hurt, you threw your belongings into your suitcase in a somewhat manageable manner, grabbed your bags, and heaved a sigh. You asked yourself if you were really going to leave. You decided that if he stopped you on the way out, you would reconsider, if he didn’t, then it wasn’t meant to be.

You stepped out of the bedroom and glanced around for him. You saw him on the balcony faced partially away from you, but if he just turned slightly, he would see your pain stricken form in front of him. He was on a phone call. You waited, you waited longer than you wanted to, but he apparently seemed too preoccupied to deal with it than to come after you.

With that, you silently turned, opened the hotel door, and left for the airport.

-------------------------

“Rachel,” you sobbed as she opened the door.

“Y/N? You’re supposed to be in Spain! What are you doing here?”

An answer couldn’t come though as you fell into her arms.

“Oh, honey, what happened?”

“He--he…”

“Did he hurt you?” she demanded in an angry tone. “Did he take advantage of you?”

You shook your head. “No, no, nothing like that.”

“Well, tell me,” she informed as she walked you over to the couch.

“He...he called me naive. A guy on the beach was helping me put sunscreen on and he got jealous and we had a fight.”

“I see.”

“So...I just left.”

“You’re not naive, Y/N.”

“I don’t know, maybe I am. I mean, I thought me and James could work. But how could we? He’s a celebrity with tons of gorgeous, smarter, funnier women that he could have. I’m just...a nobody. I’m an assistant, an errand girl.”

“Stop that,” Rachel commanded in a chastising tone. “Out of all of the women he could be with, he chose you.There just might be women that are smarter or prettier than you….”

“Rachel, you aren't really making me feel better,” you interrupted her.

“Let me finish. Yes, there might be women that are smarter or prettier than you, but none of them are you. None of them have a heart made of pure gold like you do. You would give up EVERYTHING for the people you love and even a little bit for people you don't know. So no, you aren't naive. You choose to see the good in everyone. However, when people try and take advantage of that kindness, it makes us, the people who love you, wanna rip them to shreds!”

You sniffled, smiling a bit at her.

“Thank you. I just...I think I got in over my head with him…”

“Well, he’s handsome and Scottish, no one can blame you,” she eased as she tucked hair out of your face.

You smiled again and she went to the restroom, by the time she got back, you had fallen asleep on the couch. Between your emotions and the jet lag, you were happy to let sleep take over.

She covered you up and turned out the light. Being kinda tired herself she headed to her room.

“15 missed calls? Jeez who's been blowing up my phone?”

She clicked on the notification and noted 5 of the 15 were from James. Figuring the rest of calls could be dealt with tomorrow, she called him back.

“Hello?”

“James… why is your girlfriend here with me crying and you're in Spain?” she demanded immediately. There were no times for pleasantries.

“ I -- I messed everything up. I shouldn't have said anything! She hates me Rachel, and I'm sure she'll never want to see me again.”

“I'm sure you're over exaggerating a bit. Is she upset? Yes, but that doesn't mean she hates you. Just give her a day to cool down. Trust me by the time you get your ass here to New York, she'll be fine.”

“I don't know, you didn't see the way she looked at me Rachel, I've broken her heart.”

“James McAvoy, you listen to me and you listen good! I've known this girl my entire life. I've seen her get through some hard times and good ones too. I will tell you this is the first time I have ever seen her look at someone the way she looks at you, speak about someone the way she speaks of you and dammit, she has NEVER EVER said she's been in love with anyone before you. Now, do you love Y/N?”

“Y-yes. Of course, more than anything!”

“If you love her like you say you do then get your Scottish ass on the next flight out of Spain and to New York now! Prove to her you love her no matter what! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma'am...Thank you, Rachel.”

“Yea yea, hook me up with Fassbender and we'll call it even, haha!”

“Deal, heheh, talk to you later.””

---------------

The next morning, you woke up a little stiff. Rachel already had coffee and toast ready.

“Mornin, sunshine!” she greeted.

“Hey,” you softly said. “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“What? Why?”

“I just kind of want to be alone, and I need to start unpacking.”

“Hmm, alright. Are you sure you’ll be okay? I can take a vacation day.”

“No, no, that’s fine. I’ll be fine. I just need to be in my own bed, ya know?”

“Fair enough. Call me if you need anything at all.”

“You know I will,” you promised.

The ride home on the subway and walking seemed exhausting. Once you finally got home though, you threw the suitcases down, promising to unpack later in the day, but for now, you just wanted sleep.

You went to your bed, got undressed to t-shirt and underwear, and crawled in. You were just about to drift back to sleep when a knock at the door came. For a split second, you thought about ignoring it. Maybe it was James, if not, you didn’t care to speak to whoever it was. But, then you realized you needed to be an adult like you told him to be and face this problem. So you got up and went to the door.

“James--” you started as you opened the door.

“So the Scottish prick isn’t here, huh?”

#just my luck #james mcavoy #james mcavoy fic #james mcavoy x reader

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