Good Omens Fic Rec: Fakes and Forgeries
Aziraphale, a very competent art conservator who specializes in oil paintings, spots a fake van Dyck at Michael's gallery. He is hired by interpol officer Gabriel to hunt down this forger, who had duped wealthy folks out of millions for recreations of van Dyck and Rubens paintings. They team up with Anthony Crowley, who has worked the circuit selling paintings and might have a clue on who is forging them (maybe because he's the artist they're looking for).
Too bad Anthony got mixed up with Beelzebub Prince and a terrible gang that are also looking for said forger. They sold a bad painting to their boss? They want revenge.
Length: 156,464 words
AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥
Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, Slow Burn, Romance, Human AU
Triggers: None
Read it here, fic by Solimette, WaldosAkimbo
*Minor Spoilers* I have to be honest, I'm really surprised this one doesn't have more hits and that I hadn't come across it before. This is an excellent AU! In this world, Crowley is an art forger with 20 years of experience. Will his wiles finally be thwarted when Aziraphale, a highly skilled art conservator, reveals one of Crowley's latest sales to be a fake? This has it all! Slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, sexual tension, the intimate act of cooking for each other, the mob, only one bed in the romantic safe house, lying to protect each other, a dramatic rescue!! Literally grab your snacks and settle in, this one is so much fun.
They both respect each other intellectually so much here and that's always a favorite of mine. They admire each other. It's important to me that they can impress each other with their skills and knowledge. It's quite a slow burn, but in a lovely domestic sort of way. Even though it takes them time to start a relationship, they're so intimate and gentle with each other from fairly early on. I really enjoyed both of their characterizations here. We get the basic shape of their canon without being awkwardly forced. When lines/plot reference canon it's done in a way that really flows and isn't just copy pasted in.
If you haven't read this one before I definitely hope you check it out! Great for fans of banter and wine drunk nights. Mostly safe in public, all explicit scenes are later in the story but are not marked off for skipping so that's your own journey. Good for reading in breaks, I binged it and it was an excellent choice for that.
Read it here, fic by Solimette, WaldosAkimbo
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Water Coloured Tears | Jeon Jungkook
six- late night inspo (1.7k words)
'You're late.' I say without looking up at him.
'And you're as blunt as usual I can see.'
Finally, looking up at him, I squint my eyes before replying, 'Don't change the topic. Why are you late?'
'I had something to take care of.'
'Look, if you aren't going to take this project seriously just say that from the get go. At least that way I can prepare to pick up your slack, so I don't fail.' My voice is a little more accusatory than it could be.
'I'm only 15 minutes late. Chill.' He's finally sat down, across from me, levelling us out.
Managing to soften my voice, I return to my previous point, 'You are going to take this seriously, right?'
'Yes, y/n, I'm taking this seriously. I really just had to deal with something.'
'Okay. Then lets get to work. I was thinking we could both brainstorm on our individual pieces today. I have a couple of ideas, and I'm sure you do to.' I can't help but smile thinking about the art we could make together. We used to always come up with the craziest ideas together, they may not have always come out as we imagined, but we always had fun.
'That sounds good. What do you have in mind?' He's smiling now too.
'Get your sketchbook out, and I'll tell you. That is if you remembered to bring it.' It was meant to come off as harsh, but it came out far to soft, as if I was joking with him like old times.
'Shit...'
'Jungkook, I swear to god if you tell me you've forgotten it again I will shove this eraser down your throat.'
It's silent for a minute before be bursts out laughing, retreating his beaten up book from his bag. 'Not funny.' And with that I fling the rubber off his head, hitting a perfect bullseye.
This does nothing to sober up his laughing, if anything it made it worse. He's now hunched over the bench making a massive scene out of it all. 'God. You're scary when you're angry, you know that?'
'I've been told once or twice.' I let out a little laugh at this.
When he finally straightens up it's my turn to laugh at the others expense. A massive red mark has formed right in the centre of his forehead. 'Damn I have an extraordinary shot, maybe I should've gone with sport. My talent is obviously being wasted here.'
'Very funny.' He rubs the red splotch on his head cursing, 'How bad is it?'
'What? Worried it'll put off the flock of women always surrounding you?'
'Oh, trust me, It'd take a lot more than this to deter them.' He's smirking now, and It's putting an end to my fit of laughter.
'Right, sorry. Forgot you were like some sort of Greek god here.' I scoff.
'You jealous? Because you sound jealous.' He's still smirking, god do I wish I could slap that smirk off of his face.
'Jungkook, I've seen you playing Barbies with your little sister. Trust me, I do not see in you whatever every other girl on this campus sees in you.'
As soon as I'm finished talking it's like his whole demeanour has changed. He's not smirking any more, so I guess I got my wish.
'So about the individual pieces, how exactly do you think we should go about it?' Is all he replies.
Ignoring the lump in my throat I open my sketchbook and show him what I've planned so far. They aren't very detailed, but they show the overall message I'm trying to put forward.
By the end of my little presentation he's smiling again, and I can't help but feeling a little shy. We've spent hours showing each other our art but after all this time I feel like I'm laying my soul out to him.
Art has always been the way I express myself, and I'm always worried that maybe I'm showing too much.
I've only done sketches for 3 pieces. Technically 4. One that I'm planning on making out of stained-glass, it'll be made up of multiple different parts that hang from the ceiling to make an overall image. The second one is a drawing of a man, that may or may not resemble Jungkook, comforting a little girl, who may or may not resemble me as a child- representing someone healing your inner child. Of course, I'll have to find a way to incorporate the photographs, but I'm sure I'll be able to make up some pretentious explanation.
And lastly there's a sketch of 2 sculptures, both resembling me and Jeon. I must say I enjoyed drawing him far too much, and I'm sure I'll enjoy sculpting his face even more. They count as 2 pieces as we will make them separately, but they also fit together. I've drawn them, so they have cloth covering their eyes that can be removed. I'm also planning on having LED lights in their eyes, so we can change the prospective of them. We can arrange them in many different ways; with them facing away with the fabric covering their eyes, them facing each other with different colour settings on the lights to represent emotions, etc.
I've explained all of this while showing him the drawings. Him adding a little hum here and there, never interrupting me.
The sculpture is the only one of his that I've planned as I wanted it to be a joint project and for the rest I don't want to control his creativity.
'I know I've planned ahead a lot, and we still need to incorporate the pictures, but I'm sure we can think of a way to incorporate them. And for the others we can centre it more around the pictures. It's okay if you don't like the sculpture idea it's your project too, but I just thought-'
'This is amazing, y/n.' He cuts off my rambling. Closing the book I look away from his gaze.
'It's just a rough idea. You can put in any input you like.'
'Actually, I have a couple ideas myself.' Looking over at him, hinting at him to elaborate, I notice he's still smiling. It's gentle, admiring almost.
After a moment he breaks from my gaze, focusing on his sketchbook instead. 'There not as detailed as yours but... I just had a burst of inspiration last night and this morning.'
He's rubbing the back of his neck now, a nervous habit of his. I'm the one smiling now, he always did get inspired at random times. He'd go months without even picking up a pencil sometimes and then seemingly at random times he'd get 'inspiration' and then you'd never see him without his face buried in a sketchbook.
'Is that why you were late?' Glancing at me, he gives me a shy smile.
'Sort of.' He says before opening his book.
While he's flicking through his drawing, trying to find the most recent drawings in the unorganized mess I decide to try and get a look at his other drawings. It may be an intrusion, but I'm curious on how his style has changed over time.
'What was that?' I ask after he rushes to turn the page.
'Nothing. It was nothing.' That was definitely not nothing. There is a high chance I have lost my mind because I can't believe what I just saw.
It was a drawing of me. A drawing of a picture I posted on my Instagram over a month ago at least. Except the background was different.
In the actual photo I'm laying on my bed, but in his drawing I'm in a field of flowers. One that looks suspiciously like one next to his childhood home.
And surely that can't be right. It makes a lot more sense that I've finally lost it.
Deciding that I did infant hallucinate it, I focus on the drawing he's stopped on instead.
It's a beautiful drawing. If he hadn't told me that he only started on it last night I'd easily believe that he spent hours on it.
It's a drawing of a girl. Me. This I can accept as the whole project has to revolve around the other person. Except it's not just a regular drawing of me. I'm sat in a dark room with my legs crossed and my arms up in the air, looking more carefree than I truly have felt in months. My smile is bright, blinding.
But the thing that catches my focus the most are the angel wings I've got. They almost look like they're shining in contrast to the dark background. There's a bright light coming off of me lighting up the surrounding space.
'I um, I already have a photo to represent this one.' Looking up at him, we lock eyes.
I don't even know what to say. It's beautiful. I look beautiful. He truly is an amazing artist if he could show someone he clearly has some sort of disdain for in such a positive light.
Before I can even compose myself to ask any questions he's clearing his throat and looking away. Getting one last look at the drawing, I watch as he turns the page.
The next sketch is one where we are hugging. I'm basically a rainbow incarnate, full of colour. Whereas he looks like the storm clouds that hide the prism of colour away from sight. There's a bright light in both of our chests. But where we're connected in the embrace my colour is leaking into him. At first, I think it's a beautiful concept until I realise that where he's gaining colour I'm losing it. He's draining me of it. Leaving those parts of me a dark void whereas he's being filled with my light.
'I also have a picture for this one.' This time I don't look up at him. I don't think I can.
'These are insanely good Jungkook.' Swallowing the lump in my throat, I ask what we should do this Wednesday.
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a/n: first saturday i haven’t been at work in like a year so i figured i’d write last night instead of sleeping :)
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