Sweet Nothings

Could I request 5 and 19 for Charles and/or Erik? (And could the seat prompt be like, asking to sit on someone’s lap?)

ERIK LEHNSHERR X READER

prompts: “when are you going to quit with the pick-up lines and ask me on a date” and “is this seat free?”

warnings: bad pick up lines and unedited (not actual warnings just be prepared)

-

your relationship with erik was weird.

it was more than known to people that he was an isolated person who didn’t trust easy. even when he met his own son, he was the exact same.

but he never seemed to have that need to be on edge with you. it was always like he had no worries in the world.

not like he would ever admit it, though.

-

“are you a keyboard? because you’re my type.”

erik laughed as you sat down next to him, “you never quit do you?”

“never. also, are you a pack of cards?”

“…no?”

“oh because i’ve pulled out my king.”

“for fucks sa-“

-

and it kept going.

you loved seeing the way he would get ‘aggravated’ at every one of your dumb pick up lines.

“knock knock.”

erik sighed, setting down his book and putting his head in his hands, “who’s there?” he mumbled into his hands.

“when where.”

“when where who?”

“tomorrow, wherever the fuck you want, me and you.”

“the doors over there.” he lifted his head up to point over to the door, making you laugh.

-

it was friday night and charles had arranged a small party for the mansion.

to be honest, it was more of a gathering. just the mutants having a good time for once in their ‘busy’ lives. because it was so undeniably hard living in such a huge mansion.

your eyes settled on the one and only man you ever wanted to see once you walked through the door.

picking up a free drink from the table, you walked over to erik.

“is this seat free?” you asked, pointing to his lap.

he looked down at where you were pointing and looked back up to your eyes, slightly flustered for the ‘majorly serious’ guy.

“is this another one of your pick up lines?” erik groaned.

“nope.”

he was shocked to say the least, “well, it’s always free for you.”

you smiled, trying to fight the light blush that was making its way to your face.

“in that case.” you sat on his lap (this wasn’t as awkward as it sounded i swear).

erik secured his arms around your waist and pulled you flush to him, “when are you going to quit with the pick up lines and ask me on a date?”

you were completely taken aback, “what-“

“do i need to do everything myself?”

“erik, i-“

“are you free tomorrow?”

you took a breath and laughed lightly when you let it out, happily surprised that your dumb lines had made an influence.

“always…for you…” you copied what he said earlier, making him chuckle hoarsely and meet his lips with yours.

you sank into the kiss and it literally felt like a dream.

a dream you didn’t want to wake up from.

-

sorry it’s so late and short i’ve been busy recently 😭

Husband just told me he’s going to sit in the car because he’s about to yell at someone on the phone and doesn’t want me to be upset by his yelling and I can’t decide if this is a little sad or kinda hilarious.

A Gift (Loki x Reader)

Summary: Loki gives the reader a sword for valentines day and teaches them how to use it. Thor mistakes the gift as proof of an engagement.

Note: Screw roses and chocolate, I want a sword as a declaration of love! Also, screw canon and characters dying; everyone is alive and happy and healed. Please let me know what you think, feedback makes me strong and keeps me motivated to write more! Have a great day :D

Words: 1817 

It wasn’t the fact that someone had snuck into your room in the dead of night that bothered you. After all, FRIDAY would have alerted you if they meant harm and if, by some terrifying twist of genius, they’d evaded her scanners then they still hadn’t meant to hurt you as they’d left you sleeping peacefully through the night.

It wasn’t even that they’d tidied up - although that was rather strange. No, what bothered you was that, after silently cleaning your apartment, the intruder had left nothing but a long box on your table. No note, no explanation. Just a box, wrapped beautifully in dark green paper. 

Naturally, you had FRIDAY run a few tests on the box to prove that it was safe to open. She confirmed that there were no dangerous trace readings or anything to be worried about but suggested caution nonetheless. Expecting some kind of biological weapon or hidden explosives, you were quite surprised to find a sword. 

It was beyond beautiful. The blade was perfectly balanced, just the right side of heavy for you to comfortably lift and manoeuvre it, but deceptively sharp. (The first thing you’d done was run your fingers along the immaculate surface and cut yourself on the edge.) The hilt was like something from a fairytale. Made of a golden alloy of some kind, decorated with the most intricate swirling designs, you surmised it had to be centuries old at least; craftmanship of this quality simply didn’t exist nowadays. 

It was everything you could have dreamed of in a sword - and you had dreamed of owning one for so long - but it didn’t explain why it was there or why your mysterious giftee wanted to remain anonymous. 

However, you’d come to accept that life - your life, especially - rarely made much sense so, instead of worrying, you grabbed the sword and did what any normal person in your position would have done. (Probably; you’d spent so many years surrounded by super assassins and aliens that your definition of ‘normal’ was somewhat screwed.) You strode through the Compound like a proud soldier off to war, down to the training room where you intended to slash and stab the crap out of the training dummies. 

Keep reading

Good Omens Fic Recs Masterpost

(aka, I wanted to organize all my favs so I might as well share them) (No smut fics on this list bc that is extremely not my jam. I’m on the asexual relationship train all the way with these two. There are some very Vague Implications in a couple of these but no more than that.) UPDATE: PART 2 HERE: https://flameraven.tumblr.com/post/613697745862230016/good-omens-fic-rec-masterpost-part-two

Wingfic

Birds of a Feather - Kedreeva // Short wingfic collection

If We’ve Got Nothing, We’ve Got Us - Kedreeva // After the apocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley find their feathers coming in grey.

With Drooping Wings - werebear // (hurt/comfort) - Crowley gets drunk, remembers some trauma, and has a nightmare. Aziraphale comforts him.

by flash and thunder fire I’ll survive - jessikast // Crowley and Aziraphale discuss wings and snakes and winged snakes. There are cuddles.

When in Rome - Kedreeva // Aziraphale teaches Crowley to read, and Crowley shares a secret.

In All Things, Balance - Kedreeva // Gabriel comes for the ineffable husbands, and the universe gets some recalibrating.

One Last Thing -TheLadyZephyr // Crowley has a bit of trouble falling asleep

The Soft Zone 

A Sky Full of Stars - Kedreeva // Aziraphale takes Crowley as close to Heaven as they can get, these days.

get religion quick (’cause you’re looking divine) - brinnanza

lift your face the western way - brinnanza

Build Our Kingdom - Mackem // Crowley and Aziraphale finally go on that picnic

exhale - darcylindbergh // Crowley wakes up, and for the first time, he’s not alone

when the earth is trembling - stammiviktor // Crowley cooks Aziraphale dinner and takes him on a date

from madrid to heaven - darkavenue

An Honest Surrender - Kedreeva // Aziraphale and Crowley get married (though not in the way humans mean)

Constellations -worldinmymind // Stargazing and confessions

Shall I Stay (Would It Be a Sin?) - WinterSky101 // Aziraphale stays at Crowley’s for the night

And I’ve Waited For You - ineffablefool // Aziraphale finally catches up to Crowley

A Descriptive Study on Angel Kisses by Anthony J. Crowley -smudgesofink

Pompeii under Vesuvius -smudgesofink // The first time Aziraphale reaches for his hand and holds it, Crowley experiences a slow sort of meltdown

a picture’s worth a thousand words -pyrrhic_victory // Crowley takes Aziraphale to the National Gallery and submits to the mortifying ordeal of trying to compliment him.

All This and Heaven Too - rattatatosk // Aziraphale reassures Crowley that they’re finally on the same page (with cuddles)

Never Doubt - Mackem // Crowley takes Aziraphale to see Hamlet.

I love you (it’s okay) - forineffablereasons // The absence of terror is the terrifying thing.

let us cling together -brinnanza

Ready -lady_divine_writes - They don’t touch right away.

Warm and Fuzzy -returnsandreturns // The husbands meet Newt and Anathema’s daughter

Pet Names -thisvictoriangirl

Used to Wanting -acuteangleaziraphale

Names, Pet and Otherwise - elsajeni

Crowley sees Aziraphale - acuteangleaziraphale // Crowley sees Aziraphale in the sunrise and it reminds him what it means to worship.

I’m Going Home - Frenchibi // Aziraphale can’t believe how lucky he is.

Blessings - humanityinahandbag // Aziraphale blesses Crowley to keep him safe.

Husbands - victorianfantasywatson

Coiling - forineffablereasons // Crowley stakes his claim

Snake!Crowley / Wiggleverse

You’re the Only Prayer I Need - Kedreeva / Aziraphale stumbles on Crowley as he’s preparing to shed.

let sleeping snakes lie - kythen // Crowley takes an extended nap after the end of the world

Today I Met a Cryptid -thelibrarina // an encounter with a bookseller and his pet snake.

Getting a Wiggle On - Kedreeva // Crowley attempts to prank Aziraphale. It does not go to plan.

In Which a Rose by Any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet - OlwynnDylluan // The sneklets are named.

In Which Crowley Does Not Expect a Family Outing - OlwynnDylluan // The family goes on a picnic in the park.

In Which the Kitten Does Not Get Et Because Aziraphale Is a Textual Purist -OlwynnDylluan // (Wiggleverse) Aziraphale tells the sneklets a bedtime story

In Which the Children Are Indisposed and Aziraphale Panics -OlwynnDylluan // The sneklets experience their first shed. (Also the only one of these - so far- in which Crowley is an actual snake.)

Hurt/Comfort

Pear-Shaped - smarshtastic // Crowley is hurt and goes to Aziraphale for help. (also wingfic)

In the (Second) Beginning - cherryfeather // The inevitable aftermath as all of the week’s trauma catches up to Crowley.

above us, only sky - stammiviktor // With the War looming, Aziraphale and Crowley have to confront the terrible possibility they might have to fight each other. (Don’t) Say My Name - CosmicOcelot // Crowley gets trapped in a summoning circle by an all too human sort of monster.

Hell to Pay - battle_cat // Crowley’s lot do not, in fact, send rude notes.

Burnt - flamethrower // Or, How Did Crowley Survive Consecrated Ground, anyway?

Angst (With a Happy Ending)

Just One Yesterday - Kedreeva // Crowley and Aziraphale fail to stop the Apocalypse the first time ‘round, but they manage in the end.

we’re not out of the tunnel, I bet you though there’s an end - mygalfriday // Crowley thought his last words to Aziraphale were “I won’t even think about you!”

I Will Take This Weight to Hell - buttface // Crowley struggles to cope after they survive the end of the world.

how deep the sand -Handful_of_Silence // Have you read Sandman? Remember that glass bottle Dream got trapped in? Aziraphale gets trapped in something similar. It goes about as you’d expect. (Very angsty, definitely worth it though. Part 2 is significantly more comfort than hurt.)

Cry for Absolution - forthegreatergood // Crowley is convinced he cannot touch Aziraphale without causing him pain. (wingfic)

it’s high time that you love me, cause you do it so well - mygalfriday // Crowley cannot say the word ‘love’. So he shows Aziraphale instead.

it was only a kiss - pyrrhic_victory // Aziraphale has never been kissed before, and, assuming Crowley has a lot of experience, asks him to demonstrate. Misunderstandings are had.

the wonder that keeps the stars apart -nilmiel // Crowley, Aziraphale and two encounters with Holy Water, fifty years apart

This Feeling Calls for Everything (I am not) - rattatatosk // Crawly is struck speechless by Aziraphale in Eden. By Rome, he knows he’s lost.

we both matter, don’t we? -ToEdenAndBackAgain // After the bookshop burns, Crowley goes to yell at God

Replacement - rainydaydecaf // Hell replaces Crowley as their agent on Earth.

Outsider POV

Good Omens/The Magnus Archives - Handful_of_Silence // 6+ fic series, crossover. Generally follows the format of the Magnus Archives, a horror fiction podcast documenting encounters with unusual phenomena. Featuring eldritch!horror Aziraphale and Crowley

Adventures In Attempting To Purchase A Book From That Weird Old Soho Bookshop, A. Z.  Fell & Co.

 So You Need To Get Into A.Z. Fell & Co.; Now What? (A Guide For Unfortunate Bookworms)

Long Term - idiopathicsmile // Observations from the minister hired to officiate the wedding

Regulars - irisbluefic // Various outsider observances of the duo

a snake by any other name - asideofourown // a young herpetologist spots an unusual snake in AZ Fell’s bookshop and has to investigate.

Other/Uncategorized

such surpassing brightness - Handful_of_Silence // Aziraphale as Patron Saint of queer self-acceptance

it’s the light (it’s the obstacle that casts it) -Handful_of_Silence // The Patron Saint of London’s LGBT Community is real, and he lives in Soho.

a very near understanding - ballentine/FeoplePeel - Aziraphale and Crowley experience some side-effects from their body swap.Hell

To Forgive, Divine - rattatatosk // Crowley didn’t mean to Fall, and he didn’t ask to be Forgiven, but both those things happened anyway. Character study on a Risen Crowley

Champions (of the World) - phlintandsteel // Aziraphale, Crowley, and the forces of Humanity face off against Heaven and Hell

Through history to get to you. (1)

Request by @adela-topaz-caelon : Reader's an angel casted out of heaven because, well, she's weird. She's in love with Crowley and, of course Crowley is in love with her. Our poor Aziraphale is just fucking tired of seeing how neither of them realize the feelings of the other.

Part two: here

Pairing: Crowley x Angel!Reader (Good Omens)

Word Count: 3215.

Warnings: none.

A/N: I'm sorry, I didn't wanna make this request in two parts but I was having inspiration problems and... Well. I'll post the second part tomorrow, by the way. I hope you guys like this!

4004 B.C., the day that every christian remembers as the moment when everything went wrong,— when God expelled humanity from paradise and condemned them to an unhappy existence for the rest of their days because Eve bit the forbidden apple and escaped with Adam from the Garden of Eden; yeah, that day—, an angel and a demon were chatting for the first time in their lives, both standing on the top of the east gate wall of that cage of life that the first two humans in history left behind.

They were not friends, oh no, quite the opposite, they were hereditary enemies, but even so, they shared their existential concerns in a calm, friendly tone, typical of those who have known each other for a lifetime.

But they hadn’t know each other 10 minutes ago.

Meanwhile, another of the so many of the angels of Heaven, one expelled from it by her disturbing peculiarities but not bad enough —or so God considered it— to make her fall to Hell, observed from the north gate how his winged companion gave refuge to the vile demon of the first rain fallen on earth, and before she could realize it, she smiled.

Her corners rose in a sweet and tender expression before even being able to stop to think what it meant something like that, holy rain falling on her face, her clothes and her own wings, soaking every inch of her being until there was not a single dry hair.

Y/N was, indeed, peculiar, her way of seeing the world was completely out of tune with the rest of the cold, calculating, maniac and, in a summary, good soldiers of God who didn’t question absolutely anything that is ordered.

She must have fallen with the others, many thought, but she didn’t.

Instead, and because of the obvious discomfort that the playful angel caused in others, God simply and subtly banished her from Heaven, assuring her that her mission on Earth, guarding the North Gate of the Garden of Eden, was much more important than anything else she could do up there.

And that was the last thing God ever told her.

But she couldn’t care less, in fact, she was happy with her fate; she knew that wasn’t her place, anyway. She always knew.

''Hey, Aziraphale.'' Y/N greeted with a melodious tinkle in her voice, appearing out of nowhere and successfully scaring her co-worker. A sweet laugh then echoed in the girl's throat, whose wings swayed with the gentle breeze that ran up there.

''Y-Y/N, please,'' the blond platinum angel begged, right hand positioned over his left lung. ''You need to stop doing that to me because one day my heart won’t be able to take it anymore and the heart attack will send me right back to Heaven. Do you have any idea how much paperwork would be done? Uncountable.''

During his reprimand, the girl watched her colleague with a devilish smirk in her lips, enjoying every word of the dramatic attacks suffered by the former bearer of the flaming sword. But her eyes, inevitably and within a few seconds, went to a specific point on the ground, back to the garden, not too far from the apple tree and there they remained much longer than she would have thought, feeling how her attention was slowly fading away and the voice of the angel deafened with each second of the clock.

As expected, Aziraphale noticed this, but before he could ask out loud, Y/N beated him to it: ‘’Who was him?’’

Him? Was she talking about...?

‘’Crawly’’ he answered, knowing that lying to his extroverted companion was totally useless; she wouldn’t stop until she got the answers she wanted. Anyway, in his voice could be felt a bit of anxiety for that same matter. ‘’A demon.’’

''Oh, well'' her answer was immediate and without thinking, very typical when talking with Y/N. ''He's hot.''

41 AD, soft music enveloped a crowded tavern in some corner of the large and great Rome, warm weather, pleasant atmosphere and its people dressed in sleeveless tunics in pale ochre, white, or cinnamon tones.

Or at least most of them.

Then there she was, sitting on a low wooden bench next to a table not much taller than it, its surface occupied by a distant predecessor of the chess whose pieces consisted of stones and board on a sheet of brown leather.

She wore the typical and loose roman dress, barely fitted in her chest and waist by two thin bands that held the soft textile against her body, but it was in a eye-catching green color, making her stand out —inevitably— from the others.

In addition, her long hair was braided into a hairstyle that resembled one of the many sculptures that capture beautiful goddesses or nymphs of the mythology they so venerated, making her impossible to avoid in the eyes of the others; she was beautiful.

Perhaps the attention of many others was placed on her, a star that seemed to shine with its own light, but she didn’t notice it, her big eyes watching carefully the funny expressions Aziraphale adopted in his face while he decided what his next move would be, and it wasn’t until her friend's attention was scattered, stolen elsewhere —some point behind her— that  for the first time, the girl turned around to see.

Sitting on a stool, he was leaning slightly on the bar that separated the woman who attended the inn and the rest of the clients, his voice loud and clear, asking for anything that could be drunk. His body was covered by the typical clothing for men in that time, a tunic that reached to the ground and a horizontal piece held by a golden pin on his left shoulder, but like her, the black color he wore made him stand out from any of the others in the room.

Y/N found herself holding her breath; It was him.

She couldn’t believe she was seeing him again, not after 4,000 years since that day in the garden.

Aziraphale, who since his escape from Eden had spent a considerable amount of time with her, had dropped in some occasions, when both were reunited again after some of the many adventures that the woman liked to live on her own, that he met by chance the —for her— attractive demon, and in each and every one of these times, without missing, Y/N sighed abstracted, assuring her friend that she envied him so much.

It was stupid! A nonsense, feeling her heart beating faster inside her chest when she hadn’t even spoken to him once, when she hadn’t seen the color of his eyes or feel his voice reaching her ears, but the vague memory of the fallen angel on the wall of the garden knocked at her door some nights, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he would be like.

But that was how she was, an angel repudiated by her insatiable curiosity and her uncontrollable range of emotions that, for nothing in the world, she tried to repress or hide from anyone.

So, as expected, Aziraphale, with a small smile on his lips and feeling soft by her friend's attitude —although he didn’t understand it and, at times, even scared him because, for God's sake, he was a demon!— he realized instantly what was happening. "Do you want to come with me to say hello?" He asked in that tone of voice that he used to use when he was with her, full of love and understanding, of empathy and affection for an angel like her. ''I could, I don’t know, introduce you to him'' Aziraphale suggested right away, believing that such an idea would excite her to no end.

'’What?'' Y/N's head spinned so fast it was hard to believe she hadn’t hurt her neck in the process, and even though there was no blush on her cheeks, her expression, her eyes, left to see how nervous a scenario like that made her be. ''No no no no. What would I say? I can’t do it.'’

One could believe a celestial being like her, given her history and extrovert personality, able to get away with any situation and talk to anyone —whether or not she previously meet them—, would never feel embarrassed no matter what. The fact of her being nervous was, simply, unthinkable, but that same day, Aziraphale learned that, in matters of the heart, Y/N felt much more than she was physically and mentally able to endure.

Who knew the reason?

The only thing he totally understood was that the relationship between his friend and that very human emotion called love was so pure, so convoluted in its own way and so latent within her, that for the first time in 4000 years— and with absolute certainty, it wouldn’t be the last— he saw her hysterical, alarmed and a totally loss for words.

Little did she know that, the moment she finally introduced herself to Crawly —Crowley, as he corrected with that deep and velvety voice of his— and didn’t know after what façade hiding those skin-deep nerves that pushed her to play with her own hands and smiling like an absolute idiot throughout the meeting, the demon felt his heart skipped a beat, falling for her long before he could stop it.

Of course, the only one who noticed this was Aziraphale, who from the outside could see with absolute clarity how an angel and a demon smiled at each other, chatted at ease —after 10 minutes in which Y/N didn’t know what to say and Crowley practically had to tear the words out of her mouth— and in their eyes, a strange feeling that they would be shaping during their many encounters over almost 2,000 years for them was reflected, beginning this way an endless torture for Aziraphale.

Nowadays...

‘’Aziraphale.’’ A beautiful voice pleaded, although it sounded more like a warning to the angel who, without stopping, reminded her each and every one of her encounters with the love of her life as if he was the author of a painful love story whose end was still to write.

He was killing her patience.

‘’Aziraphale…’’ She tried again, this time a little louder and lengthening the last vowel of his name, emitting a heavy nasal sigh as her whole body rocked to the rhythm of that same breath.

She was going to explode.

‘’Aziraphale!’’ She exclaimed after a few seconds, seeing that the rest of her attempts were completely useless and that, if she didn’t scream, she would never be able to shut her friend up, who then watched her with eyes wide open and an expression between confused and offended. ''I get it! I fucking get it!'' She breathed, exasperated with the situation almost as much as the angel in front of her. ''But I won’t do it. You know I can’t.''

The blonde snorted, frowned and pressed his lips in a thin line that, in silence, intended to reprimand his friend for her behavior.

And strangely, even though Y/N was used to that mixture of anger and disappointment, he got it.

''Oh c’mon, don’t look at me like that! You know I’m physically incapable. Do you remember that human I was interested in in 1487, Florence?"

‘’You’re talking about Leonardo da Vinci, aren't you?’’

‘’Yeah, him!’’ Oh, everyone remembered those years, when Y/N fell in love with the young, eccentric, faddy and complicated artist and couldn’t do more than talk about him.

At all hours.

All over the place.

Oh, the girl was head over heels for him.

''You know I tried. Hundreds of times. But each and every time I felt a knot in my stomach and my brain stopped working," she apologized, lowering her gaze until she lost it somewhere on the ground, far from the eyes of the angel that only judged her in the distance and in silence. ''Also, it wouldn’t have worked. I'm sure he didn’t like me that way.’'

And there are theories that would refute the young woman's suspicions, such as the rumor that Leonardo da Vinci was homosexual when, all those who knew him, knew for sure he didn’t dislike anything, and enjoyed both female and male company at all hours.

Leonardo's problem, if Aziraphale didn’t remember badly —and he didn’t usually do— was that he was only truly committed to his art, and the moment when perhaps he considered committing himself to someone else —one of his many muses— and shared this thought one night with one of his questionable friends... this one definitely convinced him not to do it.

Aziraphale nipped nervously at his lower lip; he knew the one who convinced the young artist not to take the step with his friend was no one else than Crowley. He could still hear the music of the florentine tavern that night, the voices shouting one above the other and the demon doing what he knew best, manipulating others to dance to his song, assuring Leonardo that love wasn’t gonna do more than hinder his art career.

Jealous selfish bastard, he wanted her for him.

''W-Well, but that was eons ago, my dear. I thought you’d overcome a long time ago from the story with Leonardo.''

''Yeah, I got over it, of course, don’t get me wrong, that's not what I'm saying, '' quickly corrected the girl, raising her eyes again to meet her friend's, catching the guilty look in that ones but deciding to leave it aside and not to ask about it. ''All I’m saying is if I couldn’t do it with him and he was a human like any other who would die after no more than 80 years... How could I do it with Crowley? Just to think about it terrifies me.''

But recapping, he knew his friend had had a partner on more than one occasion. Lasting more or less time, the girl had her fun throughout history; so in summary, her problem was only and exclusively confessing, taking the first step.

It hurted, even physically, because he was literally fed up with watching Crowley and Y/N constantly flirting with each other but at the moment of truth, they both thought it was just a game, a joke, part of their relationship and their personalities, nothing more.

How could they be so fucking blind!?

''I know, I indeed know, the only thing I say is that... the situation has already become untenable. What am I saying? It has been almost 2000 years. But before, Crowley and you only saw each other on rare occasions, once every 30 or 50 years with luck. Now? Almost every day." He reasoned, sighing deeply and calmly and leaning his body a little forward to be a little closer to his friend. '’Besides, you know he’s gonna notice that sooner or later.'' And without thinking twice, the angel brushed the exposed skin behind his own right ear, tearing from the girl's throat an audible gasp, almost like a silent scream.

‘’Shut up!’’ Y/N's eyes quickly scanned the room, panicking, making sure the aforementioned demon wasn’t sneaking around and, instinctively, covering the same ear Aziraphale had touched on himself. ‘’I swear to God If you say anything about it I’ll—’’

‘’I never told him and I promised not to do it in death or life. Your secret is safe with me.'' He assured, amused by the girl's reaction. "But being honest, it's a miracle you managed to hide it for almost 30 years. Someday he’s gonna see it, Y/N, and I can only hope that by then, you have confessed what you feel because otherwise it would be, how to say it? Wild.’’

To understand the conversation the two angels kept in the back room of this small bookshop in London, we must move to the late 80's, when during one of her worst drunkenness, Y/N couldn’t think of anything better than tattooing herself a snake identical to the one Crowley wore on his sideburn, but behind her right ear.

When Aziraphale heard about this the next day, he was absolutely scandalized, asking why. The answer he got? '' Because I know he hates it because it reminds him of Hell but I like it because it's part of who he is and I wanted him to be loved.'' But of course —sober— she knew it was definitely a bad idea and she couldn’t show it to him under no circumstance.

For some odd reason, she didn’t want to miracle it away either, so her strategy during those 30 years was to leave her hair loose and relatively long so he couldn’t see it.

'’Listen, Aziraphale,'' the girl started, turning the curl over again, having had this conversation with her friend countless times throughout her life. And it’s not that she didn’t appreciate his tireless attempts to see her happy and from the hand of the demon that had stolen her heart, it’s that she didn’t believe it was even possible. ''I appreciate what you're trying to do, really, and you know you're my best friend and I'd follow you to the end of the world again, if necessary, but I can’t look Crowley in the eye and tell him I've been in love with him long before the wheel was invented.'' It felt like she was apologizing to him, but anyone would know that the real apology was directed to her heart for not following her feelings and doing what they dictated. ''What I can promise you,'' she rose from her seat after a small pat on her own legs. ''is that I’ll try not to talk to you about this ever again so as not burn your patience so much.'' and leaving a quick kiss on the angel's cheek, Y/N waved goodbye and started walking towards the shop door.

''Thanks for the coffee!''

‘’She’s gonna kill me, isn’t she?’’ Aziraphale's voice rose fearfully, concerned once the bell on the door of the bookshop signaled that his friend had left and slow steps were noticed right behind him, stopping by his side.

‘’Yeah, probably.’’ But the face of the demon showed no concern for the angel, too happy to do anything but bite his bottom lip in order to hide the huge smile that threatened to spread through his face.

He still couldn’t believe all that he’d heard, hidden for at least a couple hours behind one of the huge and crowded shelves of the place.

‘’Well, you better take advantage of the situation so that all the paperwork I’ll have to do if that happens would be worth it, Crowley.’’

Summary: "If we can go one week with no lies, then we will go on a field trip, only the winners, of course."

That was Charles' idea...to be completely honest, Charles only made this bet so Erik would flirt with him...Charles' plan was working out to be spectacularly terrible.

There had been a bet going around the school, among the staff, mainly. Charles had been preaching the importance of honesty and transparency, but he quickly realized that his colleagues needed more incentive.

"If we can go one week with no lies, then we will go on a field trip, only the winners, of course."

That was Charles' idea and so far, it was quite fun. To be completely honest, Charles only made this bet so Erik would flirt with him -unintentionally, mind you. Two days in, and Charles' plan was working out to be spectacularly terrible. Erik was seemingly avoiding Charles, which was a valid strategy, but still.

Charles had walked into the lounge room, hoping to catch Erik and a cup of coffee. Erik was indeed there, likely on his way out of the lounge. Erik wore that borderline sinful black turtleneck along with a tight pair of pants.

"Erik, fancy a game of chess during our 30 minute break?"

Erik had finally taken note of Charles' presence and became extremely nervous for some godforesaken reason. Erik knew the reason: he likes Charles, it's as simple as that. He loves those piercing blue eyes, the kind smile, the soft, untouched hands of Charles Xavier. He won't deny it... okay, well, maybe he will. Everyone seems to know this fact besides Charles. 

" I would love to Charles but I have tests to grade," he said with an obviously fake smile. Technically, that wasn't a lie; Erik would love to play a game with Charles and he did have tests to grade. Charles sighed, "oh, I see...well, perhaps next time then." Erik gave a genuine smile this time.

"Perhaps." On the way out, he brushed past Charles, both of their faces reddening madly. Oh, if only they could see each other from an outsider's perspective. They are so obviously in love even a blind man could see it and a deaf girl could hear it.

***

Charles was walking down one of the school's many corridors, in search of one Erik Lehnsherr.

"Charles," Raven spoke from behind him. "Yes?" He queried, turning to see her. "Have you seen Hank?" So Raven had the same idea as Charles it seems.

"That depends, have you seen Erik?"

"Ooh, are you trying to seduce him or something?"

"I won't tell if you won't."

"Deal, Erik is by the fountain reading."

"Lovely, Hank is in the tennis court."

Charles immediately turned around and began pacing to his destination. 'Of course Erik was reading' Charles thought to himself. He strolled over to one of the many exits of the building.  Charles wandered lost in thought . Maybe I'll have a romantic moment with Erik by the fountain, like in all of those Rom-coms that Raven keeps telling me about. Maybe we could be like Bella and Edward—less cliche of course... Unbeknownst to Charles, he was about to walk face first into his Edward. This realization came with the audible thud of Charles' face colliding with the muscly chest of Erik, Erik's book now on the floor as a result.   Charles looked up to find a very flustered Erik—not that Erik looked flustered, but the bar of flustered for the (usually stoic) Erik is very low. 

"Erik, hello again.  Sorry, let me-"

Charles bent down at the exact same time Erik did.  Their foreheads met with a (less audible, but still) very painful thud, sending both men backwards on their asses. 

"Fuck" Erik muttered.  Erik looked up to see Charles: his legs bent upward and nearly sprawled out with his hand against his forehead.  For some reason (again, Erik knew the reason), Charles seemed to be the most captivating creature on earth, far more interesting than Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere.  Charles had looked up about four seconds before Erik realized he was staring.  Erik's eyes quickly darted away from Charles' strikingly blue ones.  "Well, I had been meaning to run into you, but this was not what I had in mind." Erik chuckled at this.

"I would hope." Charles smiled at Erik.  On the outside, Erik simply sat in nearly the exact position of Charles, mouth slightly open but still with a calm demeanor.  On the inside it sounded more like this:

Holy shit, Charles' eyes are piercing through my fucking soul.  If we were back in about 400 b.c I would think this man is Jesus and confess my sins to him...

"Well, Jesus was actually brown—likely with dark eyes. He was born in Nazareth, which was in the Middle East.  The only reason we think Jesus is white is because DaVinci was commissioned to paint a picture of Jesus.  He, of course, modeled it after his boyfriend at the time." Erik was hit with an abrupt sense of confusion.

"Hey-"

"I can't help if your thoughts are loud, Erik!"

"Right..."

Erik and Charles sat in the same spot, simply staring into each other's eyes for an unreasonable amount of time.

"Would you like to go back to the fountain?" Charles propositioned with a tint of uneasiness.

"S-Sure, Charles" Erik babbled.  Charles' own name falling off of Erik's lips hit him like a freight train.

Fuck, I wish I could hear that more... "Need a hand, Schatz?" Charles looked up to see Erik standing above him, hand outstretched.  Charles grasped Erik's hand and found that Erik pulled him up much harder than Charles pulled Erik down. This resulted in both men's faces being much closer than platonic allowed.  Erik quickly turned to the side, a very subtle blush dusting his cheeks.  For a split second, Charles could feel Erik's breath on his lips, Erik's slight stubble scraping against his chin, Erik's cologne filling his nostrils. Charles was going to ride this high for months.

"C'mon, let's go" Erik spoke with a hint of nervousness. Charles, still spaced out and on cloud nine, mindlessly followed Erik to the fountain.

***

"And then he sees door..." Charles was sitting on the fountain next to Erik, listening to him go on a passionate tangent about the book he had been reading.  Listening is a bit generous though, rather, Erik's words were hitting Charles like water across a creek floor.  "And then-"

"Erik?" Charles asked, creating an abrupt end to Erik's sentence.

"Charles?" he mimicked.

"What do you think about my eyes?"

"What?" Erik panicked internally.

"You keep thinking about them."

"I-" Erik took a moment to compose himself, trying to calculate the weight of his words.

"Your eyes are...beautiful" Vorefreud his mind was screaming.

"What does that mean Erik? 'vorefreud'?" Erik's cheeks reddened.

"Uhm...it uh, it means..." Erik closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, his eyes now meeting Charles'.

"Vorefreud pretty much means the pleasure of waiting for something pleasurable."

"And why do my eyes bring that word to mind?" Charles said with a grin that he simply couldn't hide. Erik was silent, his eyes never leaving Charles'.  Erik slowly lurched closer to Charles, his left hand coming up to Charles clean-shaven jawline and his right coming to rest atop Charles' hand on the smooth stone of the fountain.

And just like that, Erik was kissing Charles and Charles was kissing Erik. Both men felt this heavy weight suddenly lift off of their shoulders.  The pining, the sexual tension, the unspoken feelings, all of that was paying off.  Erik noted that Charles' lips were unreasonably soft, and Charles found that Erik's lips were slightly chapped.  The kiss was not ravenous, rather a soft, passionate, admission of love.  Charles brought his hands up to Erik's sides, his thumbs slowly moving up and down against Erik's sweater.  Erik pulled away, but not before hitting Charles' bottom lip and dragging his teeth across it.  At this, Charles let out a sharp gasp, his eyes pointedly meeting Charles. 

Erik looked passionately exasperated, eyes boring into Charles.  Charles brought one of his hands up to touch his lips, rubbing across the part Erik had just bit.  Erik smiled at this, the widest smile Charles has ever seen from him. A slight chuckle escaped his lips. The urge to, once again, kiss Erik washed over Charles, who decided to listen to it.  He lunged forward, one hand clasped itself against the underside of Erik's chin and the other flew to the back of Erik's head, roughly gripping his hair. 

Erik cursed against Charles' mouth and kissed back, this time ravenously. Erik's hands found Charles' back, his arms looping underneath Charles'.  Erik nibbled on Charles' bottom lip, this time, making him groan.  Erik took this as an opening and gracefully slid his tongue into Charles' mouth.  This kiss was no longer an admission of their feelings, but now a declaration, an announcement.  Charles now pulled away, his forehead resting against Eriks'. 

"Erik," Charles softly spoke.

"Charles," Erik said with an audible smile.

"I'm glad you think so loudly."

"Me too."

WC: 1482

A/N: Thanks for reading, babes!

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