#pianist Crowley

[gaiaseyes451]

Ostinato - A New Good Omens FanFic

Rated: Explicit, One-Shot, 11k (Read here on AO3)

A massive thank you to @and-his-hands-were-24-crows for this utterly gorgeous sketch!!! *swoons* Check out their AO3 at The 23rd Crow! Summary (Read on AO3): It has been six months since Aziraphale ascended to the highest ranks of Heaven. It has been six months and Aziraphale will not answer any of Crowley's attempts to contact him through conventional methods so alternative tactics must be employed. Crowley uncovers an ancient summoning ritual discovered by humans, rooted in magic and steeped in power of music. If the angel will not respond to Crowley willingly, then the Supreme Archangel will no longer be given a choice.

Excerpt: With three keys, one for each lock, he opened the heavy auditorium door. The twists and slips and chains of the deadbolts barred it against unwelcome human presences. 

On the stage, he took painstaking care to create the sigil required for the summoning ritual—a cipher of concentric circles on the matte black boards drawn with stark white chalk. His intricate script wove them together, nearly incomprehensible for the multitude of languages and sheer number of times their names were repeated. It was impossible to tell where one ended and the next began. He wove the disparate languages together with a transcendent grace: angelic characters, demonic runes, Sumerian, Phoenician, Hebrew, Latin, Sanskrit, Arabic, Mandarin, Hindi, Greek, Italian, Prussian, German, French, English– the history of an existence that had always belonged to the both of them.

Thanks to @voluptatiscausa, @malachitegrey and @adverbian for organizing the High Pollen Count! Event and encouraging us folks who ran with the vibes instead of the pollen itself to still participate. 🤣

And a huge thanks to my beta's @hakunahistata, @the-literal-kj and @paperclipninja. As always a shoutout to @goodomensafterdark for supporting the wonderful writers' community.

[leviosally]

Play for me the Music of your Heart

Yeah...both these GIFs were needed. 😂

Chapter 28 of 30 is up, lads! We're nearly there 🥰

.

.

.

The backstage door opens, admitting his accompanist to a second wave of applause and cheers. Crowley turns, prepared with a ready smile and a gesture to welcome Tracy onto the stage with him.

Except that it isn’t Tracy.

Read it here.

[thesirenqueenx]

Hey guys! If you like music please do me a favour and follow @themusicbarofficial on TikTok and Insta!

[rabid-dog-steve-horn]

You Raise Me Up

[averageanonymous]

I have a headcanon that Crowley can play the piano. I mean. Look at his hands. They're made for the piano.

This stunning creature is a pianist, though he'd never admit it. But I'm telling you. You can't have hands like that and not be. You just can't.

(Fun fact as an aside, according to a very brief perusal of the internet, David Tennant does - or did in 2013 - actually play to some extent. I'm serious. Piano hands are a real thing.)

[ennas-aesthetic]

You know what I just realized?

When Crowley said, "that's the point. No nightingales," I paused and went - huh. So both Aziraphale and Crowley KNEW about the actual nightingale bird that sang in Berkeley square? We as the audience are AWARE about it, of course, because God's narration told us so. We also know that, outside the mise en scène, Tori Amos' A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square plays as the end credits for season 1 roll.

But the s1 end credits song, I assumed, was non-diegetic. As in, like the soundtracks that permeate throughout most films, the song could only be heard by the AUDIENCE, and not by the characters. In addition, the characters THEMSELVES cannot hear what God says to the audience - and logically speaking both Crowley and Aziraphale could not have known about a singular, inconspicuous bird singing despite the noise of the traffic. Especially not when the Nightingale sings while they're currently dining at the Ritz.

So the 'No Nightingales' line WORKS for the audience - it's an incredible gut punch that leaves you weeping. But since we never heard or saw either Aziraphale and Crowley acknowledge the Nightingale, did that line have the same devastating impact to the both of them?

Oh, it absolutely did. Maybe even worse than we could ever imagine.

Because Crowley WASN'T just talking about that damn nightingale bird, was he? If you rewatch Season 1, Episode 6, you can see and hear VERY clearly that while Aziraphale and Crowley settle on their usual table at the Ritz, a pianist plays A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square inside the scene itself. Unlike the end credits, the piano version of the song is a DIEGETIC sound! That means both the Aziraphale and Crowley can hear it LOUD AS DAY.

And it's JUST - the heart-breaking contrast this has to Beelzebub and Gabriel's Everyday. When Crowley says 'No Nightingales," he implies that that was THEIR song. It's a specific reference enough to know that this became part of their history - of their rich plethora of inside jokes and shared memories. And judging by Aziraphale's shattered face, he KNEW the significance of the line. He KNEW that Crowley is throwing back THEIR song to his face. "If Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, why can't we? Why can't we make the Nightingale a reality, the same way they made their Everyday come true?"

That A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square is Aziraphale and Crowley's Everyday becomes fact when Crowley turns the Bentley's radio on, only for it to play THIS song. THEIR song. Which SHOULD HAVE brought them together. It SHOULD HAVE. It worked for Gabriel and Beelzebub, didn't it?

Turns out, not every problem could be fixed by making that song yours.

[shoemakerobstetrician]

Season 3 Opening Scene Nightingale 1941 Theory

So, season 2 opened with a flashback that had us totally reevaluating Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s relationship. I think the same will be true of season 3.

I think we will return to the night in 1941, to find out that they kissed, danced, or more that night.

1 - Why are they sitting at a table in the bookshop just drinking, no food on the table? When they’re drinking they don’t use a table. I think it’s to clue us in that there is more to the scene than what we are seeing - at some point before or after they had dinner.

2 - We know that Aziraphale did the apology dance in 1941 - again an indication that there is probably more to that evening than what we have seen so far.

3 - When Crowley says ‘no nightingales’ in S2E6 we now think he’s referring to the scene at the end of S1E6 in the Ritz, but it does seem a bit of a reach. It was a very nice moment, but I don’t think a relationship defining one that would cause both of them to think of it as their song.

4 - A Nightingale Sang was released in 1940, first charting at the end of December 1940. It would have been a hit in 1941 (according to Wikipedia it got up to #2).

5 - I think they had dinner, they danced, or perhaps even kissed to Nightingale as it was playing on the radio, and it became their song in a much more significant moment in 1941.

6 - When Aziraphale says to Crowley “Perhaps one day we could…dine at the Ritz” after “You go too fast for me Crowley” he would then be directly referring to their song from 1941.

7 - When it plays at the Ritz at the end of season 1, it’s because the pianist finds themselves mysteriously compelled to perform it, like the Oxford bus driver taking them to London.

8 - And finally, when Crowley says “no nightingales” at the end of S2 it is just devastating, it’s him saying there is no us.

And another thing: in the lyrics to Nightingale: That Certain night, the night we met/There was MAGIC abroad in the air. 😁

One more thing: I can certainly see Neil gleefully being like “Psych, it WASN’T their first kiss.”, and the scene would be just as heartbreaking if not more so if it was what Crowley thought was their last kiss.

ETA I just rewatched the bookshop table scene for like the 17th time. Holy 💩 is the dialogue strange and very loaded. The “trust me” bit, and the “shades of grey”. Throughout the whole scene Aziraphale is sideways eye fucking Crowley. There is simply no way we’re not going to see more of this scene in Season 3.

I very much like this whole idea, it probably won’t happen. Maybe someone will write a fanfic at least.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil, I was wondering about the costuming during the ball. I’ve seen people calling Jim’s ensemble an Elton John look but it seemed like a clear Liberace homage to me. Of course both would wear a sparkly suit and feather cloak, but that was Liberace’s gotp aesthetic while Elton John used to go for more avant-grade looks. Also Aziraphale is controlling the wardrobe choices in this scene and Elton John would be too bebop for his tastes but Liberace the classical pianist would be right up his alley. Was it meant to be a reference to Elton John or Liberace?

Also people have speculated that since Jim’s other clothes were borrowed from Aziraphale. I thought it was the result of Aziraphale’s miracle that made everyone’ wardrobe more glamorous for the ball. But if it was originally Aziraphale’s outfit, do you have a backstory for when he originally wore it? And is that something we might see in series 3?

Finally, why didn’t Aziraphale conjure glamorous outfits for himself or Crowley?

In my head Aziraphale is giving everyone the clothes he feels they should wear, Jim included.

Our amazing costume designer had designed an Aziraphale at the ball costume, but Michael felt strongly that Aziraphale wouldn't dress up for it, and should remain in civvies.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Are your requests still open? I was hoping for a request for a Lucifer x sinner reader where she was once in love with someone when she was alive but they betrayed her leading to her death causing her to be afraid of letting others in. She's been a resident of the hotel since the pilot, but doesn't really talk much about her feelings or past life but is convinced by Charlie who says singing helps her when she needs to get out her own emotions. So when she thinks everyone is gone for the day on one of Charlie's bonding field trips, she uses the piano in the main area to sing her heart out, not realizing Lucifer decided to stay. The song I'm thinking of is "Perfect Doesn't Last" by Beth Crowley. So when she sings it and he overhears listening and watching her he's reminded of Lilith and feels for the reader understanding her more than when they first met during his first visit to the hotel (ep 5). I'm not sure of how to end it, so if you want to add anything to it I'm totally up for it. I just thought this song would match him so well.

A/N this is my first time writing for this man. Also,, i think it’s so funny that everyone is just like “short king” even tho alastor is canonically at least seven feet tall and charlie is at least like six feet tall. that’s so silly of us.

Encore (Lucifer x Reader)

Paring: Lucifer x Reader

Warnings: Domestic abuse briefly mentioned.

Word Count: 2,169

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Lucifer had just wanted to visit Charlie. With their relationship on the up and up, he was eager to not give up his chance to fix things with his favorite and only daughter. However, when he arrived at the hotel, throwing the doors open in unadulterated excitement, it was to find the normally busy lobby area empty.

The door fell shut behind him and his smile slipped from his face. Carefully, he ran his eyes over every inch of the room. There really was no one to be found.

"Maybe they're just all in their rooms, yeah." he said aloud to himself, "Charlie is probably... in her office! It must take a lot of work to run a place like this. Yeah, that's what it is."

Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor had asked her to come with them to the movies. It was supposed to be a reward, for how hard they had all been working. They had really tried their best to convince Y/n to join them but, as always was the case when activities that took them out of the hotel were not required, Y/n had declined the offer.

Y/n was still getting used to Hell in all its big scary wonder, she still hurt. Everything was so complicated and while spending time with her thoughts didn't make her feel good per-say, spending time with others had been making her feel even worse. Besides, Charlie had given her some advice a few days ago she wanted to test out and she didn't exactly feel comfortable doing that while the hotel was crawling with people.

Y/n trusted Charlie. She was the first person to have extended a kind hand in her direction since her arrival in Hell. When Charlie had found out Y/n had been a concert pianist in the living world, she was elated.

"That's perfect!" she had said, leaning across the desk towards her, "We have a piano in the Hotel's auditorium!"

"I... I don't know if I really can... perform, right now. If that's alright." Y/n had replied, wringing her hands and unable to keep eyecontact.

"What? Oh no! That's not what I meant at all. It just seems... well if you did it for a living, you must have loved it. And it seems like you always have a lot on your mind, lots of stuff to process, and I know you don't like talking to people about it and, well, music always makes me feel better. It feels freeing, like I'm getting everything bottled up inside me out when I sing."

"I... I don't think I've ever really thought about it that way." she had admitted in response, "It was just something I had always done. I started lessons when I was three."

"Well, you should try it some time." Charlie had smiled back, "Maybe it will help."

Once she was sure everyone was gone and the hotel was hers alone, Y/n had slipped quietly from the confinement of her room. It had taken her a bit to find the auditorium. When she finally did and saw the piano it held, her breath caught in her throat.

It was a beautiful old baby grand made out of a warm cherry wood that matched the hotel's theming well. The lid had creaked when she had opened it, the keys had been dusty to the touch.

It had been a long time since she'd played. With mild joy, she let her fingers run the usual scales and arpeggios, finding a comfort in the familiarity of it all. Once satisfied her fingers were all warmed up and ready to play something real, she posed them over the keys.

Lucifer had lost himself in the depths of the labyrinthine hotel. The twists and turns of the hallways were unfamiliar to him despite the tour Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor had lead him on. His hope at finding his daughter and spending some time with her had long since flickered out. He was on the verge of going home, his hand half raised to open a portal, when he heard it.

A faint echo of music flooded the hallway and Lucifer froze. It was haunting and distant, it drew him in. His sights set on a new sort of entertainment for the afternoon, he listened carefully and began to follow the sound.

As he got closer to its source, Lucifer realized that who ever was making the music was not just playing the piano but singing. Their voice was soft and lovely, nearly ethereal in its sheer humanity and anguish.

I would have bet on us

We were untouchable, you and I

I couldn't get enough

It was a fairytale come to life

Lucifer at last reached the half open door to the room the music appeared to be coming from. Not wanting to disturb the artist just yet, he transformed into a snake and slithered his way silently into the room. There, sitting at the piano on the stage, was Y/n.

I had your heart

At least that's what I thought

Now I'm second guessing every moment

Wondering where we went so wrong

He didn't really know much about Y/n except that she was new to Hell. Charlie had mentioned off hand that she had died in an incident of domestic abuse. Lucifer had no idea why she had ended up in Hell or what she was really like. When he had visited the hotel the first time, Y/n had been quiet and reserved. She had stood to the side and watched, barley even introducing herself to him.

At first, he had thought it to be disrespect. Not every demon in Hell was his biggest fan after all and while he was used to it, it still stung that even one of his daughters would be reformed sinners would be blatantly rude to him. He had quickly realized however from her flittering eyes and the way she clutched at herself that it wasn't disrespect at all. Y/n had been nervous.

Of course, Lucifer had made an attempt to make her feel more comfortable but, when he had extended his metaphorical hand, Y/n had just closed herself off even further. According to Charlie and Angel Dust, that was just what the demoness was like. She was shy.

You got inside my head

Taking up every inch of space

'Til there was no room left

Her hands flew across the keys with a practiced grace. Lucifer felt she knew he was there, watching. He felt that she just might be performing for him.

So many parts of me erased

You had my heart

And tossed it in the dirt

As he listened to the words she sung, they resonated with him. For a split second, he could have sworn it was Lilith sitting there at the piano, not Y/n. He shut his eyes, shaking his head slightly. He was oddly grateful when he opened them again to find it had just been his imagination.

Now that was a first. Since Lilith had disappeared seven years ago, Lucifer had been a mess. Lucifer was always a mess but, Lilith leaving like that really did him in. She had been his rock, his guiding light, his everything. He had risked everything for her and he had lost. At least, back in the old days, he had gained something out of the chaos. A daughter, a wife, a world to try and shape. One after another, they were all taken from him. Even now, even with their relationship improving the way it was, he felt Charlie slipping away again.

Now I'm second guessing every moment

Wondering where we went so wrong

I just keep asking

Would this have been worth it if I knew the ending all along.

Without really thinking about it, Lucifer retook his normal form and sat down in one of the auditorium's front row seats. Thankfully, Y/n was too wrapped up in her own world to notice and she just continued to play.

What started so perfect was over too fast

I should have seen the warning signs

'Cause perfect doesn't last

Perfect doesn't last

Light shined off her face, that was how Lucifer had realized she was crying. Despite the tears, her voice never wavered. A performer at her core, just like him.

I would have bet on us

We were untouchable, you and I

As the last lingering notes echoed through the room, he began to clap. Y/n jumped at the noise, turning to face him with wide eyes and cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Lucifer was undeterred and, getting to his feet, gave her a standing ovation. After a few moments, he ceased in his applause.

"That was beautiful." he said, breaking the new silence that had fallen between them.

"Um, I'm sorry." Y/n's gaze fell back to the piano.

"No! No no no!" Lucifer exclaimed, jumping up onto the stage.

He kneeled before her, lifting her hands from her lap and taking them in his own. She turned to him, surprise drawing out the features of her face once again.

"Don't apologize for taking up space."

"I... I just didn't mean to disturb you is all. If you're looking for Charlie, she's out at the movies with everyone else."

"I was but, I can talk to her later, when she gets back. You didn't disturb me at all, Y/n. As I said, it was beautiful. It was..."

He trailed off, the smile slipping from his face.

"Oh fuck!" Y/n exclaimed, "I didn't mean to upset you! I'm really sorry, what can I do to make it better?"

"You didn't upset me." Lucifer shook his head, "You just... somehow managed to put words to the very things I've been struggling with the past couple years."

A smaller, much kinder and more genuine smile made its way onto his face.

"If you'd like to play more, I'd love to hear it."

Y/n's cheeks flushed red again.

"Theres no pressure." Lucifer shrugged, "Just giving you the option."

"An audience of one... well, it's a little intimidating." she admitted bashfully, "I'm used to the faceless mob of the crowd."

"I can see why. You have an undeniable gift."

"I guess... I don't know. Charlie just said it might help me process stuff. To play again, I mean."

"Was she right?"

Y/n paused in thought for a moment before nodding slowly.

"I think she might have been. My chest does feel a little lighter now."

"Then play."

"Um, mister... king of Hell? Sir?"

Lucifer laughed.

"You can just call me by my name. No formalities necessary. 'Mister king of Hell sir' was my fathers name."

Y/n laughed lightly at his terrible joke. The sound sparked a sudden joy in Lucifer's chest, one he hadn't felt in quite a long time.

"Well, Lucifer." she began again, stumbling a bit over his name.

"Yes?"

"I'll... um, I'll need my hands back. If I'm to keep playing."

"Wh..."

He looked down and his eyes widened. Lucifer hadn't realized he had still held her hands in his. Immediately he dropped them, getting to his feet and looking away in mild embarrassment.

"Sorry, about that."

"Don't apologize for existing." Y/n parroted his earlier words.

When he turned back to her, it was to find she was smiling slightly.

"How bad would it be if I said sorry again right now?"

"You'd be sounding like me."

"Lets make a deal then: no sorries unless something is actually wrong."

"What if I can't tell if your mad at me or not?"

Lucifer looked down at the seated demon. In not one of his wildest dreams could he ever imagine being mad at her but, that wasn't exactly something he could say.

"Then you can always ask."

"And you promise you wont lie to me?"

"I promise."

"Promise promise?"

"Yes!"

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment before nodding her head. Turning back to the piano, her hands found their place on the keys once again. She hesitated.

"I..." Y/n shot Lucifer a look over her shoulder, "Thank you."

"Thank you. There is some solace in knowing someone else out there feels the same way I do, if for different reasons."

"Yeah. There is, isn't there? Maybe part of our deal can be helping each other figure that all out too."

The suggestion had been half thought out. Y/n hadn't really meant to give it a voice, it had escaped her locked lips. She quickly turned back to the piano.

"Sorry. That was dumb."

"What did we just say about sorries!" Lucifer exclaimed, "No apologizing for existing. I think that suggestion sounds rather nice."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay. I... I'm actually going to play now. Is that okay?"

With a snap of his fingers, Lucifer reappeared in the seat he had previously inhabited. He crossed his legs, resting his hands on his knee.

"Whenever your ready."

----

Song is Perfect Doesn't Last by Beth Crowley as requested :)

[hikarry]

I get why you would have Crowley be a guitarist/vocalist. It's a classic in the fandom. But a pianist? I don't really see that instrument fitting him

My reason is one and only one and a very simple one at that: Have you looked at that man's hands?

Anthony J. Crowley was created to play a fucking piano!

As a pianist myself, I would commit cold blooded murder to have long slim fingers like those!

It is a sin I haven't run across a single fanfic - in universe or not - where this guy plays a piano! Look at the way he moves his bloody fingers! Look at how fucking fluid he is!

I will have him sit his ass in front of a piano and fucking serenate Aziraphale every night if I have to, but my musician Crowley will be, regardless of anything else, a pianist god

I understand your scepticism tho

Most musician Crowley AUs have him as a rock star and, by God, so will I, but whoever made the rule that rock stars only sing and play drums or the guitar?

You need no other example but the Queen of Glam Rock himself, Freddie Fucking Mercury. He is one of the biggest rock stars to ever grace this Earth and he could barely play a bloody guitar to save his life, but was a genius at the piano

Don't Stop Me Now. Killer Queen. Somebody To Love. We Are The Champions. Breakthru. Face It Alone. Spread Your Wings. The March of the Black Queen. Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy.

I could keep going.

Do you know what all of those have in common?

They are all Queen songs, yes. All undeniably rock songs. And their main instrument is what? A piano

I rest my case

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Last Meal

Crowley x GN!Reader (AFAB anatomy)

18 Plus ONLY / Requests are OPEN

Summary: Crowley really, really, likes to eat you out.

CW: smut, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, light praise, overstim, oral sex

Gomens tag list: @coffee-and-red-lipstick

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Overstimulation is poking at your nerves like a tingling, hot iron. You’ve cum three times already, and Crowley is desperate to get you a fourth, or maybe even a fifth- if you didn’t just give out before that point. 

The first time had been soft and loving, his tongue laving over your clit and fingers buried deep inside your sopping cunt until you fell apart over him. You’d been stressed out, what with all of the nonsense happening at work and with the fact that the world had almost descended into chaos. It was no wonder you were stressed. Good thing Crowley knew a thing or two about how to distract you.

He’d brought you into his office, sat you down on the desk and him in his chair, and pushed your legs open to take a load off of that stress for you, so to speak. Soft circles brushed into your thigh and little breaths of cold air on your clit to make you needy. He didn’t keep you waiting long before he was tracing blasphemous prayers into your clit. 

You came like that once, and after that, he’d added another finger and held you down by the tummy to wring another orgasm out of you- you whined and jerked against his hold as he talked you through it. Telling you how good you were, and how much he loved to see you come apart for him. All for him. 

You’d came hard and fast, gasping and arching your back off the desk. He’d given you one of those signature grins and pressed kisses down your tummy, down your hip and towards the inside of your thighs, forcing you to open them up for him. 

The third time he’d made you cum took a little longer, the overstimulation taking longer to get over. You were gasping and writhing on the desk as he wrapped his lips over your clit and sucked it into his mouth, split tongue flicking hard and fast against your sensitive bundle of nerves. He didn’t let up until you cried out in pleasure and yanked hard at his hair, keeping him there in that spot as you rode his face and worked yourself through your bordering-on-painful orgasm.

And now he had his tongue buried inside you, long and flexible, licking at your walls and shooting pleasure up your spine. 

“Fuck, Crowley- I- I don’t think I can,” you cry, trying your best to squirm away from his tongue.

He chuckles and pulls you closer by the hips, practically mashing his nose into your clit. You mewl, arching away. Of course, this only proved to bump his nose against you again. 

His tongue starts moving inside you as if possessed, Crowley trying to stick the forked appendage inside you as far as possible. He eats you as if it’s his last meal on Earth, and he brings a thumb down over your hip to rub back and forth over your clit without mercy. 

You cry out louder this time, unable to contain the noises that were escaping you as he forced you closer and closer to that edge. Fuck, you might actually be able to cum again. No, scratch that, you were definitely going to cum again. 

“F-fuck, Crowley, I- nngh, oh-” 

Hips wriggle on the desk, slick and spit trailing down your folds to stain the table. You pant and moan as he works you like a master pianist- knowing exactly which keys to tap to wring out the most divine music from you.

You manage to lean yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at Crowley, and that’s what pushes you over the edge. Those yellow-slitted eyes looking up at you so hungrily, so unabashedly. He looks ravenous, feasting at you like if he doesn’t make you cum right now he might simply pass away. 

Waves of pleasure take you all at once, roiling inside like crashing waves in a storm. You’re vaguely aware of the fact that your head hits the desk again with a soft thud. You’re also vaguely aware of the way your entire body is convulsing with the pleasure of your fourth orgasm. 

He works you through it, tongue raking every single modicum of pleasure from you. The stimulation grows to be too much, and you press your foot to his shoulder to force him off you. 

He chuckles deeply, pussy drunk on the taste of your spend. He nuzzles against your thigh, trailing a finger down your slit and revelling in the whimper it draws from you. 

He giggles- actually giggles- and gives your thigh a light slap.

“Mmn,” he says, licking his lips. “Always so good for me.” 

“Always,” you pant back with a giggle.

[angellilou-art]

Hear me out...

Fic idea :

Crescendo

They're rivals.

Crowley is a non conformist left handed violonist and Aziraphale a very strict and traditional pianist. They hate each others music but they have to duet because they're the best at their instruments. And... They both want to show to each other the best way to play music!

Playing with uncontrollable passion or aiming the perfect harmony : who is right?

[ideas from my Discord]

[leviosally]

Play for me the Music of your Heart

Music fic Crowley looks a little different than that guy ^^^ but the sentiment is the same 😂 Ch. 26 is here, and our dramatic snek boi...well, has A Moment.

. . .

Sliding down, Crowley collapses into a seat on the wide, cement base of the structure, drawing his unruly legs up so he can prop his arms on them. As he closes his eyes, his emotions finally catch up with him all at once, crashing into him like the breakers on the rocks below. The tears come (he’ll blame them on the wind) sliding hot and silent down his cheeks. His shoulders shake (he’ll blame that on the cold) and his head drops forward onto his arms. 

Tears of anger for not handling himself better, tears of uncertainty because, while he refuses to give up (some reckless, idiotic optimism that he doesn’t remember acquiring, but there it is) he doesn’t know what’s going to happen. 

And there are tears for past Crowley. Apparently there were a few that he still needed to get out for the ignorant, rebellious, scared, broken young bastard who didn’t understand that there was something better out there.

Crowley sits for a long time trying to distract himself with the better things, get his weepy, tragic ship-wreck self under control. He sits and marinates in the cold sea-fog until his tears run dry and his cigarette burns, forgotten, down to the butt in his fingers.

As darkness descends in full, he finally gets to his numb, aching feet, bone-tired and emotionally spent, and heads for home. Read the fic here.

[foolishlovers]

CO-WORKER AUs: Below you can find a list of Good Omens AUs in which Crowley and Aziraphale are co-workers. (oh my god they were co-workers)

[Requested by anon. You can request more fic recs here.]

Hit me with your ledger by KissMyAsthma (G, 1k) Corporate accountant Aziraphale has been infatuated with his coworker Crowley for a long time, but he has done nothing about it. One day, opportunity strikes and… Sometimes, an accidental nude is all it takes to score a date.

Get Down by AppleSeeds (T, 3k) When Aziraphale calls downstairs asking them to send up someone to fix the fax machine in his office, he doesn't expect them to send the most handsome and stylish man he's ever encountered in his entire life. Hopefully he won't end up doing anything foolish to embarrass himself.

The Piano Serpent by journeytogallifrey (T, 3k) Aziraphale owns The Flaming Sword, which is one of the premier gay bars in London. Everyone knows this… except for their pianist, Crowley. While the regulars take bets over whether he's the clueless straight person he seems, Aziraphale just tries to prevent himself from falling further. But one night Crowley plays a song written specially to honor their regulars, and Aziraphale can't hold the truth in any longer. How will Crowley react? Will the truth really set them free?

Hold the Lift by CemeteryAngel725 (T, 5k) Crowley just wants to get to work on time, but when he gets stuck in a lift with new guy Aziraphale, he ends up with a lot more than he bargained for. See, Aziraphale has this list of 36 questions…

!False (It's Funny Because It's True) by MirjamOmens (E, 6k) Aziraphale drew a long breath through his nose. Crowley, of course it had to be Crowley. The new guy in the sales department, who would promise potential customers just about anything to close a deal. Arrogant, annoying – and wildly, stupidly attractive. Aziraphale hated him. Aziraphale is a stellar software architect and a project manager, who is so done with the sales department selling unrealistically scheduled and budgeted projects. And he definitely doesn't have a crush on anyone, thank you very much.

Bang This Out? by crepesandoysters (E, 9k) As far as work friendships go, Aziraphale and Crowley have won the jackpot. They work well together and know how to make each other laugh, the whole metaphorical package. They could even be called best friends. Or, at least, they could be called that until today. Today comes with a kiss, and the kiss comes with more. A lot more if it were up to them. Except that their workplace seems to have other ideas.

Cock Tales by TawnyOwl95 (E, 12k) Crowley’s love life is on the rocks so he finally swears off men. Typical that his new job places him with a co-worker who's so straight up sexy. Or in which, Aziraphale tries to mix things up, Crowley is shaken and Anathema is a right stirrer. But could a relationship be worth a shot?

I'm Beginning to See the Light by ineffabildaddy (E, 15k) There was Crowley - the paragon of cool, the overlord of apathy, breezing easily through each and every one of their exchanges and giving no fucks while doing so; then there was the anachronistic, cloying Aziraphale, trying and failing not to live life like a Thomas Hardy protagonist, and giving many fucks indeed. Or: Aziraphale has quite the pash on his colleague Crowley, who seems resolutely disinterested in him. As their annual Christmas party progresses, it appears that Crowley may not be as disinterested as Aziraphale first thought.

House Style by soft_october (M, 24k) “Since that's all settled, the real question is did he give you his number?” Anathema laughed. “He was looking at you the way you look at lunch.” “Forget lunch!” Michael declared. “He was looking at you the way you were looking at him!” Aziraphale is content in his job as an editor at Celestial Publishing, though he could go for a bit less of doing his boss' job for him. But everything goes a bit screwy when the CEO brings in a consultant with plans to build a program that will turn the entire editorial department on its head. If only he wasn't so handsome.

All Lines Are Open by TawnyOwl95, FeralTuxedo (E, 21k) Anthony Crowley, bored host of a trite call-in radio show on Tadfield FM, has very few pleasures in life beyond annoying his long-suffering producer Aziraphale. When a caller reports suspicious activity at the abandoned Tadfield Manor, Crowley is determined to investigate, dragging Aziraphale along. Both of them are going to get more than they bargained for. A local radio AU

Heavenly Wicked Cafe by WaitingToBeBroken (T, 33k) There is a terribly rude barista that makes amazing coffee and a saint of a barista, whose coffee tastes vile. And they are in love.

i've found a way (a way to make you smile) by curtaincall (T, 40k) Crowley worked in Sales. He had never intended to work in Sales. It had just sort of happened. One moment, there he’d been, a newly minted university graduate off to change the world, exquisitely useless Philosophy degree in hand, and now here he was, having sauntered vaguely downwards into a Hell that consisted mainly of cold-calling new customers and sucking up to existing ones.   AU based on The Office.

First Class (Hons) Christmas, University of Tadfield. by heloluv (M, 41k) Dr. A.Z. Fell is a renowned literature tutor at the prestigious University of Tadfield. December is upon the University, and Dr. Fell is leading the Christmas Charity Drive. He needs volunteers. Dr. A.J. Crowley is a skilled plant ecologist who recently began his tenure at UoT. He can't stand Christmas, and nothing at all could ever possibly convince him to partake in "festivities". Until a certain literary expert catches his eye. A Christmas and New Years fic, in which Aziraphale teaches Crowley how to enjoy the most wonderful time of the year.

because thinking makes it so by summerofspock, NaroMoreau (E, 41k) It's supposed to be an exchange. An arrangement. Something to make them both feel better and less lonely. But Crowley's never had the brightest ideas.

Tadfield's Finest by angelsnuffbox (E, 51k) The sleepy town of Tadfield is thoroughly shaken by the arrival of DI Crowley. Where barely anything ever happened before, there is now a bustle of low grade criminal activity, and everyone knows where to point the blame. Gabriel thinks he's a bad omen for the town, many others are quick to agree. Meanwhile, Aziraphale from SOCO just thinks he's hot. Ridiculously so.

Golden Handcuffs by seekwill (E, 70k) Far from any city, near the Scottish coast, Tadfield College has a celebrated history, an unrivaled academic reputation, and two departments at war. When the Biology and English departments are forced to share a building, Senior Lecturer and botanist Anthony Crowley finds himself drawn into the orbit of the polite but strange English professor, Dr. Aziraphale Fell. As the new term begins, two academics navigate the politics of both their offices and academia, and try to solve the puzzle of one another.

Wild Hearts by foolishlovers (E, 124, WIP) In the idyllic English countryside, far from the hustle and bustle of the big city, two teachers at Willowbrook Hall set out to transform their students’ lives through the world of theatre. But for Mr. Crowley, the challenge of navigating his long hidden feelings and dear friendship with Mr. Fell may prove to be the greatest drama of all.

Sugar And Spice by SylWritesStuff, ladydragona (E, 179k, WIP) Queer technology giant Anthony J. Crowley is just about ready to throw in the towel after relationship after relationship has failed, but there's a new barista at the company coffee shop and he's cute and sweet and Crowley's never been able to resist blond hair and blue eyes. The tabloids will have a field day, they always do, but his assistant is getting married and a temp is needed. A temp who really isn't very good at making complicated coffees, has past experience in reception, and absolutely no idea that the latest complicated coffee order came from the owner himself. Aziraphale only knows that he's handsome, patient, and was the first person who told him he was doing well. How could he refuse the temp position? Or, he soon discovers, more.

[you can find more fic rec masterposts here]

[mrghostrat]

thank you for speaking your pianist crowley truth

i would die for him tbh

[sightkeeper]

Little scene from a fic I read over the weekend, Play for me the Music of your Heart, by @leviosally wherein Aziraphale is a conductor/pianist and Crowley is a violinist :) This is their Halloween concert where Crowley wore a reaper costume during Danse Macabre