SweetHoneyWell



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  1. Rec *

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    After everything, Aziraphale and Crowley, by unspoken agreement, begin sharing their lives.
    ---
    Why? Aziraphale wanted to ask him, why millennia of the way things were, and now this?

    But while Crowley seemed to have little issue upending every unspoken rule they’d ever written for themselves, Aziraphale was not so flexible, and they had spent thousands of years never quite addressing whatever it was this had stemmed from. Words, Aziraphale had always felt, were for bickering about where to eat for lunch, or hashing out ontological debates, or other trivial nonsense; there was no need to trifle with the imprecision of language, with phrasing and the possibility of being misconstrued, when it came to important matters if the other person simply understood, without needing it said. Six thousand years ago, when Aziraphale had met Crowley on the wall of Eden, watching the first two humans set out to begin the rest of history, something deep within him, more central even than his Grace, had thought, oh, it’s you, and that had been enough for him--for both of them, he assumed--for three millennia.

    However much he wanted to ask, he didn’t know how. The words simply weren’t there.

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    19 Sep 2023

  2. Rec *

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    “The Angel of the Eastern Gate.” Crawly grins. “What’s your name, anyway? You never said.”

    “Oh...” Apologies, Aziraphael almost says, but then he doesn’t. That would be taking things a bit too far. This is still the Enemy. “Aziraphael.”

    “Aziraphael,” repeats Crawly—or tries to, because halfway through the word he chokes. Quite badly.

     
    Or: What if Aziraphale’s name was originally "Aziraphael", in keeping with the conventional spelling and pronunciation of angel names, but because of its divine nature Crowley is physically unable to say it out loud.

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    02 Jun 2026

  3. Rec 34

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    He was a pup, a young alpha passed out in the cold, and the sharp scent of his natural mint blew through the wind.

    It'd been what lulled Gi-hun towards the back of the apartment buildings, the alleyways that he sometimes frequented to feed cats and smoke in peace. He found a different kind of stray now, even if his senses felt alight, and his gut instinct screamed to run. He bent down on a knee and leaned in close. Close enough that he could see the sight of swollen lips, bruised cheekbones, and a jaw that was marred with one too many shades of purple, the skin healing there too.

    Gi-hun tried to swallow down the empathy, but it swallowed him whole instead.

    He took in stray cats before. A human couldn't be any different. Even if the stranger was an alpha.

    Right?

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    09 May 2026

  4. Rec 27

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    The mouse had stepped willingly into the trap.
    And the Recruiter, smiling wider now, already imagined how much more fun this assignment was going to be than he’d ever anticipated.
    Let’s see how far you run, little detective.
    Let’s see if you survive me.
    No change. Cover intact. Observation continues.

    He was supposed to watch him. Report back. Keep his distance. Instead, the Recruiter made a game of it – patterns, proximity, control. He didn’t expect Jun-ho to trust him. He didn’t expect to want that trust. Now the game is unraveling, and the man who built the trap is the one caught inside it.

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    20 Apr 2026

  5. Rec 99

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    "Oh, don't look so sour, Fordsy! It's not too late to join me."

    Stanford has heard this before somewhere. In his mind, maybe.

    (Bill puts Stanford in a time loop until he gets the answer that he wants.)

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    02 Aug 2024