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kpop-dungeon-dark · 2 years

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Karaoke Angel (Dark!San x Reader)

•TRIGGER WARNING•

Description: She danced and danced, singing her heart and voice away along with her flock, unaware of the dark gunmetal hued eyes that watched her every move, awaiting the perfect moment with uninterrupted patience.

Word count: 2.6k.

Type: Smut oneshot.

Disclaimer: This doesn't represent Choi San in any way and I obviously don't own him. It is all merely fiction and fantasy, take it as such and scroll away if this isn't your cup of tea.

Note: unedited TT

Warning(s): Dubcon (the reader is basically drunk), dark!San, stalker!San, rough sex, p in v, biting, choking/breath play, mild cum play, dacryphilia, implied captivity, dirty talk, car sex, fear kink or a dash of it, self degradation, name calling, no mention of reader's ethnicity or body type, creampie.

"Any kind, any kind, any kinda guy you want, you decide, change your…" Her drunk laugh rang in the mostly deserted bar as she went on to continue to sing broken lyrics on the karaoke with her friend group who was just as intoxicated as her. Lightweights.

A small smile couldn't help but make its way on San's face which stayed masked by a shadow of the wall lights that had been shut off as he sat straight but lazily against the rest of his chair, one hand buried in a pocket as the other toyed with the rim of his glass of scotch. And although he smiled, it wasn't one of adoration or anything tender, rather a ghost one bordering the line of a wicked sneer.

The music suddenly came to a halt and so did the ear piercing singing, followed by loud groans and boos as one of the bar workers came out and tried to get the intoxicated lot to quieten and get off the stage, which led to one of the boys to stumble forward in the direction of the employee to argue, grasping the edge of the sheet placed atop the table on which their empty drink glasses and bottles stood, accidentally pulling the material off and causing the contents to come smashing down against the wooden floors one after the another.

The action caused another barworker to exit the backrooms and join his colleague, trying to get them all to climb down the stage without falling into the pool of broken glass. San stood up.

Placing the owed amount on his table under his glass, he moved silently through the dark and now empty bar, slender body almost unnoticeable amidst the vocal havoc, feet coming to a stop when he reached his destination, one hand leaving the pocket it was previously residing in and extending towards the girl, Y/n, that he had had his eye on for a while now.

Standing behind all her friends alone, the intoxicated state of her mind caused her to forget the chaos the moment her eyes fell on the devilishly handsome man giving her a half grin, not thinking twice before placing her own smaller one in his and stepping down from the stage.

"Is it all the alcohol I downed or are you really fucking handsome?" She blurted out drunkenly, her previous company already a distant memory as she walked through the doors side-by-side the taller man, subconsciously intertwining her fingers with his and swinging their hands back and forth.

A dimple formed on San's fair cheek as he stared ahead. "You're not so bad yourself, doll." Y/n's already flush cheeks darkened as she walked on, giggling out loud at the compliment without a notice of her surroundings which were now the jungle that was in the back of the club.

"Really, you think so?" The man only nodded. "Thank you!"

It wasn't intentional. Not in the beginning. San was fairly regular at the bar, although always keeping to himself on a faraway table in a dark corner, quietly watching the hormonal and drunken people around him or tapping away on his phone if not watching whatever game was playing on the tv while enjoying the one or two drinks he'd order, giving a nod to the servers for his bill before placing the money and leaving. The girl, Y/n, however, was fairly new, even though he was familiar with the faces of others that she hung out with.

He hadn't meant for it to happen. But somehow it did. His eyes started wandering off to the length of her legs when she grooved on the karaoke stage or around the bar, how her impressive hips widened whenever she would bend, making whatever she was wearing cup the crease between her cheeks just enough to get his southern region to feel mild twists. As well as her perfect chest that made her tops look better than they would be otherwise. And then the pretty face which all the perfect imperfections serving as the cherry on top.

Y/n opened her mouth to slur out some words once more, albeit being able to only gasp loudly when the man pulled her under his bigger body against his car that she didn't care enough in the moment to notice was parked in the heart of the dark woods. He needn't actually be bigger than her to make her feel small. It had always been the man's aura that made him appear bigger than he was.

San's lips met hers in a heated kiss as his hands roughly hurried over every crease, bump and curve of her body, one of them travelling behind her and closing over one of her ass cheeks before pulling a rough squeeze out, causing Y/n to whimper and moan at the rough treatment yet feel heat sore through her loins.

"Is it just me or are you like, waaaaay out of my league?" She panted as they broke apart for air, innocently blinking at him as her tiny razor-like nails rested against his chest, eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

San pressed the unlock button on the remote of his car, cupping one of her cheeks with one hand as his thumb grazed against her bottom lip before he really finally looked at her.

"But I am what you need, angel" his grey eyes stared into hers as he said the words, aiming to imprint them in her mind as his other hand opened the door to the backseat before his lips found hers again, fingers leaving her cheek and travelling down south before finding the length of her neck.

San guided her carefully inside the car on her back, though not letting go of her lips that he could finally feel in all the ways he desired, closing the door of his SUV behind them. Her fingernails scratched at the back of his nape before burying in his hair, hips lifting to rub against his in an attempt to aid the heat pooling between her hips.

"Fuck…" San whispered with a groan as he moved her skirt out of the way, softly humping one of her legs as his own sex organ was warm and stiff, the precum wet around his tip. "Aw, look at this little pussy" he mused after pushing her underwear to the side, cupping her sex with one hand and pushing her lips apart with his thumb before feeling the folds and smearing the wetness gathered at her opening all over them.

"Ohhh," Y/n's inexperienced body twitched at the foreign touch as her fingers curled in his hair, pulling at it as her back arched when the man continued to tease her pussy. "Please-" the girl had to cut herself short when his free hand gathered both of her wrists together and away from his hair before placing them firmly above her head.

"These remain here," he spoke like one would to a child. "Or the fun stops and you learn what being a disobedient brat entails" one of her bottom lips pushed out and he could sense a whine and complaints incoming.

He had observed her enough to know that she needed to be kept in her place at all times.

"B- But dude-"

"Shush" one his free hand lightly slapped her lips before he softened the effect with a kiss. "You talk too much." Her eyes widened and a gasp ripped out of her lungs when she went to retort but was forcefully silenced by his thumb pushing up her tight ring of muscles.

San sneered down at her. "Surprising," he condescendingly remarked, slowly starting to move the digit in and out of her leaking entrance as she gasped and trembled, sweat breaking out on her skin as fingers tried to claw the seat now, desperate to find an edge or object to grip and tug at. "Let's see what we have here now" his own heart was in his ears as he finally peeled her top away from her skin, eyes scanning her now bare chest as he moved her bra away as well.

"Wait-"

"Sir, call me, sir" he commanded before latching his lips on one of her nubs, feeling his eyes roll at the feeling of her soft but erect skin, his thumb exiting her before he pushed it in her mouth and toyed with her tongue, smearing the salty juices against it. San's other hand pinched and smacked her unoccupied breast before squeezing it rather painfully, causing Y/n to groan around his digit before her lips closed over it and she sucked to brace herself against the mild pain.

The male shifted uneasily as he felt his hardon turn into a raging one, his sack unable to hold on any longer. It was no news by now to him to know that she affected him differently as usually he was much better with self restraint.

"Come up here" leaving her wet mouth with a loud plop, he found her neck again as he moved back so he was kneeling on top of her, sitting her up and playing with one of her nubs. "Undo my pants and tell me what I am going to do to you once they come off."

The drunk girl hazily looked up at him before she lustfully reached for his button and fly, clumsily undoing them. "I… You…" Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment despite the fact that she was already bare and covered in her own juices by him.

"What do you call me?" He shot back hurriedly, his breathing heavy as he softly shook her by the neck, pressing his thumb under her chin to make her look at him as he lifted his hips to aid her as she pulled his pants off. "What do you call me?"

Usually Y/n would argue and not entertain being treated this way at all. But there was something about the way he spoke to her like she was brainless and silly, as if they weren't on the same mental level, how he manhandled her and made her insides heat up at the feeling of being treated so small. Like a ragdoll. And then his eyes, how they stared right into her soul, hard yet soft at the same time.

"Sir, I call y- you sir" she replied obediently, eyes instinctively wandering down at his member and biting her lip.

"And what is sir going to do to you now, hm angel?" Placing her back flat against the leather of the seat, San positioned himself between her legs and rested her feet against the headrests of the rear and front seats to give himself plenty of space to ruin her however he desired.

"It's not going to fit" Y/n whispered back in response, obediently putting her hands above her head as her eyes turned glassy. Maybe she was starting to get a little scared. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

"That's not what I asked, doll" lining himself against her opening, he raised an eyebrow.

The girl bit her lip in contemplation but something about the darkness in his eyes caused her to speak what she did not actually intend, hazy mind not even trying to put up a fight against the handsome man. Glancing down at his tip prodding at her entrance, Y/n sniffled and looked back up at San.

"Y- You're going to put your cock in my pussy and fuck me, s- sir~" her words melted into a hiccup in response to the man finally lowering himself into her with a low groan, hand squeezing her neck.

"Why would it not fit when it is was made to fuck your pretty little pussy, hm?" His free hand found her petals, thumb pushing them apart as he flicked her clit, the action causing Y/n's eyes to roll back as a vein appeared against the skin of one of her temples due to the lack of air in her lungs.

"Heavens, baby. You look so pretty right now, all red and breathless like my good little slut" his hips found momentum as he peppered kisses all over her cheeks and lips, rubbing circles into her folds before finally letting go of her air duct.

Her lungs desperately sucked in air as much as possible, legs twitching and trembling as sweat trickled down them, toes curling when his lips found her nipples once more and this time, he nibbled on them, speeding up his thrusts more and going even deeper.

Y/n tried to speak but was silenced by his hand as this time it cupped her mouth and nose, restricted her breathing once more only to speed up the rubbing of her clit whilst he assaulted her opening balls deep with each thrust now.

"Clench around me." San commanded as he felt her chest sink against his in response to the oxygen running out once more, his lips finding her neck as he kissed and sucked at the skin, taking his sweet time decorating her skin with marks of his ownership. "And thank me!"

Y/n's body twisted and spasmed as her toes curled and eyes released more tears, a scream plunging out of her mouth the moment it was released due to the intensity of it all, back arching as he orgasmed around his cock that was hammering her g-spot with every single movement now.

"Thank you, sir! Thank you! Thank you so much, sir!" The male sighed against her, biting her tender skin as her warm walls tightened even more in defense to the intrusion he was subjecting her to during her orgasming state, making him start spilling his seed inside her around the same moments.

"Fuck, angel. You're so good. So pretty all fucked out and sensitive for me" San didn't stop teasing her clit throughout his orgasm, fucking it out as he overstimulated her, overwhelmed himself because this was the best fuck of his life.

"Please… please…" Y/n exhaustedly trembled as her legs shook for mercy, staring down at him in distress as the male's thrusts finally started to slow down before eventually halting.

"I could stay here forever" San sighed in pure bliss, kissing the girl's swollen lips before resting his head against her, catching his breath while still enjoying the warmth of her cavern, bringing his fingers to his lips and finally tasting her juices. "Mmm" his eyes fluttered shut at the taste as he sighed in pure euphoria.

"Angel, you taste so…" His words died on his tongue when he opened his eyes and propped himself on one elbow to find her fast asleep, mouth slightly parted. A snort escaped him as he pecked her lips softly and moved back. Biting his lip and moaning when he moved inside her a little while fishing out his phone, the man sighed.

She just had to be his. There was no other way.

Switching his phone camera to recording mode, San pointed the device at her pussy before lowly grunting and pulling himself out of her now gaping entrance, cursing under his breath at the sight of her spasming muscles while his seed trickled out of them and dripped down to her crack.

After he had shut his phone and pocketed it, San dressed both himself and his doll up before he climbed in the driver's seat and turned the keys, reversing the car out of the spot he had parked it in before turning it in the direction of his house that would not be his alone anymore.

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onceuponapuffin · 4 months

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Fanatic Intervention Part 15!!!

Okay, this is gonna be a long one, but I promise it's important. There was just a lot that I had to get in here. Also we had our first ever tie! So I chose between the two. Alright, let's do this. Enjoy!

Beginning || Previous || Next

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The bar in question is rowdy and rustic. The crowd that has already gathered is loud, probably drunk, and honestly makes you wish you had some anxiety meds with you or something because the button in your pocket is a single thread holding you together when you could really do with a rope. You look over to Aziraphale, who’s grimacing at the scene. Oh good, so you’re not the only one who isn’t a fan of this place. You notice Crowley studying the bar – no doubt trying to get a sense for their selection.

“Over there,” Anathema shouts over the noise. You follow her pointing arm to see Sardis, already at a table and waving you over. Well, at least you definitely have a space to sit. That’s something.

The four of you approach Sardis who waves you into the seats around him with an enormous smile.

“Welcome!” He says grandly, “To my favourite place this side of town.”

“Your favourite place,” You repeat with skepticism, “Is a dive bar?”

“Oh not just any dive bar Little Moth,” Sardis winks as he speaks, “The best karaoke bar this side of the bayou. Personal opinion, of course. But I am an angel after all so feel free to take that as gospel.” He laughs loudly at his own joke. You chuckle uncertainly. Aziraphale shakes his head. Anathema rolls her eyes. Crowley looks like he could vomit. Basically, Sardis is the only one amused. Once he finally stops laughing, he looks around at you. “Such sour faces, my friends. But of course you have, I’ve forgotten my manners! Let me get you some drinks before the festivities start.”

“The festivities?” asks Aziraphale, “I’m sure you don’t mean...”

“The karaoke, of course!” Sardis smiles before leaving the table with a wink. “Be back in a sec!”

“I am not singing,” Crowley states firmly.

“Nor am I,” Aziraphale frowns.

“We may need to consider it,” Anathema says after a pause, “He has information that we need, and we may have to play his game to get it.”

“I mean, I don’t exactly…dislike him...but he's weird,” You, the dimensional traveler, observe.

“Oh absolutely weird,” agrees the witch.

“A very weird one indeed, yes,” affirms the angel of the Eastern Gate.

“Weird as all fuck,” confirms the demon.

Sardis returns carrying a tray with five drinks and lays it proudly on the table in front of them.

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I took my best guess,” Sardis announces as he hands around the drinks, “Sherry for the angel, whiskey for the demon, margarita for the witch, and I played it safe and got you a sangria.” He lays the alcohol in front of each of you. You take a sip and holy crow is it ever delicious. “’S that good, Little Moth?” Sardis asks you as he takes his own seat. You nod, and his smile grows. “Good, glad to hear it.”

“Thank you kindly, Sardis,” Aziraphale ventures, taking a sip of his sherry, “Now, perhaps would you mind telling us what you know?”

Sardis laughs again. He laughs a lot, you notice. Probably having the time of his life with all of this.

“What I know is that I’m not saying anything about Jesus until you sign up and sing me a song.”

Honestly, you need to take a deep breath at that. The irritation is building. First he wouldn’t say anything until you came here, and now he won’t say anything until you sing for him. He keeps changing the goal posts on you. Anathema had said you might need to play his game to get information from him, but you honestly didn’t think it would feel so...condescending.

Anathema’s phone suddenly starts ringing. She pulls it out of her pocket, and you briefly notice the What’s App logo and Newt’s face lighting up the screen. After a brief apology, she excuses herself from the table and leaves the bar. Well. Lucky her. You sigh and stand.

“Yeah okay fine, I’ll be right back.”

“Where’re you going?” Crowley asks. His question has bite, but you’re sure it isn’t anger – he just doesn’t want everyone to end up leaving him with Sardis.

“I’m going to sign up,” You say, “Sing a song. Karaoke, right?” You look at Sardis, who nods appreciatively.

“There now! Little Moth gets it!”

Crowley and Aziraphale both gawk at you, but you’re already turning and beelining for the sign-up table.

Now here, dear Reader, let’s take a moment to talk about the Anxiety Loophole. In ordinary circumstances, you’d be lucky to talk to a crowd and sound normal about it (not to mention the possibility of nausea and such), but the Anxiety Loophole is a magical and gracious thing. In a situation where there is something that must be done, and everyone around you is too scared or embarrassed or anxious themselves to do it, suddenly it becomes possible for you. You may never dream of asking for your food to be sent back at a restaurant, but if your friend needs more ketchup and is too nervous to ask for it, you will put the chef in a headlock if you have to in order to get it for them. Or, say, if an angel and a demon have expressly stated their discomfort with singing in public, and another angel with vital information demands a performance before telling you said information, signing up for karaoke suddenly seems like a piece of cake. Besides, you figure, most of the people in the room are drunk. So you pick something easy, something loud, something most people here probably know already. That way, they’ll do most of the work for you, and then you’re singing with them, instead of for them. Are you a genius? Yes, yes you are. Take the praise, Reader, you’re going to want that confidence in a few minutes.

You return to the table, having put your name and song on the list, and take a seat (and a very large sip of your sangria).

“There,” You declare, “Now how about we talk about Jesus while we wait for my name to be called.”

“You’re not actually serious about this,” Crowley asks. You look to Sardis.

“I am if he is.”

Sardis’ eyes widen in surprise before he smiles again. “Oh, I most definitely like you, Little Moth.” He leans his chin on his hands. “Tell me, what has Metatron had to say about you?”

Oh good. You’re actually getting somewhere.

“Nothing good,” You admit with a frown, “He tried to turn me into salt once, and then trapped me in a bathroom and tried to manipulate me.”

Sardis hums and nods in affirmation. Then he turns to Crowley and Aziraphale.

“And tell me, what have the two of you done about that?” he asks them. The both of them practically jump in surprise.

“W-well,” Aziraphale starts and stops.

“Ngggk,” says Crowley.

“Well you see, it’s a bit more complicated than…”

“So nothing then,” Sardis concludes.

“Wait,” You say, “That’s not fair.”

“Have you given Little Moth any way to defend or protect themselves?”

“They don’t need to!” You all but shout, “They’re with me basically all the time!”

But Sardis doesn’t seem to hear you. He stares at the celestials with an offended glare. Neither Aziraphale or Crowley seem to know what to make of it, but he doesn’t give them much of a chance to before he reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a card, and hands it to you. You take it from him, worried that if you don’t he might get upset with Aziraphale and Crowley and really it’s the Metatron’s fault, not theirs. Put the blame in the right place. Your hands are starting to shake a little as you look at the card.

“Oh!” You exclaim, relaxing a little. Actually it’s not all that bad. It’s a punch card of sorts. It reminds you a little bit of Furfur’s card from the 1941 minisode, but instead of being a Miracle Blocker, it’s a Miracle Enabler numbered 1 to 12. You notice that each number is perforated – meant to be torn off so that you don’t need to carry around a hole punch. Clever, actually. You show it to Aziraphale and Crowley.

“Oh my,” says Aziraphale, “That really is clever. I’m rather embarrassed to admit that the idea never came to me.”

“Huh,” Crowley adds, helpfully.

“Yeah,” says Sardis, “You probably never had to think about things like, what if they ever turn off your miracles Up There. Probably helps that your only mention in the Bible isn’t about how shit you are.”

You look at the card thoughtfully for a minute. You think about all the genie questions you’ve seen online.

“Go on, Little Moth,” Sardis coos gently, “Try it out.”

You glance at him and then back at the card. Well he’s not giving you any hints about how this thing works, so probably best to just follow your instincts. After taking a second to think, you rip off the number 1 and make a wish.

The number has disappeared from your fingers and reappeared attached to the card.

“Oop,” Sardis says, “Looks like that didn’t go through. What were you trying to do?”

“I was trying to make it so that I could do miracles without the card.”

Sardis starts to laugh. “Oh you have a clever mind! I like the way you think!” His laughter continues for a moment before he calms himself, though you notice it takes him some time. Then he shakes his head.

“Listen,” he says to you, “Humans just can’t do miracles. For you to be able to do them without the card, you would have to change your entire species. And this little thing just isn’t built for that sort of miracle. Try again, something smaller this time.”

Your brow furrows in concentration as you stare back at the card. Something reasonable that wouldn’t need a big change in order to work. Oh, wait a minute. You rip off the number 1, and make a wish. Suddenly, you notice that you are holding a second Miracle Enabler, full up.

“There you go, Little Moth,” Sardis sighs approvingly, “Now that’s how you do it!” The first card goes in a place you can easily reach – your jeans pocket, perhaps. The second one you fold up and place in your sock. For emergencies.

“What did you mean about your mention in the Bible?” Aziraphale ventures, apparently sensing that he isn’t in trouble anymore. Sardis raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t you read Revelation?” he asks.

“Well yes, of course,” Aziraphale replies, “But I don’t recall it saying you were...well...bad.”

“Shit, Angel,” corrects Crowley, “He said it calls him shit.”

“I know your deeds; you have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead,” Sardis quotes, “Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your deeds complete in the sight of my God. Remember, therefore, what you received and heard; obey it, and repent.” He shakes his head. “Does that sound like a glowing report to you? No, see, I invited that asshat John over for brunch one time, okay? ONE. He gets the runs, blames it on the bacon. Next thing I know, I’m getting hate mail, supposedly from Jesus, with passive aggressive notes about people who haven’t soiled their clothes. Yeah, no, I know exactly whose message that was.” He huffs angrily and sips his drink.

“So….” You interject cautiously, “You stayed down here because...oh, because Heaven endorsed it?”

“Enthusiastically,” he confirms, “I’m just a minor angel – ha, barely that. More of a guardian. They don’t care about me as much as the message.”

You nod, Gabriel’s trial coming to mind. It’s all about the message.

“We know all about that,” You say gently, “They threatened to erase Aziraphale’s name from the Book of Life. Well, anyone really, who uh, helped Gabriel escape judgment.” Sardis raises an eyebrow at that.

“Oh yeah? What did that bureaucratic ass do?”

“He fell in love with Beelzebub and said ‘Nah’ to Armageddon Part 2.”

“Psh, oh yeah, that’ll do it,” Sardis says, taking another sip, “Not that any of them could erase anyone. Not really. You need to know someone’s true name for that.”

“Hold up,” says Crowley, “The Book of Life isn’t actually real?”

“Oh, it is,” says Sardis, “I know it for a fact. You see, one of the things of being an Original Angel of the Church,” he says the title mockingly, you notice, “is that you end up with a gift. Something to give the worthy when they ascend. Mine happens to be knowing everyone’s true name.”

“Wait a minute, wait,” You say, “That’s...that’s...”

“I know,” Sardis says, “Look, it’s like this. Most books that you read, the words are 2-dimensional, right? The Book of Life sort of has more than 2 dimensions to it. And it records everything. Now look,” he takes a packet of coarse sugar, “This is a soul,” he opens it and pours the chunks onto the table, “Each soul can be different people throughout its existence, and the Book, for accuracy purposes, records your name in whatever life you're living,” he picks up one crystal, “on the first dimension,” he places it on top of the paper pouch, “and your true name on the dimensions that lie underneath.” He sits up triumphantly. “So before you can actually erase anyone you need to know their true name, and before you know that, you need to know how to read the Book, and before that you need the gift to be able to perceive the different dimensions.”

“Which you have,” Crowley concludes. Sardis nods.

“Which I have, yes. Unfortunately, I also have the misfortune of never being able to be anywhere near the Book of Life. So I’m basically the angelic equivalent of a dolphin who knows all the secrets of Super Mario. I know it, but fat lot of good it does me. Or will ever, for that matter.”

You’re about to say something else, but your name gets called to the stage.

Oh. Oh right.

Oh shit.

You walk up to the stage and take the microphone uncertainly as the intro music for Taylor Swift’s Shake it Off starts to play. You chose it because you know some of the actions to it and I mean, the lyrics are so simple that you’re hoping the drunk crowd will start singing along with you.

“I stay out too late,

Got nothing in my brain,

At least that’s what people say,

That’s what people say,”

A random drunk person in the back cheers.

“But I keep cruisin’

Can’t stop won’t stop movin’

It’s like I got this music in my mind sayin’

It’s gonna be alright”

The entire bar claps three times. Oh wow.

Basically, your plan works. They all can’t help but join in for the chorus, and you end up having a lot of fun with it. Their enthusiasm is so validating, and after a minute or two you don’t care if it’s because of the alcohol or if they actually think you’re good. You just sing the song and you have a fabulous time of it. Honestly, it's hard to have a bad time singing and dancing to that song. You forget about saving the world, you forget that Crowley and Aziraphale are watching you, everything just fades away for a few minutes except for the lyrics on the screen in front of you and the energy of the people in the bar. For a few minutes, you’re just having fun, and that’s the most important thing about this, dear Reader.

When the song is over you return to the table. Anathema is finally back, and you notice she’s finished her drink pretty quickly. Good thing you ate before coming. Sardis is clapping for you.

“That was excellent! Great job, Little Moth! Here, have another one on me.” He waves his hand and a second sangria appears IN A FISHBOWL. Oh...Aziraphale and Crowley better cover you later, a hangover while one world-saving duty would suck.

Anathema clears her throat.

“So,” she says, you notice her voice shakes a little. Probably because she downed that drink so fast. “About Jesus.”

“Ah yes,” sighs Sardis, “The prodigal son himself. Well, I will tell you that he is here, though not in this city. Came down in a plane and everything.”

“Ha!” You say, pointing triumphantly, “I told you!”

Sardis chuckles. “Yes, what a day that was. Landed in Los Angeles thirteen years ago.”

You nearly choke on your drink.

“Los Angeles,” says Aziraphale, “Well that’s awfully on the nose, isn’t it?”

“Wait a minute,” You say, “So he’s an adult then, right? Not a baby?” You’re hoping. Your fingers are crossed that maybe he arrived in the states when he was a toddler, or a small kid.

“Oh no, not a baby, but not an adult either,” confirms Sardis.

“Don’t say it,” You beg.

“What’s wrong?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley looks like he’s on alert. Even Anathema looks a little unsure what to make of you.

“Okay actually just say it,” You decide, “How old is he?”

“He’s thirteen.”

“Oh shit,” says Anathema.

“Is he at least one of the nice thirteen year-olds?” You ask hopefully.

“Well,” says Sardis, “He’s definitely white this time, and his family is rich so, what do you think.”

You drop your head into your hands.

“Um, I’m sorry,” Aziraphale interrupts, “But, ah, what exactly is the problem here?”

When, dear Reader, was the last time you were around a 13-year-old boy? The age when they are all about proving how masculine they are, the age when they like to play rough in places where they really shouldn’t be playing rough, be mean for no reason other than because it makes them feel like a badass, jump and hoot and holler and laugh at anyone with sense because they get a kick out of adults getting angry with them. There is no force more annoying or enraging than a 13 year old, of any gender. But now add privileged and spoiled to that and you have a force to be reckoned with. You briefly relay this to Aziraphale.

“So,” You conclude, “The person who we need to convince to save the world, the person who needs to take this seriously or everyone dies terribly, the person who we need to care, has all the makings of the one person who is the least likely to care on the entire planet.”

“Ugh,” Anathema groans, “Why did they have to do it like that? I thought Jesus was supposed to be all about the outsiders and being kind to each other and things.”

“Well,” suggests Aziraphale, “I suppose that was probably the first time around. This time, they’re probably a bit less concerned about the, ah, morality of the whole thing, and more concerned about the messiah bit.”

“Right,” Anathema says with a disillusioned sigh, “And the fastest and easiest way for anyone to become a messiah in this world is to be rich, white, and male.”

“Cutting corners, I believe humans would say,” concludes Aziraphale.

Sardis nods, a frown upon his face. The previously cheerful angel isn’t laughing anymore as he raises his glass and says “To the world.”

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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