because it’s almost that time of year and i love this au too much
marinette and bridgette always clear the first weekend in december from friday through to sunday because that is their official Knitting Weekend.
Knitting Weekend consists of a new craft each year. so far they have made mittens, scarves, christmas stockings, fuzzy indoor socks, hats, tea cozies (bridgette’s idea because of her teapot collection), and matching jumpers for the agreste brothers (adrien was thrilled, félix was not).
because bridgette works freelance, she always clears her holidays for december rather than for the summer months. she spends the entire month with marinette and her family.
decorations always begin going up on december 1st. the tree is the first thing to be put up however decorating it is always the last thing they do.
it is acceptable to begin listening to christmas music in november. tom and sabine are very much traditionalists and won’t listen to any christmas music until december, but bridgette and marinette turn up starting nov 1.
all christmas shopping is done by december 10th. this is the one thing the cheng cousins are actually organised about.
marinette diys as many presents as possible because she feels that it gives it a more thoughtful and personal touch. bridgette diys as many presents as possible because she is basically broke (but also the personal thing, like mari said).
although she loves christmas, bridgette cannot stand christmas pudding or mulled wine or eggnog. apparently as an adult she’s supposed to.
marinette is still allowed to not like those things and bridgette finds this extremely unfair.
marinette is of the unpopular opinion that ‘love, actually’ is appropriate to watch at any time of the year and is not actually a christmas film only. bridgette thinks that this is blasphemy.
marinette, bridgette, and sabine all hate ‘the polar express’ with a passion. tom is the only one who likes that film and he begs them to watch it every year (which they all do begrudgingly).
before they started dating, bridgette would always hatch incredibly complex plans to get félix under some mistletoe. one year this involved enlisting both marinette and adrien to discreetly follow félix with fishing rods that had mistletoe attached to the end.
what actually ended up happening was that their fishing rods got tangled together and they ended up under the mistletoe by accident instead of félix. there was much blushing.
marinette and bridgette have matching christmas scarves that they made on one of their Knitting Weekends. they are both well aware that everyone thinks these scarves are obnoxious and ugly because of the garish christmas colours but this only fuels their passion for said scarves.
félix is secretly a sap and he conspires with marinette to hang mistletoe up pretty much everywhere so that he can catch bridgette off-guard and make up for her many years of mistletoe-related disasters.
marinette bakes gingerbread men for her entire class (for the last two years she has found herself baking two extra batches, one for adrien and one for chat noir, as they both ask very nicely.they also both smell of camembert and gingerbread around christmas and it is very strange).
Intro:When the opportunity to have a child presented itself to Lucifer he, on a whim, had decided to take it. He hadn’t realize just how much he liked the idea until it was taken from him; when he was sent to Hell to be Crowley’s personal puppet, Castiel had convinced Kelly Kline to abort his child.
Now he was free from Crowley’s control and King of Hell once again, but part of him still felt lost. He had decided he wanted another chance at being a parent, and that he wanted his revenge on the Winchesters for ruining his plans the first time. As he begins to plan, a piece of information falls into his lap that may prove to kill two birds with one stone.
Author’s Notes: Ehhhhhhh, sup guys? So I swear I was NOT planning on posting the next part literally two days after I put up the first part buuuut, hey; I do what I want.
Honestly the past two days have just been horrible(work’s a disaster, college is horrible as per usual, AND my mom got her leg amputated yesterday so yeah, stress city up in this bisch) and honestly I have been thinking about this fic non-stop so…here we are.Sorry this chapter is SO FREAKING LONG. It went in a slightly different direction towards then end then I had planned(I mean not really, but just slightly) and I couldn’t find a good cut off point soo…yeah. The next chapter will PROBABLY be shorter…maybe. (I’m going to end up writing an actual freaking novel aren’t I?)
“Um, Lucifer? When you said you were going to ‘buy me dinner first’ I thought it was like, you know–a sarcastic, sort of jokey
but still kind of scary and threatening innuendo type of thing. I didn’t think
you were actually going to take me to dinner.” You said, looking across
the table at the smirking blonde man sitting on the other side.
Nigel sighed. It was time admit it. This latest plan to bring new customers into the bar was a bolloxed mess just like the rest; the Tower of London souvenir pewter mugs, the Russian nesting teapots. Even his collection of old Jerry medals from the Big War only caught a glance from some of the old geezers. He should never have listened to that slick salesman from Brighton talking a load of codswallop. See? So life like! Just set them up at the bar and watch the mods come running! You’ll have more new customers than you know what to do with! Then it was a wink and a check and he never saw him again. Or any new customers, for that matter. What was he going to tell the missus this time? He pulled another glass from the sink, sighed again. It just wasn’t the same as pre-war. Now that was a time to run a pub.
Sansa coughed and spluttered as she screwed her eyes shut tight against the swirling puffs of dust coming off of the old brassware. The trinket she was polishing had been part of a lot that Sansa bought at auction meant for her vintage tea rooms. Utterly charmed by the collection of fine bone china with dainty floral decal that made up part of the mismatched lot, Sansa remembers the elation of being declared the highest bidder at auction as she excitedly waved her little paddle with her dedicated number on.
Having long ago integrated the little teacups, saucers, sugar bowls and teapots to her vast collection in use at Lemontree Tea Rooms, now her attention had been turned to the sad looking box of odd and ends that came with her prized china. Thinking she might fetch a fair price for it on ebay, with her little pot of polish and a rag, Sansa had set to work on a brass oil lamp. That was when a sudden outpouring of black dust began to come spewing out of the funnel, the lamp itself grew unbearably hot and was suddenly no longer within her grasp, as if the object had leapt from her hands.
The dust cloud grew and grew, it became so large that Sansa wondered how on earth all that dust could have possibly fit inside the little oil lamp? The deep dark colour of the mist brought with it a rapid panic as Sansa’s lounge was quickly engulfed in black. And then, quite suddenly, the cloud receded as if being swallowed and sucked back into the piece of brass laid on the floor. Sansa continued to cough into her fist, her eyes screwed shut and her other hand waving about wildly at a fog that was no longer there.
“What the fuck was that all about?” She muttered to herself.
“Sorry about that - it’s been a while” came an unexpected male voice.
Sansa’s eyes flew open and she let loose a scream.
“No! No! No! Shit!” The dark haired intruder flustered as he waved his arms about “I’m not…I’m not here to hurt you” he winced through her screaming. Sansa rose from her seat on the couch and began backing away, her chest heaving from fright and the exertion form her scream, she picked up the nearest object to hand - which happened to be a magazine - she rolled it up in her hands whilst continuing to back away from the intruder.
The man’s eyebrows raised and he smirked as his hands stayed in their surrendering pose. “Are you gonna swat me like a fly milady?” He asked in amusement.
“Who are you?! What are you doing here?!” Sansa shouted, waving the rolled up magazine wildly about.
“Calm down, I-”
“Calm down? CALM DOWN?! A STRANGE MAN IS IN MY FLAT AND-”
The man had snapped his fingers and just like that, Sansa’s voice was gone. Her mouth was moving, but no noise was escaping. She clutched her throat and then rounded on the stranger with the magazine again, mouthing her silent words ‘what have you done to my voice!?’
“Sorry about that” he said as he started looking around her lounge before walking over to her bookshelf and starting to stroke the book spines and picking up her ornaments and framed photos for his curious inspection. “Your shrieking wasn’t helping.”
Sansa threw her arms up in exasperation. She then folded them over her chest and watched him as he assessed her decor and nick-knacks. He was dressed rather oddly for a thief - he had smart, black, quite high-waisted suit trousers on that looked as if they had been starched and pressed within an inch of their life, he wore a pristine crisp white shirt, topped off with braces and a bowtie. His jet back hair had far too much hair gel in it and was slicked to a side parting.
“Look, I’m not here to hurt you, or steal from you or anything like that” the man turned to face her, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his feet - that were encased in the shiniest shoes Sansa had ever seen. “I’m here to help you actually.”
Sansa stared blankly at the man, hoping all would start to make sense very soon.
“That lamp” he inclined his head towards the piece of brass on her rug “you rubbed it didn’t you?” Sansa nodded. The man started making a rolling gesture with both hands, as if he was urging her thoughts to connect the dots more quickly. Sansa unfolded her arms. Her mouth hung open. She mouthed the words ‘you’re a fucking genie?!’ “Jon” the man says, taking a few long strides and offering his hand. Sansa stares at it blankly.
“If I give you your voice back, do you promise not to scream?”
Sansa gives one sharp nod, Jon clicks his fingers.
“Why are you dressed like that?” She asks. The man looks down at his clothes and then back to her, assessing what she’s wearing - and letting his eyes linger a little too long in certain areas, making her pull her dressing gown together to cover her little camisole top and sleep shorts. Jon clears his throat, somehow making it sound like an apology. “Where are your harem pants and little jacket thingy?”
“Ahh yes, the traditional genie attire - always hated that get-up” Jon scoffs. “What year is it anyway?” he asks, snatching the rolled up magazine from Sansa’s hand.
Sansa watches him curiously as he’s flicking through the pages. He nods to himself at some of the photos, clicks his finger and all of a sudden, he’s in tight grey jeans, boots, a black henley and his hair is tied neatly at the back of his head in a ‘man-bun’.
“Wow” Sansa breathes before cursing her slip. Jon grins back at her.
“Thanks! I haven’t been out of that sodding thing since 1926! Feels good to stretch the ol’ magical muscles, so to speak”
“This isn’t real” she whispers to herself in disbelief. “You’re a genie? A real-life magical genie?”
“So…do I get-?”
“Three wishes? Indeed you do…what’ll it be?”
Three weeks. Three weeks and Jon’s new Wish Master had not chosen one wish yet. Not that he was complaining. Sansa Stark was by far the most attractive Master he’d ever had - and once she had begun to relax around him more (letting him at least sleep in her guest bedroom instead of back in his lamp that she would then lock in her safety deposit box overnight) Jon came to realise that she was also the sweetest Master he’d ever worked for too. He wished he could stay as her genie forever.
But he knew Sansa wasn’t hanging on to her wishes through want of his prolonged company. No, she was just one of those. One of those people who like to plan - like to make sure that the decisions they make are the right ones. She was simply taking her time. And then, once he grants her third and final wish, he’ll be sucked back into that infernal lump of brass once more until some other unsuspecting person rubs his lamp and he has a new Wish Master. And on and on it will go.
Jon rakes his fingers through his hair and sighs at the thought of moving on from Sansa.
“Oh nothing” he reassures with a false smile. She doesn’t buy it.
“Want some?” Sansa asks, pointing her spoon loaded with mint choc-chip ice cream at him “it always cheers me up.”
Jon concedes and grabs the spoon, wrapping his mouth around the pale green icy cold substance as Sansa watches the movement.
“Oh this is good” he says, slightly surprised before licking the remnants from the spoon and digging it back into the tub in Sansa’s hand to retrieve more.
“Uh-huh” she says, looking a little dazed. Shaking her head she furrows her brows “do you even need to eat?”
“No, not really…doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate some good flavours though. I like tasting things.”
“Uh-huh” she repeats, her gaze still intent on his mouth.
“What is it?…Have I got something on my face?” Jon asks self-consciously, licking all around his lips.
“NO! NO!..err.. I mean -” Sansa averts her eyes and clears her throat before carrying on in a calmer tone “no…you’re good” she nods. Jon shrugs.
“So you thought any more about your wishes?”
“Uh!” Sansa flops down onto the bar stool at her kitchen island “it’s just so hard to decide!…what do people normally wish for?”
“Well” Jon starts, taking a seat on the other stool “after they stop trying to get me to grant the un-grantables they-”
“Yeah…you know, wishing for more wishes, bringing people back from the dead, making someone fall in love with you etc etc” Jon rattled off.
“Yeah, so after they try me with the un-grantables, I get a lot of ‘I wish I was rich’, ‘I wish I was famous’, ‘I wish I had a massive dick’.”
Sansa failed to contain a coughing fit, causing Jon to lean over and gently pat her back. She waved him off “Wow…umm…you get a lot of that?”
“Yeah….I dunno…it seems important to human men” Jon shrugs “..at least important enough to waste a wish on.”
“You consider that a waste?” Sansa asked, swiping the spoon back from her genie and hiding her curious expression by pretending to be far too interested in the remaining ice cream in the tub.
“Well I wouldn’t really know as I’ve never-”
“You’re a virgin?! You’re….what was it?….2500 years old and you’re a virgin?!”
“2431 years old actually” Jon corrects with a roll of his eyes “and it would be pretty hard for me to….you know…since I don’t even have a-”
Jon trails off, waving his hand in the general direction of his crotch. Sansa’s mouth falls open. “You don’t have a-….Why not? What do you have?” she asks, staring at the juncture of his legs.
“I’m a genie Sansa, not a human…there’s just nothing there.”
“Like a Ken doll?!”
Jon laughs and scrubs at the back of his neck. “yeah…like a Ken doll.”
“How do genies… procreate?”
“We don’t” he shrugs “We were made with magic, back when it was stronger in the world….there were about 10 of us in all and we’ve just….existed….a lot of our time is spent between Masters…there’s less of us now of course….I heard Theon’s lamp got buried in an as yet undiscovered Egyptian tomb…so I guess he’s just waiting for some archaeologist to unearth him….then I heard Val got lucky and managed to get her final Master to wish her to become human.”
“Is that what you want? To be human?”
“I’d just like to be free” Jon shrugged, swiping back the ice cream and spoon.
Sansa studied him before making up her mind. “I’ll wish you were human…if that’s what you want?”
Jon’s breathing slowed and his hand holding the spoon stilled. His heart raced as he slowly brought his eyes to meet Sansa’s. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ll do it” She takes a deep inhaling breath, looking like she is about to declare the words - her wish that is also his.
“Wait! What about your other two wishes? Once I’m human, I won’t be able to grant you anything.”
“You can’t give me what I really want anyway” Sansa says, in a small voice, staring unseeing at a fixed point over Jon’s shoulder.
“And what’s that?” he asks gently.
“To love someone, and have them love me back. Truly, unconditionally…..you can’t grant me that.”
There’s a story or two behind the sadness in her eyes - this much Jon knows. Maybe she’ll tell him those stories, maybe she won’t, but she is wrong about one thing. “I could.” Jon declares softly. “I think I’m already half in love with you already…” he explains after seeing the confused look on her face.
Sansa scans his features for any falsity or mocking, her own expression softening slightly when she finds none.
“But you’ve only known me for two weeks.”
“Yes - because that extra week makes all the difference” Sansa responds sarcastically. Jon rolls his eyes and huffs before taking the spoon and ice cream from her and setting it down on the kitchen island so that he is able to scoop up her hands in his.
“There is other magic in this world besides genie magic Sansa….I’d like to share it with you…if you want me to?”
“I…” she stutters, taking a gulp and watching the way Jon’s thumbs sweep softly across her knuckles “I think I’d like that.”
Bringing her hands up to his lips, Jon places a gentle kiss on her skin and gives her an encouraging smile. “Your other two wishes then?…what will it be my love?”
Sansa’s eyes start to scan her kitchen, as if it might hold some helpful clues. She frowns when she spies the tub of mint choc-chip. “More ice cream”.
Sansa nods enthusiastically.
“Alright” Jon shrugs. He snaps his fingers and three extra tubs of ice cream appear on the island counter. Sansa grabs her spoon and tears open one of the new tubs, closing her eyes and letting out a little groan of relish as the spoon slips out of her lips. Jon watches her intently, making her blush a little.
“Will…umm….once you’re human….you’ll have….all the human parts?”
“Err….yes…I guess I will.” Jon says, his own cheeks turning a bit pink in turn.
“Ok” Sansa says, licking her spoon clean and placing it down on the counter-top “for my second wish…..I wish for…condoms.” Jon’s eyes widen. He gulps and clicks his fingers. His eyes never leave her as there’s suddenly a literal shower of shiny square packets. They instantly drop everywhere - piled on the counter-tops, all over the floor and even in the sink. There must be hundreds. Sansa lets out a bark of laughter. “Plan on being busy do we?”
“Better safe than sorry.” he grins.
Sansa picks out a foil packet that has somehow managed to wind up in her hair, she raises her brows as she’s scrutinising the writing on it. “XXL huh?”
“Apparently size is important.”
Sansa giggles prettily, her eyes dance and sparkle and Jon thinks that he may not be half in love with her after all….perhaps he’s fallen completely, never to return. He barely knows what he’s doing until it’s done - he’s taken her face in his hands and is kissing her rosy lips. He’s sloppy and unpractised but after her initial swallowed gasp and shock, Sansa guides him to a slower pace.
Pulling away, he stares at her, his breaths ragged and his lips slightly swollen. He slides his hands from either side of her face down to her slender neck, fingers speared through her hair at the base of it and his thumbs brushing gently against her cheekbones.
“It…err…when you want to…use..one of those…it will be my first time….you might need to go easy on me” Jon says with a self-deprecating, nervous laugh. Sansa wraps her hands around his wrists, stroking the skin she finds there.
“As long as you go easy on me with your massive magical monster cock.”
As their combined laughter fades, Jon swears he feels the air in the room shift. Sansa gives his wrists a squeeze and offers him a soft smile with twinkling eyes.
this is in honor of my url bc honestly i love to think about this
Everyone thinks Enjolras drinks straight up black coffee because how else does the guy manage to stay awake all the time, but he has the most ridiculously complicated Starbucks order of all time. It’s like 3 sentences long and he says it like he’s giving a speech or something, down to the type of milk they should use. He’s picky as hell and just wants his sweet and complex caffeinated desert in a cup u feel
Grantaire, on the other hand, drinks straight up black coffee. But it’s good coffee. When he can afford it.
Courfeyrac is almost as bad as Enjolras with the complexity, but he always wants to try something new. On bad days, though, he has his favorite for comfort, and it’s simple enough: hazelnut.
Combeferre likes a little flavor in his, like caramal or mochas, but he’s not into flavoring coffee the way those two are.
Feuilly’s not really one for sweet drinks, but he can’t stand it black so he adds a dash of milk. Bonus: he likes watching the swirls.
Joly like his with enough sugar to poison a small child. When people ask him how he can drink that, especially being as into health as he is, he points out that sugar comes from a plant so how bad can it be, no combeferre i am not interested in logic right now.
Bossuet only drinks iced coffee since he’s burned his tongue one too many times. He likes pretty much any flavor. He’s not picky.
Musichetta drinks it black. She is into coffee and likes its natural taste.
Bahorel is mocha guy. He’ll take it hot or iced and his choice for that day will in no way correspond with the weather. He’ll have a steaming cup of chocolatey-coffee goodness in the middle of August, because I just needed a pick-me-up leave me alone
Marius always wants to try some of the cool, complicated kinds, but gets too nervous to order them because he doesn’t actually know what half these words mean and why they’re important. He lives for pumpkin spice, though.
Eponine drinks her coffee black too, because she wants to intimidate people by appearing strong. She’s not bothered by the bitterness and also loves the caffeine kick.
Cosette and Jehan are unsurprisingly tea people. They swap sample bags and go out to try new types all the time. Jehan loves fruity teas and also knows exactly how long and at what temperature each tea needs to brew for; Cosette likes herbal ones more and has the nicest collection of teapots.