look at me starting christmas threads


Originally posted by futuroexnoivo

Request: Hi! I wanted to request a Christmas prompt? Can you do a smutty Derek using numbers 17 15 and 13? Thank you so much!! I love you’re work btw!! 

#13: “Hmm, is that a mistletoe I see?”

#15: “Yeah, I know there’s a fire, but I heard that snuggling together can help preserve body heat…”

#17: “Baby, all I want for Christmas is you.” 

Author’s Note: This is much more of a drabble than anything else for the sake of time, so there isn’t really detailed smut, just implied. I hope you like it, though! Let me know what you think, enjoy :)

Warnings: Language; fluff; implied smut


“Hmmm, is that mistletoe I see?” Derek asked playfully, his large hands enveloping my hips as came up behind me, his chest pressing to my back and his scruff tickling my cheek. 

“It’s fake, but yes,” I chuckled, referring to the small sprig adorning the window above the small sink as I finished rinsing the last couple of dishes off.

“Well, in that case…” I laughed as Derek reached around, finding my lips with his. I slowly turned myself in his arms, not breaking the kiss, and rested my hands on his firm shoulders as he licked at my bottom lip. Our tongues tangled and tasted, a tiny moan from my throat becoming swallowed. My head was swimming, body begging for oxygen that I did not want to give it.

“Mr. Hale,” I breathed, finally needing to break away so we could breathe again. “I do believe that you’re trying to seduce me.”

“You might be on to me, Mrs. Hale,” he replied playfully, nuzzling into my neck while I giggled. “Is it working?”

“Maybe,” I joked. “But I think you may need to step it up a notch.” A devilish grin crossing his face at my challenge, Derek leaned down and scooped me into his arms, earning a squeal. Carrying me through the small cabin, he laid me down on the couch, his body hovering over mine.

“Are you cold at all? I can think of a few ways to warm you up.” I let out an entertained hum at his efforts.

“Der, there’s a roaring fire right there,” I giggled.

“Yeah, I know there’s a fire, but I heard that snuggling together can help preserve body heat…” he said, placing small kisses all over my neck, hands trailing under the hem of my shirt and ever so slowly pushing it up. 

“You know, I was thinking,” I started, still trying to throw him off. Derek hummed in acknowledgement, but didn’t stop his ministrations, instead pulling my shirts off and trailing his lips over the newly exposed skin. “Even though it is our honeymoon, we’re still going to open our Christmas presents tomorrow, right?”

Derek paused to look up at me, slowly crawling back up my body and capturing my lips in a tender kiss. 

“Baby, all I want for Christmas is you.” The mood shifted, Derek reaching up with one hand to thread his fingers through mine, the cool metal of his new ring pressing into my skin.

“You’ve got me, Der,” I whispered, cupping his scruffy cheek with my free hand and looking at him with nothing but love in my eyes. “This Christmas, and every one after.”

Flashing that brilliant smile, he turned into my touch, pressing a kiss to my palm before leaning back down to do the same to my lips.

The Merriest of Christmases and Happiest of New Years to @stuckwith-harry – I hope you enjoy this! :)

“Hi Ginny, have you—oh. Wow,” Hermione stepped backwards, taking in the Christmas decorations that seemed to have exploded all over the living room of Number Five, Grimmauld Place.

Ginny beamed down at her from the top of the stepladder. “Do you like it?” she asked, pinning another paperchain to the ceiling.

“I…it’s…I cannot imagine that this house has ever been so festive,” she answered honestly.

Ginny looked delighted. “I know,” she said. “I thought that we could all do with some cheering up. The place needs a piece of tinsel or two.”

“Or two,” Hermione said faintly, eyeing the sofa—or rather, where the sofa had been. It was now almost entirely hidden underneath piles and piles of the sparkly stuff.

“And I got everyone in the Order to donate some Christmas things, then Tonks did a duplicating charm on it all, and…well, it just looks great, doesn’t it?!”

“It does,” laughed Hermione. “I’m almost afraid to ask but…do you need a hand with anything, or have you got it under control?”

Ginny’s face lit up. “If you wouldn’t mind threading some baubles for me, that’d be great,” she said. “I need to go and put the rest of these paperchains in the kitchen before the meeting starts tonight, so if you could just get those sorted, we can hang them on the tree when I’m done?”

“Of course,” said Hermione. You couldn’t have a tree with no baubles, after all.

“Great!” said Ginny. “They’re just over there. See you in a bit!”

Shaking her head in amusement, Hermione made her way over to the box Ginny had indicated whilst her friend disappeared through the doorway, stepladder over her shoulder. The threading wouldn’t take that long, then she could go and see if Ron and Harry wanted to—

“Oh Merlin.”

There must have been a thousand tiny baubles in the box, none of which were threaded. Surely Ginny couldn’t want all of those to go on the tree? Hermione looked at the size of it, then at the rest of her decorating, which could perhaps most politely be described as “exuberant”. She probably did. And she, Hermione, had agreed to do the job.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She picked up the thread and a pair of scissors, cutting a piece of cotton to the right length and carefully knotted it so the bauble could be hung on the tree. “One down,” she sighed, setting it carefully on the floor beside her. “Three billion to go.”

Ten baubles later, she was starting to go cross-eyed with the fiddliness of the task, and had already tied to baubles together by mistake.

Fifteen more after that, she very much understood those strange minimalist Christmas decorators who put one twig in their house and called it a decoration.

Twenty-two later, she eyed the box of baubles still to thread, realised she’d not made a dent in the amount at all, and cursed Ginny under her breath.

“What are you doing?”

She shrieked and dropped the decoration she was holding, sending it bouncing across the room. “Yours?”

“Sadly, yes,” she replied, looking up at Ron. He loomed over her, sat as she was on the floor, though she was getting a very up-close look at his thighs, which was not at all unwelcome…

He gently dropped the decoration onto her lap, then sat down beside her. “What are you doing?”

“Threading baubles,” said Hermione, as though it were obvious. Because it was.

“Why are you—oh. Oh,” he said in understanding, seeing the boxful. “Oh, Hermione. I am so, so sorry,” he continued, in a tone normally associated with informing someone of a death in the family. “You’ve been Ginnyed, haven’t you?”

“How did you know?” she asked, matching his mournful tone.

“Well, firstly because no one in their right mind would insist upon having so many Christmas decorations, and my sister—” he looked around quickly “—is most definitely not in her right mind.”  

“And I am?”

“Apart from all the times you bang on about the joy of homework, yes,” Ron said.

“You’re going to love your Christmas present then,” Hermione said, slightly worried at the speed at which Ron ‘ha-ha’d in response.

“Anyway,” he added, picking up a bauble and the cotton. He cut a piece to length, then sucked on the end thoughtfully, and Hermione shifted ever so slightly. “Why’d you think me and my brothers have made ourselves so scarce? We’ve learnt from our past mistakes. Ginny and Christmas…well, it’s every man for himself. Or woman,” he added, nodding at her significantly, and she felt her cheeks turn faintly pink. “Just save yourself from being roped into any decorating, and to hell with everyone else! Done,” he finished in satisfaction, placing the decoration on the pile.

“Excellent,” said Hermione. “Only another nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine to go.”

“There’s not really that many, are there?” he asked. She raised an eyebrow, pointing to the box, and Ron sighed hugely. “You’re probably right. As usual,” he said, and she laughed. They chatted as they worked, until the pile of threaded baubles grew large in front of them. “There,” Ron said, as they both added a decoration at the same time. “We must be nearly done now!”

“Erm…” Hermione looked inside the box. It still hardly looked touched—there were hundreds and hundreds of the tiny decorations that needed threading. “Not quite…”

“Oh…” Ron said something that his mother, had she overheard, would nothave approved of. “Bloody Ginny! Why did you agree to do this?!”

“I thought it was just a couple, and it’d take about ten minutes!” Hermione sighed. “I should’ve known. And, you know, it’s so annoying because I knowjust the charm that would do this for us in an instant.”

“Well, do it then,” Ron said at once, setting down the decoration he was threading. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “Seriously. We’ve been at it nearly an hour—” Hermione was surprised at this, and checked her watch. Sure enough, the time had gone by, but she’d been so busy talking with Ron she hadn’t noticed. “At this rate, we’ll be lucky to finish before the New Year. Do the spell!”

“I would,” Hermione said, “but it’s just a little bit illegal. You can maybe make a case for casting a Patronus Charm when you’re underage and in danger. Emergency bauble threading? Probably not.”

“You could say Ginny was threatening you; anyone who’s seen her mad would believe that was a life-threatening situation,” he suggested.

“No,” Hermione laughed.

“Hermione, come on!” he said. “Look, d’you know how they measure underage magic? They can’t—at least, not when there’s loads of other adults around. The Trace isn’t that powerful. Someone like Harry, the only known wizard in an area, performing a spell in full view of muggles? Sure they’ll catch him. But the underage wizards are outnumbered three to one in this house by people who can perform magic; they’ll just think it’s Mum or Bill, or anyone else. The house is Unplottable, so I don’t even know if they’ll be able to find you, either. And, come on, its one tiny charm to thread baubles. I think starting an illegal DADA group under the nose of that cow Umbridge is much more likely to be frowned upon than a bit of magical decorating…”

“Maybe,” Hermione said, “but no.”

“Hermione!” Ron pleaded, making puppy-dog eyes at her that were surprisingly hard to resist. “Come on! It’s Christmas!”

She wavered, and he pounced. “You’ll be doing this all bloody afternoon,” he said. “Think of all the books you could read instead if you just got it done now!”


“And no one’ll be at work at the Ministry by now, so no one will know,” he added. “It’s Christmas Eve, they all bugger off early, even losers like Percy.” She could tell he’d spoken without thinking, because his face fell suddenly, and she had a sudden urge to make him feel better. She couldn’t do anything about Percy, but she could…

“Well, alright,” she said, throwing caution to the wind. It was Christmas, after all, and even she could be reckless sometimes. Ron beamed at her, and she tried not to blush. She hesitated a second longer, then cast the charm to thread all the baubles.

It was pretty anti-climactic, really: nothing at all happened, except the decorations were done. No teams of Ministry employees came rushing down the chimney to arrest her, and she didn’t even feel different afterwards, except for a faint satisfaction about a job well done.

“Excellent,” Ron said, getting back to his feet. “C’mon, I’m hungry. I think Mum’s got some sandwiches lying around somewhere…” He offered her a hand, and pulled her upwards, making her stomach lurch in a not-at-all unpleasant way. “Or maybe a mince pie, I fancy a mince pie.”

“Ooh, yes,” said Hermione. “Tis the season, after all.”

“Are you done already?” Both Ron and Hermione slowed to a halt, as Ginny looked up from decorating the stairs, seeming disappointed.

“Yes, all finished!” Hermione said cheerfully.

“I thought it would take you hours!” Ginny said. “How did you get it done so fast?”

The two of them exchanged glances, and Hermione giggled. “We’re just really good, that’s all,” Ron said. “Well. She is.”

“Anyway, we’re off for a mince pie,” said Hermione, turning faintly pink. “Coming to join us?”

“In a moment,” Ginny said vaguely. “You go on ahead. Mum’s left some in the kitchen.” She watched them leave, giving them plenty of time to get there before her.

It appeared that stage one of the plan: give Ron and Hermione plenty of time to bond over Christmas decorating had worked. And she’d already hung the mistletoe in the kitchen. If she stayed away, maybe stage two would come to fruition, too…


James was panting as he looked at his lover, “God…I think I might start celebrating Christmas again if you do that again”

Cris grinned, resting halfway on James’ chest, smiling down at him.  “Considering this is your first Christmas with me, I will let that comment pass.  I tend to go all out for the holidays, so get ready.”