This is the first of three Christmas-themed fics based on prompts I received. The second prompt shown here is only very loosely covered - I was going to do a separate fic but ran out of time. The second story will be posted tomorrow (Christmas Day) and the final one the day after. They are both Wintershock (Darcy/Bucky). Merry Christmas everyone, and enjoy whatever you do/don't celebrate at this time of year.

Beta reading by trixietropical and linesthatenlace . Thanks ladies!

Prompt One: Tasertricks - Fluffy, grumpy Loki in a Christmas jumper and antlers. Because Darcy said so.

Prompt Two: Fluffy prompt. Naughty times, Mistletoe.

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"I can assure you that I most certainly-"

"Say cheese!" Darcy interrupted, before Loki got into a full-blown rant.

She squinted at the photo she'd just taken of the grumpy-faced Asgardian, whose expression had been in the process of morphing into confusion at her command. Somehow, despite the Christmas sweater and headgear, he still managed to look vaguely regal.

"What in the nine realms does cheese have to do with any of this?"

"It's a thing people say." She was uploading the photo to Instagram as he grumbled. "Come on, keep going. The whole point of having a tall person around the place is so they can help hang the Christmas decorations."

"Really? I thought I was here to supply you with sparkling conversation and orgasms."

"You've yet to provide a sparkling orgasm, but if you hang that tinsel over the bed it might be a good place to start."

"As my mistress commands." He gave a mock-bow and disappeared into the bedroom, while she watched the likes stack up on her photo. Not bad, though not as popular as the one she'd posted of him drooling in his sleep.

Man, she hoped Loki never discovered Instagram.

She surveyed their handiwork so far. Admittedly, she went overboard at this time of year, but winter in New York was cold, dark and brutally long. She liked the glitter of festive decorations and they helped her make it through to spring. That was why she'd cleared Target and the Disney Store out of most of their early stock.

Besides, Loki didn't really understand the traditions. It meant it was really easy to feed him any old bullshit. "But Loki, you have to wear the glittery antlers! They honour our fallen ancestors!" and "Men are supposed to buy their loved one a gift for each of the twelve days of Christmas, just like the song, but with more Cartier." That was also how she'd persuaded him that he was going to have to work his way through the stack of ugly sweaters she'd purchased.

She hadn't told him about the Jack-Skellington-as-Santa costume she was making him wear to the Avengers Christmas party yet.

"The tinsel is hung," he announced, striding back into the living room. "Much like myself," he added with a snicker, and she couldn't fight her answering grin even as she rolled her eyes at him. "If it's sparkling orgasms you're after, I've heard that mistletoe is another fine Midgardian tradition at this time of year."

"Dude, no. There are stories about you and mistletoe that don't end well." He frowned at her, the reference lost on him because he'd refused to read any Norse mythology, since it all cast him as the bad guy. "Besides, you don't need mistletoe to convince me to kiss you."

He smiled widely. "Excellent." It might have a been a sexy smile if Rudolph's nose on his sweater wasn't blinking rapidly. Instead he looked...cute.

Well, damn.

"We should get a picture together," she proposed. "Let me find my antlers."

It took two minutes to retrieve them from their position wedged under the packing boxes, and then she had to wrangle Loki back towards the fireplace. She was lucky that her apartment was old enough to have one, even if she couldn't use it because the grate had been boarded up years ago. Still, it was nice to have somewhere to hang stockings from.

"You have to smile," she instructed as Loki wound his arm around her waist. He'd picked up the habit of duckfacing from Norns-knew-where. He shot her a pained look.

"Are you going to share this image with other people?"

"Sure am."

"In that case, I don't think it's appropriate that I smile."

"What, because it hurts your public image? Think of all the people who are going to see you looking happy and it will completely grind their gears."

He didn't look convinced.

"Alright then. We can get a copy printed for Hel to pass on to your mom. Wouldn't she want to see you like this?" She knew she had him there; he covered up his quick flash of longing with a grumpy frown and nodded.

"This needs more atmosphere." He gently tugged her away from the fireplace, and with a few quick movements of his hands, got an actual fire going.

"Woah. See, this is way better than your sparkling conversation-"

"But not the orgasms?"

"-except my landlord is going to kill me."

"It is merely an illusion. The fire doesn't produce any smoke or heat."

"Oh. Cool!" She'd thank him properly later. She snuggled back into his side, handing him the phone for him to take the photo. His longer arms were another benefit he brought to the relationship. "Get ready to smile."

And mercifully he did, at least on the first photo. For the second, he surprised her by kissing the tip of her nose, and for the third, her mouth. "You said I didn't need mistletoe."

"I did." She stretched onto tiptoes and returned the kiss. She took the phone back and scrolled through the photos, squealing when she saw the first one. He was smiling, but he wasn't looking at the camera. He was looking down at her, like a living embodiment of the heart eyes emoji. "Okay, no one else gets to see this photo but your mother. It's too cute and worlds will burn."

He frowned again, but she could tell it was to avoid grinning at her reaction. Instead, he dipped down to scoop her up. "I believe I owe you a sparkling orgasm."

She shook her head and nuzzled into his neck. "Later. Let's just stay and enjoy the fire for a while. Snuggle up with eggnog. I might even let you take the sweater off."

He dropped to his knees, onto the fluffy throw which hadn't been there before, and when she was cosey, handed her a goblet which smelled distinctly nutmeggy. He held out one of his own to clink with hers. "Merry Christmas, Darcy Lewis."

"Merry Christmas, love of my life."

"Lord of your loins?"

"And pain in my ass."