In which Irish myths and legends turn out to be just as true as the Norse ones. Meaning Loki's not the only one with legendary powers. Even if the girl doesn't know it yet.

Warning: PLEASE pay attention to the tags and trigger warnings! I've received nasty comments from readers who saw them, read the story anyway and then chose to be offended. If these themes offend you, I'm sure you'll find other stories that don't. This is rated M for a reason. Thank you, and if you're still reading, enjoy the story.

#dubcon #bdsm #dom/sub #spanking #norsemythology #irishmythology #losingvirginity #armorkink #hairkink #suitkink #daddykink #delayedorgasms

Chapter Management

Summary:

In which we meet the unfortunate Fiona, run to ground by a fistful of Avengers dead set on bringing her into the fold. Whether she wants to, or not.

Chapter Text

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

Not the most auspicious beginning to any relationship, but this wasn't one Fiona was looking for, and she tended to be a very bad loser. And being surrounded by a group of preening "superheroes" was really testing her limits.

'Superheroes. Really? How cheesy could this be?' she thought bitterly, looking them over and considering her escape options.

Mr. Clean Cut- what was his name? Fiona tried to remember, oh, yes... Captain America looked deeply offended, his blue eyes wide. "There's no reason to use profanity, miss. We're here to help."

Unfortunately, this sent the girl off into a helpless round of giggles, even while she was planning to explode his All-American brain later. He couldn't know that any time a sentence was started with "We're here to help," Fiona was quite clear that life was about to get really, really shitty.

The darker-haired bulk of a man standing next to Mr. Clean Cut started idling along to her left, casually, not making any sudden moves but quite clearly intending to flank her. His pale gray-blue eyes had the same wariness Fiona knew could be seen in hers. The almost-feral could always recognize each other. So, she started edging to her right, beginning to hum soothingly. She could see the tension ease from the dark one's shoulders, and even Captain Arsehole and the mean-looking redhead seemed to be relaxing their rigid stance.

"I gotta be honest, Captain. Traditionally, offers of help tend the mean the opposite in my neighborhood," Fiona lowered the pitch of her voice, deeper, softer, more vulnerable-sounding.

The big blond put up his hands in a placating fashion. "I understand, Miss McLoughlin. But our offer is sincere. You've got certain... uh... skills that could help so many people."

Still humming, Fiona started swaying slightly, grinning inwardly as the three "Defenders of the Universe" or whatever the hell they called themselves began weaving subconsciously, following her movement. "Aye, aye, Captain. But my 'skills' as you say already help people. People I like. People who deserve it. You know, the poor ones that don't matter." Her humming changed to a gentle version of "Lullaby," enjoying the effort they were making to keep their lids from drooping.

Natasha gave it her valiant best. "I know what it's like to be on the other side of... uh..." The redhead's eyes closed gently before she jerked herself upright again. "But Cap's telling the truth. This is your chance to be valuable, to stop being used by every scumbag who's discovered what you can do. So... give us a day... let us..."

Fiona felt mildly regretful. She couldn't help but feel she would have liked this woman, plus, the Russian could rock a black catsuit like nobody's business. The ass on her! But since the girl was disinclined to give herself over to a new set of Lords and Masters who would yet again attempt to exploit her, drain her dry and throw her away, this wouldn't be happening. If these lycra-clad idiots would just have the common courtesy to go to sleep, she would absent herself from the situation and no one would get hurt. Besides, she was almost home free. Captain Handsome and way hot Lycra Lady were sleeping now as they sank gracefully to sprawl on the roof.

But of course, it would have to be that cranky lunatic with the metal arm. The Soldier raised his gleaming limb suddenly, cracking himself on the forehead with it as if to clear the mind-numbing sleepiness trying to unplug his screaming instincts from his ganglia. "You need to shut up now. We know what you're doing, and we will take you in. Don't make me hurt you."

His flat, toneless voice and cold eyes sent a furious jolt up Fiona's spine. Head tilted, she began a new tune.

"All our times have come
Here but now they're gone
Seasons don't fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain, we can be like they are...

Don't fear the reaper, baby take my hand don't fear the reaper.

We'll be able to fly..."

Her voice was heaven. It was poison. It was perfection and no one could resist it, not even the brain-scarred survivor of decades of Hydra-based torment. The Soldier was following her now, eyes glazed with a strange kind of yearning as Fiona edged towards the lip of the rooftop. Not as final as a gun, and this beefy specimen looked pretty durable. Ten stories shouldn't be that debilitating, and then she'd just nip off before anyone woke up, and-

"Do you both intend to indulge in a luxurious slumber as this creature lures the Soldier off the roof of the building?"

Fiona angrily angled towards the new voice, a cold, crisp one coming from the darkness on the far edge of the roof where they'd cornered her in the first place. It was a hell of a chase and she wasn't anywhere as used to running as these unnaturally fit specimens were. But she'd picked her spot. There were ways off this roof that didn't involve getting dashed bloody on the pavement. But now the shadow was moving, and it revealed an unnaturally tall creature. Flowing black hair and a pale face with glittering jade eyes.

"Cernunnos?" she blurted, staring in shock. This was no man. Not a superhero or whatever ridiculous designation with which these people anointed themselves. This was a God. And not a friendly one.

The huge creature circled her casually, ignoring the swaying bulk of the Soldier, so very near the edge of the building.

"Cernunnos... Ah. The Celtic God of the underworld, deceit, fertility." To Fiona's alarm, he leaned closer, his eyes blazing in that white face as he smiled unpleasantly. "You are quite close, caoineag. But I am no pitiful deity of this insignificant rock. I am Loki of Asgard."

With a blur of movement, his long arms had the girl immobilized, too shocked to even kick and fight against him, even forgetting the razor sharp knife she kept stashed in her boot. "And now, kjæledyr, it is your turn to rest." Holding her easily as Fiona stiffened, trying to kick against him, Loki trailed one long finger down the bridge of her nose, rendering the girl unconscious in seconds.

kjæledyr - Norwegian for "pet"

caoineag - a Celtic female spirit, a Banshee