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caffiend-queen · 1 month

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I agree so much about the Avengers in the simpler times when they were friends, all these broken souls that found a way to connect with each other... sigh. Thank you, my beloved Amber!

Do NOT Say 'Always After My Lucky Charms,' Or I Will Stab You

Welcome to another addition to the Holidays in Hel series! Where Loki and Mina attempt to save the Avengers from yet another catastrophic holiday fuckup.

I've been cleaning up and adding bits to my Holidays in Hel series because really, it's my favorite. I hope you enjoy, and thank you as always for reading!

Chapter One: An Unmitigated Disaster Awaits

In which Loki and Mina once again find themselves in the middle of a colossal Avengers holiday fuckup. And who knew the Fey Folk were such assholes?

If there was blame to be assigned for the night that destroyed any charm and mystery left in St. Patrick’s Day, it should really go to The Paddy O’Hoolihan’s, an Irish folk band with a painfully cheesy name. But their music- it was frenzied and delightful, which was why Mina, Wanda, Jane, Pepper, Darcy, and even Natasha were swirling madly in some sort of a jig between each other like a flutter of butterflies, colorful spring dresses flaring out in a pleasing way that exposed a toned thigh or two. They were so fascinating to watch that the rest of the Avengers agreed right then that a Night Out On The Town would be necessary in the hopes of seeing more of this.

“A flutter of butterflies?” Tony blustered. “That can’t be right.”

Loki was seated elegantly on a comfortable chair in the middle of Central Park while most of the other male Avengers were seated in the grass, soaking the seat of their jeans. “A flutter,” he confirmed, watching closely as Mina sent him a saucy little wink. “Known also as a kaleidoscope or a swarm.”

“Swarm isn’t the right word,” mused Steve, still brushing at the green streaks on his pressed chinos. “That sounds like bugs. The girls are definitely butterflies.”

“Butterflies are bugs,” grunted Bucky, eyes closed and soaking in the weak spring sunlight.

“You romantic bastard,” chortled Sam, who was watching Thor capering with the women and getting the dance steps wrong. “I’m gonna go save those ladies from his bigass feet.”

“That slick son of a bitch,” Tony observed morosely, watching Sam gracefully sweep Pepper under one arm and Natasha with the other.

It was a rare day, a blissful day where nothing was exploding, no one was invading anyone else’s borders, no one was getting kidnapped, and even HYDRA appeared to be taking a long afternoon nap. The Avengers were all lazing in Central Park on an almost unnaturally warm day for March 17th and enjoying a holiday where they were, for once, not urgently needed. Anywhere.

“To St. Patrick’s Day!” toasted Bucky, raising his bottle of Guinness to clink with Steve’s. “So what’s the plan for tonight?”

Tony pulled another bottle from the specialty vibranium cooler that floated next to him, its propulsion jets hissing softly. “Watch the parade from Stark Tower, say a prayer at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and hit The Dead Rabbit Grocery & Grog. The Dropkick Murphy’s are headlining.”

Loki sniffed, still watching keenly as Mina took the hands of an elderly gentleman so wizened and stooped that he could legally be classified as a leprechaun. “My lady and I will be spending the evening safely at the Tower. I do not understand this keen desire for holiday-based mayhem and disaster, but I assure you we shall not participate.”

“Brother!” Thor’s voice was unfortunately right next to Loki’s ear, and God or no, the roar from the oaf seared through his ear canal and scrambled his ganglia. “You must bring the Lady Mina, she will be terribly disappointed! Darcy has been telling her of the majesty of the Celtic celebrations here. She must pay homage to her ancestors.”

Loki frowned. Mina had Irish blood? He would rather crush his own skull with Thor’s hammer than admit that his brother knew something about his Mina that he did not, so he settled for a haughty sniff. “Why must I be the sole sentinel during every holiday on this benighted excuse for a realm to remind you all that it will always, always invariably result in death and destruction? That there will be some unnatural force that will target the Avengers and endanger all those we love? Why must I be the-”

“Hey, did you hear that?” Tony interrupted happily, “Loki looooves Mina!”

And then the tiresome chorus rose from this pack of imbeciles. Loki rolled his eyes, wondering if he sent a hailstorm of toads down upon this crowd if it would immediately be traced back to him. But then his Mina returned and sat down in his lap. Kissing him on the tip of his aquiline nose, she sighed, “And Mina loves Loki, so all of you hush.”

“Darling, are you indeed of Irish descent?”

Mina looked up from the 3D chemical strain she was modeling for one of Jane’s experiments. “Yes, and Scottish. How did this come up?”

Loki sniffed haughtily. “My oaf of a brother attempted to claim that I must indulge you in a night of drunken excess with the rest of the team as some sort of homage to your heritage. Is this night one that must be dedicated to your ancestors? Is it a sacred rite?”

Giving a very unladylike snort, Mina said, “Nothing sacred about gulping down too much green beer and singing Irish folk songs. But…” Loki groaned internally. His sweet girl had a look of longing as she continued. “But it’s always such a fun night! I get to dance and sing, and the saying is that ‘On St. Patrick’s Day, everyone is Irish.’” She smiled up at him sweetly. “Even you, Loki.”

Lip curled, he snarled, “Do not assign me a heritage from this insignificant rock!” Traditionally, this sort of elegant sneer would quail Mina, but this time, she gave him a sneer of her own.

“Oh, you do not disrespect my people, Loki!” She quailed slightly before seeing his curled lip stretch into a smile.

“My, my. Look at my fierce little banshee! I would not think of it.” Mina gave him the sort of shameless, hopeful grin that crumbled the God of Lies and Mischief’s will more often than he’d care to admit.

Sliding her hands over his broad shoulders, admiring the hard muscle beneath, she asked, “Does that mean you might be willing to join the group tonight at the Dead Rabbit?”

His elegant head pulled back from hers, “What a truly bizarre name. Does the proprietor wish to drive people away from his tavern?”

Mina cackled a bit. “We Irish are tough. We like it rough and difficult.” She instantly realized her mistake as Loki’s pupils flared.

“Really…” he purred, his deep tone more like a rumble against her spine. “You like it, ‘rough,’ do you, darling?”

It was a desperate scramble to get away from her God’s ruthless grasp, but Mina found herself pulling on her old plaid kilt and cream Irish fisherman’s sweater after a promise to show Loki later the bit of “rough” that a good girl from the Emerald Isle could handle. “My lovely Mina,” he approved, stepping behind her in the dressing room mirror to straighten his cuffs. She’d just pulled on some warm black tights and her knee-high riding boots. “You have a very delectable ‘upper-crust schoolgirl’ sort of look here. I find myself quite interested in knowing what good Irish schoolgirls wear under their kilts.”

“Well, I imagine a big, strong man like you can find out for yourself,” Mina answered primly, then leaped over the bench with a yelp when Loki made a sudden move at her. Chuckling, he straightened his tie and strolled sedately after her.

It was, of course, vile. Loki sighed in a long-suffering way as he surveyed the crowded bar, one hand securely on Mina’s back. “The sun barely set and here are your countrymen, already intoxicated,” he said, leaning in close so she could hear him over the drunken chorus of “Whiskey You’re the Devil.”

“Oh, look!” Mina shouted back, “There they are! In the Snug.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki raised a brow.

“The Snug,” Mina was the one carving a path through the partygoers, heading for their friends. “There’s one in every proper Irish bar. It’s the room right off of the bar where the ladies used to go to have a pint or a sherry and not have to worry about being considered loose. Now the bars just rent them out as a VIP space.”

In his usual fashion, Tony had not only bought out the Snug, which had an excellent view of the rest of the pub, but he also had the management re-create the magnificent, shining walnut bar that ran nearly the length of the main room into a private version for the Avengers. When they drew closer, they found Thor in a handstand with one end of a tube in his mouth and the other in a cask of aged whiskey.

Sam, Clint, Darcy, and the usually shy Bucky were circling the spectacle, shouting “Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!” Thor finished the cask and flipped upright with a flourish, raising his huge arms and roaring in triumph.

“What are you wearing?” Loki frowned, all the men were sporting hideous green plaid patterned neckties, and the more drunken amongst them - namely Clint and Tony - had little green bowler hats perched atop their messy hair.

“It was Tony’s idea, where’s your tie?” asked Bruce, who looked distinctly put out that he’d been forced to wear this itchy novelty neckwear while Loki looked as smooth and perfectly put together as always in an onyx Tom Ford suit.

Loki sniffed, “Ideally, at the bottom of the Hudson River.”

Tony stumbled up behind Loki and Mina, sunglasses askew as he looped an arm around each of them. “Your brother knows how to party, Severus Snape! Let’s tap another cask for you!”

“It is a crime to treat a good whiskey so,” admonished Loki, “and Thor must consume twenty or so of those casks for him to find something even approaching intoxication.” Nonetheless, he found himself relaxing and even amused as his Mina dragged Natasha up on to the bar for a round of Irish Ceili dancing, the Russian gracefully moving along as if she’d performed Irish jigs all her life.

“Man, is there anything Natasha can’t do perfectly?” groused Darcy, watching the footwork until it made her dizzy.

Bucky put his arm around her. “She can’t make that cute little noise you make when I…” She dissolved into a round of giggles and Loki rolled his eyes, looking around the pub. There was a thicket of drunk college students, singing along off-key with the Dropkick Murphys, who’d moved on to “Rose Tattoo.” The main bar was claimed by the regulars, who held court and toasted something new at least every sixty seconds, based on the cheers and clinking of glasses. Small islands of tourists floated through the crowd, gripping a beer mug in one hand and a souvenir Dead Rabbit t-shirt in the other. Irish flags were draped in every corner and the light glowed off the massive selection of alcohol behind the bar, bathing everything in a pleasingly golden glow. And… Loki raised one elegant brow. There was a small group of… small people?

“Little people,” Steve said, leaning in. “The correct phrase is little people.”

“Descendants of a visit long past from a group of lustful and irresponsible Nidavellir,” mused Loki, “the dwarves always eager to spread their seed.”

Steve looked alarmed, “I don’t think you want to be floating that theory, Loki. Especially not here, and not tonight.”

Before the God of Mischief could further discuss Nidavellir sex tourism, he heard a loud “Hellooo, Monty!” from his sweet girl, still tip-tapping away atop the bar.

One of the men broke away from the group and waved eagerly. “Éire go Brách, Mina!”

Leaping rather gracefully from the bar, she took his small hand, greeting him warmly. “Éire go Brách, Monty! I’m so glad you came.”

The gentlemen had a face like a withered crabapple, all wrinkles and slightly sunken, but when he glanced at Loki, there was a spark of… something in his eye. One trickster always knew another, and he recognized the elderly gentleman she’d favored with a dance that afternoon at the park. “Well, when you promised me another dance, my dear, how could I not?” Monty turned to Loki and bent his head in a courtly gesture, “If your date for the evening has no objection, of course.”

Oddly, Loki did have an objection. The gleam in the small man’s eye was growing brighter, and his own emerald ones narrowed. “And what brings you to New York, Monty? Your accent has all the slurs and ellipses of a Dubliner, born and bred.”

Mina’s new friend threw back his head and laughed grandly, “Ach, you’ve caught me. I am, indeed. But I find that here in America, the Irish celebrate this day with greater enthusiasm.”

Just then the Dropkick Murphys launched into “The Boys are Back” and Mina squealed. “Monty! This is my song, let’s go!” And with a final smirk at Loki, her diminutive beau allowed her to pull him into the crowd.

He stared after them disapprovingly. The Dead Rabbit was even louder - if possible - than it had been when they arrived and the discordant screech of electric guitar and the accompaniment of the Uilleann pipes rose over the crowd.

The boys are back

And they're looking for trouble

Standing on the highway, ???

I'm missing my home, and it's killing me

Down the ramp past the jail, I'm feeling alright

Bought roses for my ladies from a corner delight

It's time to get ready for that song and dance

Let's go my friends, it's time to take a chance

We're back in town, we're gonna get it done

We got nowhere to hide, we got nowhere to run

It's been a long time coming,

The boys are back

And they're looking for trouble

And in the blink of an eye, Mina and her questionable dance partner were swallowed up into the crowd. “Did he not seem unnatural to you?” Loki asked Tony, who was leaning heavily on his shoulder and wrinkling the perfect cut of his jacket.

Tony stumbled back, “Woah, Lokes, prejudiced much? What’s next, snide comments about the little people always being after your Lucky Charms?” He said the last in a deplorably bad Irish accent, and Loki’s brow furrowed. Tony (partially sober) was just barely endurable. Completely intoxicated Tony was a punishment that could make the strongest Asgardian choose Odin’s dungeons over Stark Tower.

Bucky gently elbowed Tony into a seat, where his head tipped back and a gentle snore rose from his slack mouth. “Ignore him, Loki. What’s the problem?”

“Most pressing,” he said, “is that my dear Mina seems to have disappeared into this drunken throng with a most untrustworthy creature.”

“Takes one to know one,” Bucky agreed, but he refused to take offense, still searching the crowd. Looking around, he frowned. “And where’s Darcy and Jane? And Pepper? And Natasha?” By now the others were closing in. Thor shouldered his way into the knot of drunken, flailing New Yorkers and Clint hopped up on the table.

Pale hands shooting out, Loki sent a silver stream of energy that coiled and ripped around the pub, curling and snaking along, but there was no sign of the women. “By the NORNIR!” he shouted. “Why? Why must it always be the holidays? You Avengers are a curse, I swear it!”

“Huh?” Tony woke up, standing and rubbing his face. “What?”

Loki turned on him. “You will never heed my warning, will you? All our women- they are gone. Gone!”

“Aw, damn,” sighed Steve, "AGAIN?"

Chapter Two is up tomorrow. You know, the one with all the smut.

I'm starting over with a vague memory of who might like my Loki and Avengers tales. If you would like on or off this list, please let me know! Thank you. Mwah!

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#Holidays in Hel #another Avengers fuckup #Loki smut

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caffiend-queen · 1 month

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THIS: "GET IT! IT WAS FERAL AND I WAS CHEERING FOR IT." I love you so much I swear to god. Thank you, my beloved!!

Can't you seriously [picture the Fey as totally fratboy douchebags? They just have that vibe to me.

Do NOT Say 'Always After My Lucky Charms,' Or I Will Stab You

Welcome to another addition to the Holidays in Hel series! Where Loki and Mina attempt to save the Avengers from yet another catastrophic holiday fuckup.

I've been cleaning up and adding bits to my Holidays in Hel series because really, it's my favorite. I hope you enjoy, and thank you as always for reading!

Chapter Two: "Why Do I Always Smell Like Something Dead That Washed Up On The Beach?"

In which Mina discovers that the Fair Folk are not only not Fair, they're kind of assholes, and it's looking like another holiday shot straight to Hel.

Mina...

“Wh- where the hell am I?”

You were in the middle of a miraculous forest clearing with brightly colored birds swooping gracefully and gnarled tree trunks that looked ready to come alive and scold you. The sky was a vaguely eerie lavender and a single, wistful pipe was sending out a delicate tune on the wind. You could just see the sparkling sapphire and golden tints of a wide river meandering through the woods. Anxiously checking, you heaved a sigh of relief to see you were still in your sweater and tartan kilt. And, you were resting on a bed … uh … couch… “Is this like a throne?” you mumbled, “Because there’s that one spiky part that looks like it’s got a crown carved into it, but there’s blankets and… why does this shit happen to me?” The couch/bed/throne whatever you were sitting on was remarkably comfortable and rose grandly above the clearing. “So was I roofied? Loki’s the one who bought the drinks, so… Poofed? Is there someone aside from Loki who can poof people in and out of bars? Ugh. I’m beginning to feel like John McClane in Die Hard, why is it always us?”

One of the tiny, jeweled butterflies ventured closer to you and made an inquiring sort of sound. Admiring its iridescent patterns, you crooned, “Hello, you little sweetie. Don’t suppose you could show me where the exit is, huh?” The glittering creature landed lightly on your upturned hand, and two eyes popped open above the concealing swirls on its thorax. You jumped a little, “Oh! Hey, look at you! I don’t suppose you talk?” There was another delightful, high trill from the butterfly, and then a shocking amount of pain as it chomped down on the sensitive webbing between your thumb and forefinger.

“OW! You little shit!” You shook your hand furiously but the butterfly had surprisingly sharp teeth and stubbornly hung on until you smacked it sharply on the head with your index finger. “Bad! Bad butterfly!” With a spiteful chitter, the creature fluttered away.

“Babe! You’re up!” Two arms wrapped around you like a particularly stubborn strain of ivy, a hand heading straight for your breasts.

And suddenly you were fighting off the long-limbed advances of a very handsome man.

An extremely gorgeous man with pointed ears.

“Hands off, pal! Who the Hel are you?”

He chuckled indulgently, leering at you - shit, were his eyes silver? - and took a swig of something out of the golden cup with one hand while gripping you around the waist with the other. You managed to eel free from his grip - mainly because you knew his attention was on his cocktail. Stumbling back, you took a wild look around before focusing again on him.

He was beautiful. Beautiful in the perfect, unearthly way that Loki was. Likely as tall and perfectly muscled with long, flowing golden hair and pointed ears.

Pointed. Fucking. Ears.

“Aw, damn it. You’re one of the Fae, aren’t you?” Loki had warned you about those guys.

The elf smiled again, full red lips and so alluring as his lids dropped to half-mast, looking you over thoroughly. "You are so hot. Babe, we are gonna PARTY," he paused, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “and then I'm gonna find your pot o' gold.“ He chortled loudly and for a minute, he reminded you of your ex-boyfriend Ted, president of his fraternity and notorious for the high alcohol poisoning rate on campus.

“I beg your pardon?” you gasped, “Look, I don’t care who you are- just send me back, and- wait, where’s Monty? You didn’t hurt the poor guy, did you?”

He began laughing magnificently, really, no other word would do, his head thrown back and mouth open to show his sharp, white teeth. “I am that shriveled-up old dude. I’m Monty with just a touch of glamour to make me ordinary. Now look at the real me! What a step up in your love life, huh?”

You glanced over your shoulder - was there an exit around here? A portal? A Greyhound bus? “This cannot be happening,” you groaned. “Yeah, uh… your name’s not really Monty, what is it?”

Taking another gulp of mead, or whatever the Hel the Fae drank these days, and giving an extremely rude belch, your supermodel fairy kidnapper offered, "Aengus. Prince of the Tuatha Dé Danan." He winked at you over the goblet he was drinking from, "And your fairy for Youth, Love, and Summer. I know you're honored, 'cause you are my chosen lady-babe."

“Angus?” you attempted.

“No, babe. Just- it’s Ah-hen-gess.” He put his long fingers on your jaw.

“Uh, Ah-hingus?” you tried again.

“Draw it out, gorgeous, just elongate your jaw like a snake and say, “Ah-he- Look, never mind, babe. Here,” he thrust a goblet (chalice? flagon?) into your hand and you sniffed at it. “Uisce beatha. The good stuff. It’s the second most delicious thing to come out of Ireland.” The smarmy bastard had the nerve to look pointedly down at his junk as he said this.

“M’lord, the other humans are totally bitching about getting stuck in the tree castle. You want me to knock ‘em out?” Another spectacularly good-looking elf with the body of a Ken doll and the expression of a village simpleton interrupted your little interlude.

“You- wait, there’s other humans here?” You froze in your efforts to bat away the wandering hands of Aengus and frowned at him. “How many people did you kidnap?”

Glaring at his tattle-tale elf buddy, your captor tried to smooth it over. “Babe, don’t worry about them. Let’s chill, take some clothes off, drink a brew or two…” he leaned forward, his beautiful face wearing a dashing grin. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine. It’s…” he giggled, “magically delicious!”

“Really? Oh, my god, just- geddoff me! I mean it! You do not want the Hel that is about to rain down on you in the form of my boyfriend Loki!”

Both elves stopped dead and stared at you. Aengus even put his flagon of uisce beatha down. “Did you say… Loki?” he asked hoarsely.

You rarely invoked the Name of Loki. You preferred to handle your own problems. You didn’t expect or even want Loki to get involved in all the petty details of your life because he had a tendency to attempt to take them all over in order to “assist” you. But if it freaked out these douchey Irish Fae then you were going to wield Loki’s reputation like a blunt instrument.

So… “Yes!” you hissed threateningly, “You’ve interrupted a very important night for us and Loki, Prince of Asgard, rightful King of Jotunheim and God of Mischief and Lies does NOT like to be disappointed!”

You were pissed. You didn’t get your traditional corned beef and cabbage dinner. You did not get lucky with Loki - wait, that sounded like a dating show - but this was really the worst kind of bullshit! You may have been shy when Loki first plucked you off Madison Avenue (literally) but time and a series of disastrous holiday fuckups had definitely helped you find your voice. And your temper. You leaned forward, staring into his startled silver eyes. “And of course, you probably know Loki best as the most terrifying of the ten things that invaded Ireland. Remember the Vikings? I’ll bet you do, Angus!”

“Aengus,” he correctly absently before looking at the other freaked-out fairy. “Get the other babes, I don’t care if they’re hot, this is turning into a total buzzkill, man.”

Your eyes widened, Shit, did I just get us all killed by invoking the name of Loki?

Loki...

“Why does this always happen to us?”

It could have been any one of the Avengers whining, and really, Loki had to agree it was a reasonable question. It had been repeated over and over, on every holiday since Stark had first insisted he attend the billionaire’s ridiculous Yule festivities.

“We are cursed,” Thor said, slumped over Mjölnir, which he had been swinging around in an extremely unsafe fashion as he shouted about “Betrayal!” and “Vengeance!” until he’d nearly caved in the skull of one of the terrified bartenders and had been threatened by Tony.

“I will shave you bald. Point Break, if you don’t put that stumpy piece of shit down! You remember that doorman you put into a coma? Do you? That was Happy’s second cousin’s kid!”

Trying to ignore them all, Loki was walking through the deeply uncomfortable patrons of the Dead Rabbit, which had been locked down the moment they discovered their dates had been - yet again - abducted. Bucky was following close enough to have scuffed his exquisite Bolvaint onyx dress shoes, but, well, there was more important business at hand. Also, anyone willing to attempt to get testy about being detained was instantly quelled by Bucky’s glare.

Leaning in close to Loki, he murmured, “What are we looking for?”

Lips barely moving, he answered, “Our women were taken through some portal with that vile troll Monty,” Loki sneered, “so I am attempting to discover this portal. But upon occasion, a creature of supernatural origin might also act as the portal. So no one shall leave until -” His sharp eyes just barely caught a tuft of hair moving stealthily along the mahogany bar, and he vaulted over the shining expanse and seized the tuft of hair and the body attached to it.

“Saor mé nó bás!” The diminutive man was kicking at Loki fiercely, though his legs were too short to make contact.

Holding him up to eye level, he snarled back, “Phooka, I should have known. You must be mad to attempt Maidentheft here!”

“Wait?” Steve poked his head over the bar. “Maidens? Theft? Is this some human trafficking ring?”

“Of a sort,” Loki said, not taking his gaze from the writhing Phooka. “The Fae enjoy stealing mortal brides upon occasion. But the victim must agree to dance with them first before they can be pulled through the portal.” He gave the flailing creature a brisk shake that nearly took his tufted red head from his body. “You are the portal, goblin! Where have you sent them!”

Steve just couldn’t help himself. “Don’t you mean Leprechaun? Or is that rude? Little person? Or-”

“Call him what you want, Capsicle,” barked Tony, “but he’s snatched the girls and we need them back! Pepper’s never going to let me forget this, so let Loki do his mystical mojo shit before she has me sleeping out on the balcony for the next year!”

“Ní inseoidh mé go deo! Lig saor mé!” The glamour was wearing off Phooka and his limbs were lengthening, hair turning long and silver-blond. But then the image shimmered and he returned to the gnarled little creature he’d been before.

“Oh, no, Cluricaun, I will not release you. In fact,” Loki’s arm raised higher, easily holding the struggling creature at eye level, “I shall bind you into this form forever.”

“Nil! Nil!” he screeched, thrashing like a trout on the hook.

“Oh, yes…” purred Loki, an unholy look of joy gleaming in his eyes, “no longer of the Fair Folk, the beautiful creature who bespells all who see him. You shall be in this lumpy, repugnant form forever. Warts covering every inch of you. Oozing pus.” Phooka shrieked and kicked, fruitlessly waving his stubby arms as Loki’s grip remained steady.

Bucky pulled an alarmingly large KA-BAR USMC Utility knife from… somewhere. The dim light of the bar glinted off of it as he pointed it at the troll that kidnapped his Darcy. “Let me soften him up for you, huh?” Everyone crowding around them backed up three steps.

“No need, my friend. Is there, Imp?"

Looking angrily between them, the creature slumped in Loki’s grasp. Expertly spinning his knife between his fingers, Bucky looked at the rest of the Avengers. “Armor up. Let’s go get our women.”

Mina...

“No hard feelings, huh?” Aengus was examining his perfectly shaped fingernails and flicked off a bit of a fish scale. “Your dudes should be here sometime, so… you know.”

“Wait, what?” You were waist-deep in fish guts. Pepper was sliding headfirst off a mountain of what looked like rotting seaweed and slime, and Jane and Darcy were trying to fend off the seagulls who were apparently assuming they were part of the fish offal and thus fair game. “No hard feelings? You kidnapped us, you dick! And now you’re leaving us… where the hell is this, anyway?”

There would be no further information forthcoming from Prince Asshole of the Fae, because Aengus and his fairy henchmen disappeared with a sparkly ‘pop!’

“What the hell just happened?” screeched Darcy, swiping at a seagull trying to get his beak into her hair. “Get off me, you flying barnacle!”

“I’m… I don’t know,” you admitted, trying to raise one foot out of the fish guts and losing a shoe. “Ugh! This is so nasty! But I think I freaked him out by telling him we know Loki and this was really going to piss him off.”

Pepper was gagging as she slid sideways in the disintegrating fish intestines, her immaculate white suit now an unspeakable Rorschach test of nausea. “How long before your boyfriend figures out where we are, Mina?”

“Loki’s not some kind of a magical bloodhound,” you groaned, “I dunno. Did these idiots try to hide us, or is this like just dumping us off on the side of the highway like a carjacker leaving you to die?" Looking around as you struggled to free yourself from the decaying remains of what had to be half the sea life in the Atlantic Ocean, you were getting concerned that this was option number two.

There was no sign of life around you.

“Now what?” sulked Hedley Kow, who’d really been looking forward to scoring on this night, of all nights! The Fair Folk were all hot, but man, there was something about bagging a human chick… there was nothing like it. Unfortunately, he’d attempted to woo Natasha, so he was currently sporting two black eyes and a broken arm.

Sighing elaborately, Aengus glared at him. “Ring up the Aos sí. You know there are some serious babes there, especially the Pinkets. Tell ‘em we got barrels of Uisce beatha and a live band. Those chicks will be topless by midnight!”

Loki...

When their feet hit the ground of wherever they’d been portal’ed to, the Avengers were ready. Armed, teeth gnashing, weapons bristling, and ready to bring down the entire Leprechaun Kingdom to avenge their abducted comrades. But there was no one to admire their ferocious presentation, aside from a couple of listless seagulls pecking at the bloated carcass of what was possibly a seal.

“Are you sure we’re at the right place?” Steve said doubtfully, “I just figured the Fairies would have a… fancier setup?”

“We are in the correct place,” snarled Loki, “but not in the kingdom of the Fair Folk. They have discarded the women in this benighted place.”

Tony was levitating in his suit, thrusters firing randomly as he turned in one direction, and then the other, trying to spot Pepper and the others. Loki could feel a searing headache creeping up his spine as he had to put out the small fire Tony’s suit had created on a dilapidated shed before he set this malodorous fishing slum ablaze.

“Hey…” Bucky put down his AK-47. “I think I know where we are. This is Port. It’s an abandoned village on this tiny island off the coast of Ireland. Donegal. In World War Two, we were doing reconnaissance on the Nazis…” His ocean eyes went blank for a minute before he seemed to reboot again. “It’s supposed to be haunted. It smelled like fish guts and mildew. That part’s just the way I remember it.”

Spreading his long, pale fingers, Loki created a sizzling rope of green fire. He whispered to it, twirled it in an endless loop between his hands, and then flung it free, like a bird set loose from its cage and it soared toward the sea. “They are here,” he said, “but hidden. The Fae are spiteful, even in defeat.”

“Hey, what’s that?” Darcy was pointing a fingernail with chipped red polish at the sky.

Sliding free from the pile of fish offal, Jane still managed to slip and fall into a particularly rotted, gelatinous mass. “Damnit!” she howled, Just So Done With This.

Putting a hand over her eyes and trying to shield them from the salt-laced wind, Mina squinted. “That’s…” she knew that signature, the coils of green flame twisting elegantly as it circled around them. “That’s from Loki.” She gave an excited little jump and slipped too, ending up on her ass with a “splat!’ in a decaying barrel of… of course, fish guts. “Ugh! But that means they’re here. They’re looking for us! HEY!” Mina shouted, jumping up and down, waving her filthy arms, “Here! We’re over here!”

Within an instant, the tall, beautiful form of her lover, her god, her Loki stood before her, cradling her face in his cool hands. “And here you are, lovely.” He bent to kiss her but Mina backed away.

“Don’t! I love you and I’m so glad you found us but don’t touch me! You’ll have to burn that suit and you know I love the Tom Ford jackets on you!” Loki’s elegant nose was wrinkling, despite his best efforts and she sighed. “Why is it that I always smell like something dead that washed up on the beach whenever you rescue me?”

“Ah,” he raised one finger, gently tapping her nose. “I did not rescue you on this particular disastrous holiday. The Fae set you free.” She shivered, looking doubtfully around the filthy pier and Loki chuckled, pulling off his jacket and helping her into it, mourning briefly. It really was one of his favorites… ah, well. “How could this happen? We were prepared for battle.”

“It was genius,” Jane said approvingly, “Mina terrified them into releasing us.”

“How?” asked Thor, clumsily petting her hair and snarling it into dreadlocks with a hint of decomposing marine life lacquer.

“She evoked the name of Loki” Darcy interrupted, as she always did. “She scared the shit out of the head fairy guy. Man, were those assholes a letdown! I thought fairies were supposed to be so magical and mysterious? They were like frat guys! Even stupider than frat guys, which I did not know was possible.”

Loki raised one elegant black brow. “Really, my clever girl? What did you say that so discouraged them? The group of you are an extremely desirable prize to the Fae.” The women simultaneously looked at themselves and shuddered as one. “Well, not at this moment,” he allowed, “but you are delectable.”

Mina allowed herself the smallest smirk, the tiniest bit of gloating. “I told that dickhead Aengus that surely he remembered that of the ten most terrifying things that invaded Ireland, you were the worst.”

“I was there also!” protested Thor, who’d given up on trying to soothe Jane and was attempting to wipe off the gelatinous fish residue from his hands. “I was very terrifying! The Fae must sing songs of my power in battle-”

“Yes, yes brother,” Loki interrupted, emerald eyes narrowed, “did you say Aengus?”

Mina nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that shut down his sleazy seduction scene in a hurry. You should have seen-”

His elegant hands waved furiously in the air, and they all disappeared from the dilapidated remains of Port with a loud “Pop!” that scared the seagulls.

The stink from the group was so appalling by the time Loki had “poofed” them back into the Tower that F.R.I.D.A.Y. politely informed them that, “I have taken the liberty of opening the gym showers for your group, and there will be a cart to take your clothes to the incinerator.”

Watching something that might have been a fish eyeball fall out of her hair and swirl down the shower drain, Mina smiled a little to see even Natasha, who had somehow remained untouched gratefully lean into the warm water. “Everyone okay?”

“You know that when the tower’s AI refuses to let you on the residential floors without a decontamination that you smell really, really bad,” sighed Pepper, shampooing her hair for the third time.

But finally clean at last and dressed in warm, fresh clothes, Mina sighed with relief, falling into the firmly muscled arms of Loki. “Thank you for being historically terrifying, sweetheart.”

“But I was there, too!” protested Thor, still upset and looking vaguely ridiculous in borrowed sweats that barely reached his shins. “Did the sprite not mention me?”

“Uh…” Mina was trying to not actually inhale the corned beef and cabbage dinner, grabbing another scoop of creamy Colcannon before Bucky took it all. Tony was insistent that no one was heading off to bed without polishing off the Irish dinner his chefs prepared. “Try the mustard sauce, Loki,” she said, spooning some of the fragrant yellow sauce onto his corned beef. “So, I still don’t get this. Leprechauns are really just fairy guys who use it as a disguise to trick human women into like, dating them?”

Loki shrugged, elegantly slicing into his meal. “There are Leprechauns. But they care for nothing but their gold. Their interaction with mortals is minimal. But their appearance is one easily taken and the Deamhna Aerig can use it to walk among you. No sweet girl like you would turn down a dance from…” he sneered despite his attempts to remain calm, “such as Monty, now would you?”

His Mina’s chin went up, a bad sign. “I won’t ever be sorry for being kind to people.”

Sighing, he tried to backtrack. “I know, lovely. But this is also what these craven fools count on.”

Natasha was finishing off another two fingers of Redbreast 15-year whiskey. Slamming the glass back on the table, she said, “What matters now is what happens to this мудак! How do we teach them a lesson?”

Even knowing he was about to say something terrible, something probably rather evil, Mina still felt a tingle in her girl parts as Loki leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as a slow, savage grin spread across his beautiful face. “мой друг, this is happening as we enjoy our dinner. Though,” he added graciously, knowing the Russian’s desire to handle her own ‘business,’ "I am happy to deliver the fool who assaulted you to a location of your choice for your own brand of justice.”

She just couldn’t help it, Natasha started laughing, this arrogant сволочь knew her so well. “I’m looking forward to seeing your Evil Genius. I assume you have a way for us to enjoy it?”

“Well,” Loki allowed modestly, “since you have requested it…”

It was as clear as some well-filmed high-definition film, but the scene the highly entertained Avengers were watching wasn’t fiction, though the sight of the ethereal forest of the Fae would seem so. But the vile, sweating mass of Leprechauns were anything but enchanting.

“No, ladies, just hold-” a giant fart ripped through the desperate attempt from Hedley Kow to salvage the evening. Two nymphs reared back, waving their pretty hands in front of their faces as they gagged. “I mean it, we’re just gonna switch back to our real forms and-”

“If thou could have, thou wouldst,” sneered one. “Come, sisters. It is time for the Aos si to take our leave.” Groans rippled through the forest as the silvery forms of the nymphs disappeared.

“What is happening, man?” screamed one of the Fae, pulling at his ratty red hair as he belched miserably, sending up a cloud of fumes so toxic it was almost visible. “This is on you, Aengus! No babes! We’re in Gnome Hel, man! It was Loki, huh? You pissed him off again and shit- I can’t stop farting!”

Their leader gagged, feeling another one of his monstrous pimples spurt pus onto a chest so hairy that he appeared to be wearing a sweater. “He’s just being a dick! I’ll fix it, y’know, when Loki cools down.” The sweating mass of hairy, pimpled, gaseous trolls moaned, a chorus of ear-splitting farts their only answer.

Mina...

“How are you feeling, sweet girl?” That sly devil you were in love with, the god who’d rescued you yet again from a colossal holiday fuckup that was guaranteed in the company of the Avengers, was stroking your neck very softly and it was doing things to you.

“Better, I guess,” you were trying to not melt into some needy, shameless puddle because you were standing just behind the rest, who were still enjoying the complete shit show that the Irish Fae had found themselves floundering through. “At least we got our corned beef and cabbage dinner.”

“Mmmm…” he breathed against your ear, the vibrations tingling up and down your spine. “And is that all my darling Mina wanted for her ancestral holiday?”

“Well,” you allowed, “I’d hoped for… you know. A special moment. No matter how godawful our holidays are, the sex afterward is always so…” you sighed mistily, “spectacular.”

His long arms tightened around your waist, and you felt that strange pull at the base of your spine that told you within an instant you would be somewhere else, swept away by this magical god, who for some reason loved you. The room disappeared, and you fell onto your bed, pillows flying in all directions, and in an instant, you were naked and Loki was thrusting into you. You yelped in shock. Usually, it was a production, a slow build as your delicious god toyed and cajoled you into being ready for him.

But this!

You were ready, oh, god you were ready and you had no idea how it happened so fast.

“W- wait, one minute we’re watching the Asshole Fae Reality Show and now we’re- oh, GOD!” He’d given a particularly savage thrust and you just howled.

“I fear I cannot be patient tonight, cailín daor,” he groaned, “I have wanted to be inside you since I heard of your genius, your terrifying of the Fair Folk until they retreated from the field of battle.”

“Th- th- they dumped us in a pile of fish guts in a haunted village!” you managed, the mattress bouncing vigorously and your hands slipping over the slick skin on his back, trying to hold on.

“Ah,” he chuckled breathlessly, a deeply arousing growl that made your thighs clench harder against his hips, “you were cunning, my love. You were outnumbered in combat against a well-armored - though profoundly stupid - foe, and you drove them before you like sheep. You used your wit, your cleverness and I have never,” he thrust hard again and your legs flew up, toes pointing to the ceiling as the silky tip of him pushed higher inside you than you knew was possible. “I have never,” he continued, “desired you more.” Loki was speaking with his mouth against yours, not kissing so much as taking in the breath of each other, his body iron-hard and driving fiercely through you, big hands groping your breasts greedily. “So tonight, mo shióg deas, I shall fuck you, as one warrior would another after combat.” Heaving up and back on his heels, he hauled you along with him, still connected as he bent you, back arched over his arm, his other hand pushing gently against your heaving stomach. “I can feel myself,” he panted, “here.”

You let out a screech as he pressed harder. The feel of him inside and outside of you was unimaginable. It was wild and overwhelming and so fucking sexy and it was turning you into some kind of lunatic because you wrapped your arm around his shoulder and reared up, biting his neck with your sharp little teeth. Loki let out a low, harsh groan and you could swear his cock just doubled in size.

“Do it again.” His fingers gripped the back of your hair and pressed your face to his throat. “Again.”

Grinning, you did, biting into that luscious muscle just over his prominent collarbone and seizing a handful of his thick, silky hair as well.

Loki was always smooth, exquisite, and slick in his seductions. He was not one to lose control but you felt a savage sort of victory as his sinuous hips stuttered, pushing harder, sloppier into you. “Again,” he rasped.

Now both hands were in his hair, tilting his head sharply as you bit into the other side of his neck, and to your shock, your mouth filled with the lush taste of his cool blood as your cunt filled with the heat of his come.

Shivering against each other, Loki’s hands squeezing your ass and your still gripping thick handfuls of his hair, you were still, frozen tightly together. “Holy shit,” you wheezed, “I never… That so goes on our list of stuff to do to each other again!”

Loki began laughing, a huge, hearty laugh that so rarely came from him, an unguarded moment he rarely allowed and it was wonderful. Also, it was making his cock jolt inside your swollen girl parts and rubbing up against some really sensitive places. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you started giggling, too. “Happy St. Patrick’s Day, baby,” you managed, “now, that’s celebrating like a true Ireannach!”

“And to you, my love,” he managed, “and to you.”

Ireannach - Irishman mo shióg deas - my pretty fairy

Deamhna Aerig - air demon

Uisce beatha - from the genius misreall, it means "water of life," early whiskey and the rare thing that the Fae would be guzzling on a night like this.

I'm starting over with a vague memory of who might like my Loki and Avengers tales. If you would like on or off this list, please let me know! Thank you. Mwah!

@what-is-your-plan-today

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@the-soulofdevil

@americasass81

@mdemontespan1667

@sultry-rachael

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@viv-annelore

@eleniblue

#Holidays in Hel #Loki smut #Avengers holiday fuckups

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