wieldedbytheworthy:

“You could let me starve,” she says absently, “but I would kill you when I was free.” The threat is paired with a smile, though, and she’s feeling far too pleasant to truly mean it. It’s the strangest thing, how warm her head feels.

“More juice!” She says suddenly, looking at the empty cup. “Drink with me.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to drink with someone who can say they’d kill me without batting an eyelash,” Neo says in a very grim tone, but he doesn’t disobey her request for more of the orange juice-vodka mixture. He reaches out to ruffle her hair–the light flush on her cheeks is almost heartbreakingly innocent–and then he gets to his feet to refill her cup.

He returns swiftly, sitting beside her once more and holding the straw out again. Neo’s lips curve into a small grin. “Do you feel tingly yet?”

wieldedbytheworthy:

She’s uncertain why that feels like such a challenge… but it does. Mjolnir gives him a look that very clearly states she can finish it himself, waiting for the straw to return to her lips.

“Will you leave me here?” The question comes out unbidden, her subconscious thoughts spoken aloud. After all, this felt strangely akin to imprisonment, and though she wouldn’t admit it, four days seemed a long time to be alone. “I do not require you to stay,” she adds between sips. “Merely curious.”

Neo blinks, straw held steady between his fingers, but not with a pressure hard enough to pinch. The question should’ve been expected, he supposes, but he hasn’t really got a good answer.

“Yeah,” he says. He lets the word hang in the air for a second before he grins at her. “But only sometimes. This is supposed to be my temporary safehouse, after all. Not givin’ it up just because you popped out of nowhere chained to my bed.”

He speaks so casually, like people end up chained to his bed everyday. He lets go of the straw for a moment to reach out and pat her on the head. “Can’t let you starve, too, can I?”

wieldedbytheworthy:

“I can handle your drink.” Her tone is defensive, wrist jerking automatically on the chain. “But I do not care for the taste. I should like the juice.”

She has no idea what orange juice tastes like, but she’s certain it can’t taste worse than this.

"You’re cute when you’re lying,” Neo teases, and he moves towards the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a glass. He finds ice in the freezer, which is nice, so he puts that in. And, sure enough, there’s a carton of orange juice–bless the owners of this home.

He adds the juice first, then the alcohol. Then he mixes that with a spoon.

When he returns, he has a straw. He doesn’t want to spill everything all over her, as amusing as a wet Mjolnir might be.

“Try this, tough gal.”

wieldedbytheworthy:

She glances at him curiously. “Of course I can feel burning. And they are not inside me.” To demonstrate she raises her free hand, where bright blue electricity begins to whisper over the skin. “Only outside, when I wish them.”

Mjolnir tips her head back as the liquid is poured in, but she isn’t prepared for the taste. It has her coughing and spluttering, a questionable amount of it actually making it down her throat. “Wh-… why would you drink that?”

Neo can’t help the wide grin that spreads on his lips at her reaction, the way the vodka seems to splash onto his wrist due to her coughing. “Why?” he asks, and then he shrugs his shoulders. “To get shitfaced. There’s really no other reason to drink alcohol, y'know.” He takes a swig from the bottle, but unlike her the burn is good on him–his voice is only a little hoarse when he moves to speak to her once more.

“I could mix juice in it, though. This place has a kitchen.” He rasps a bit, eyes bright. “I bet they have like orange juice or whatever, that should help. And it’ll make it sweeter. I mean, if you like orange juice.”

His smirk is wolfish. “I probably should’ve mentioned vodka is usually used for mixes, but I thought tough Asgardians could handle puny human drinks.”

wieldedbytheworthy:

“The strongest could,” she says, tone nonchalant. “It holds Loki himself, so it could hold me.”

There was something comforting in his presence, she thinks, and after weighing the prospect of being alone against mead, Mjolnir decides he may be right. “Vodka,” she repeats. “Vodka is good.”

He doesn’t know who the hell Low-key is, but if he’s been captured, then he sure as hell doesn’t live up to his name.

Neo allows himself a small smile. Holding up a hand for her to wait, he slips off the bed with practised ease, heading over to his knapsack and delicately pulling out a bottle wrapped in a towel. If she sees the fact that a hotel’s logo is stitched into it, then Neo’s hoping she won’t comment on his blatant thievery.

He takes the top off, and, getting on his knees on the mattress, he uses one hand to steady himself while the other holds the bottle out towards her lips.

“Sit up a little, Pikatita,” he says. “And, uh, this might burn a little on the way down–can you even feel burning? I imagine if you have those lightning sparks all inside you or something the fire might be even worse.”

God fucking damn it Neo that is not how her powers work.

wieldedbytheworthy:

She sits up abruptly at the sound, waiting patiently while the man fumbles through names, a thing she’s already grown accustomed to.

The small smile quickly gives way to confusion. “Do what?” She tugs on the chain irritably, wrist already raw from the gesture. “I did not do this to myself. It was magic.”

Magic.

Of course the electric bombshell is trapped by magic.

“Oh,” Neo says, like she just told him her favourite colour was blue after all his life he’d assumed it was orange. “Well then. Just want to let you know you’ve taken away my sleeping quarters, so I hope you feel bad about that for a good, long while.”

He grins a little. “And here I thought you were trying to send me some signals.” There’s teasing in his voice, though he’s no idea if she’ll be able to catch such tiny hints. “Alas. Anyway, do you have any customs in regards to chained people that I should know about?” Neo gestures vaguely. “You know, before I mess this up. Do you need mead? I think I do.”

wieldedbytheworthy:

Neo did not have a bed.

The thought came to her as she stared into the pebbled ceiling, giving the chain a tug. It was a bed she lay on, that much was true, and in a simply furnished room. One big room. Like a prison. The thought made her uncomfortable, and she vaguely wondered if this was how Loki felt within the confines of his own.

At least she only had four days.

Still… where was her company? He would leave her there, of that she was certain, but Mjolnir had assumed she would at least see him first.

Neo does not have a bed, that is correct, but Neo has people he can call in favours from (people he’s snagged dirt on to hold over their heads, really), and some of them are pretty fond of the medieval.

It’s not like he expects much when he gets a room. He’s told he can stay in the guest house over in the garden and given a set of keys. Of course, he’s only staying for a few days–two, probably, tops–so there’s not much to worry over. All he has is his handy knapsack and a wallet full of stolen bills.

So when he opens the door and moves from the general living space (table, chair, light), he’s surprised to find the door of the bedroom slightly ajar.

And when he pushes it open, his eyes widen the slightest bit.

“Me–Myo–Mmmmmm–Pikatita.” He blinks once, twice, three times in quick succession. “Wow, hi, this is…” He looks behind him, then at her again. “… uh, I was unaware you were into the whole bondage scene. Could’ve told me earlier.” He clears his throat. “Can you even do that, with a mortal?”