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What if instead of backing up when Loki appeared in front of her blade to stop her from killing He Who Remains, Sylvie backed Loki into the desk? A canon divergence ficlet based on that sticker photo going around.
“Sylvie, wait,” Loki repeated, voice strained with the feeling of the blade against his throat, barely biting into his skin.
She advanced, and he retreated another few steps, until he fetched up against the desk. Still she pressed forward, and all he could do to escape his flesh being opened was to let the desk take the weight of his hips and lean back. Loki forgot all else as she slotted her legs between his and bent toward him, her expression angry, her heaving breaths huffing hot against his face.
****CW: some dubious consent involving kissing and hair pulling, and minor character death!****
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