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talesofesther · 5 months

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discover the beauty

Sylvie x Reader

Summary: Sylvie doesn't quite understand what you make her feel, or what she should do about it. All she knows is that you've brought a warmth to her life that had been long lost. So when you ask her to spend Christmas with you, how could she ever say no?

A/N: This is, or was supposed to be, a quick and sweet lil story with my favorite lady to give her the Christmas she deserves. Naturally, I got a little (a lot) carried away. I also feel like my writing turned out rather different in this, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. <3

Word count: 6k

Masterlist

You were not something she expected to have. Sylvie may even go as far as saying you were not something she wanted to have. Not in the beginning, at least.

It was a normal day at work the first time she saw you. During a late afternoon, with golden rays of a setting sun seeping through the windows of McDonald's. You walked in with a backpack hanging from one shoulder and the ghost of a smile on your lips. You ordered a burger and fries accompanied by an orange juice, a combination Sylvie didn't serve too often. You thanked her with an even wider smile and sat on one of the tables closest to the window. You finished eating and didn't leave, instead, you pulled a sketchbook from your backpack and started scribbling something down. All the while that you stayed, Sylvie could feel your eyes on her from time to time.

A routine started then. You'd come by almost every day, at the same time, make the same order, sit at the same table, and pull out the same sketchbook. And it went on for weeks.

There was something about you that Sylvie couldn't put her finger on, something that stole her focus and forced her to recount the change at least twice when you were around. Your presence carried an aura of calmness, being around you was easy, and talking to you felt like breathing.

Slowly, order by order, you and Sylvie grew closer. Slowly, Sylvie started to expect your presence at the end of each day.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Today was a Thursday, a day you usually stopped by. When the clock on the wall hit 4 PM, Sylvie found herself stealing glances at the main doors. Sometimes she'd chastise herself for the childish behavior, after all, why should she care if you stop by or not?

A cold breeze came in through the open windows. Sylvie leaned on the counter beside the cash register, looking out onto the parking lot; it was covered in a thin layer of white. The snow had slowly and thinly started falling just a few days ago, announcing the definitive arrival of winter and the ever-approaching festivities of the end of the year—as did the obnoxious Christmas decorations scattered all around the inside of the fast food place.

She had heard her colleagues here talking about it, Christmas, and from what Sylvie gathered it was a time for celebration and gifts, a time to spend with loved ones. When the matter came up in conversation, Sylvie hid in the corners, making herself look busy and distracted with anything she could think of. She didn't want to answer the casual questions of where she'd be spending her Christmas at, who she'd be spending it with. She didn't want to admit she had no one at all and would likely spend the night at a bar, alone.

The sound of the door being pushed open brought Sylvie back to reality, she looked up only to see you walking in, with your backpack on one shoulder and bundled up in a hoodie with a jacket on top to chase away the cold.

It was new to her, the fluttering in her stomach whenever she saw you and the warmth on her cheeks whenever you smiled at her. Everything was new. Sylvie didn't know what to do with the feelings you brought to her. It's not like she had many of those when jumping through apocalypses.

Your eyes met hers and your smile was instant, you adjusted your hold on your backpack as you approached the counter. Your greeting came in the form of a question; "Why is it that good things always have to hurt a little?"

Sylvie raised an eyebrow at you, an amused smile of her own fighting its way to her lips. Her fingernails tapped the counter softly. There were small flakes of snow hanging onto your hair, your clothes, glittering under the artificial lights; why did they make you look prettier still?

"The snow," You nodded toward the big windows behind you, "So beautiful yet so unforgivingly cold, isn't it?"

A low hum went past Sylvie's lips, she shrugged with a teasing smirk. "I don't know, I don't think it's that cold."

You huffed, already familiar with the statement yet baffled all the same, "That's because you're a special case I'm still trying to figure out."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her voice just a tad lower, "Good luck with that."

You avoided her eyes and nodded softly, smile lingering on your features. You leaned your elbows on the counter then, hands coming to stay just inches away from Sylvie's. She wondered what it would feel like to touch you.

Sylvie cleared her throat, promptly chasing away the thought. She grabbed her notepad and pen, her customer service voice making an appearance; "The usual?"

"Uh yeah," you sounded just a tad disappointed. As Sylvie wrote down your order, you leaned just a bit forward and closer to her, pursing your lips before saying; "So, any plans for Christmas?"

The pen in Sylvie's hand gave a sudden and rather forceful scratch, nearly tearing the paper. She halted, intently glaring at the out-of-place line that was now written on top of the word 'fries'. She held the silence for a moment longer, her jaw set tightly in place. For the first time in a long time, she hesitated. "… No."

A soft frown came to your features. You didn't ask, but the question was there.

"I'll probably just sleep in," Sylvie glanced up at you with her lips pressed together in a smile that looked a little too forced. She didn't give you time to answer. "Your order will be ready in a minute." She informed you, before turning around to fiddle with the ice cream machine she had already organized this morning.

Two minutes later, your order was ready. You mumbled a gentle 'thank you' to Sylvie before making a beeline to your usual table near the windows.

It was a little pathetic, really—you thought to yourself as you munched your burger—how quickly you became infatuated with the pretty attendant from your local McDonald's. Sylvie had captured your attention since the first day you walked in and said your order to her. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. But there was something else there, something about her eyes and the way she carried herself and interacted with others, that gave away the impression that she had lived a thousand lives, seen a thousand worlds, and now carried the weight of it.

Sylvie was, what you liked to call, an artist's utopia. The perfect muse. Everything about her was screaming to be written down in novels and painted to be hung in a museum. Her genuine smiles whenever she delivered a random order as well as the closed-off and tense ones whenever her colleagues crowded her. The prideful way she'd glance at her name plastered on the employee of the month display as well as the melancholic look in her eyes when she climbed in her truck at the end of the day. Each part of her seemed to tell a story bigger than anything you could fathom.

And that, was simply something you couldn't bring yourself to ignore. It started as a mere sketch of her serious expression on the first day you noticed her. And then you came back, once, twice. And it evolved into her being the biggest constant in your sketchbook. There were scribbles of her profile, her back, sometimes just her eyes or hands, smiles and frowns. Each piece of her as seen by your eyes, now eternal, shaped by the grey lines of your pencil.

Whatever could you do, after all? She was enchanting.

In the end, it was expected that she would become quite familiar with you, given how much you stop by. But you were pleasantly surprised to realize that you two clicked rather well. You'd go as far as calling her a friend now.

And today, you noticed the hints of sorrow that always danced in her expressive eyes making a more vivid appearance. Maybe that's the reason why you threw caution to the wind.

When you finished your meal, you picked up your backpack and promptly walked towards the counter Sylvie stood behind. Deciding that if you waited, your courage would most likely vanish.

She perked up when she noticed you coming towards her, a mix of confusion and expectancy painting her features. Her posture straightened as she reached for the notepad, expecting another order.

You cleared your throat, unable to properly meet her gaze and choosing to fiddle with the pen lying around in front of her. "You know, my family lives a few hours from here and I don't plan on driving there this year." Glancing up at Sylvie, you had to hold back a smile at the sight of her adorable frown. "So, I was thinking… Maybe, if- if you want," you held her gaze, words heavy on your tongue, "We could spend Christmas together." It came out more like a question than anything else. You bit the inside of your cheek, and waited.

Sylvie breathed in sharply, her shoulders tensing. Her eyes shifted from one side to the other, as if looking for an answer around the vicinity. For excruciatingly long seconds, she said nothing. And you were already thinking of a half-assed excuse to give her an out when she finally spoke.

"Okay." You'd never heard her voice this small. "I'd like that," she smiled then, it was a sweet, little thing, barely a stretch of lips; but it warmed your heart like nothing else could.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

The day before Christmas arrived both too soon and too late. Sylvie woke up this morning and her first thought of the day, as she still lay in bed, was you. And how she would be meeting you at McDonald's just like every day before, but today there was a break in the pattern; she would be leaving with you. Together.

Sylvie had reluctantly agreed to spend the night at your place when you insisted Christmas morning was the most special and crucial part of the holiday. Yet now, as the day finally was upon her, she began to wonder if she'd dug her own grave. Because her stomach twisted with the mere thought of it, her body felt all warm and fuzzy knowing she'd be spending so much time by your side, and her heartbeat skyrocketed knowing she'd be waking up the next morning only for you to be the first one she sees.

As Sylvie drove to work, she couldn't help but admit that this whole Christmas thing gave the town a rather pleasant look. Several decorations in bright red, golden, and green could be spotted in every corner of the town; string lights were a must in most buildings and houses; and inside each store at least one small Christmas tree was present.

While stopped at a red light, Sylvie's mind wandered to one specific aspect of the tradition. Gift giving.

Should she get you a gift? Did she want to?

She had never given or received any gifts. She wasn't sure if the two of you were close enough for it to be acceptable.

She gulped, grip tightening on the steering wheel. Her gaze roamed around the stores nearby and people walking on the snowy sidewalks. Just in case.

And a little further down the street, in a small corner beside a bakery, Sylvie spotted a retail store.

It wouldn't hurt to take a look, she decided.

The selection of items inside the store was… less than pleasing. They weren't bad in on themselves, but as Sylvie browsed the racks of hoodies and sweatpants and t-shirts, she felt that nothing seemed right. In her eyes, nothing particularly suited you and nothing was good enough.

A sigh went past Sylvie's lips as she ran a hand through her hair, messing it up more than it already was. She felt lost, out of place in her own skin. The few people around her were minding their own business, eyes fixed on the clothes they were after. Yet she couldn't help but think they were watching her.

She didn't know how to do this. Any of it. She didn't know what it was that you made her feel; she didn't know how to act around you without looking like this was her first shot at a normal life; she didn't know how to buy a damn gift for you.

Her mind started spiraling and she second-guessed her decision to ever say yes to all of this.

Sylvie was about to bolt out of the store and come up with some excuse about not being able to join you, when her eyes caught sight of a green and golden scarf. It was hung by itself and looked rather out of place amidst the t-shirts beside it.

Sylvie made a beeline for it, instantly reaching out to run her fingers through the soft fabric. It was comfortable to the touch, dark green wool woven with specks of details in gold; carefully made, not a string in the wrong place.

Carefully, Sylvie took it fully in her hands. This is it, she decided with a faint smile. This is perfect. You were always complaining about being cold, after all.

She walked up to the cashier with a newfound confidence, holding tight onto the precious scarf. "It's a gift," she stated rather proudly, "How do I do this?"

The woman behind the counter looked less than pleased to be working on Christmas Eve, she raised an unamused eyebrow at Sylvie; "You want it wrapped?"

Sylvie hesitated for a beat, and then recalled the many customers she had served who held bags themed with reindeer, Santas, and the like, all carrying wrapped gifts inside. It seemed to be the appropriate decision. "Yes."

After her detour for gift shopping, the day went about as normal as it could. Sylvie got to work barely on time, parked her truck in her usual spot, served a few customers, and watched as thin snowflakes fell from the sky. It wasn't a busy day, only a few and far in between walked in to grab a lunch, and most of them took it in a to-go bag.

When the clock hit 4 PM, however, Sylvie grew restless. She would be leaving earlier today, and you would be stopping by any minute now.

"Ah, almost time to leave," Carla, one of Sylvie's colleagues and one of the few who'd also agreed to work at this time of year, sighed from her place on the other side of the counter.

"Yep," Sylvie mumbled, her eyes fixed on the parking lot outside.

"Can't wait to not come to work tomorrow," Carla chuckled, "Gonna be spending the day with my kids." She smiled to herself and turned to look at Sylvie properly; "You got any plans, Sylvie?"

The enchantress' instinct was to deflect the question with something else, but her lips hovered and she found herself being engulfed in a foreign emotion. "Yes," she breathed, "I do." The soft smile on her lips held more sentiment than she cared to admit.

A gush of wind washed over her then, making her hair flow. She looked towards the entrance and saw you standing between the open doors. A familiar smile crinkled the sides of your eyes and you raised a gloved hand in a timid wave.

"And she just arrived," Sylvie spoke, more to herself than to her colleague, words dripping with something akin to adoration. She took off her hat, picked up her checkered trenchcoat from the back, and bid Clara goodbye before walking up to you.

"Hey," you greeted her, burying your hands in the pockets of your jacket. Voice sweet as honey and cheeks pink from the cold. "You ready to go?"

It scared her, that you could so easily strip her of her defenses. Her muscle memory sometimes urged Sylvie to hold onto the handle of a sword that wasn't there. If only to feel some sense of security.

She gulped, wriggling the ends of her sleeves between her fingers. This warmth, these colors you'd unintentionally brought to her life—she never realized how much she craved it until you came along.

Maybe she doesn't need her defenses anymore.

"Yeah."

With that, Sylvie climbed into her truck and you followed, giving her the instructions that led to your house. The drive was comfortable, the weight of your presence beside her, surprisingly, didn't throw her off; on the contrary, it felt like you belonged there—talking about the upcoming snowstorm of tonight and pointing out the blinking lights you passed by.

Your home turned out to be exactly as Sylvie expected it to be. Two trees stood tall in front of the small house made of dark wood, several string lights were hung all over the porch, and there was a Santa plushie peering through the window. The inside was all warm and homey, each nook and cranny of your house exuded comfort and peace.

You took off your jacket, haphazardly throwing it over the couch, and kicked off your shoes. "Please, make yourself at home," you gestured around with a wide smile. "I'm gonna make some hot chocolate to warm up, would you like one?"

With her heart in her mouth, after a lifetime of living in cold, apocalyptic worlds, Sylvie allowed herself to be enveloped by the warmth. The blinking lights of the Christmas tree in your living room danced over her skin; in her wildest dreams, she'd dreamt of this. Tears prickled her eyes.

A gentle touch brushed her fingers, and Sylvie held her breath. She glanced down to see your fingers hesitantly hooking around hers. You'd noticed the crumbling walls around her—Sylvie didn't mind. Your touch raised goosebumps on her skin. She held you tighter, "I'd love one."

You led her to the kitchen, talking about the bathroom at the end of the hall and the guest bedroom she'd be staying at, only letting go of her hand when you had to start preparing the two mugs of hot chocolate. "I'm glad you agreed to come here," you spoke casually, keeping your back to Sylvie as you skimmed around the kitchen. "I was- I was afraid you'd think I was weird for asking."

Sylvie chuckled, bashful eyes looking down at her hands. Her heart wanted to jump from her chest. She bit her lip, wondering if it would be too foolish to admit what it meant. "I was glad you did," she confessed quietly, both to you and herself. "I'd be alone otherwise."

Your movements halted, and after a beat of silence, you glanced at her over your shoulder. "I would too."

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Hours went by like minutes. Chocolate wraps and a half-empty bottle of wine were now discarded on your coffee table. Somewhere along the late hours of the night, you and Sylvie ended up bundled together on your couch under a blanket, sharing stories and laughing to your heart's content as if you'd known each other for years.

You'd lost count of how many embarrassing childhood memories you'd already spilled for her, all so you could hear that laugh of hers again and again. She was beautiful like that. With the warm glow of your fireplace highlighting her features, the shape of her smile, and the strands of her hair. You did your best to capture this exact image of her in your mind, so you could put it on paper later.

Sylvie lay on one side of the couch while you occupied the other, her legs were tangled with yours under the blanket. Maybe this wasn't just a mere infatuation, you mused to yourself, drinking in the spark of her eyes and the weight of her body on yours.

She leaned her head on the back of the couch, looking at you as her smile faded from a wide grin to a soft tilt of lips. She had the look of someone who just discovered something magical. You couldn't help but think you weren't too different.

Her very presence was like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. Her melodic voice was the last thing you heard before drifting off to a light slumber, dreaming of warm colors and bright eyes.

It was a ten, maybe fifteen-minute thing. One of those naps that catch you by surprise when you're engulfed in comfort.

You woke with the feeling of the couch moving beside you and then heard the sound of pages being carefully turned. The blanket still rested comfortably over your body and the fireplace still cracked with a low flame. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you came to only to be greeted with the sight of Sylvie sitting by your side, with your sketchbook in her hands.

You inhaled sharply and held the air in your lungs, bunching up the edges of your blanket in your hands. Suddenly wide awake. You could vaguely recall forgetting the book on top of the kitchen table this morning.

Her hands held the book almost reverently, delicate fingertips tracing the lines that shaped sketches of her. They were fairly endless and now that you watched as she turned the pages, you realized there were more than what you accounted for. The dark graphite on paper outlined her hair, her eyes, her lips; and Sylvie herself gazed down at the drawings with her lips parted and eyes glazed over.

You gulped, with any possible words stuck in your throat. Would she be mad? creeped out? Maybe never want to speak with you again?

You knew that she knew you were awake already, yet for long moments, Sylvie held the silence. Her lower lip twitched at each new image of her that she discovered in your book. It almost looked like she was holding her breath too.

Gripping tightly onto your book, Sylvie finally looked up at you again; "Did you… make these?" It was nothing but a breath, almost as if she was afraid of the answer.

You merely nodded, avoiding her eyes.

Sylvie breathed in, it sounded a lot like a sniffle. She pursed her lips, looking down at the book and then back at you. "Why?"

You cocked your head to the side, focusing past your thundering heart and on the soft curve of her eyebrows and the way her bright eyes reflected the orange flames of the fireplace—they glimmered, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say it was because there were tears there.

"I uh-" Your voice stumbled, and you cleared your throat to compose yourself. "You were… captivating ever since the first time I saw you. I thought that- that there was a lot of beauty and…" You bit your lip, hesitating. "And a lot of sadness, in you. And I just… wanted to capture it. I couldn't help it, I'm sorry."

A gentle smile came to Sylvie's lips, there were too many emotions swimming behind her eyes for you to put your finger on any of them. "You think I'm…" her words were quiet, private. Her fingers fiddled with one of the pages. "I'm beautiful?"

You opened your mouth to answer just as your gaze caught sight of the window that led to your porch. Outside, you could see the heavy snow falling from the sky. A soft gasp went past your lips, "The snowstorm is starting." You threw the blanket off your lap and ran to your door, haphazardly putting on your boots before yanking the door open and rushing outside.

The snowflakes clouded the dark horizon of the night, falling rapidly like summer rain and collecting on the streets in a white blanket. The lone lamposts cast a golden light on the increasing snowfall, if you pretended enough, it almost looked like specks of magic. The snow had always fascinated you. Despite the chilling cold it brought, you always waited eagerly for the first real snowfall of the year.

You stood in the open space of your yard, looking up at the sky and watching as cold stars fell upon your skin and clung to your clothes.

Slow footsteps that crunched the snow captured your attention. You turned around and saw Sylvie joining you, her eyes were wide in amazement as she watched the white flakes cascading down from the sky. She raised a hand to try and catch the snow, carefully so, as if the natural phenomenon could scare easily.

The snow kissed her pink cheeks and landed on her gently outstretched hand, it surrounded her as if it chose to fall tonight only so her eyes could witness, touching her with delicacy, all intimate and tender as some of the flakes melted on her. You were envious of their privilege. A breathless chuckle escaped Sylvie, and her gaze turned to you. There was a near child-like excitement glinting in her pupils and it was enchanting.

You watched as the faded light of the street lamps outlined her body, as the snowflakes clung to her eyelashes and brought a smile to her lips. The world around you blurred at the edges; there was only her and the snow. "Beautiful," you simply breathed, not an ounce of doubt in your words.

Sylvie blinked multiple times, her smile fading yet the shine in her eyes increasing tenfold. The air was suddenly charged with electricity, warm under the cold weather. Sylvie's lips parted, and you thought you saw her glancing down at your lips.

You chanced a step closer, and then another, running your tongue over your bottom lip. One of your hands brushed hers, while the other came up to tuck strands of blonde hair behind her ear.

Sylvie gripped your hand as soon as she felt your touch, as if you could disappear with the snow at any second.

"More than beautiful." The increasing wind nearly carried your voice away. You traced the outline of Sylvie's jaw with your thumb, the same one you'd traced with your pencil countless times before. "I don't think I could ever tire of drawing you."

There was no time for you to react before Sylvie took hold of your cheeks with both hands and pulled you in. Her lips crashed with yours with an unexpected delicacy. She came closer until her bare feet stood between your boots and her chest was flush with yours, as if no amount of closeness was close enough.

Her kiss was tentative and almost shy in a way, the softest lips moving in tandem with yours like they belonged together. You gripped her waist, onto the fabric of her plaid pajama shirt that you thought looked oh so adorable on her as soon as you saw her change into it.

With your eyes closed, all you could feel were Sylvie's warm touch and gasps that you kissed away, a striking contrast to the cold snowflakes falling onto your skin and melting between each stolen kiss. You wouldn't have it any other way.

Sylvie's fingers buried in the hair at the nape of your neck, she pulled away only a fraction of a second, bumping her nose with yours to fill her lungs with only the amount of air enough to get her lips back on yours. Surrendering herself to the moment, to you.

Your fingertips sneaked beneath her shirt, gingerly brushing against the skin of her hip. Sylvie shivered under your touch. Her lips tasted like chocolate and wine, all sweet and addictive.

When she pulled away, Sylvie refused to go far. Her doe eyes were swimming in a sea of adoration, almost pleadingly so. You tugged her closer still, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead. It felt like a promise, the world frozen in place to hold the moment.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

When Sylvie woke up the very next morning, she wasn't sure if it had been a dream or not. Golden rays of sunlight seeped through the window and made the snow outside shine like glitter. Sylvie touched her lips with the tip of her fingers, the memory felt almost too perfect to be real. But then again, she doubted her subconscious would ever gift her with such a blessing over the night.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Sylvie glanced at the package resting on top of the bedside table. She had been extra careful for it to not be crumpled or torn, it still looked perfect.

She ran a hand through her hair and rubbed the sleep from her eyes before getting up and walking to the window. The streets, sidewalks, and yards all around were covered in a thick layer of white snow, glistening under the sun. It was Christmas morning, and Sylvie was stalling.

Apprehension and nervousness twirled in her stomach wildly, she wasn't used to this. What if you regretted it? What if she had crossed a line?

The clattering of plates coming from the kitchen pulled Sylvie out of her mind. You were already awake.

Taking in a deep breath to steady herself, Sylvie forced her feet to move. She picked up her wrapped gift, and turned the door handle.

Immediately, Sylvie was engulfed by the smell of cinnamon and chocolate, it weaved through the air like a warm hug, making her close her eyes and inhale deeply. The enchantress couldn't help but allow her nose to guide her towards the kitchen, wood boards creaking under her bare feet and stripes of sunlight coming through the windows and shining against her pajamas as she walked.

The radio was on and you were humming along with the song playing, with your back turned to her as you worked on something on top of the counter, your hips swaying softly and hair pulled up in a haphazardly done bun. The window beside you was open, allowing for the cold breeze to come in, along with the morning sun rays, bathing your kitchen in an array of warm colors.

Sylvie's heart was in her throat, she bit her lip until she nearly tasted blood. There was a sting in her eyes as she looked at you as if she'd just realized what love felt like, what life was all about.

As you turned around, with your lower lip between your teeth and focused solely on the two mugs of hot chocolate in your hands so you wouldn't spill anything, Sylvie decided that she could get used to this. Actually, she would have a very hard time ever waking up without it. Without you.

When you noticed her standing before you, holding the wrapped gift between her hands as if her life depended on it, a huge smile broke into your lips and you lit up like the Christmas tree in your living room.

"Sylvie!" You exclaimed her name as if you'd been waiting the whole morning to say it. You left both mugs on the table and didn't waste a second before rushing to her. Sylvie barely had time to move your gift away before your body collided with hers. You hugged her tightly, bunching the fabric of her shirt between your fingers. "Merry Christmas," you whispered against her skin.

A breath Sylvie didn't realize she'd been holding went past her lips as she enveloped her arms around you, burying her nose in your hair and savoring the feeling of you. "Merry Christmas."

When you pulled away, Sylvie's cheeks were dusted pink and it had nothing to do with the cold. She avoided your gaze, looking down at the package in her hands instead. Tracing the wrapping with her thumbs, she said; "Um- I bought you this…" It almost sounded like a question, as if she wasn't sure this was the right way to go about it.

"You got me a gift?"

There was a waver in your voice that made Sylvie look up at you, only to be greeted with the sight of your eyes shining with… could it be love?

Sylvie tried to mimic your smile, as much as her nerves would allow. She nodded, pushing the gift into your hands.

You took it as if it was made of gold, hugging it to your chest. "Thank you," you breathed, before leaning in to land a peck to the corner of Sylvie's lips.

The gesture brought goosebumps up and down Sylvie's spine, and she watched with bated breath as you carefully tore open the wrapping at last. Your mouth hung open as you pulled out the scarf, tones of green and golden molding between your fingertips. You felt over the fabric, with your eyes drinking in every detail of it, until you promptly hooked the scarf around your neck and nuzzled in it; "I absolutely love it!" Your eyes crinkled on the sides because of your smile.

Sylvie's heartbeat stumbled, she reached up to trace the green fabric until her fingertips found the skin of your jaw. "It suits you."

"Oh, I just remembered," you told her suddenly and took hold of her hand so you could pull her to the living room. You dragged Sylvie to stand before your Christmas tree, and under it, rested a single box wrapped in green and red paper decorated with little Santas. "It's for you," your voice was as timid as Sylvie's had been as you pointed to the lone box.

Sylvie blinked and turned to you, squeezing your hand to make sure you were real. "You got me a gift?" She couldn't remember the last time someone had gotten her anything.

You pursed your lips and nodded, almost bouncing on your stance from excitement. "Of course. Come on, open it."

A breathless chuckle went past Sylvie's lips, and she knew right then and there, on this peaceful Christmas morning beside you, that she was a goner. She crouched down and unwrapped the box, prying it open with utmost care. From inside it, she pulled a crumple of white, green, and golden fabric. Much like the scarf she had given you, it was meticulously sewn together with a soft and comfortable wool.

Her chest felt all tight and warm with an emotion she could barely contain within herself. Standing up and stretching the fabric, Sylvie realized that it was a sweater, decorated with reindeer and Christmas trees. Peering around it and to you, she could clearly see you were holding back a grin.

"We'll be matching!" You exclaimed, clasping both your hands together.

Without a second thought, Sylvie pulled the sweater over her pajama shirt, closing her arms around herself and raising her shoulder as the soft fabric enveloped her. "It's perfect." She decided.

A soft laugh went past your lips and you raised a hand to Sylvie's hair, straightening the strands she had messed up. Your fingers brushed over the soft, blonde strands, until they fell to her shoulder and then found her hand, intertwining your fingers together.

Sylvie basked in the silence of the moment, in the feeling of your skin touching hers, of the comforting weight of your presence. She closed her eyes and gripped your hand tighter, gulping back a sudden wave of tears. From a lifetime of living in worlds on the edge of destruction, she'd found her little piece of paradise, all on her own. And she'd keep it close to heart until the end of her days.

The thumb of your free hand brushed her cheek, drying a drop of wetness there. The single tear that had fallen past her defenses. Sylvie looked at you and expected to see confusion or even judgment, but she only found care and adoration.

You brought your intertwined hands to your lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles; "I made us hot chocolate, what do you say?"

Sylvie's answer came in the form of a kiss of her own, to your lips instead.

Perfect.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Sylvie’s taglist:@milkiane @v1ci0us

#sylvie x reader #sylvie laufeydottir #sylvie imagine #sylvie #marvel #loki series #loki #sylvie x you #marvel x reader #sylvie x female reader #sylvie laufeydottir x reader #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #sylvie fanfic #my story

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feral-sylki · 5 months

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Still thinking about just how different Loki and Sylvie’s methods of getting information out of people are. Like, in the interrogation scene with Loki and Brad, Loki plays into the fact that Brad knows a lot about him by playing up the villain. And even though we the audience know he and Mobius cooked the plan up together, when he uses the cube to try and force Sylvie’s location out of Brad, there are moments where even the audience isn’t all that certain how far he’ll let it go. He threatens, he tortures, and even if it’s just an act, it’s a very believable one, because he’s a very good performer and it deliberately plays into preexisting conceptions of him

On the other hand we have Sylvie, who behaves quite differently; with her interrogation of C-20, we see that rather than overt threatening, she uses her enchantment skills to lull the person, to relax them into a more careless state. She creates a false sense of safety by recreating a positive environment and experience for them, to put them at ease. With C-20, she takes her somewhere she knows, somewhere she’s been before (albeit a long time ago and in memories that have been repressed) and pretends to be her friend. She jokes and plays with her, before suddenly springing questions on her in the hope that she’ll slip up and it’ll just come out before she’s had a chance to think

While Sylvie’s method is quite different on the surface, it’s conceptually very similar. They’re shapeshifters. They tell stories, they make up characters, inhabit them, mould themselves into whatever they need to get what they want

In conclusion, we should get an interrogation scene with them together. That’d be fascinating

#loki series #loki season 2 #loki #sylvie laufeydottir #sorry if someone’s already talked about this which I imagine they have #just rambling my thoughts

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oswildin · 7 months

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What if Sylvie fell in love with you, a mortal on Earth? (HEADCANNONS)

Naturally, it would scare her. Meaning she would try to push you away, be a little short with you, pretending to be disinterested to stay distant

But when you confront her about the sudden change in behaviour, she realises that she’s only making things complicated

She’d apologise and just say she’s ‘stressed with work’, obviously not at all wanting to tell you about the life she lived before, this was her fresh start after all

Although the fear she felt about falling for you would still be present, after all, you’re a mortal and she’s seen whole realms be destroyed and die over and over

She’d be difficult to get close to at first, guarded and closed off, sure she was pleasant and chatty enough, but any questions about her past or anything deeper than surface level would be harder to discuss

Soft smiles and doe eyed looks would be very much involved

She would be awkward, not too sure how to navigate her feelings

If anyone upsets you, she instantly becomes like a feral cat and wants to hurt whoever would dare hurt you— but ultimately she would just have a ‘quiet word’ with them

Hand and arm brushes/bumps, standing a bit closer than needed when around you, eyes flickering to your lips

Giving you free milkshakes because you’re her favourite mortal

Late night talks on the hood of her truck, listening to music and star gazing

She’d let you introduce her to new foods, show her quiet places, as well as taking her to the movies - her favourites are rom coms but if anyone asks she will deny it

You’d be her best friend and her go to person, no doubt about that

Playful teasing and jabs, all affectionate and full of fondness

Sarcastic quips also, she loves when you match hers with your own

She would do whatever it took to protect you

#sylvie #Sylvie headcannons #sylvie loki #sylvie laufeydottir #sylvie x reader #sylvie laufeydottir x reader #Sylvie imagine #marvel headcanons #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #mcu headcanons

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bisexual-panic · 7 months

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via Sophia di Martino’s instagram story

#she’s so cute #i love her #she looks exactly like what i imagine a young sylvie to look like #sylvie laufeydottir #sophia di martino #loki series #loki season 2 #sylki #pro sylki

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layla4567 · 1 year

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Imagine with Loki

Warning: Slightly smut

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It had been a long time since I moved to Asgard with Loki, it was my own decision and I don't regret it. Despite the complaints from my father Tony or my best friend Peter, I still went ahead accepting the consequences, even Thor, his own brother, warned me about what Loki was like, and although he supported me in my decision, he wanted me to be clear about what he told me. I would "cope" if I stayed with him. But in the end everything was not so bad, I was aware of how he really was and I knew that it would be difficult for me to adapt to his habits and his home.

Loki has a kind of avoidant attachment and of course daddy issues that results in a person who believes that he is not worthy of love or be loved and very distrustful. So it took me a lot to earn his trust and another extra effort for him to notice me. He seemed to want to get close to me at first but naturally jealous he would retreat if he saw me chatting with another guy, and that was another problem.

Luckily Thor helped me a lot to convince Loki that I stopped being so reluctant to have contact with me. And after having passed this first stage and after digging into that hard marble shell, I was able to discover a tender and kind background with a heart of gold. He opened up to me like no one ever has, he talked to me about his fears and insecurities, and I'm so proud of him for having overcome all of that, putting him aside so he could talk to me. I would like to be able to see the faces of those who didn't trust me when they saw this new Loki so I could say "I told you so!". Because he was never really mean, let's just say he was hurt and misunderstood.

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With all those thoughts and memories in mind I found myself in my room with my elbows resting on the edge of the wide balcony. The window was large and tall with amber silk curtains on the sides. A soft twilight breeze was blowing while I saw the horizon of all of Asgard, some Asgardians were still seen walking from here to there doing their work. Suddenly three knocks knocked on my door.

"Yes, come in"-I said

Loki appeared around the door frame timidly opening it as if he wanted not to disturb.

"Sorry to intrude, do you mind if I come in?"-He said as he slowly opened the door a little more.

"Please do, you weren't interrupting anything."-I said with a smile and a twinkle of tenderness in my eyes

He walked towards me with an elegant walk to end up next to me by the balcony.

"Everything in order darling?"

God I loved when he called me that

"Sure Loki, I was just admiring the view"

suddenly, almost without realizing it, I smile remembering something

Loki looks at me strangely and then fixes his gaze on the villagers who were visible from the window and then looks at me again confused

"And now what's so funny? I don't think Asgardians are hilarious enough to make you smile"-and he frowned

"Nothing love, I just remembered something"-and I started to giggle

"Oh it's nothing, all right. I guess if you don't want to tell me then I might tell Thor that you were the one who drew the Mjolnir on him with a marker that time"

I looked at him in surprise as I gasped

"Loki Laufeyson! Don't you dare!!"

"Do you want to bet dear? If I remember correctly the last time you lost"-he smiled mischievously

I went from shock to outrage, even though I couldn't really be mad at him, a small part of me was amused. That's why I decided to tickle him as a small revenge

"No wait Y/n I'm sorry I take it back!!"-his smirk faded in a second as he became serious imploring her to stop. He hated tickling

I didn't want to indulge him so I didn't stop right away. But when I did he seemed relieved.

"Ok, I'll tell you so you don't suffer anymore"-I laughed-"I just remembered that time I was trying to make friends in Asgard when I first arrived and I was talking to a couple of guys and one went out of his way to drop me hints so you approached them and told them the lady had some important business. while you took my arm and dragged me away from them, remember?"

He nodded with his eyes closed and a small embarrassing smile.

"How could I stoop so low for a Midgardian?"-while covering his face with his hand-"You had me spellbound and I didn't know how to react to that, didn't you mind what I did that day?"-and he looked at me with a trace of concern

"Of course not"-I grabbed his face with my hands- "in fact I found it cute. I understood that those were your ways of showing interest in me"-I laughed while looking at him tenderly

"Oh my beautiful Y/n, what did I do to deserve you?"-looking at me intensely

I couldn't resist and I stood on tiptoes to kiss his lips. He didn't have to beg and he kissed me back with even more energy.

then he encircled my waist with his arms, a pleasant shiver ran through my entire spine as I got up to be taller and thus encircle his waist with my legs. his kisses and caresses were strong but warm like burning coals that wrapped me whole. when our faces separated just 10 centimeters to catch our breath Loki looked at my eyes and lips with hunger

He held me firmly by the waist and gently placed me on the bed. from there Loki began to delicately kiss my neck making me shudder. It started from the top of my jaw to just below the shoulder as I closed my eyes enjoying his warm touch. Without realizing it, he began to untie my silk dress until it fell and slipped down my legs, leaving me in my underwear, With my semi-naked body, the Asgardian began to draw a path of wet kisses along and across my figure. Loki moved down my bust making a beeline for my belly button. His lips on my skin made me squirm and cling tightly to the sheets as I arched my back and his slow steps left me wanting more.

But when Loki reached the lower part of my belly, I let out a sigh of pleasure, throwing my head back. He seemed to like that because he smiled with that smile that made me blush and he kept going down a little more until he reached my thighs near my groin, and moving my underwear a little away he gently kissed the concave area between my privacy and my leg

"Loki.."-I couldn't hold it and I moaned his name weakly as I felt my groin throb desperately wanting more.

"I'm sorry but your silhouette is delicious my queen"-He began to take off his clothes, revealing a stocky torso, it was the body of a god

I bit my lips as a sign of desire, I wanted it for myself now

Now with his bare chest he began to kiss me passionately while encircling his neck with one hand and the other caressing his face. He grabbed my thigh and pulled it up to his waist so that I could encircle him.

I found the strength to whisper in his ear-"Now is my turn"

now Loki was under me and I sat astride his hips, I entertained myself contemplating his well-worked torso while caressing his stomach

I drew lines from top to bottom applying a little pressure from time to time as if it were a massage. Loki's skin seemed to tremble with every caress. I wanted to take it to another level and I began to swing my hips in circles back and forth as if I were performing a slow and sensual dance. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth in a silent moan, with each movement he made his breathing quickened and I could feel his property tight under me.

"Y/n..Please"-His voice sounded cracked due to excitement.

His pleas made me feel more feverish, so we quickly took off our remaining clothes, leaving them on the floor. The god of mischief took control again and now he was on top of me, sticking his body against mine, he pressed his hip against mine, belly to belly. I dug my nails into his broad back, scratching gently.

His thrusts were slow but precise, always following the same rhythm. Our breaths were getting faster and heavier, I could feel Loki panting in my ear and his breath warm. He was taking me to Eden in that room with 4 walls. The speed increased more and more and I sank more and more my claws into his skin making Loki tense his muscles and jaw. His hips collided with mine and our bodies beaded with sweat. I felt some pain but also euphoria, and the pleasure washed over the pain, like two waves crashing together. Yes, that was it, with each movement I felt like a wave was invading me, enveloping me and rocking me with force. My waist accompanied each movement of his, each thrust and withdrawal that he gave I accompanied him in his rhythm

The pleasure that enveloped us was so great that I couldn't concentrate my thoughts. At one point Loki detached himself from my body and held my thighs for a better grip. Now he, being incorporated, his thrusts were deeper. I clung to the sheets more fiercely to contain myself but let out small moans.

The atmosphere was passionate, the temperature rose and rose, the god of lies was giving everything and I responded complacently. Before reaching the climax, Loki begged me to say his name.

"Say my name... I want to hear you say that I'm yours.."-he said hoarsely almost in a whisper

I tilted my head back slightly arching my back.

"Loki!"-I released almost without strength and without being able to contain myself much more and sighed long and hard

Satisfied and tired as if a battle had been fought we snuggled up to each other with a sheet covering us poorly trying to catch our breath. Loki lying on his back with his torso still naked and I hugged him with an arm on his chest while he hugged me and caressed my hair and shoulder

"Loki, my love"

"Mmh?"-he murmured with his eyes closed as his breathing became calm

"I love you"

"I love you more darling"

He kissed my head and then we fell fast asleep

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

ok now I feel dirty and naughty :v (what the hell I just wrote?)

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moonlit-imagines · 4 months

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warnings:

a/n:

requested by anonymous

A distant sound heard by Sylvie kept her from her sleep tonight, a simple whine and tussle in the room over. Every minute or so she heard it again, knowing your sleep was not a peaceful one.

Sylvie quietly exited her room, floor creaking beneath her feet before she made it to your door and turned the knob as gently as she can, a squeak from the metal made her pause in fear, then she pushed the door open and entered your nearly bare room, a new tenant in her apartment, another mysterious past she had an understanding of.

Your roommate stood beside your bed, worried she may startle you if you wake, but still entered to do some good tonight. Her hand neared the temple of your head and a flash of green traveled past your face, she could see the relic as your body relaxed and you ceased the upsetting noises you’d been making since you drifted off.

“Goodnight.”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 //

#sylvie #sylvie laufeydottir #sylvie laufeydottir x reader #sylvie laufeydottir imagine #loki #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki series #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine

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mischievous-thunder · 6 months

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When Loki hit rock bottom and was at a loss as to what he needed to do in favour of the impossible task he was set out to rectify he went to the only person he knew would show him the way. Mobius's wise counsel was all Loki needed to pinpoint and strengthen the firmness of his glorious purpose. This is one of the most special memories that'll be etched on Loki's heart for all eternity.

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aurora-starwars · 1 year

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Love That Could Have Been

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader, Sylvie x fem!reader?

Summary: Loki and Sylvie talk about reader on the train

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning: Sad? Reader is just talked about, not present, mostly just angst

A/N: Wrote this a while ago, here you go!

Masterlist

“What about you? Any Princesses? Or perhaps, princes?”

“A little bit of both.” Loki responded, eyebrows furrowed, looking to be deep in thought, seeming with mournful eyes.

Sylvie looked at Loki with a curious gaze, trying to figure out what the variant was thinking. She waited a moment before choosing to change the subject, but before she could open her mouth, she was cut off.

“Well… There was someone..” He mumbled, full of uncertainty and regret.

“Who?” Sylvie gently asked, not wanting to push.

Loki observed how Sylvie tilted her head trying to show her curiosity. He noticed a look in her eyes, a look of hope, love, and… Recognition? He wasn’t sure… Did she know who he was talking about?

“She- She was my everything.”

Something flickered in Sylvie’s eyes as he said that. Her head whipped up so fast he thought she might get whiplash and her eyes went wide, begging him to continue. After a moment of silence due to Loki’s surprise, Sylvie started, eyes pleading him to elaborate.

“She?” Sylvie offered.

“Yeah, She. She was the best thing I had.” He paused and looked at Sylvie, who looked down, reminiscing of something. Her eyes soft, which was new to him considering how she wouldn’t even trust him to stay on guard while she slept.

Now Loki was curious; what or who was she thinking of? Loki continued after receiving an eager nod from Sylvie, beckoning him to keep going.

“She was always there. Always on my side. Other than my mother, and I suppose my brother, she was the only one to truly love me, for me. There were three people in this world, or I guess timeline,”

Sylvie nodded at his recognition.

“that actually loved me. And she loved me the most. Even when she was not there, I felt loved.”

Loki looked up with happy, lovesick eyes and smiled before his expression dropped.

Sylvie had a look of sympathy in her eyes, like she understood; and maybe she did.

“She was an girl from another realm, a princess actually.”

At this Sylvie’s head shot up from looking at the wooden table with wide eyes. If she wasn’t already listening, she was now.

“I knew her ever since we were young. You see, since she was princess, she would often come on Royal business with her mother. So, when both of us weren’t needed we would go off on our own. Even then I had a fascination for her.” Loki boasted.

Sylvie and Loki both smiled at the thought of her.

“And her name was-“

“[Name].” Sylvie sighed, cutting him off. A saddened look plastered upon her pale face. Shock rippled through Loki as she finished his sentence.

“[Name]- Yeah- Wait, hang on. How do you know [Name]?”

Loki asked adamantly, unbelieving that Sylvie, a runaway Loki variant, knew the love of his life.

“Believe it or not, I am still a Loki variant. I knew [Name]. She used to come to Asgard when I was little too. We used to so much together. I often asked for her to stay over and we would have sleepovers…”

Sylvie said, mumbling the last sentence.

Crossing her arms and resting them on the table, she smiled at the table before sighing. Her eyes darting around as if to not keep eye contact. The comfort she once had seemingly left her body; like a criminal leaving a crime site.

Loki was gazing at the table, the corners of his lips quirked upward softly. His chest rose and fell in a calm and steady rhythm, like he was at peace just thinking about the princess.

“I… I asked her to marry me.”

Loki said slowly, eyes flickering between Sylvie and the table. Sylvie gently rested her head on the table over her crossed arms. Sylvie brought her eyes to meet Loki’s, nodding slowly, letting him know to continue.

“She was on Asgard and we had been together for a few years by then…”

Loki let a long breath and softy smiled.

“She had just been talking with Thor regarding Asgard’s allies and I asked if I could pull her away for a moment,”

Loki paused, sighing before continuing.

“When Thor agreed, I took her to the garden. There was just the most beautiful flowers there, it was perfect. She…She looked curious and ever so slightly concerned. She- She really cares about me.”

Loki said smiling, whispering the last part softy, like a well kept secret.

“I told her that she was the best thing that ever happened to me, and that ever since I was young, she was always there for me.”

Sylvie smiled softly, and nodded gently, as a sign she was listening.

“I got down on one knee and pulled out this beautiful gold ring that held an emerald. She looked at me like I was pranking her, but none-the-less, she had tears swelling in her eyes. I said ‘[Name], you have cause me the most joy I have ever had and I hope I can cause you that much joy, forever more…Will you marry me?’” Loki finished.

Sylvie watched Loki closely, waiting for [Name]’s answer.

“Well?” Loki looked at Sylvie and chuckled softly.

“Well… She didn’t believe me at first…” Loki chuckled, a look of fondness in his eyes.

“I don’t blame her,” He continued.

“I am the God of Mischief. After she looked at me like I was pranking her, she pulled me up and kissed me. Saying how if I were lying that she wouldn’t talk to me for a month.” Loki said, chuckling again.

“I said that I would never joke about this. And instantly she said, ‘yes’.” Loki said, beaming at Sylvie

Sylvie smiled back at him, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

Loki noticed this, tilting his head slightly, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Sylvie avoided his watchful eye, finding the table in front of her suddenly very interesting.

“Did… Did you… Did you marry her?” Sylvie asked softly,-which was very out of character for her- eyes full of hope and longing.

Loki looked down at the table, the smile once on his face had fallen.

“Yes, I did but…” Loki sighed.

“But?” Sylvie offered again.

“But about two weeks after the wedding, is when Thor was to be crowned king. That’s when my jealousy got the best of me. And when I let the Frost Giants in Asgard.” Loki finished, eyes drowning in regret.

Sylvie opened her mouth like she was going to say something but quickly closed it, deciding against it.

“Shortly after is when I faked my death. I haven’t seen her since.” Loki added, letting out a deep breath, head lowering.

“What happened?” Sylvie asked carefully, leaning closer to make sure she hears everything.

“My nexus event was me escaping with the tesseract during the alien attack on New York.” Loki explained slowly.

“I was supposed to go back to Asgard with Thor. My mother was too die and I was to be in a prison cell. I was to be aloud out to help Thor’s Midgard girl, where I faked my death again. I took on the role of Odin and [Name]was always by my side.” He said smiling.

“I was to meet my sister, Hela, with Thor and help fight her, trying to protect Asgard and [Name].”

Sylvie looked at the table once again, and sighed.

“It looks like happy endings with [Name] are just not in the cards for us.”

“I guess not.” Loki replied dejectedly.

The two were silent for a while after, both reflecting on the choices in their lives. And how in the galaxy did it come to this, being on the run from the TVA for ‘straying’ from their predetermined timelines.

And why could they not be happy.

A/N: Another fic just in my drafts, need to let them out and fly! Hope you like it!

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sylvies-kablooie · 5 months

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what if sylvie used the endless timelines to smuggle treasures

she is, after all, the goddess of mischief!

something that stuck out to me in s1 was how she would place objects from one time period into another where it Shouldn’t Be, and use this to lure in the minutemen. but imagine if she uses this for cash instead of violence.

she jumps back to Ancient Rome, where she had hidden before in the dust of Pompeii- but in this timeline, now free to infinitely branch, they don’t get devoured by Vesuvius. so she takes in the sights and picks up a coin or two dropped onto the ground in the marketplace before making her exit. she could be subtle. she’s smart. or she could go straight for finding the long lost faberge eggs for the thrill of it all.

fast forward to the 1980’s. how did this weird woman working at the local mcdonalds get these very real looking coins slash jewels from centuries or millennia ago? she smiles and says it came down through family, cooks up a backstory about a beloved uncle who was a collector. she doesn’t smile while they haggle on prices. she leaves with enough cash for a lot more records and movies and feeling deeply accomplished.

#it just seems like the type of fun she would get up to #“but juni” you say “she just wants an ordinary life now!”#do you think she will have given up her mischievous ways!!#do you think they don’t call to her like a jet ski calls to don!#harmless crime: time theft with no stakes #what are they gonna do? prune her? TVA doesn’t prune anymore! time crime is legal baby!#imagine if she does get brought in and b-15 has to be like. guys. it’s okay. she’s with me and she Does That Sometimes. and sighs deeply.#Anyway. Much to explore here. Feel free to share thouguts #Sylvie #sylvie laufeydottir #loki serk #loki series #loki s2

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bestwitchsam · 9 months

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He is use more magic, i'm gonna cry!! Finallyyyy 🥺✨️ #Loki

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whoppert · 2 months

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SUNNA 11 (doctor strange/reader) (loki/reader)

◂ previous chapter first chapter ▴

----- words

warnings: the after effects of mind violation; canon-typical violence.

AO3 MASTERPOST

Through the flames I spot a crack, leading to a cream-colored hallway. Another memory.

An escape.

A crack in the fabric of my mind.

In the distance the monster howls grow steadily closer.

I sent a searching glance out into the forest but Loki is nowhere to be seen. We'd gotten separated somewhere in the flames and smoke. I wasn't suppose to leave him, but this is an out.

What had been a crack the size of a large tree rapidly stitched up, if I waited too long I would lose the opportunity.

The howls grow closer - the creature is after me.

I throw myself through the crack, misjudging the drop onto the carpeted hall and grazing my knee. The crackle of burning wood is shut completely out as the gateway to the forest vanished, leaving this new alien environment eerily quiet. I suddenly know exactly why I am not supposed to leave Loki. What do I do now?

Shit. I have actually fucked myself.

AO3

What Would Wong Do? Gotta get my bearings. It's office building but not, very corporate feeling, clean and efficient, everything made from synthetic materials and white or off-white or beige or gray. The open doors show big rooms, and stacks of chairs that could accommodate a decent group of people if needed, but the building is seemingly empty.

Somewhere a phone is ringing.

Some of Loki's words begin to sink in. It's not that he's suggesting that Stephen is behind all of this - even if I'm realizing I don't actually know Stephen that well, I trust him, implicitly. I don't know why, I can't put a feeling into words, but I do. Even if I have just embarrassed myself, I still trust him. Maybe that's why I like him. Am I crazy for liking him? I'm definitely crazy for kissing him.

The hallway led to some kind of foyer area which was a lot nicer in appearance than the beige hallway. New looking couches as well as ornate flowers arranged in vases and paintings decorated the room, though I recognized nothing.

Maybe I'm not crazy. I'm not the only one who thought Stephen and I had a connection, even if the only other person is Loki. I literally just watched our meet-cute. Stephen is very attractive, super smart. Witty. And I swear I can feel his hands linger on me every time he touches me, even if he makes a point of touching me very sparingly. He makes my heart race. I make him snort with laughter like at least once a week. God, this the world's stupidest crush. I have to get over it, because he made it perfectly clear- I barely see him as it is. He turns up for five minutes after avoiding me for a month, or it definitely feels like he's ignoring me and then we get- I get too close and he avoids me again. I don't have any other friends as it is, the last thing I need is to chase one away.

My mind quivers at the thought of him, tightening like a heart pulsing. I can do it, I can get over him.

A low rumbling vibrated the walls. No matter where in the building I went the ringing of that stupid phone never seemed any closer or further away.

WWWD? Keep moving, I think.

The ringing gets louder and louder. I push on the crash door to get outside, only to find myself next to a waterfall in a lush looking rainforest and face-to-face with Kuema. The ringing ceases as the door shuts behind me.

“You,” I reared back a little, “who are you to me?”

“You know, I really don’t remember,” she smiles brightly.

“What?” A bird called loudly from where it was perched on some vines, distracting me, but when I looked back Kuema was gone. “What do you mean?” I call to the forest, the humid air hard to breathe and I gasp, my throat closing up. It's only a few seconds but time doesn’t seem so fixed now that I'm away from Loki. I’d assumed that he was using his magic to keep the area around us stable enough for us to explore, and now I am confident that my assumption was correct.

I continue to choke on nothing. I claw at my throat, desperate to stop the burn in my lungs, but by the time my nails began to sink into my flesh, something slid into place inside me and I gulp the fresh air down.

While I was distracted a golden throne room had grown around me. Kuema stood next to it, wearing long delicate white robes and a tight smile, her hair braided into a white crown that wraps around the top of her head.

“I didn’t make you up,” I realize. She didn’t fit here. I could just feel it. She originated elsewhere.

“No, you didn’t,” she replied, suddenly serious.

“You’re not a memory. This- you’re not a memory.”

“No.”

“What are you?”

“A safety feature.”

Again, my mind pulses. The setting sun shines through the columns, bouncing off the smooth edges of the ornate stone. I clutch my head as it begin to grow heavy and ache. Sleep would be so, so easy.

Kuema vanishes in a blink of an eye, the room melting like it had suddenly turned to liquid, reforming to place me in the center of Stephen’s office.

“Your relationship with Stephen is unusual, don’t you think? That you’re so enamored with him, even if you won’t admit it to yourself. Another word for the Loki list - insightful. I know that you think Loki has some valuable points, though even torture likely wouldn't get a confession out of you.” Kuema smirks, her tone playful, like she was dancing around a lesson, but wanted me to come to the conclusion on my own. She reminds me too much of Loki.

“It’s Loki, even a broken clock and all that,” I say, wiping spit from my mouth, “I’m not worried about him, I’m looking for my memories. Where are they?”

In the hall, that godforsaken phone began to ring and Kuema’s head whipped towards it, a slight frown tugging at her mouth. “I don’t know.”

“Did the real you plant you in my head?”

“I don’t know. I assume so.”

“You’re the only thing in my head that isn’t a memory? The beast?”

The Kuema copy shook her head.

“What does it want with me?”

“It doesn’t want anything from you .”

My blood chilled. Loki. It was after Loki. And I’d left him.

As soon as I decide I need to get back to Loki, the scene comes undone like a loose thread on a gray wool sweater, the carpet beneath my feet frayed, causing me to trip as I try to steady myself. The roof lifted off and the walls began to dissolve as though touched with something very acidic. Another stumble takes me to my knees. Something else inside my head clicks into place and purple light glimmers my fingertips. My magic. I can feel its energy thrumming. My magic returned. Somewhere, wherever he was in my head, Loki was fixing my brain and I’d left him alone while the beast hunted him.

A quick glance below me revealed other memories, filling thousands of feet below me. The fall would kill me.

“What does the beast want with him?”

Another pulse causes a spike in my reclaimed power that I can’t tamp down quick enough. I plummet, memories whizzing pass me as I fall. My hair whips in my ears. The memories, around me, always moving, shifting, showing things I cannot remotely declare as truth. One such memory moves below me, as if to catch me, but I fall through it as if it would nothing but a cloud. Chunks of land and parts of scenes flew past me, faster than I can grab with my magic. Desperately, I try to cling onto a statue from work, but the impact on my reaching arms and bloody hands causes instant agony. The world around me responds in kind, turning red and inflamed. The collision with the statue had set me spinning and I smash through the floor of my bedroom at the Sanctum, splintering the wood, and opening up an exit wound in that scene. Again the world responds, squeezing in on me like a heart valve with no blood, pulsing to an inaudible beat, and my magic responses in kind, tightening then releasing. It's excruciating. My magic is back, but I'm so out of practice using it.

New York quickly comes into focus, but I can barely process the nearing pavement, too busy pondering the result of landing on concrete at speed when something invisible wraps around my middle, slowing my descent, my feet finally make purchase with the sidewalk, but they don’t have the energy to keep me up and I fall straight on my hands and knees, nauseous and grateful for solid ground.

Loki made no move to help me. "I have been looking everywhere for you!" His coat was gone and the edges of his trousers singed, but he doesn’t look too worse for wear. "If I hadn't looked up, you would be a splatter on the pavement right now."

"Because you care so much about my wellbeing, right?" I cough, breathing heavy. My heart pounds. I clutch my chest as though it would stop it from tearing out of me. Everything is getting so vibrant. My brain hurts.

“You abandoned me, even though I am the only thing standing between you and madness."

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t have done the same if the positions were reversed.”

“That’s the thing, Sunna, you don’t know a thing about me. Your entire perception of who I am is based on assumptions, I understand it, it is the same of every soul I encounter, but when it comes down to it, like everyone who exists, you choose to save your own skin first. You’re not better than me. You’re the same as your perception of me, and your moral superiority complex grows tiring, child.”

“Your reputation knocked before you did. Boo-hoo. You tried to take over New York!” I managed to push myself up, leaning back on my ankles and swaying dangerously.

“But I didn’t.” Indignant.

I face plant on the ground, my body limp.

I have no idea if I have dreamed this dream before.

“It’s not you, you know,” Stephen mutters. “I don’t fall for people. It’s always a mess when I do.”

"Listen to him," Kuema's voice splinters around us.

When I wake, I am confronted with the distorted image of Loki leaning over me. “Thank Ymir. You’re awake.”

But before I can answer there is a thunderous crack and he's knocked out cold, crumpling next to me.

I scream.

“It’s okay,” said Another Loki looms over me, a plank of wood in his hands. “He wasn’t real- that wasn't real, no, no, no, no, stay with me.”

Again, I pass out.

It's like watching bacteria multiply, one Stephen becomes many, each a memory or a thought, but all about him. I can feel on my body the imprint of every time he’d touched me, a shoulder brush as we passed each other in the hallway, heat blossoming across my skin from the remnants of sparring bruises, the impression of his lips over mine when I'd kissed him, the feeling of his hand tangling in my hair after he’d found me wandering New York, concussed and frightened.

Intoxicating to me.

When Stephen and I first met, it was like basking in the warmth of the sun for the first time after a life of shadow. His laugh, his humor. Even in the beginning he'd been able to make me laugh, loudly and without care. I care about him. I do. He makes me feel safe! He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel safe.He makes me feel safe.He makes me feel safe.He makes me feel safe.He makes me feel safe.Hemakesmefeelsafe.Hemakesmefeelsafe.Hemakesmefeelsafe.hemakesmefeelsafe.hemakesmefeelsafehemakesmefeelsafemakesmefeelsafefeelsafesafesafesafe.

I'm in some parking building when I wake up. All grey concrete and dotted with a handful of cars. Loki is next to me, sitting on the dirty ground, head resting back against the wall.

His eyes opened narrowly to observe me, before squeezing shut again in annoyance.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"I've had worse beatings," Loki said with an air of nonchalance. Still he winced, his hand raising to the opposite shoulder. Red stains his shirt. Claw marks.

“What happened?”

“You passed out, and I’ve had to lug you around until you woke up, so not only are we even, but now you owe me,” he sounds exhausted, but clearly not too exhausted to be frustrated at me.

“I… thank you,”

He says nothing.

“Why are you helping me?”

Loki doesn’t have time to react before the flash flood hits us. His body slides against the wall, smashing into mine, winding me, and pushing me under the surface, the current sweeping me down to the next level of the parking building. Is it possible to drown in your own mind? The tumultuous waters kept flipping me, and I can't tell which way is up. My brain forces me to breathe in, choking on water, flailing in the pull of the undercurrent when arms wrap around me, hoisting me so my head comes out of the water. My back is against Loki’s chest, and I cough and splutter. His own breathing heavy, laborious in my ear is swept from him entirely when the wave crashes, and I sandwich him against the wall. We descended another level.

A small white car barrels in my direction, about to crush me when Loki pulls me out of the water. He had managed to heave himself onto a nearby staircase, one hand hauls me up and the other gripping onto the railing.

Once I am out of the water, Loki drops me, more out of exertion, so that I stumble onto the stairs.

The beast is swept past, trying to fight through the rushing rapids.

Loki hasn’t noticed, still focused on me, as the featureless monster defied the thundering water to make its way over to us. The prince is in the middle of saying ‘what are you doing?’ when I yank him away from the beast’s outstretching claws, even though he falls against me on the hard edges of the steps. If this was real-life my ribs would have broken against the concrete, but even in this form the pain overwhelms me, and I whimper, trying to fight through the feeling.

The parking building vanishes and we are laying in long grass in the middle of a meadow, still soaking wet, Loki straddling my waist.

“Get off-” I try to push him off, but his hand covers my mouth (covers half my goddamn face), silencing me, though it is just as likely his expression would have silenced me on its own.

Loki has gone preternaturally still, his gaze searching as he listens for something I can’t hear, his supporting hand pressed palm first into the soil above my shoulder.

The grass rustles.

Nearby, the monster stalks.

It could not see us over the long grass, though without eyes, I’m not sure how its been able to see us in the first place. It croons, a long, sad mournful sound, broken with gasps for breath.

My body shakes against my will, trying to contain the fear when the creature takes a step in our direction. Loki does not release his hand from my mouth, though I wasn't inclined to speak again. His hair has come out of its braid, dripping water onto my nose.

Another step towards us. Again, that anguished call vibrated over our heads. Was it crying? It sounded like it.

Neither of us had the energy to run again. I wonder how Loki had managed to keep me alive while I had passed out, but the beast takes another step and Loki lays flat on top of me, keeping me pressed into the earth. I hold him tight. Even wet from the flood his body is particularly cold, though he does not shiver.

If I die, I am going to miss Stephen so, so much.

The strong pungent smell of earth fills my noise. I could hear Loki whispering faintly in some language I can’t understand. The beast is close now. I want to tell him to run. It’s not after me, I scream in my head, but there was no falter in his whispers to suggest he’d heard.

The beast bore down on us and I couldn’t help but jolt in fear when the warm earth beneath us began to drag us into its embrace, plants and bugs and soil and Loki’s arms wrap around me tightly, holding me against him as we sunk out of sight.

I have no control over anything in my whole life. The Spellcaster uses me for an unimaginable end. I have lost my memories. I feel like some fantasy that mistakenly gained sentience. I don't know who I am.

A phone rings. My cell.

It’s in my pocket.

Slide to answer.

When we rise out of the earth we were no longer in the meadow. We weren’t even outside. The walls of my old apartment were closed around us. It seems normal on the surface. The layout was as I remembered, familiar even. The kitchen is stocked with food, dirty plates in the sink. An open door to my bedroom reveals an unmade bed. There is art on the walls and a busted TV that only plays a few free channels and had a bad habit of giving anyone who touched it a static shock.

Somewhere in the room, a phone rings.

The apartment shudders and becomes double exposed, showing memories over the top of other memories.

Every memory that I’d had in this apartment.

Kicking off my shoes at the front door and slumping on the sofa to watch TV after work. Cooking a midnight snack.

He props himself up on one elbow, and I am vaguely aware that I have my own body, and he his, and I falling back against the floor as he raises himself up.

A flick of Loki's hand and a wash of green is all it takes to reveal the magical signatures in the room, mine, all mine. Purples and violets and blues laying overtop of everything like a fresh bruise.

Hundreds of ghosts of me go through the motions of living, each memory laid one on top of another, reenacting every single moment I had in this apartment.

“Diplopia, I know that it might not seem like a good sign, but it is.” Loki slid off of me, he offers me a hand up, which I accept. He's relieved. “An anchor point in your mind, usually your childhood home. Interesting that you only have adult memories in this place,” he swept his hand through the air in a wide arch, gesturing to my compatriots.

Every thought seemed to mix together, slurring words and images into a brown smudge. Loki looks badly drained.

“No, no, don't-” Loki is at my side, holding me up, strong fingers gripping my upper arms. I hadn’t realized I was swaying. “Oh dear.”

The window shows the street outside, and the beast whines like an ignored dog, wandering back and forth, looking up and pawing at the brick occasionally.

Inside the memories kept flowing.

Only of them seems solid. It's me, sitting in the heap against the wall, staring into space.

Motion sick. Not well, not well. I have the urge to vomit.

"Stop," Loki's voice is rough in my ear, like I am a child who needs chastisement. "Don't go to sleep, that's what it wants. The key to getting your memories back is in this room."

It seemed that he'd sensed that my eyelids beginning to droop before I had.

The memories around us are making me dizzy.

Something calls to me in a sleepy whisper in my ear, "lay down and rest." The voice feels like family.

Someone snaps their fingers in my face. I open my eyes expecting to see Loki, but it's Kuema's hand, her other arm wrapped around me, supporting me as Loki had.

Next to us, the window opens, sliding up.

The beast stretches its bulk in order to fit through the window, flopping into a puddle on the hardwood, where it sits contained and unmoving.

Kuema, slightly taller than me, braced herself so that I wouldn’t trip when I stumble backwards away from the beast.

The creature is bigger than a horse with grey mottled skin that reminds me of the worst kind of spiders. Featureless flesh stretching over the sockets where its eyes could have been, its thin, lipless mouth held no expression, and strangely enough, no teeth. Its bones must be able to maneuver into unnatural positions.

Where is-? My own thought it cut off when I see him.

Loki is collapsed on the floor, seemingly asleep. The beast made no move to harm him.

“She's after Loki,” Kuema mutters in my ear sharply, “not you, okay? It recognizes him as a foreign body in your mind. No one intended for him to be here.”

I nod, but my head hurt from the movement.

“This can all be over in a moment, but you have to listen to me,” Kuema’s tone was almost… motherly. Commanding and gentle at the same time, like I would be smart to do as she said. “This creature here, she wants to take Loki’s memories. And you’re going to let her, okay?”

“Wait- what?” I slur through the words, shaking the fog off my brain.

“There isn’t time-”

“No,” I push her away, a moment of clarity emboldening me, enough. Without her I wobble. “Why would it want that? His memories? What is it?”

I try to throw off the sluggishness overtaking me, but it weighs me down, and again Kuema is holding me up, only this time I accept the assistance.

"You're asking too many questions," Kuema snaps.

"If you don't give me some context, there is no way I am acting on your recommendations."

"You have to trust me."

"Why would I trust you?"

"Please! I don't know why I'm here, but I know I have a job to do." Her golden eyes narrow. "This apartment, this room, is the last thing holding your memories from splintering away. It is the anchor point in your mind, your memories are here, but the person who cast that spell on you booby-trapped it. As soon as Loki entered your mind, this point birthed that creature to hunt him down.”

"To protect me?"

Kuema doesn't answer me. "My duty is to protect you."

The beast cocks its head to the side, quizzically. When the monster leans back on its heels, it looks humanoid. It's not angry anymore. Neither am I. Anger was for elsewhere, maybe outside this anchor point, maybe for outside of being in my own head. This creature is just lost in here like I am. When faced square on, it looks horribly misshapen, marked and wrinkled and yet bland, the kind of thing the audience imprints their own fears upon.

“It’s your deepest sense of self, it's the offspring of a great trauma,” Kuema said from behind me, sadly. “It knows the pain that Loki caused you, it knows what he has taken from you. It wants revenge. It wants him to feel the vulnerability- the violation."

The beast just looked mournfully at the sleeping prince.

I get the impression that she is trying to whip me up into an angry frenzy, but I just can't. Anger does not exist here.

The heap in the corner, the only other solid me in this room full of memories looks at me.

The double exposed memories stop and stare. I could not meet the hatred in their eyes, so I stare at the beast, and the beast, without eyes, stares back at me.

They all ignored Loki.

“And I-I could get my memories back?”

The room breathes in unison, it's subtle but I can feel it, I breathe with them.

“Yes,” Kuema takes my hand, rubbing her thumb along the back of it comfortingly, “and all you have to trade is his memories. You could get even with him.”

For a long moment, I am tempted.

A really long moment.

But I can't do to Loki on purpose, what he had done to me inadvertently. “What if I don’t want him to lose his memories? I wouldn’t wish this fate on my worst enemy.”

“It’s yours or his. You cannot have both.”

“Why not?” I snapped, turning on her, “why do you get to make all the decisions Kuema? I’m getting out of here and I’m taking both of our memories with me!”

“That is not possible. Right now, I am the only thing keeping you alive. Loki’s been wandering around your mind, he’s gotten you your powers back. When you wake up you will find the physical symptoms of his invasion totally healed. Out there-” she pointed up, “Stephen and Wong have made sure that your body survives the physical toll of this treatment,” she called me by my name, but it sounds foreign on her tongue, “but right now? The only person intervening in the natural order is me. If it weren’t for me, the beast would’ve taken its price by now, and this anchor point would have remained as it was created- to erase your memories permanently. I am the only reason you get a choice. So choose, and quickly. If a decision isn’t made soon, I don’t know what will become of any of you.”

The beast observes me coolly, no hint of expression.

“You’re thinking of saving him. Of giving up everything you are. Would he do the same for you?”

I glanced at the solid me, glaring from where it rested.

Somewhere in the distance, a phone rings.

"Lay down and rest," that sleepy voice whispered again, only it's the room that is speaking to me. Each memory, each version of me whispers it over and over again.

I looked at Kuema, and she holds my gaze, a hand sliding to each of my cheeks, as she looked at me in sympathy, "I know, this is hard for you, but you have to put yourself first."

"Can he hear us?" I whisper.

“Loki knows everything that is going on, the room has subdued him to prevent further damage to your mind, but he is powerful. He watches from his slumber,” Kuema guides me to make my decision.

"And he won't remember any of this?"

“He is at your mercy this time.”

AO3 MASTERPOST

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