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lusmeitli · 3 months ago

Text

But like of each thing that in season grows

Summary: How a kind gesture can lead to something more. One shot.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Christmas fluff, mention of off screen assault, some swearing, lots of snow, books, poetry, smutty smut.

A/N: Okay, look. It just wanted to get out. You’re thrown in without a warning, nor a floatie. Apologies for the liberties taken to interpret and manipulate characters to dance after my will once more. Obviously don't read if you're a minor.

9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9

The greatest ideas were conceived in the shower. That was a scientific fact.

You liked facts. You did not like uncertainties or speculation. The feeling of being in limbo was something that didn’t sit right with you.

So as you were in the shower, working the conditioner in your hair, the idea was just there. It was simple, humble, but beautiful. Your hands slowed and stilled. And then your mind rebooted and went at lightning speed, planning things out. You needed to write things down.

You stepped out of the shower hurriedly, towelling down your body, before realising that your hair felt different. Cursing, you stepped back under the water to rinse off the conditioner.

*****

You hated staff meetings. Particularly third Thursdays staff meetings, because they dragged on and on. The weekly mission reports were presented and Fury insisted on inviting some guest speakers. He called it “Horizon Thursday”.

In your opinion it narrowed rather than widened it. Today’s guest speaker was Quinn Harris, cyber security specialist. You suspected self-proclaimed, but you hadn’t bothered doing a deep dive on him.

You were sat on the increasingly uncomfortable chair, rows of employees in front of you, the Avengers at the very front. Rogers had delivered his usual military style mission report, the other members of his team trying to look alive, though you suspected Romanoff and Banner were asleep, as they were both donning sunglasses.

“What you need is a quantum computer and it’ll solve all your problems with encryption.”

“They might as well propose using block ciphers,” you murmured under your breath, turning the page in your book.

Meanwhile, a hand shot in the air at the front. “Excuse me, Mr Harris.”

The man smiled. “Mr Stark, do you have a question?”

“Well, not so much a question for you, but I would very much like the opinion of another expert on what you just said. You know, before anyone here thinks about investing in your product, which, let’s be honest, would be me. I’d like to be sure it’s the right thing.”

Fury rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair.

There had been talk about getting that dude in? You must have zoned out for that part.

Harris’ face fell for a second, but he honed his features and forced a smile. “Of course.”

“It just so happens that we have an inhouse expert,” Tony got up and scanned the crowd. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Everyone uniformly turned to look at you. Everyone.

You felt the moment one particular pair of eyes set on you. The amount of times you had spoken to one another had been limited to the missions you were needed on, for hacking. You’d had his voice in your ear a few times and it did things to your body that made you feel like a system overheat. You never really saw him during missions though as your job was very much office-bound.

Today, he wore the damn leather suit. Whilst Fury didn’t give a fuck, Rogers very much was all about the professional appearance of the Avengers. What you didn’t understand was why everything looked better on him. The black and green possibly was the best colour combination there ever was. The other day Bucky had worn a Slytherin pullover and even though it very nicely accentuated his physique, it looked nothing like the colours did on Loki.

You swallowed hard when you felt his eyes on you. They seemed to see right through you, even over the distance of the seven rows of chairs.

And then you felt the weight of all the other pairs of eyes on you. That was a lot of people. You gulped and pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose - a habit you couldn’t break.

“Y/N,” Tony called, bringing you back to the matter at hand. “Stand up and look at me.” His voice was gentle. “Start breathing again. Good. Now tell me what Harris is not telling me about the quantum computer.”

You adjusted your glasses again and cleared your throat. “It’s a solid proposition, I suppose,” you started, “however, one I would expect from a college freshman, certainly not from a cyber security expert specialist.”

Murmurs erupted, but you ignored them and rattled off your thoughts.

“Can a quantum computer crack asymmetric encryption algorithms? Yes. And yes, we all know that thanks to Shor’s algo the maths problems are only polynomial. Also, we know this applies to discrete log problems, too, therefore, all we’d need is a large enough quantum computer. Of course, he,” you gestured to Harris, “would have to build one first, which as you can guess is very costly. However, this entire presentation is based on the assumption that quantum computing is the end of asymmetric cryptography. And that is such a blatantly ignorant approach, with complete disregard for the safety of the members of our staff that are entirely reliant on the encryption cracking working on all their devices during operations and missions. And this whole quantum computer only works if you have a network connection.”

“So you’re suggesting there are hard problems that a quantum computer can’t solve?” Harris said, chin jutting out, arms crossed defiantly.

“Don’t be silly, of course there are,” you huffed. “I coded new post-quantum asymmetric encryption algos three years ago and tested them on several sites I am not authorised to disclose that have quantum computers. Not one of them cracked the simplest of those codes, in any of the over 5,400 attempts they ran over the past three years. So this presentation is… rather embarrassing in its sloppiness.”

“Well,” Harris’ lips were a thin line now. “I’m sure you have a ‘much better’ suggestion then?” He actually raised his hands to add the quotation marks.

“Actually, I do. I developed our own version of a quantum computer, at - and I’m only guessing here - a fraction of the price you’d charge Mr Stark, which can crack both symmetric and asymmetric encryption, works on all of our staff’s devices, portable and stationary, works offline and is about the size of, uh, a thumbnail.”

You pointed to your thumb, because in your humble experience men like him struggled to accurately size things.

Tony smiled and turned to Harris.

“Okay that concludes today’s meeting.” Fury got to his feet and patted Harris’ shoulder. “Looks like we’re good, but thanks for coming.”

People around you stood, some nodding at you as they passed. Tony caught up with you in the hallway. Before he could say something you blurted out: “Did I say something wrong? Was I rude again?”

He smirked and pushed the button of the lift. “He needed putting into place. Totally fine by me. You did great.”

“Stark!” bellowed Fury from down the hall and Tony winced.

“Excuse me, mother’s calling.” He turned and left.

You sidled into the lift with several other people. The cabin stopped a few floors up and people got off. That was when you noticed Loki on the other side of the lift. Up you went and after another stop you were alone with the Asgardian god. The cabin seemed to shrink.

You both watched the numbers climb, the lift hummed, Loki’s leather suit creaked softly as he crossed his hands behind his back.

“Could you please enlighten me about Shor’s algorithm?” he suddenly asked, looking at you.

You had a heart palpitation. Surely that was what it was. He was so impossibly tall and sculpted and… here.

“Um,” you pushed your glasses back up, “it’s a quantum algorithm for finding the prime factors of an integer.”

Loki’s face looked blank.

“It, er, essentially it finds the prime factors of large numbers a lot faster than conventional computers do. Which we use in encryption. The large numbers, that is. So it cracks codes faster.”

“Ah,” he said, head turning back to continue staring at the number display. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you croaked out.

The urge to facepalm burned under your fingers, but you resisted. As soon as the doors slid open on your floor, however, you fled and sought asylum in the ladies’ toilets, banging your head against the wall of the stall.

*****

Operation Great Idea was in full swing.

So you’ve had a little personal setback, but that didn’t deter you from the objective. You had compiled a list, one you were confident was accurate based on your intel and research. That very list was neatly folded in the deep pocket of your coat as you walked through the cold rain on this late November afternoon.

Yes, you did something you’d never done before - take an afternoon off - and were trying to evade puddles on your way to the bookshop. Could you have ordered the books online? Most of them, certainly. But your late mother, an independent business owner, had ingrained in you to support local shops. You liked bookshops, they reminded you of her and of simpler times.

Your timing was excellent - of course you had researched when the shop was least busy - and you practically had the shop to yourself. And so you walked, dragging a pull-along basket behind you as you searched the shelves for the books on the list.

Sometimes, there were different editions there and you stood for a while, feeling the weight of each book in your hand, the feel of the embossed letters on the spine, the scent of the pages. You wanted it to be just right, so you took your time.

Some of the books you would only be able to get in a little second hand bookshop, tucked away in a side street. You had called beforehand and the owner lifted a box from under the counter to show you what she had reserved for you. As soon as your fingers made contact with the books you felt absolutely giddy.

Back at the Tower, you spent two entire evenings wrapping books after work. When you were finished, you leaned back, looking at the neatly organised stack. Yes, you were ready. Now all you needed was an exorbitant amount of luck for the next 24 days.

*****

You watched Loki stare suspiciously at the first parcel. He was sitting in the communal kitchen, Thor next to him.

“Why would it be hexed?” Thor asked. “Simply because the sender is missing?”

Loki just gave him a pointed look.

“Come, brother, aren’t you curious to find out what is in this gift?”

“Loki got a present?” Steve asked as he pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Did I miss his birthday?”

Before Loki could say anything, Thor shook his head. “He’s worried it has been tampered with.”

Roger’s brows furrowed. “How did it get into your possession?”

“It was on the floor outside my door this morning,” Loki complied, sighing.

“FRIDAY would have picked up on any foreign substances or intruders in the tower,” Tony said between gulps of coffee. “He now can detect traces of magic, too. ‘Course, he went apeshit over your magic, but we got it under control, eventually.”

“That’s what all this ‘Alert, alert, magic detected, caution advised’ blaring at five in the morning was?” Scott bustled in.

A slight tinge of red shaded Loki’s complexion. “I have to practise some time.”

“Thought you were born with it?” Scott interjected, helpfully.

This earned him a glare. “I was born with the aptitude for magic and sorcery. It takes a lot more than mere talent to achieve this level of proficiency.”

“Several centuries, in fact,” his brother supplied. “Now then Stark here says it’s safe. So open it, brother!” Thor clapped his hands together.

Loki indignantly and very reluctantly slid the parcel towards him and pulled on the simple string that held the wrapping together. The paper fell open to reveal one of the books you had picked.

From your vantage point of, well, your computer screen, you zoomed in to get a better look at him.

“Oh, a book,” you heard the onlookers muttering disappointedly, quickly losing interest and going about their business once more.

But Loki just sat, staring at the book. It took him a good few minutes to pick it up. And he did what you had seen him do many times before. He weighed it in his hands, fingertips running over the cover, the spine. Then he opened the lid. To anyone else it might not have been noticeable, but to you it was: he inhaled the scent of the book. And finally, there was the smallest upturn of his lips.

You exhaled, relieved. One down 23 more to go.

*****

Over the next week you were too busy testing the new firewall you had developed to check on Loki’s reaction. Sometimes you felt a little self-conscious, scared even that he might not like the books or think this was from a stalker. Which technically you had indulged in, stalking that was, but only to find the perfect books for him. And then sometimes you would get worried that someone else might have found the presents.

But you knew he had received every single one of them, for every evening, when you passed the common area you saw him sitting on the couch with the latest offering in his hands. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it looked as if his tense shoulders had started to relax a bit.

Another couple of days went by and as the decorations started to pop up in the Tower and the first snow fell that didn’t immediately melt or turn to mush you felt happy. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that a certain someone walked differently. Maybe it was your imagination. But he seemed even taller these days.

*****

“Did it work?” you heard his voice in your ear a couple days later.

The data set was streaming on the screen in front of your eyes. “It did. Give me a moment to inject the virus, then you can disconnect the USB cable.”

“Can I still talk to you?”

Your fingers on the keyboard stilled for a moment, surprised. “Of course. The program runs through your phone, not through comms.”

There was a little pause, before he said: “I have a question. About a Midgardian tradition.”

You wrinkled your nose, scanning the code rushing over the screen. “I’ll try my best, but I’m rubbish at traditions.”

The audible outbreath sent shivers down your spine. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“What’s your question then?”

“Tell me about the Yuletide calendar.”

45% done. “You mean the Advent calendar?”

“Precisely.”

This was dangerous territory you were treading on. “Oh, it’s a fun thing for kids, really. To make the wait for Christmas a bit more exciting and I guess more bearable. It’s nice to get a little something like a toy.”

“Is it always toys?”

69% now. “Well, no. My mum used to get me an advent calendar that had these lovely drawings behind each door. I hung it up in the front room and we’d open it together every morning.”

“I suppose it’s a nice custom,” he said, before asking, “What about grown ups, do they have advent calendars?”

83%. “Sometimes. There’s all sorts: beer, wine, beauty products, chocolates - you name it, it probably exists somewhere.”

“Books, too?”

The question threw you, did he know it was you? A light was blinking on your screen.

100%.

“That’s it, Loki, the virus is uploaded, you can unplug the cable now and get out of there.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You heard a crackle and the comms was handed over to operations again. As you finished running the decryption programme on the data Loki had extracted, you kept hearing his voice in your head.

“Books, too?” Were you busted?

*****

Security breaches were both an insult as well as an admittedly welcome challenge to you. Someone had tried to flex their fingers - and you had a very good idea who - to break into Stark’s network. They had managed to pierce a little hole into the outer layer of the firewall, but they didn’t know that you had several back up plans in place and you enjoyed watching them work. However, as you scanned over the intruder’s code you devised a new security strategy.

You were in the middle of coding a nice little primer for a new layer - unexpected because of its simplicity, but a tough little nut to crack - when someone cleared their throat next to you. You looked up to find Loki, his eyes fixed on you. You blinked, looked around, but no one else was there, and back up at the god.

“Can I, uh, help you?” Smooth. You facepalmed internally.

“I realised I have never been in here,” he said, looking around the room, then back at your desk. “You have a lot of monitors.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Just the standard three.”

“What are you doing now? Or is it a secret?”

“It’s not a secret at all. So we’re currently under attack. Relax,” she said when she noticed him tense, “cyberattack. Someone’s knocking at our backdoor, trying to see if they can get in.”

You motioned to one of your screens. “This is the intruder’s code. He’s trying out lots of keys to see if he can get in. And this,” you pointed to the screen next to it, “is our defence mechanism.”

“Extraordinary.” Loki’s low voice murmured. He was close. You turned your head and nearly had a heart attack at just how close. His sharp profile was illuminated by the blue glow of the monitor, his hair falling to his shoulders, one hand splayed on the desk, the other resting on the back of your chair. He looked beautiful. Perfect. He was leaning closer to the screen so he could see what was going on. Your breath hitched.

And then he turned his head.

Something that sounded an awful lot like a squeak escaped your throat.

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Am I making you nervous, Agent Y/N?”

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned back, just an inch. “No?”

Loki’s eyes drifted over your face, before they met your gaze again. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“A… a statement,” you mumbled and, for good measure, added, “sir.”

His eyes darkened, a smirk curling the left side of his lips. “Are you scared of me?”

You tilted your head ever so slightly. “How can I be scared of you?”

“You’ve heard the stories, undoubtedly.”

“I did. And if I believed everything people told me and not looked beyond I would be incredibly shitty at my job.”

He smiled at that. It was small, but there, and it made him so attractive you felt your stupid heart starting to pound in your chest. Could he hear it?

“Do you like to read, Agent Y/N?”

Another adjustment of your glasses. “I do.”

“What would you say is your favourite book?” His voice was low and smooth.

His hand moved from your desk to the side of your face, where he gently pulled on a tendril, before he brushed it behind your ear. The back of his fingers skimmed your cheek for less than a second, but it sent you reeling. It was as if an electromagnetic pulse was slowly wiping clean your hard drive. You couldn’t think.

“Um, err, Jane.. Jane Eyre.”

He hummed. “I wonder why? Is it because she’s abandoned and rejected all her life?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. Because she’s forced to leave home, into a life she didn’t choose. But when she is given the freedom and space to grow she learns to be the master of her happiness.”

His eyes followed the curve of your neck and back up again. It almost felt as if he was touching you. “Interesting.”

You swallowed again, before he stood upright, nodded at you, turned and left.

Your heart was pounding. And then your computer beeped and your attention was back on the screen.

“Oh pants…” Your fingers started flying over the keyboard. “Not today, Harris. Or any other day.”

Nine more books to go.

*****

He was onto you. Of course he was. After all, he was the God of Mischief and Lies. If anyone would find out who was behind this, it would be him. Personally, the preferred outcome was that he never would find out.

You had asked yourself often over the last 18 days why exactly you wanted to do this for him. But that was just it. You really had no other motive than wanting to do this for him. Maybe because you sympathised with him, being stuck somewhere far from home, feeling lonely and not really integrated. Maybe you had projected your own feelings onto him a tiny little bit. Possibly considerably. However, it was done with the best of intentions. You wanted to make this nice for him. The run up to Christmas. A little bit magical. He must like magic, he was a sorcerer after all, wasn’t he?

So what if you had started dreaming of him at night. He would lean over you as you sat at your desk, in all his tall- and broadness. This time his hands would be touching you. And he’d lean in to whisper into your ear. Admittedly, not words you would necessarily associate with such a situation.

When you would wake up you knew where to place the things he said to you in your dreams. He’d said them to you during missions. And yes, “how much longer till the download is complete, Agent Y/N?” was not remotely as sexy as “I’m going to ravish you now, thoroughly” would have been, for example. But your brain only had so much to work with and it worked for you.

You noticed a few things, however. Loki was around more often, probably just a silly coincidence, or you had started to pay more attention. He looked at you now. You’d look up and find him already looking at you, sometimes a little smile crossed his lips, but mostly it was just something with his eyes, they seemed… warmer, maybe?

However, to your horror you discovered that you had started to blush. Every single time this happened. So you spent a lot of time in the ladies’ toilets, splashing your face with cold water, only to see it even more flushed than before. Apparently, all the books you had read lied about that ‘splashing your face with cold water to calm down and not make people notice’-thing.

But it all boiled down to the fact that he was onto you. Maybe he was humouring you and seeing where this was going. Maybe he had found out already and you made him feel awkward. Or he was waiting for the opportune moment to expose and humiliate you. You weren’t sure which.

Right now it didn’t matter. You were so tired you could hardly see properly anymore. So when you decided to crash on the sofa in the common room, because it was halfway to your room, you didn’t think to check if anyone was there.

That was mistake number one.

You collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, eyes closed, head leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Fuck. My. Fucking. Life,” you complained to the universe. “Can you please make the appendage of that misogynistic wanker fall off already? For fuck’s sake!”

Mistake number two.

Someone chuckled. It came from rather close to you.

Dread filled you. Foul language was not tolerated in the workplace. To be fair you could argue that the common room was not your workplace per se, however, you did not want to start arguing with HR because they were absolute savages in the art of word twisting. Or just savages full stop.

Carefully, you cracked your eyes open. And there, on the sofa right next to you, sat Loki. One leg was stretched out in all its glorious length, the other bent at the knee, his forearm resting over it, the book in his lap now closed, one of his slender fingers acting as bookmark. For a moment you wondered what it would feel like to be the book.

“I hope it’s not my appendage you’re asking to be removed,” he said with a smirk.

You grappled to sit up, horrified. “Of course not! That would be awful… I mean, a terrible thing to wish for… you’d… err… such a loss of such a beautiful… I mean, I can only guess… but… um, err… heavens, please make me stop talking…”

You hid your head in a throw pillow, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Mistake number three.

The sound of a low, rumbly laugh made its way to your ears. It entered your system like a virus, leaving your limbs feeling weak and yearning. Was Loki laughing? You lifted your head and watched him, highly bemused at your idiotic display.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. You felt a hard tug at your heart. Goodness, if this man wasn’t already a god, you’d have to declare him one. If he were the head of a religion you would throw out your atheist views and follow him to the end of the multiverse. He looked absolutely breathtaking. Then again, when did he not?

“I’m so sorry,” you started to apologise, “I don’t know what-”

With superhuman speed he moved and sat next to you, his finger on your lips. The feel of his digit on your mouth felt more intimate than any sexual intercourse you’d ever had.

And then he leaned in.

He was so close your cells were basically breathing him in. His eyes were locked onto yours and nothing would have been able to make you look away right then.

“Do you want to know what book I’m reading right now?” His quiet words did things to your insides that were not legal.

You just about managed to nod, his finger still in place.

“‘The Remains of the Day’ by Kazuo Ishiguro. Do you know it?” He waited for your affirmation. “It’s about a man who is in love with a woman. But he doesn’t tell her. When they meet again after decades, she tells him her life would have been different if she had married him. And you know what he does? He still won’t admit his feelings to her. He walks away from her. The first time he lets her go, the second time he walks away.”

You remembered the book very well. You had picked it out for him, after all.

“It’s a cruel story, Y/N. A love that is never acknowledged, nor consumed.” Loki’s eyes drifted from yours down to your mouth. His finger slowly traced the outline of your lips. It was too much, your eyes closed.

“Do you think love is this cruel?” Loki asked quietly. You felt his words as he spoke them almost onto your skin. So close.

“It-it can be,” you whispered. “But maybe, maybe that wasn’t the point of the story.”

“No?”

You opened your eyes to find him looking at you. He’d moved away a bit, giving you some space, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Maybe the point was to show that he chose his job over love. Twice. You can call it dignity or pride, but at the end he’s alone. Without love.”

“What about you, Y/N? Do you have love in your life?”

You weren’t able to look into his eyes. Slowly, you got off the sofa. You turned back to him to respond to find he’d stood up, too.

You looked down at your shoes. His shoes were black, of course, polished, perfect, like him. Yours were several seasons old. Worn. A bit of the shoe sole had started to peel off at the top of your toes. The bit you always kicked into the floor when you worked.

Your eyes wandered up his trousers, black, to the belt, his pullover, also black. He looked effortlessly elegant, poised. You, on the other hand, looked a mess, even in your work attire. Your heart grew heavy at the realisation. Your dreams were stupid. Turned out your heart was even more stupid. And suddenly you felt incredibly small in more ways than one next to the tall, powerful god.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you said: “I have known love, once. A long time ago.”

With that you pivoted on your heels and left, leaving Loki alone in the common room.

*****

Harris was an absolute tosser.

He just couldn’t leave things be. He insisted on trying to show you up, so he tried and tried to hack his way through your firewalls. Of course he had tried to hide his identity and it had made you chuckle, because you seriously had no idea how he could ever dare call himself a cyber security specialist if he covered up his tracks like a novice hacker.

In a way it was cute, but it was getting to the point of obsessive stalking and you frankly were rather tired of this little game by now. Particularly, since it kept you from your nice, warm, comfortable bed well past midnight.

However, Harris seemed to have changed tactics and started to badmouth you in the industry. Even Fury had called Tony and asked whether he should be worried, because Harris had dug up some hacking you’d done when you were much younger and much less ethical. Really it was unhinged, but everyone worked through teenage years in their own way.

You only knew this because you happened to be in Tony’s office and he had Fury on loudspeaker. Tony had pacified Fury without batting an eye, then hung up and asked if you’d be okay with him paying Harris a little visit, preferably as Iron Man. You had both laughed it off. But it bugged you.

So when you were on your way back to the tower from the compulsory (for all employees) counselling session and someone grabbed you, you weren’t surprised to come face to face with Harris. He didn’t lay a finger on you. No, he got two goons to do that for him.

Later, as you stumbled out of the lift and along the corridor, trying to make your way to your room, someone blocked your way.

“Speak of the devil! Y/N! We were just talking about you.” Tony. Other voices around him.

You kept your head down, thinking of how to get out of this unnoticed.

“We were just wondering if– Y/N? What happened?” You saw Tony’s hand reach out for you, but you flinched away.

Silence fell for a long moment.

Then a movement. Shoes appeared in your line of vision. You knew those shoes well. They had been on display on the couch for the past 22 days, attached to an Asgardian god.

He slowly held out his hand, palm up. An assurance, no harm. You gave the slightest nod. He moved the hand up and placed a finger under your chin so carefully you wanted to sob. The faintest of pressure had you lift your head to look up at Loki. His eyes scanned your appearance, stopping at your bruised hands that were trying to hold together your coat, taking in the blood splatters on the fabric, your busted lip, the lopsided glasses, the badly bent temple dangling off its hinge.

You never understood the expression ‘his features darkened’. You did now. Loki’s face transformed and you saw for the first time what a dangerous man he could be. Power radiated off him. You were glad it was not directed at you. His nostrils flared and you almost heard how much he was clenching his teeth.

“Names,” he ground out.

A hot tear rolled down your cheek and now that it started it didn’t want to stop. His eyes softened, something akin to vulnerability flitting across his features.

“H–Har…”

“Harris?” Tony asked softly. You nodded, still looking at Loki.

Loki rolled his lips in his mouth, his thumb swiping ever so lightly over the skin of your chin, before dropping his hand and walking to the lift in long strides.

“Nat?” Tony asked, the spy already by your side.

“Hold up, Reindeer Games!” Tony hollered behind you, as Romanoff led you down the corridor to your room. “I’m coming, too…”

It felt as if you were having an out of body experience as you were peeled out of your bloodied coat, your clothes and body assessed quickly but gently. She pulled out her phone after she ushered you into the shower.

“Tony? No forced intercourse, but lots of bruising…,” was all you heard before the hot spray of the water ran into your ears, blocking all noise out.

*****

Your glasses were fixed and you could see properly again. That was important, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to see Harris’ face on the news as he was escorted - handcuffed - from a courtroom and shoved into a police van, followed by the two goons who had helped him.

When you turned from the screen above the cashier, you saw Loki next to Tony across the canteen, looking at you. You walked over, clutching your sandwich.

“So, um… thank you,” you said, gesturing to the screen, “for that.”

Tony put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, before his eyes gazed behind you. “Is that a double cheeseburger I see? Excuse me.”

And off he went, leaving you alone with the Asgardian god.

You shuffled your feet, studying the floor.

“Thanks again-”

“Are you okay?”

You both said at the same time. You laughed quietly, looking up at him. He smiled. You’d never seen Loki smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You wanted to say so much more, do so much more, like hug him. But he was a god. You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for hugging gods. The awkward silence thickened.

“So, I’ll see you around?”

He was still smiling. “Yes. See you around.”

You were fairly sure you were blushing as you scampered off, back to your office.

*****

Bryant Park was one of your favourite places to be in New York. For one, it was right behind the public library - your heaven. For another, it was close to the Tower and you could wander the paths under the lovely trees. The park was very busy as it was Christmas Eve and people wanted to while away the time in the Winter Village until the big day. But as the ice rink closed down and the skaters came off, noses and cheeks red from the cold, the park started to empty.

You sat on a bench under one of the trees, gloved hands deep in your coat pockets, a woolly hat and scarf keeping you warm. Your head was tilted back and you watched the snowflakes dance and twirl in the cold wind.

“Y/N,” someone called.

Loki stood a few metres away from you, a black coat making him look even taller. He was not donning a hat or a scarf, he looked comfortable with the cold. The snow clung to his dark hair, a soft dusting was on his shoulders. You envied the snowflakes.

You got to your feet and he took a few steps closer, looking down at you.

“Were you enjoying the activities?” Loki asked, nodding to the ice rink.

“No, I just… I just like to sit here,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “I like the trees and the snow. It’s… peaceful.”

He nodded.

“How about you? Fancied a turn on the ice?”

He laughed and you watched the cloud mix with your breath. Now you envied your breath.

“Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?”

He took another step towards you. “Yes.”

“Why? Did something happen at the Tower?” Worriedly, you fumbled your phone out of the coat pocket and checked it.

A large hand covered it. You looked up. “Nothing happened. I wanted to talk to you.”

Nervously, you glanced down at his hand that still covered your phone. If you hadn’t been wearing gloves your hands would have had actual skin on skin contact. He dropped his hand to his side.

“Am I in trouble?”

He shook his head. “I… I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?”

His hand pulled a book out of his pocket. “For this.” He slid it back in the folds of his coat.

“Oh.” You didn’t really know how to feel or react. You knew he’d been onto you, so it was no surprise he’d sussed it out. He was, after all, the God of Mischief and Lies. But you had to give him kudos for letting it play out.

“Um, you’re welcome.” You bit your lip.

“You don’t know what this meant– what this means to me.”

It was impossible to look at him.

“I was dreading this time of year here on Midgard. But your incredibly generous advent calendar made it feel… like when I first visited here with my mother.” He grasped your gloved hands in his. “I miss her dearly, so thank you. For giving me this.”

You were too choked up to say anything, so you just nodded.

“Can I enquire what your reason was?”

It was so cautious, as if he was worried it might scare you off. And yet, the question threw you, most likely because you had been asking yourself the very same thing from the moment of its conception in your shower. It was just there, a need, an urgency you didn’t know where it came from or why it existed. It was something you had to do. Like breathing.

But over the course of the last few weeks, particularly the last few days, it had become painfully clear why you did it.

“I wanted, no, I needed you to be happy.”

He squeezed your hands gently. The tips of his shoes, his shiny, polished shoes, now touched yours.

“Please look at me.”

So you did. He looked different… vulnerable maybe.

“Why do you need me to be happy?” The question was another cloud and you breathed it in, let it fill your lungs.

“Because…” You were afraid to say it, to admit it. But something in his eyes made you courageous. Either that, or foolish.

“Because I watched you, during missions and in briefings and ops planning. You started to believe what they said about you. And it’s not true. There’s so much you don’t share, don’t tell them and I see it. It’s right there in your eyes. And I didn’t want you to lose yourself. And it’s selfish, I know, but I need you to be happy… because if you are, so am I.”

“If you think that’s selfish, then I am guilty of this notion, too.”

Loki raised his right hand to run the backs of his fingers over your cold cheek. “I knew after three days it was you. I wanted to see where this was going, what your motivation was. And I… when I saw you after Harris… I was filled with so much rage and fear. That I would lose you. Before I had you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, you closed your eyes, heart beating out of your chest at what you were hearing. Was this a dream?

Loki’s voice was just above a whisper. “Can I? Have you?”

You moved away slightly to look into his eyes. “Yes.”

He leaned in, his hands splaying on your back, as you stood on your toes. The moment his lips touched yours, you felt a current run straight to your heart. It was as if your brain rewired, the missing piece of the primer clicked into place and unlocked everything.

Snow was falling as Loki kissed you under the tree. You didn’t hear the whistles and hollering of passerbys. You didn’t feel the cold wind. You felt elated, buzzing even.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki murmured against your lips.

“Hm?” you said dreamily.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki smiled, “someone’s calling you.”

Quickly you pulled out the damned device. Before you could even say your name, you heard Tony say: “So sorry for disrupting, Y/N, but we got a slight issue here that needs your expert skills pronto.”

You hung up, burying your head in Loki’s chest. His laugh rumbled in his chest. “We’ll talk more later.”

Breathing in his scent and holding onto him, you weren’t ready to let go. “Promise?”

*****

“Oh god, yes,” you sighed in absolute bliss. “That’s the spot, right there.”

Your groan sounded through the kitchen. You deserved that after three hours of extra work on Christmas Eve.

“Here?” Nat asked.

“Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you begged, putty in her hands, eliciting more noises from you.

“Maybe you should try yoga. Your shoulders and your whole upper body are so tense and full of knots. There’s a class I go to tomorrow at lunchtime, if you want to join me?”

“No time,” you murmured. “Heavens, Nat, what else can you do with those hands?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Banner interrupted, grabbing Nat by the hand and dragging her to the door. “I’m happy to share my girlfriend’s masseuse skills for a severe case of muscle lock, but I’m afraid I have a personal request now.”

You opened your eyes to catch Nat winking at you, a slight blush on her cheeks as she was pulled out of the room. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you heard before they disappeared down the corridor.

You laughed and turned in your stool. Thor, Scott and Loki stood staring. Thor at the ends of his braids, Scott at his fingernails, Loki at you. Eyes intense and dark. You swallowed.

“Y/N, a word, if you please,” Loki said, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and marching out of the room, with you trying to keep up with his long strides, your coat and shoulder bag in your other hand.

He didn’t say a single word until you reached his room - it was closest - and the door shut behind you, locking the outside world out. He pushed you against the door, arm placed against the wood above your head, body leaning into yours, not quite touching.

“That was… a rather interesting display,” he remarked quietly, his breath puffing against your face as he spoke. “In future, I would prefer if your keening was reserved for me.”

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt. “That sounds like an exclusive right to me.”

“It most certainly is.” His lips hovered over yours.

Your index finger slipped in the space between two buttons. “A right that needs to be earned,” you whispered, your finger grazing his skin.

His breath hitched ever so slightly. “Do not challenge me, darling,” he leaned in, his body moving against yours teasingly. “It might be,” his mouth brushed against your earlobe, “too taxing for you.”

You scoffed, but his lips silenced you. His stance shifted as he picked you up and placed you on the nearest surface - a sideboard - and stepped between your legs. He broke the kiss, to cup your face. For a long moment he just gazed at you. The heat in his eyes seemed to intensify, turning you into a needy mess. He made a show of taking off your glasses, folding the temples and carefully putting them on the side board next to you. Your core clenched.

He held out his hand for you to hop off the furniture. You took it and he took to your lips.

It was quite possible that several things fell off on your way to Loki’s bedroom. When you pushed him into the wall to open the damned buttons of his shirt, a picture might have fallen. A vase, perhaps, when he picked you up and spun you around so your back was against the doorframe next to the fragile ornament. Your head hit the heavy frame of a painting, rendering it lopsided, when Loki feasted on your throat, and you tilted your head back to allow him better access.

Kissing, licking, nipping, sucking - he was intent on leaving marks. Your fingers somehow were in his hair, keeping his head in place. Soft, his hair was so soft. A sharp contrast to the teeth you felt pulling on your skin. His ministrations drew a long moan from you.

Loki smiled against your skin. “Yes, my siren, sing.”

Your back hit the mattress and he crawled over you. His hair a curtain, screening you off from the rest of the world in your own sacred space. His shirt hung open, your hands reached out, tracing each line, each dip. His tongue against yours mimicked the motion of his hips that rolled into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting each movement, as if you had practised this dance many times before. He pulled away to tug off your pullover. His fingers pushed up your bra and then he sucked your nipple into his hot mouth, making you arch your back.

“Loki, please.”

You didn’t really know what you begged for. More, probably. More of this, more of him.

He pulled you up so you both were kneeling on the bed. Shaking hands fumbled with clothes and fastenings and then you were both naked. Your breath hitched at his beauty.

“Can I…,” you started, voice sounding hoarse. You looked up at him. “Please let me worship you.”

Something flickered across his face - surprise? He gave a curt nod and then watched every single one of your movements.

You took his right hand, tracing each finger with yours, the veins on the back of his hands. You brought his hand up to your face, cradling it to your cheek, before kissing the palm of his hand. One finger at a time, you sucked it into your mouth, to the knuckle, your tongue swirling around the digit, before releasing it and pressing a kiss to the tip, before moving on to the next.

Your hands traced the skin of the inside of his arm, his veins, the rise and fall of his muscles, and up over his shoulder, across his chest to his left arm, which you gave the same treatment. Each birthmark, each scar was kissed. Your hands skimmed over his chest, your lips followed the path. Loki’s breath stuttered when you sucked on his left nipple, before you released it, softly blowing on it. It puckered. You bestowed the same treatment upon the other nipple.

“Please, lie down,” you whispered and he complied.

You lay next to him, kissing his forehead, your fingers running through his hair along his scalp, gently tugging. Onwards, to kiss the curve of each eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, along his jawline to his ear. You felt his body shiver when you breathed: “You are so beautiful, inside and out.”

Then your teeth closed around his earlobe, gently pulling. A deep moan sounded through the room. Up until now he had let you do whatever you wanted to and not touched you. But his restraint waned and his hands splayed on your back, pulling you flush against his body. You kept going, your lips now worshipping his delectable throat. He tilted his head back to give you better access.

“Herregud,” he rasped as you kissed, licked and sucked on his sensitive skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, his hands growing slack on your back.

You kissed the dip between his collar bones and worked your way down his torso, lips kissing, hands caressing. Further and further you went, along his abs, dipping in his belly button, following the trail of hair below. You leaned back a bit, to look at him. He was fully erect, heavy, swaying slightly. The purple mushroom head gleaming with pearls of pre-cum, thick veins running down the shaft to his pubic hair.

You licked your lips, curling one of your hands around his base, the other cupping his testacles. Then you looked up at him. He was up on his elbows, staring down at you hotly, biting his lips as he watched you in anticipation. You made sure to have and maintain eye contact and then you took him into your mouth.

He hissed, his head falling back, a loud moan following when you hollowed your cheeks to apply suction, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue.

You moved your hand up his length, still sucking, giving his testicles a gentle yet confident squeeze. Up your mouth went, your tongue circling his slit, before sucking him back in. The third time you did it, his hands clasped your shoulders.

“Stop.”

You looked up at him. Loki was breathing hard and you let his cock slide from your mouth with a wet ‘plop’.

In an instant your back was on the mattress and he hovered over you.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” he explained, voice rough, “I loved it, but I have plans.”

He settled between your legs, eyes locked on yours, hand on your thigh, pulling your leg around his waist. His hand slid up, splaying over the fullness of your ass, before giving it a firm squeeze, then sliding over the globe and dipping between your legs. When his slender digits made contact with your aching centre, you cried out. Your whole body was throbbing with need.

“All this nectar is for me?” he rasped.

You nodded.

“Oh, I have to see this.” And in one fluid motion he sat back on his heels, spreading your legs with his hands, looking at your dripping wet centre in amazement.

“Wait a moment,” he said, before he scrambled off the bed and disappeared in the corridor, only to come back a few moments later to resume his place between your legs. He handed you something with a smirk. Your glasses.

“I want you to see me.”

You put them on, your heartbeat accelerating. You bit your lip in anticipation. He looked up at you, his hot breath puffing against your wet core and then his flat tongue licked you all the way from your entrance to your clit. Your fingers fisted in the bedsheets, eyes falling shut in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent cry.

“Look at me.”

You did. He started a rhythm of licking, sucking and lapping that had the coil inside you wind up and tighten impossibly in no time at all. You fell back onto a pillow. Then he slid two fingers inside you and your hands dove into his hair, tugging, scraping.

What a visual. Loki between your legs, eyes burning into yours, humming and moaning against your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, curling just at the right time, at the exact angle you needed. It was as if you were a book he’d read a thousand times before. Your toes curled and then you fell into the abyss. You moaned out his name over and over as the orgasm washed over you, leaving your legs shaking.

Loki moved up your body, placing kisses on your thighs, your tummy, your breasts, before he brushed some hair out of your face. You took your glasses off, he placed them on the bedside table. His eyes searched yours.

“I need you, Loki,” you managed, pulling him down.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, the taste of you on his tongue. His hips rocked forward and he slid inside you all the way to the hilt. Loki stilled and broke the kiss, resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Your fingers caressed his back. Unable to form words, you nodded. Then he moved. His hips rocked into yours in slow, deep thrusts. He filled you so well, stimulating places inside you you didn’t know existed. Your hands ran over his back, down his sides, making him shiver. He watched you, eyes dark but warm. One hand found your swollen clit and his fingers circled and rubbed, applying the pressure you needed to fall into oblivion again. Your feet pressed into his ass cheeks to bring him closer, deeper and his name fell from your lips over and over.

He rocked inside you as you rode out your orgasm. You opened your eyes to look at him in wonder. Never had you seen anything as beautiful as Loki. He seemed to glow from the inside. Maybe it was your imagination. You lifted your head, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss. His tongue moved languidly against yours, savouring the intimacy.

Then he started moving faster, pulling one of your legs up to rest the calf against his shoulder. Deeper, you wanted him deeper. You couldn’t get close enough. His mouth was devouring yours in a needy kiss, all tongues and teeth now as he pistoned faster into you, your hips meeting each of his thrusts. His lips found your nipple, sucking, pulling on it, moving to its sibling. You couldn’t believe you were on the verge again already. Never before had you been able to orgasm more than once during intercourse.

The room was quiet but for the moans, the heavy breathing. You were so wet that your coupling’s noise was wonderfully dirty, edging you both on even more.

“Look at us,” Loki commanded and you did.

Nothing had ever been so erotic as watching him fill you, stretch you, sliding out, covered in your juices. His fingers were on your clit again, rubbing, circling.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“One more, darling, give me one more,” he insisted, breathlessly.

His hips moved faster, as did his fingers and you were there, on the edge. Loki’s eyes met yours and he knew. His movements stuttered, pupils fully blown, jaw slack, a drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

“Cum with me,” you whispered, your fingers dragging down his back, possibly breaking skin, squeezing and pulling his ass into you.

And he did, propelling you into bliss with him. Your name fell from his lips in a string of Norse profanities. His cock pulsated as the hot ropes of his seed marked your insides as his, your pussy eagerly clenching around him, making sure every last drop would be spent inside you. His movements slowed and then he stilled, buried inside you.

Loki’s lips pressed onto yours in a tender kiss. You stayed in the embrace until you both caught your breath. Then he pulled out of you, your mixed juices running out of you. He could have cleaned you up using magic.

But Loki got out of bed, got a wet flannel from the bathroom and gently cleaned you, kissing your tired body, before sliding back into bed. He pulled you into his arms, your hands joined over his heart, legs intertwined and you both lay there, in your bubble of utter and complete happiness under warm covers, watching the snowflakes dance outside the window in the early hours of Christmas Day.

Christmas Day!

“Oh, wait here!”

You scrambled off the bed and ran to the door, forgetting about your nakedness, pulling your shoulder bag from under your coat. You pulled something from it and brought it back to Loki. He was sitting up, forearms resting on his knees, an intrigued look on his face.

“Merry Christmas,” you said.

He looked at you and then at the present you held out to him. He cocked an eyebrow as he took it and pulled the fabric ribbon off. His hands parted the paper and then he grew completely still.

“Where in the nine realms did you get this?” he asked after a few moments, voice sounding rough.

“A friend of mine got her hands on this a while back. I thought you might like it.”

He stared at the book, transfixed. His slender fingers caressing the embossed letters on the front and then he lifted it to take in the scent of the pages. His eyes closed.

“Do you? Like it, I mean?” You were worried about this book. It had cost an arm and a leg, but you thought it would be worth it.

“Like it?” Loki asked, finally looking at you and pulling you on his lap. “My mother used to read me his poems when I was a child. I rediscovered it later. This is…”

He was searching for words, failed to find them and instead kissed you, hard, hand fisting in your hair. After a long moment, he broke the kiss.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stroking his pulse point.

“Will you read it to me?” you asked, a bit out of breath.

Nodding, he sat against the headboard, you curled up against him with his arm around you. He made sure you were both tucked under the covers. Then he opened the book and cleared his throat.

“Kormákr Ӧgmundarson ‘Sigurðardrápa ‘Drápa’. This is one of my favourites, he wrote it for the love of his life.”

His fingers wandered up your arm.

“Brunnu beggja kinna

bjǫrt ljós á mik drósar,

oss hlœgir þat eigi,

eldhúss of við felldan.”

His digits absently stroked your ribcage, skirting over the side of your breast. The rhythm and intonation of his deep voice made you clench your thighs.

“Enn til ǫkkla svanna

ítrvaxins gatk líta,

þrǫ́ muna oss of ævi

eldask, hjá þreskeldi.”

He paused, closing the book and brushing his lips against the skin of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“What-what does he say?” you all but stuttered.

Loki kissed along your collarbone. Humming against your skin.

“The bright lights of both

her cheeks burned onto me

from the fire-hall's felled wood;

no cause of mirth for me in that.”

His hands cupped your breasts as he sucked and teased one of the nipples. Your hands tugged on his hair, desperate for him again already. You felt his need hard and heavy against your thigh.

“By the threshold I gained a glance

at the ankles of this girl

of glorious shape.”

Loki moved to lie between your legs, hands sliding over your breasts, your tummy, your thigh, down to your ankle, lifting it to wrap it around his hips.

“Yet while I live

that longing will never leave me.”

His voice faltered as he rocked his hips forward and your bodies were joined once more.

“That longing will never leave me,” he repeated like a vow, eyes serious and warm.

“Nor me,” you pledged, before you lost yourselves in the physical expression of your feelings once more.

~ fin ~

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #mcu loki #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader smut #loki smut #snow

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years ago

Text

The Best Lies || Max Burnett

Summary: The first time you met Max you were a cyber security specialist for your family company, a leader in the tech industry. Max was the reason that life was shattered and your career down the drain. When Max returns to your life in need of your help you find yourself needing to decide whether people truly deserve second chances. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, where to begin...there's criminal activity (cyber crime, trafficking, conning), violence, sexual themes, plot twists. WC: 9.4k

You looked around the auditorium and saw which students were paying attention and which were busy doodling in their notebooks. Wrapping your knuckles on the podium, a few heads darted up and you pinned them with a knowing look before continuing your lecture. “The brain is a complex computer that is constantly uploading information from the world around you, mostly subconsciously. It’s function is to keep you alive, and that means it is searching for signs that something is amiss.

“There is a reason people trust their instincts, it is the brain accepting the information it has received and deemed something to be safe. But, with some manipulation and understanding, the brain can be lied to.

“Now, who can tell me what the best lies are?”

The bell indicated the end of the lecture and the students all began closing their books or packing away their laptops. There was no keeping their attention for a minute longer and you spoke louder so they could hear you over the noise. “Next week we will be discussing how to lie to the brain, so read up on the material that will be emailed out to you this evening.”

Most of the students had already disappeared before you had unclipped the microphone from your lapel and you gathered the textbook you had used for reference only to find a man sitting comfortably in the front row. He definitely wasn’t one of your students, with his expensive cashmere overcoat and shiny loafers. He screamed ‘investment banker’ or ‘hedge fund manager’.

“The ones that hold a kernel of truth,” he said as he stood up. “To answer your question.”

“Yes, Max, I don’t need to be reminded that you are the best liar I had the displeasure of meeting.” You closed the textbook with a little more force than was needed before taking a deep breath as he closed the distance between you.

He turned up the charm as he smiled at your reaction and his eyes darted to your lips. “From what I remember, there was a lot of pleasure involved.”

You shoved the book into your satchel and zipped it shut before crossing your arms. “Cut the bullshit. You didn’t come here for a stroll down memory lane.”

“Aw, I mean, I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to really relive those nights,” he said with an arrogant snicker as he ran his knuckle across your cheek. When he received no reaction from you he dropped the act and stepped back with a sigh. “I need your help.”

A laugh erupted at the admission and you held a finger up to stop him talking further. “So let me get this straight. You, Max Roberts, the man who single handedly ruined my life, wants my help?”

“It’s Burnett, actually, and I wouldn’t say I ruined your life, professor.” He spun around with his arms out and looked at the huge auditorium that had only minutes earlier been packed with hundreds of students. “Things worked out pretty well for you.”

“Of course, not even your name was real.” You scoffed to yourself. “I’m doing so well; I’m only estranged from my family, unable to form any meaningful relationships because I trusted the wrong man and in therapy twice a week. Yeah, it worked out really well.” You rolled your eyes and turned away but he caught you by the hand and stopped you.

His thumb caressed your knuckles and a flash of surprise flitted across his features before he hid it. “You still wear the ring.”

You tore your hand from his and shoved it in the pocket of your blazer but it was too late. “It serves to keep me from making the same mistake twice. Now leave before I call security.”

“You know, it wasn’t all a lie.” He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. His fist uncurled and your breath hitched at the diamond wedding band that matched the engagement ring on your finger. “I wouldn’t have bought this if it was.”

You shook your head vehemently as the spotlights hit the diamonds and they sparkled brightly. “You’re still lying.”

“Did you ever take it to a jeweller?”

“Why would I do that?” you asked with a scoff. “So they could laugh at me too when they tell me it's worthless.”

“Look, I know I’m a terrible person, I won’t argue with that, but I messed up.” He looked genuinely guilty as he dipped his head and peered sheepishly through the long dark strands that fell over his eyes. “I was…myself when I was with you.”

A familiar burn of resentment grew when your foot lifted to take a step forward but you caught yourself before you could move closer to him. Like the sun, it was impossible not to fall into his orbit but you fought the pull of gravity. “I think you are starting to believe your own lies.”

The doors at the back of the room opened and Professor Stafford walked in with his briefcase and an arm full of textbooks to prepare for his lecture of Criminology 401. The arrival brought back your common sense and you swung your bag over your shoulder before jerking your head to the other exit.

“My office,” you ordered, knowing delaying the conversation would only mean he found you at another point in time. You would give up your free hour between lectures in the hopes you wouldn’t have to see his face ever again.

Max looked curiously around the room, lingering on the bookshelf, before he dropped into the chair across from your desk and crossed his ankle over his knee. Those intelligent blue eyes took in everything and you could practically see the cogs in his brains turning with what he was learning in the silence.

“What do you want, Max?”

He let a small piece of his perfect facade fall away so you could see the fear in his eyes as he leant forward. “I have a problem, one that is time sensitive, and you’re the only person that can help me.”

You should have outright refused, in fact the words were on the tip of your tongue but instead you asked, “And if I don’t?”

Max licked his lips and tried to smile but it was constricted to a small twitch at the corners. “Then my lawyers will be in touch to settle my estate and you will once again be very, very rich.”

“It’s the least you could do after what you did to my family,” you growled but the words tasted bitter at the thought of him being dead, even though you had wished for that very thing on your darkest nights.

“I know, I know.”

“Your little posse of thieves could surely help you out, you were awfully chummy with them. What do you need me for?”

Max sucked the air between his teeth and pursed his lips. You were suddenly nervous and reached for a pen to fidget with while you waited for him to speak. “I had a job lined up with a bank, but the man I had on the inside had an accident. He was a security analyst.”

The pen in your hand lost balance and tumbled onto the desk as you bolted to your feet. “No, no fucking way, Max! I am not a con artist, and I’m not going to be a part of this.”

He pointed to the wall of framed qualifications as he argued, “You know it all already, you studied this. Freud, Festinger, Bandura.” He listed off the authors of the works that filled your bookshelf.

“And before this I was an expert in cyber security but it still didn’t stop what you did to me. It was humiliating, Max, you ruined my name. Do you understand that? Do you even stop to think about the innocent people you have hurt while you play dice with their lives?” You already knew the answer as you spun your chair to look out over the campus beyond the window. “I only studied Cognitive Psychology so I could understand how you could make such a fool of me.”

Max’s shoes were quiet on the carpet as he rounded the desk and turned your chair to face him. Dropping to his knees, he bowed his head until it rested against your knee and your fingers itched to run through his hair just to see if it was still as soft as it used to be.

“I’m sorry,” Max murmured, the words so foreign from his lips that you couldn’t comprehend he had even said them until he repeated himself over and over. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You didn't want an apology. In all the years since he had ghosted you and left behind a steaming pile of muck you only wanted one thing, an answer. “Why?”

Max sat back on his heels and wrapped his arms around his knees as he looked up at you, his lips parting only to close again as he struggled to formulate the words. “I was scared.” You waited for him to expand but the silence dragged on until you cleared your throat and lifted your brows, spurring him to continue with a proper explanation. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not to me,” you growled, angered by the question.

“I fell in love with you, goddammit. It wasn’t meant to happen, but it did and…I ran.”

“You ran, that’s the understatement of the century,” you huffed as a headache began to form at your temples.

“I know it's not what you want to hear, but the reason you believed everything I told you was because too much of it was the truth.”

Those were the best lies. And goddamn if it wasn’t working again as you felt the instinct to believe him even after all he had done. No matter how well one trained the brain, the heart was still easily betrayed.

“Your life is really in danger?” you asked quietly as you worried on your bottom lip. “No lies.”

“Cross my heart,” he said with a morose nod as he drew his finger across his chest.

The debate in your head was far shorter than you would have liked for such a monumental decision but you couldn’t stand idly by knowing you might be able to save him from whatever mess he had got himself into.

“If I do this, I never want to hear from you again. If you see me in the streets, you pretend you don’t know me.” He looked ready to argue but another glare kept his lips sealed before he nodded. “Okay, tell me what you need me to do.”

The cheap polyester pantsuit itched your legs with each step into the Hartmont Brough Bank and you tugged your lanyard out to show your staff ID to the security guard. The sleepy man barely looked up from his newspaper before hitting the buzzer to let you into the office space behind the tellers.

“You must be the new cyber security analyst,” a portly gentleman greeted with a smile while looking for your name tag.

“Ashley Jenkins,” you lied smoothly.

Confidence, that was the key. If you looked shady or uncomfortable the alarm bells would start ringing in the manager's head.

“Welcome to HBB, Miss Jenkins. I’ll show you to your cubicle and get you introduced to the team. It is rather small but they are close knit.”

He continued to rattle on about the office dynamics and where to find the bathrooms and the staff room. You barely paid any attention as you scanned the office space and watched the other staff interacting.

“Here you are.” He finally came to a stop at an empty booth and gave him your thanks as you stepped inside to open the laptop that was ready and waiting. “Email should be set up already but if you have any issues call down to IT.”

“I think I can take it from here,” you said, probably knowing more about fixing computers than the IT team anyway.

You were left to settle in and run through a checklist of audits, scanning each system for any malware or vulnerabilities. With a name like Hartmont Brough it was no surprise the clients of the bank were the top 1% of the wealthiest men and women in America and they expected their money and investments to be protected by the best.

It was worryingly easy to slip back into the life you had left but if you had used your real name there was no chance the company would have hired you. The entire tech industry used your family name as a cautionary tale or, more appropriately, a horror story. All because of Max and the sweet lies that rolled off his tongue like honey.

The modest apartment that had been rented under your fake name smelt like heaven when you opened the door. After the long day spent learning the names of everyone in the building the last thing you wanted to do was cook but you lost your appetite at seeing Max standing in your kitchen.

Hearing the door open, he looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Welcome home, sweetheart. How was your day?”

You dumped your handbag on the table and shrugged off the blazer before crossing your arms. “What are you doing here, Max?”

“Making your favourite,” he said, showing you the contents of the frying pan before tossing them expertly in the air to catch them.

Your scowl softened as you sashayed towards him, his bottom lip tugging between his teeth as he watched your hips swaying intently. Reaching past him, you turned the stove off and ran your hand up his arm to his chest. A smirk grew on his lips and he stepped back as you gently pushed him out of the kitchen.

Max walked backwards past the table and the curve of his lips only grew as he came closer to your bedroom door. There was only a moment of surprise when his feet crossed the threshold and he turned to see you had led him to the hallway before slamming the door in his face.

“Thanks for dinner!” you called out as you shoved the deadbolt across and went to enjoy the hot meal he had made.

It was late by the time you had finished creating a fake social media presence in case anyone at work looked into ‘Ashley Jenkins’ but the next job couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

All the hardware stores that you drove past were closed but you found what you needed at Walmart and made your way back to the apartment to change the barrels in the door lock. Knowing Max, he would have no qualms about letting himself in again and you would probably wake up to find him lounging on his side of the bed.

No, not his side of the bed. The other side of the bed. He didn’t have a side anymore.

A headache was forming from lack of sleep and the coffee from the staffroom was nowhere near strong enough to survive on. Your nights were spent recording lectures and readings along with marking papers and answering questions that your students emailed in. It had only been two weeks and you weren’t sure how you were going to keep this up when Max had given no timeline on when his con was going to be complete.

“...what can I say, happy wife, happy life,” a familiar voice trickled through the office and you shook your head.

“Great, now I’m hearing his voice,” you muttered under your breath before taking another gulp of the burnt filter coffee.

“It was nice to meet you, Mr Jenkins.”

The headache seemed to explode from your head and manifest into a 6 foot man that was grinning as he carefully waved to your manager, two takeaway cups of coffee in his hands and a brown paper bag tucked under his arm.

“That had better be a triple chocolate muffin,” you grumbled as you took the bag from him. The mouthwatering scent of the freshly baked treat wafted up as soon as you opened the bag and a moan slipped past your lips when you confirmed it was exactly what you had been hoping for.

Max bent over you to place one of the barista coffee cups on your desk and his cheek brushed yours from the closeness. “Now why don’t you introduce your husband to your colleagues, sweetheart?”

You controlled the burst of anger that rose in your chest and suppressed the urge to roll your computer chair over his toes as you adapted to the new information he had conveniently left out in all the conversations you had. “That wouldn’t be very professional of me, honeybun.”

Unfortunately, the others in the office were drawn to the smell of strong coffee and baking and their heads popped up one by one but there was one in particular that Max zeroed in on.

Brent Mathers, Relationship Manager and the answer to the question you had been wondering since you arrived. Brent was the mark.

You locked your computer before pushing the chair back and felt the warmth of Max’s hand on the small of your back, a familiar weight you had once leaned into and almost did on reflex. The heat grew as his hand remained fixed to you while you introduced him to your team, making your way closer to the mark.

He had obviously done his research, but you expected nothing less from Max, and he casually managed to work Brent’s interests into the conversation until they were chatting like old friends. It was a reminder of how easy it was to fall under Max’s spell and the wake up you needed to move away from his electric touch.

“No way,” Max gasped with false surprise and threw his hands up. “I have season tickets to the Knicks but Ash won’t come with me and I hate going on my own.”

“I would rather waste my time doing anything other than watching basketball. And, on that note, I am going back to work.” You pressed a quick peck to Max’s cheek before heading off.

“See what I have to deal with,” Max joked, earning a laugh from Brent.

“Well, if you ever want some company I won’t turn down a seat at the game.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Here, lemme get your number, there’s a game Friday if you’re up for it?”

And he was in. Game, set, match. Max had won and Brent didn’t even know it.

“You’re a natural, baby,” Max purred in your ear as you walked him to the elevator after he had successfully wormed his way into Brent’s life. “Improvising like that isn’t easy. I’m proud of you.”

You wished you could blame the tremor in your hands on the caffeine in your system but you wouldn’t lie to yourself. Especially not when the elevator arrived and Max dipped his head to yours and kissed you with lips that were just as soft and full as you remembered.

Brent wasn’t the only one in trouble.

Your finger hovered over Max’s phone number and you chewed your bottom lip as you debated tossing the phone from your reach but common sense lost and you pressed the green button. If you had changed your mind it would have been too late as he answered on the second ring.

“It’s late.”

“Can’t sleep.”

There was a constant hum in the background and you wondered if the call had dropped from how long he was silent for. Maybe he was watching the same window to the past when you would call him during your night shifts, or maybe he was distracted by whatever life he had outside of the con.

“You called me,” he finally said before you heard the squeal of tires and a honk of a car horn.

“I know. I,” you caught yourself and sighed as you stared at the phone, the seconds of the call growing, “nevermind, I shouldn’t have done that. Goodnight Max.”

“Wait,” he called out, a thud echoing in the background. “I’m outside.”

The buzzer rang a second later and you tossed the blankets back to answer the door, still not quite believing it was Max on the other side until it swung open. The phone was still pressed to his ear and you both flinched at the high pitch whine they made before ending the call and you laughed nervously.

“I didn’t think you would come.”

Max stepped inside with a lopsided grin and kicked the door closed. You had been frozen at his arrival but his entrance had left his body almost flush to yours and he closed that distance by curling his arm around your waist and tugging you against him.

The words about to fall from your mouth were stolen as his lips crashed against yours and you forgot what you were going to say when your hands came to rest on his hard chest. Your lips parted as he deepened the kiss and you ceded control to him when his tongue danced with yours.

Clothes disappeared with each step towards your bedroom and you lost yourself as your hands acquainted themselves with Max’s body.

“This was a mistake,” you whispered to the dark room, unsure if Max was still awake or not while you lay in his arms, your head on his chest.

“People like us don’t make mistakes, we make choices and we stand by them. You knew what would happen if you called me and you still did it,” he murmured back with a deep, sleep-laden voice. His arm curled tighter around you as he rolled onto his side and tipped your head back so you could see his eyes boring into you in the dim moonlight. “But if we had to choose a mistake, mine would be that we didn’t do this sooner.”

You closed your eyes and brushed your lips softly against his before speaking, “It won’t happen again anyway. You’ll be gone soon, off to your next con and I will go back to my real job.”

He caught the hint of bitterness in your tone and propped his head up on one hand while the other traced delicately along your spine until goosebumps prickled across your skin. “Can you go back, after this month, could you really go back to being a boring professor? You can’t tell me you haven’t enjoyed the thrill.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said as you sat up. “It’s wrong.”

Max groaned and flopped back on the pillow. “You can’t cheat an honest man.”

“That hurts,” you grumbled, grabbing your silk robe to cover yourself and put space between you both.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean you.” He crossed the room and trapped you between his body and the wall. “You were never the mark, sweetheart.”

“I was just collateral. Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Max sighed and dropped his forehead to yours. “I’ve apologised already, what else do I have to do to make it right?”

You took a deep breath and looked him dead in the eyes. “Tell me everything.”

Max sucked in his bottom lip as he pushed off the wall and walked over to the window to see the city sprawling below. “Only if you quit. Quit your job and work with me.”

“I can’t just quit!”

Max’s frown reflected on the glass before he faced you. “You can, you just don’t want to. You’re afraid.”

“I am not,” you argued before sighing in defeat. “Okay, maybe a little, but the last time I trusted you it bit me on the ass.”

Max’s shoulders dropped and he took a heavy seat on the edge of the bed. His fingers laced together and he leaned forward on his elbows deep in thought.

“Brent isn’t the mark.” You blinked dumbly at his admission, waiting for him to continue. “He has two clients who have amassed their considerable wealth by trafficking sex workers to Europe using their shipping companies.”

“You’re suddenly a philanthropist?”

“God no,” he scoffed. “I’m not planning on taking them down. I just need to get their contact details and pass it on to the people who want it, badly. They can deal with them.”

You nodded in understanding. “The people who are threatening you.”

“I’m going to clone Brent’s phone at the game Friday night, give it to the boss and get the hell out of New York.” He finally looked up from his hands. “I want you to come with me.”

Friday Evening

“It will be highly encrypted so the cloning could take a while, half an hour at the most, and the devices need to remain close to each other, working 2-3 feet,” you explained again to make sure Max fully understood the parameters of the clone phone. “If they are separated, the copying will pause for up to 30 seconds. If they don’t come back within range in that time then you will have to start again.”

Max straightened the cuff links at his wrists before centering his tie and nodded. “I got it. How do I look?”

You slipped the phone into his pocket and plucked a wayward piece of lint from his shoulder before flattening his collar a little more. “Criminally sexy.”

Max smirked and patted his pockets to feel his keys, wallet and phone. “The game should be finished by 9.30 and I’ll meet you at the Rose Park Motel at 10.”

“Be careful,” you murmured as your stomach twisted in knots.

“Always,” he said softly, cupping your cheek in his palm. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” You swallowed the lump in your throat as he walked out of the apartment that had been boxed up in a matter of hours last night. If everything went to plan you wouldn’t be coming back here again.

You sat in front of your laptop, the last item waiting to be packed and finished what you had been typing before hitting enter and closing the lid. You zipped the bag shut and slung it over your shoulder ready to leave for the last time before feeling your phone ring.

“Mr Hansen?” you answered, confused at the call out of work hours.

“Oh, Ashley, thank god you answered,” he rushed out. “I really need your help. Can you come to the office?”

“Yeah, of course, I can be there in 15 minutes.”

“Good, great, thank you,” he stammered before hanging up in a hurry.

Head office should have been empty when you arrived but most of the cyber security team, the senior leadership team and the bank’s lawyers were bustling about when you pulled your chair up.

“…no ransom yet…”

“…targeted every weakness…”

“…could it be Anonymous?”

You peered across at Floyd in the cubicle next to you and found intricate lines of code filling his screens as he searched for the hacker that had compromised the bank's software. “Do they really think Anonymous hacked the bank?”

Floyd barely looked up from his screens as he continued to type and talk, “No idea but, if it is, it makes you wonder who the rich folk are that use this place. Anonymous don’t waste their time looking into petty crime if you know what I mean.”

You scooted closer and whispered, “You think there’s dodgy stuff going on?”

“Who knows?” he said with a shrug before pausing to turn to face you. “I just know that we have dealt with black hat hackers before but this has the suits proper scared.”

Floyd focused on something over your shoulder and spun back to his screen as the heavy feet of Damien Hansen arrived. “Ashley, I need you to focus on the Online Portal system and make sure it hasn’t been compromised, as I’m sure you’re already aware of the situation.”

“On it,” you confirmed as he ran a handkerchief over his clammy forehead and rushed into the conference room where the lawyers were waiting.

Cracking your knuckles, you logged into the computer with your credentials and got to work. Two hours passed by in the blur as you checked the code of the Online Portal system for any tampering and just as the clock was about to strike 10pm a cheer rose from Toby’s desk opposite. “It’s gone!”

The entire office seemed to swell as one of the owners and his posse of lawyers surrounded the small cubicle while Toby explained the virus had ‘expired’.

Floyd leaned back in his chair and stuck his head past the privacy barrier between your desks. “No one makes a program as complex as that and sets a timer for it to end.”

“It makes no sense,” you agreed despite checking the lingering trace yourself and seeing that was exactly what had happened. “Unless it’s a warning?”

“You there, Miss, what do you mean ‘a warning’?” Mr Hartmont asked as he fixed his eyes on you from Toby’s desk.

You looked around and shied away as all the attention was suddenly on you before clearing your throat and giving your opinion, “Well, there was no ransom and it didn’t target the personal details of the clients. What if it was just getting a layout of the system as a whole?”

The co-owner narrowed his eyes and you looked at Floyd for backup.

“Imagine a military operation,” Floyd said. “Before launching an attack they do the reconnaissance work so they know what they are heading into.”

You mouthed ‘thank you’ to Floyd as Mr Hartmont’s eyes widened in understanding. “That is something we will certainly take into consideration when we decide our next move.”

The hoard of suits retreated back to the conference room except for Mr Hansen who came and thanked each of your co-workers. “We will need some of you to work through the night, just while we are on high alert, but you will be well compensated.”

“Shotgun!” Floyd called with a grin at the thought of a bonus pay followed by Jessica and Danny.

“No thanks,” you said with a yawn. “My husband will be waiting up to tell me all about the Knicks game. Actually, on second thought I’d rather work than hear about that.”

The guys laughed and shook their heads but Jessica gave you a look of commiseration before waving you off.

“Thanks again for coming in,” Mr Hansen said as he walked you and Toby to the elevator. “You are both real assets to the company. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, see you on Monday.”

You parted from Toby in the staff car park with a polite goodbye before racing to the motel Max would be waiting at.

Your palms turned clammy against the steering wheel and your pulse quickened at the nervousness that was festering.

You were running late.

What would Max think?

Your phone had been tossed into the East River as you crossed over so your location couldn’t be traced. Someone would surely start looking when you didn’t show up at Hartmont Brough Bank on Monday morning, not that they would find anything.

You pulled into the Rose Park Motel and looked for Max’s sleek Mercedes but found most of the spaces empty and the others had rusted, beat up cars in them.

Your watch said 10.22pm.

“Where are you, Max?” you asked under your breath before walking to the motel reception. “I’m looking for my husband, he booked a room here. Maxwell Roberts?”

The woman sitting behind the desk rolled her eyes and tucked her strangely hair behind her ear. “If your husband booked a room here it ain’t to bring his wife.” She pointed to the sign on the wall that had the room charges per hour. “Sorry, honey.”

She gave you a look of pity but you ignored it as you reached into your pocket and placed a few crumpled notes on the table. “I’ll take one for an hour, please.”

There was no surprise she didn’t take any of your details down, not when you saw a hooker stumble into the reception with a client. They wouldn’t want to use the motel for their illegal soliciting if they had to leave a name and credit card for ID.

Taking the key that was slid across the chipped formica countertop you made your way to the room, only stopping to grab your laptop from the car.

The room was as dank as you expected and you chose to use the rickety drawers as a stand up desk rather than sitting on the bed and risking whatever bugs and fungi lurked in the blankets. The wifi was insecure and slower than you were hoping but it would be enough to find what you were after.

Max would have thrown his cell phone away before he even got to the game and kept only the clone phone that held all the information he had surely been successful in stealing. There was no way he would have discarded it already so you were going to find it, and find him. If he thought he could leave you high and dry for a second time, he had another thing coming.

You jumped at the knock on the door and grabbed a bread knife from the kitchenette before looking through the peephole to find Max with his hands in his pockets and a bored look on his face. “Open up, sweetheart, it’s chilly.”

“What the hell?” you hissed as you opened the door and closed it quickly behind him. “You were meant to be here an hour ago.”

“Brent kept taking calls, some emergency at work,” he explained as he kissed your forehead and saw your laptop open. “Had to take him out for a drink to finish the cloning.”

“I was about to start looking for you,” you admitted much to his amusement.

“You thought I’d run?” he guessed with a pout, his eyebrows crumpling together as he tugged you by the hips and into his arms. “I thought you trusted me?”

“I do,” you hurried to reassure him and erase the sad look in his eyes. “I do trust you, or I wouldn’t be here.”

Placated, he released you to grab the go-bag you had brought into the motel and shut your laptop lid. “We should go, the handover is in a few hours and we have a drive ahead of us.” He left it at that and went to check out of the motel while you climbed into his car.

In this side of town without wheel locks your car was almost guaranteed to be stolen and the sooner that happened the better. It would be one less thing to dispose of that was linked to Ashley Jenkins.

Max was grinning as he slipped into the driver's seat and his happiness was infectious. He reached over the gearbox and laced his fingers with yours as soon as he was on the road, his fingers moving to the beat of the indie music playing on the radio.

“You should sleep,” Max suggested as the city light disappeared and the houses turned to farms. “We won’t be there for a while yet.”

“Where exactly is there?”

He spared a second to glance at you away from the road before giving the answer, “Boston.”

His clipped tone gave you the impression he wasn’t interested in the conversation or answering anymore questions so you fell silent and rested your head against the window to try to sleep. Exhaustion won and you only woke up when the car came to a stop outside a stripclub.

“Um, what are we doing here?” you asked as you unbuckled your seatbelt like he had and grabbed your bag from the backseat.

“Wait here, Y/N. I’ll be back in a minute.” He was already out of the car without waiting for a reply and you gave him two seconds head start before climbing out after him. He licked his lips as you caught up and looked ready to give you another order but was interrupted by a very large bouncer.

“You're late,” he growled in a voice that was far softer than he appeared to be.

Max waved a hand in your direction. “Women, what can I say? Tell him I have what he wants.”

“Tell him yourself,” the bouncer replied as he opened the velvet rope and jutted his head to the stairs that were sign posted as ‘Staff Only’.

You were halfway up the first flight when Max turned and stared down at you with pursed lips. “What didn’t you understand about ‘stay in the car’?”

“I didn’t just work hard for a whole month so I could stay in the car at the end.” You pushed past him and continued to climb the stairs until you reached the first floor and paused to see where Max would go but he was still where you left him, tapping a finger to his lips deep in thought. “You’re already late, remember?”

His head fell back with a groan before he took the stairs two at a time until he reached you. “Fine, but keep your head down.” He curled his arm around your waist and turned down a corridor. “These men don’t mess around.”

They proved him right the moment Max knocked on the door and stepped into the large room with a glass wall overlooking the stripclub below. Two more burly guards stood just inside and a devilishly handsome man sat behind the huge mahogany desk.

With just a flick of his ringed finger, the boss set his men into action and one tore you away from Max while the other sent a hard punch to his gut.

“You’re late, Max,” the boss said as he rose to his feet and buttoned his suit up with deft fingers. “We had a deal.”

“Dev, I’ve got what you want,” he countered as he pulled the cloned device from his pocket and clutched his stomach. “It just took a little longer than expected.”

Dev took the phone with a small laugh. “You think I didn’t have eyes on you? I have been watching you the whole time.” He threw the device on the ground and stomped his heel on it until the glass crunched under foot. “Bring me the girl.”

“No, no, leave her out of it.” Max moved to intercept you as the guard dragged you closer to Dev but he was quickly winded by another punch. “She doesn’t know anything.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Dev ran his finger down your cheek and you shivered at the strangely intimate touch. “She’s very beautiful, isn’t she, Max. Do you actually care for her or is she another distraction while you make deals behind my back?”

Dev reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stack of photos, tossing them to the floor at Max’s feet. His face fell passive as he stared at the images of him shaking hands and smiling with some strangers, he didn’t even bother to deny the allegations.

“Now, where does that leave us?” Dev asked as he walked behind you and sent the guard back to the door. You dared not look at what the man behind you was doing as you felt his presence close, instead you locked eyes with Max and hoped to see some sort of plan forming in those depths.

“What do you want?” Max asked after breaking away from your stare.

Dev sucked his teeth and you jumped as his large palms came to rest on your shoulders. “Those scumbags have been taking my girls, butchering the ones they don’t sell. Maybe I should give you a taste of how that feels?”

The grip on your shoulders tightened until a small sound escaped your lips and Max jolted forward. “Or, you tell me everything you know about them.”

Max raised his hands to try to diffuse the situation as he spoke softly, “I don’t know anything, I swear.”

You saw the faint sheen of dampness on his palms and his upturned collar fluttered slightly from the rapid increase in his pulse while his pupils dilated. Even after you had been threatened he was still lying, putting you at risk. You shouldn’t have been surprised.

Something more powerful than rage hit you square in the chest, something you had felt once before - betrayal.

“He’s lying,” you uttered quietly, knowing Dev’s face was close to yours from the warm notes of whiskey that lingered on his breath. Dev’s fingers lifted in surprise and he spun you around to see your jaw clenched in anger, lips pressed to a tight line.

“Not the devoted, lovesick little girlfriend after all.”

“I have a thing about being lied to by him,” you said as you lifted your chin higher and stared back into the searing grey eyes of the boss. “Hurting me won’t get you what you want. He obviously doesn’t care.”

Dev chuckled and dipped his head closer to whisper, “We’ll see about that, won’t we.”

You were shoved away from him and into the arms of the guard who began to drag you from the room. The need to fight flooded you and you kicked your legs out, trying to grab anything you could, but it was fruitless. You couldn’t break the hold that kept your arms pinned and Max was blocked by the other guard.

“Louis, take her to my private room,” Dev said as you passed the threshold, throwing you a wink before he shut the door.

“Let me go, please, I have money.”

“I don’t need your money.” Louis laughed as he opened the door to the room next door and started to place you down gently. “Relax, Dev doesn’t hurt women.”

You stilled as your feet reached the carpet and you saw a window into the office. A one way mirror that you hadn’t noticed when you were inside the room. “It was a ploy.”

The guard pressed his finger to a button on the wall and Max’s voice came through on the vent that opened near the ceiling, “Look, I brought her into this but she had nothing to do with it. Let her go and I’ll tell you what I know.”

Surprise nearly knocked you off your feet as he bartered for your freedom and you stumbled away from the window and into a metal chair.

You had spent years wondering if any of what he said to you was real, if he had even cared when he stole millions from your family and ruined your career. Then, again, when he showed up out of the blue in your auditorium, you had doubted his feelings for you. But finally, you had your answer. Only you weren’t sure it even mattered by now.

“Tell me first, then I’ll let her go. Unharmed, of course.”

Max ran a hand through his hair, messing the dark strands before unbuttoning his suit jacket and dropping into a leather recliner. “They know you want information about their boss.”

“How did they know that?”

“Because I told them,” Max admitted with a tight-lipped smile. “And they gave me a tonne of cash for it.”

Dev tutted and took a seat at his desk. “Always thinking about the money aren’t you, Max.”

“Your boyfriend is a bit of an asshole,” Louis commented as he took a seat beside you. “What do you see in him anyway?”

“It’s none of your business,” you muttered as you watched Max tell Dev everything. He explained how he approached Dev’s adversary, figuring he could make some money out of the exchange as well as use the threat to draw you back into his life. Every word he spoke caused your stomach to drop further and you turned to Louis. “Did they really kidnap your dancers?”

Louis gave a tense nod. “They take homeless girls too. No one reports them missing or cares when they show up dead.”

You turned your attention to Max who was cold and unsympathetic to the horrible acts that were happening while he rolled in the cash playing both sides. He even had the audacity to look smug as he sat there comfortably. You suddenly realised that although he actually loved you and you had been slipping back into those feelings, it didn’t change the fact he was an asshole. An asshole you could no longer stomach spending the rest of your life with, no matter how thrilling an adventure it may be.

“Hey, where are you going?” Louis asked as you shot up from your seat and stormed back to the office.

The door slammed open and Dev cocked an eyebrow at your entrance while Max frowned in confusion. “You piece of shit,” you growled. “You lied to me!”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what they’ve said about me but you can trust me,” Max said softly, like he was talking to a skittish horse that was unbroken.

“They didn’t have to say anything,” you said as you stepped closer to Dev. “You did enough of that yourself.”

“I suppose I should’ve warned you how thin the walls are in this room,” Dev said with a smirk.

You reeled in your fury as you pushed emotion aside to focus on the facts. “You told me you would be giving him the phone so they could deal with the traffickers.”

“I say a lot of things, sweetheart.”

“I know,” you said with a humourless laugh. “Trust me, I know. I guess that’s why I didn’t completely believe anything you told me. You always did tell the best lies.”

Max straightened up in his seat and his eyes narrowed as his head tilted. He was desperately running through the memories of the last month trying to figure out what the vague threat was.

Turning your back to Max, you faced Dev and crossed your arms. “There’s a laptop in the car downstairs, send one of your men to get it and I will do better than just getting you contact information.”

“Y/N, no, what are you doing?” Max interrupted and tried to rise from the chair only to have his shoulders pinned by the guard behind him before he patted Max’s pockets to find the car keys. “What did you do?”

Louis caught the keys that were thrown his way before slipping from the room.

The atmosphere spiked as Max squirmed under the pressure of the grip but you couldn’t find any enjoyment in his discomfort, even if he deserved that and more.

“May I?” you asked Dev as you nodded to his empty chair.

The seat was still warm as you took a seat and the scent of his cologne stronger like it had permeated the air around his desk from the long hours he spent working. You could already see he was a boss who cared about his employees, even if it appeared he was some kind of ring leader, and he looked exhausted beneath the confident stance and 5 o’clock shadow.

The inquisitive stare was broken when Louis swept into the room with your laptop bag and carefully placed it on the desk, moving Dev’s keyboard aside for you.

“What are you doing?” Max asked again, a hint of true fear in his voice as it peaked.

“I really hoped you had been honest with me.” You didn’t even look up as you continued typing. “I was ready to leave everything, go anywhere with you…but there was always that doubt.

“That’s what my lecture was about the day you came to my class. Instinct and intuition.” Dev circled around his desk to stand behind your chair but unless he understood coding script all he would see was lines of nonsense across the screen.

“What is all this?” Dev asked as he leaned over the chair to look closer as if it would suddenly make sense.

You glanced up over the screen to lock eyes with Max. “Last night while you were with Brent I hacked the bank to trigger their security procedure.”

“Why?” he asked.

“In case you failed. I couldn’t just go digging around where I shouldn’t, it would’ve raised some red flags. But once they’ve been hacked? It’s a free for all to search every file, software, system.”

You hit enter and the window switched to the home screen of SAP; the accounting software that held all the information about every client of Hartmont Brough Bank from their name, address and tax code to their bank account number and balance.

“Holy shit,” Dev said breathlessly. “Who are you?”

You held out your hand for him to shake as you formally introduced yourself, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

His eyes widened in recognition of your surname. “As in Y/L/N Enterprises?”

“Not anymore,” you huffed as you narrowed your eyes at Max who was fuming in the chair. “Give me their names.”

“You don’t want to mess with these people,” Max growled through his teeth.

“That’s what you said about him too,” you said as you gave Dev an appreciative once over, “but he seems pretty decent to me.”

Dev smirked at the compliment and Max thrashed against the hold on him as he argued, “They won’t just kill you, they will make you watch every one you love die first before they gut you too.”

“Dev?” you prompted as your fingers hovered over the keys waiting to search the portal for a name.

Max gave up trying to get through to you and turned his attempts on Dev. “If you tell her who they are you might as well put a gun to her head now.”

That gave Dev pause and you were shown another glimpse of his moral compass. Placing a hand on his arm to get him to look away from Max, you gave him a reassuring smile and said, “They won’t be able to trace this to me. He’s just trying to save himself because the target will be on his back.”

His grey eyes scanned yours for a moment, searching for a hint of a lie, before he gave a small nod and stood up. “Adam Bethel and Kristian Svensek.”

You started with Adam and whistled at the bank balance that had put your family’s fortune to shame. “Would be a waste to just erase it.”

“Here,” Dev said as he opened his internet browser on his phone and found a charity that supported survivors of sex trafficking after rescuing women. “Give it to them.”

Max groaned and dropped his head at the thought of stealing all that money and not keeping a cent of it. The thought made you smile because he was right when he said you enjoyed the thrill of playing spymaster but being Robin Hood was even better.

You entered the banking details for Agape International Missions and made the donation anonymously before moving onto Kristian and giving his sum to Shared Hope International.

Sitting back, you stared at the screen and smiled with satisfaction, the final balance: $0.01.

“600 million dollars,” Max grumbled and gave up fighting, falling back into the chair. “You just gave away 600 million dollars.”

“Nope, I just invested it,” you corrected as you exited the hidden backdoor you had built into the system while you were supposed to be scanning the Online Portal last night. “And if Adam or Kristian report the money missing then they will have to somehow explain where the money came, something I am sure they don’t want the authorities looking into.”

“There’s still billions more just sitting there! Why don’t you just take it?” Max pleaded and you saw the manic gleam to his eyes. He was hooked, like a heroin addict, he was addicted to this life and would stop at nothing for his next fix.

“Because I’m not like you.” You realised that there would be too much temptation for someone to copy your code to keep the backdoor in place in the system so you erased it before closing the laptop shut. “It’s over, Max.”

“You really had me fooled,” he chuffed as he rose to his feet and this time the guard let him.

“Doesn’t feel great does it?”

Max ran his tongue across his teeth before pointing to Louis blocking the door. “Are we done here or what? It’s been a long night.”

Dev nodded his head to Louis and the man moved aside for Max who paused on the other side. “I trust your new friend can help you get back to New York, forgive me for not wanting to take you there myself.”

“I can manage just fine on my own.”

“So I have found,” he muttered as he sauntered off down the stairs.

“Wait,” you shouted and rushed after him as you remembered something. “You should have these.” You pulled the engagement ring and wedding band from your finger and tossed them to where he had stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Sell them if you need the money that badly.”

He stared as the rings resting in his palms, the diamonds sparkling in the laser lights that escaped the door to the stripclub that was beginning to close. His shaking fist closed tightly around them before he threw his head back with a bitter laugh and tossed the worthless rings out into the street.

“Goodbye, Maxwell Burnett,” you said as he turned to the dark streets and you watched his silhouette until it disappeared.

Six Months Later

“Nature vs Nurture. What makes us function as we do? How is our cognitive reasoning influenced? Are we wired to behave the way we do through inherited genes or from the environment we are subject to? These are the questions I want you to think about before we return next semester. For now, enjoy your vacation and happy holidays.”

The classroom was far smaller than the auditorium you had lectured in at Fordham University but you had settled happily into life at Boston College. You closed your textbook as the room quickly emptied, each student eager to leave campus for the term. You couldn’t blame them, you were just as ready to take a break after the year you had endured.

Shoving your book in your bag, you slung it over your shoulder and pushed away the thoughts that encroached uninvited. Every now and again you wondered where Max was, what trouble he was getting up to. You couldn’t help it. He was your first love and no matter how many years passed he could still worm his way into your thoughts, perhaps he always would. So long as he stayed out of your life, you could handle the rest.

The bang of the door closing had you jump and you spun around too quickly, your heavy bag throwing you off balance, but a strong pair of hands caught your waist and kept you upright.

“Everything okay?” Dev asked with a frown before scanning the room to see if there was a reason you were on edge.

“Lost track of time in my own little world. I’m fine,” you reassured him with a quick kiss. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Dev pulled out his phone as he explained, “Your program got another hit, it found them.” A pixelated image of two young women appeared on the screen, taken from an ATM security camera, but the facial recognition matched the last two of Dev’s dancers that had gone missing months ago. “It was taken in Kosovo. Louis’ gone to check it out before he calls Agape but it will take him a while to get there.” Dev’s excitement was palpable as he pocketed the device and wrapped you in his arms.

The bag slipped from your shoulder and thudded to the ground but you didn’t care as you threw your arms around his neck and squealed with joy.

“I just had to come and tell you the news,” he murmured between kisses. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Max was right - you couldn’t just go back to the mundane life of a professor. But you couldn’t be like him either, cold and calculating without remorse. You chose to be better, you chose to do better.

“I told you we would bring them home.”

Matt Bomer as Dev:

#max burnett #sebastian stan characters #sharper movie #max Burnett x reader

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