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deliciousangelfestival · 6 months ago

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Feeling Blue Without You - Lloyd Hansen

Summary: Working at Hansen Security can be stressful. What would happen if you left?

Words Count: 2,365

Warning: None

Author's Note: Hello, everyone; this one-shot is for the Lloyd Hansen Writing Challenge hosted by @hansensgirl and @cuttlefjsh. I chose the prompt: "Now, I'm gonna stop you right there, cupcake."

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more

“Sir, we need backup,” the agent said urgently to his boss, Lloyd Hansen, the head of Hansen Security. They were pinned down and surrounded by their opponents.

Standing before him, Lloyd clenched his jaw and grabbed his comm. “Send the reaper drone,” he commanded.

“No,” came the reply.

Lloyd's eyes narrowed. “No?”

‘BANG!’

A bullet whizzed past, forcing Lloyd to duck. “Can you hear that? They're shooting at us!” he barked into the comm.

“I did. I saw everything.”

“Then send the fucking drone!” Lloyd demanded, his voice rising in desperation.

“No. The air force won’t let us borrow the drone again since you destroyed it last time,” the voice replied coolly.

Lloyd rolled his eyes, frustration boiling over.

‘BANG!’

He ducked again, muttering a curse. “I'm dying here. If you don't want to use the drone, then what's the alternative?”

“I already sent one,” the voice replied.

“What?! A miracle?” Lloyd's voice dripped with sarcasm and desperation.

“1,” the voice started to count.

“What are you doing?” Lloyd snapped, glancing around nervously.

“2,” the voice continued.

“What does that even mean?” Lloyd demanded, his grip tightening on his weapon.

“3.”

“BOOM!”

In an instant, a missile landed, obliterating their opponents. The shockwave knocked Lloyd off his feet. He wiped the dirt from his eyes, coughing.

“Can you tell me beforehand?” he shouted into the comm, exasperated.

“I did, but no one replied,” the voice said, a hint of amusement in the tone.

Lloyd took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “I'm sorry. If you were here, you’d understand that no one could answer you because we were trying to hide from everyone shooting at us!”

“I'm sorry,” the voice replied, more sincerely this time.

“Fine. At least you made a good decision. Just don’t let it happen again,” Lloyd growled.

“Now send an aircraft to pick us up,” he ordered.

“It’s already on the way,” the voice replied.

“Good,” Lloyd muttered before turning off his ear comm. He sighed heavily, feeling more exhausted from the conversation than the fight.

Compared to Lloyd’s precarious situation, the person on the other end was in a much safer location.

“He’s a little bit angry, but at least we avoided any casualties,” one of the IT team members said, glancing up from their console.

“That’s what I aim for. Less paperwork too,” you replied, a hint of satisfaction in your voice.

You took off your ear comm and set it down on the table. “And we can get more bonuses.”

“Yes,” everyone nodded in agreement. Working at Hansen Security was stressful and dangerous, but the high salary made it worthwhile, especially with you.

Since you became the damage control advisor, the job has become less stressful because the team could depend on you to handle Lloyd’s wrath. Your nickname, "Raven," truly lived up to its reputation.

You used to work in the CIA, but even the corrupt officers there found you too irritating. So, they sent you to the most annoying person they could think of—Lloyd Hansen.

Even Lloyd couldn't stand you. Since you arrived, he found himself unable to do whatever he wanted. He used to revel in his freedom, operating without constraints. Now, there were rules and regulations, and you enforced them rigorously.

Lloyd frowned as he recalled the changes you'd implemented: no more casualties, no more shooting innocent civilians, no more reckless actions. He scoffed, shaking his head. He used to thrive in chaos, but you had stopped that.

Since you came on board, Lloyd has noticed that the calls from Carmichael or Susan have stopped. He used to hear, “Lloyd, keep it down,” or “Lloyd, what are you doing?” almost daily. Now, there was silence on that front.

He grimaced, remembering how he'd been forced to adjust his tactics. He clenched his fists, feeling the constraints you'd placed on him. He couldn't stand the way you had imposed order on his operations.

You, meanwhile, were fully aware of Lloyd’s resentment. As you leaned back in your chair, you glanced at the team, seeing the relief in their eyes. They appreciated the structure and safety you brought, even if Lloyd didn’t.

💉💉💉💉

Lloyd arrived back at the mansion, dragging his feet because of the wound. “Shit. I need a medic,” he groaned.

“They’re taking care of the others who really need it,” you replied, your tone matter-of-fact.

Lloyd fell silent, realizing that it was only you to help. You were already standing there, holding a medic kit. “Don’t scare me like that,” Lloyd holding his chest.

“You? Impossible,” you scoffed as you cut his pants with scissors to address his wound.

“Geez, you reject going on a date with me but are eager to rip my pants,” Lloyd quipped, wincing as you applied antiseptic.

“Well, if we can’t be lovers, at least we’re good partners in crime,” you shot back.

Lloyd smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “How do I look? Do I look handsome?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You raised your eyebrows, used to his random questions. “You have a muscular body and a good-looking face. You’re good in every outfit.”

Lloyd fell silent for a moment, then leaned closer to you, his expression serious. “Don’t say those kinds of words to anyone else—man, woman, I don’t care. Just me. Alright?”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, whatever you say, Lloyd.”

Despite the banter, there was a palpable tension between you two. It was clear you both hated and cared for each other at the same time.

As you finished bandaging his wound, Lloyd watched you with a mix of irritation and appreciation. “You’re good at this,” he muttered.

“Better than bleeding out,” you replied, standing up and packing the kit.

The others nearby were already used to your dynamic. They exchanged knowing glances but didn’t interfere. This was just another day at Hansen Security—filled with banter and tension, but always under control.

“Try not to get shot next time,” you said, turning to leave.

“Try not to worry about me so much,” Lloyd said, smirking.

🍸🍸🍸🍸

After an exhausting day, you always head to the bar to ease your stress. Swirling the ice cubes in your whiskey, you find a small semblance of relaxation in the motion.

Working in damage control with Hansen Security is stressful and demanding, and you often wonder what would have happened if you had never accepted the job.

“Are you really that stressed?”

You’re startled by the familiar voice and look up to see Susan standing beside you.

“Today I just stopped an unnecessary war. If you think that's not stressful, sure,” you reply, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you take a sip of your drink.

Susan makes an ‘ooh’ sound, clearly impressed with your ability to tame Lloyd. She pulls up a stool and sits next to you, her eyes studying your face.

“Perhaps I can help ease your burden,” she says, her voice softening.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Hmm?”

“Our boss wants to hire you to work at headquarters. He likes the way you limit the damage Lloyd makes,” Susan explains, her eyes shining with excitement.

“Really?!” you exclaim, a wave of relief washing over you. “When can I go there?”

“Anytime you want,” Susan replies with a smile.

Without hesitation, you down the rest of your whiskey and stand up, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. You grab your jacket, a newfound energy propelling you forward.

💥💥💥💥💥

Lloyd had just come back, and the atmosphere inside the mansion felt different. Had someone been here? He was sure of it. “Susan, what the heck are you doing here?” he demanded, storming into the room.

“I’m the new damage control advisor,” Susan replied calmly, standing her ground.

“Oh, hell no. Where is she?” Lloyd’s voice was sharp, almost frantic.

Susan’s expression remained neutral. “She’s working with the boss now.”

“Without my permission?!” Lloyd’s voice rose, his anger palpable.

Susan was taken aback. She hadn’t expected him to be this furious. She shrugged her shoulders, trying to stay composed. “Don’t blame me. It was the higher-ups who wanted her.”

“She also gave her resignation letter,” she informed him.

Lloyd stood there, stunned. You had just left without saying anything? He couldn’t believe it.

That night, Lloyd couldn't sleep. He never thought he would feel so blue after you left. When you first started working with him, you were a nuisance, always blocking every plan he made. He hated you for it.

But as time went by, your presence became indispensable for both the job and him. He liked to tease and flirt with you, even though it was futile since you never broke your cold demeanor.

Now, with Susan replacing you, he knew she was waiting for him to fail. She didn’t care if he made mistakes. She wanted him to be ruined. She didn’t care if the mission succeeded or failed.

Unlike you, who were strict but cared for him, watching out for his safety and the success of the mission.

Lloyd sat on the edge of his bed, staring into the darkness. He realized just how much he had relied on you, not just for your skills but for your unwavering dedication. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and sadness mixing within him. He missed your stern yet caring presence, and it gnawed at him that he hadn’t appreciated you more when you were there.

Susan might be in your position now, but she could never replace what you brought to the team or him.

🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢

Lloyd stormed through the office, pushing away the secretary and security guards who tried to stop him from entering Monsieur Francis' office room.

“Mr. Hansen. What do I owe the pleasure of this abrupt visit?” Monsieur Francis, the French millionaire and main sponsor of Hansen Security, looked up calmly.

“I want her back,” Lloyd stated firmly.

Monsieur Francis leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. He had always needed Hansen Security to clear his path but despised the chaos and repair bills Lloyd often caused.

“But she likes it here. It's less stressful,” Monsieur Francis replied diplomatically.

Lloyd slammed his fist on the glass table, causing it to crack. “No one can replace her.”

Monsieur Francis raised an eyebrow, maintaining his composure. “There’s nothing I can do. She came here of her own accord, and we welcomed a talented person like her with open arms.”

Lloyd's voice hardened. “Let her go, or I will expose all your misdeeds to the world. Everyone will be shocked to learn that the philanthropist has blood on his hands.”

Monsieur Francis clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white. “Leave. Before I change my mind. This is the last time you disrespect me.”

Gritting his teeth, Lloyd turned and stormed out of the office, leaving Monsieur Francis behind.

Lloyd leaned against the wall in the hallway, his chest heaving with frustration and anger. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling defeated. He knew threatening Monsieur Francis was risky, but he was desperate to bring you back.

🧁🧁🧁🧁🧁

Clueless about what was happening on the top floor, you were in the midst of a meeting with your new team. It felt surprisingly relaxing compared to your time at Hansen Security. The atmosphere was blissful, and you were starting to feel a sense of ease in your new role.

Suddenly, the door burst open, startling everyone in the room. All eyes turned as Lloyd stormed in, his expression furious. You stood up in shock as he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the building, leaving the room in stunned silence.

“Lloyd, let go,” you demanded, trying to free your hand from his grip.

“If you don’t want me to make a scene here, just be quiet,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes darting around at the onlookers.

“I don’t want to work with you,” you asserted firmly, your voice tinged with frustration.

“Now, I’m gonna stop you right there, cupcake,” Lloyd retorted, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“Stop calling me that,” you snapped, remembering the time he had discovered your pajamas with cupcake patterns and found it amusing.

“You don’t belong here. Like it or not, you’re going to stay close to me. Didn’t you say we’re perfect partners in crime?” Lloyd’s voice was insistent, almost pleading.

Damn, this man, you thought, feeling both frustrated and reluctantly intrigued. You couldn't seem to escape him.

Lloyd's jaw was clenched, his eyes searching yours with a mix of determination and vulnerability. He took a step closer, closing the physical gap between you, his presence commanding attention.

“Lloyd, this isn’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

“Just... stay close,” he implored softly, his voice rough with emotion.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his words and the intensity of his gaze. Despite your better judgment, there was an undeniable pull towards him—a magnetic force that defied logic and reason.

“I...” you began, uncertain how to respond, your own emotions in turmoil.

Lloyd reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a spark of something unspoken between you.

As you stood there, caught in the charged atmosphere, you realized that resisting Lloyd was futile. Whatever lay ahead, this moment marked a turning point—a shift towards a future where boundaries blurred, and the lines between duty and desire became increasingly intertwined.

Taglist: @thezombieprostitute

Author Note: Hey friends,

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Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

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eccentricallygothic · 4 months ago

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I kinda ran late for school this morning but I couldn't help but think about…

Profound husband!Lloyd who holds your toddler on his hip while knocking on the bathroom door when you're still washing up in the morning. You verbally express your annoyance and he apologizes because the kids just won't have anything besides you.

Profound husband!Lloyd who does his best to handle the bunch when you're out of it and during mornings because he knows you're not a morning person and such a sensory load on top of it is too much for you.

Profound husband!Lloyd who steps aside with an apologetic smile when you huff as you open the door but make no effort to interact with the bunch and walk away, ignoring the multiple “Mommy, Mommy”s.

Profound husband!Lloyd who just snorts when you grumble “Get all that away from me” before walking to the balcony. He sends the kids to the breakfast table with a promise that you two will be joining them soon, handing them the toddler too.

Profound husband!Lloyd knows you don't mean it the way you put it and that you love your family and children as much as he does. But you're his original baby. He knows how sensitive and moody you can be at times.

Profound husband!Lloyd doesn't mind. He carefully approaches you and comfortingly rubs your arms from behind. “Hey, don't be mean. The kids just love you is all” he still chooses to remind you for the sake of his children. “Like you love your own mom.”

Profound husband!Lloyd doesn't mind as you scoff and roll your eyes. “But I am not my mom. She's a wonderful woman and mother. I am just… me.”

Profound husband!Lloyd sighs as he gathers you up in his arms and kisses your cheek. “Hey, now” his nose grazes your soft skin. “You're just as amazing. I'd honestly say you're better.” He knows you're not too confident in yourself at times. Especially as a wife and mother. “You're perfect, honey. Just stay with us.” Warm comfort washes over you and let yourself relax in his arms. “The kids love you. I love you.” You have a knack for constantly recalculating your worth and doubting your make. Luckily for you, you've profound husband Lloyd to always catch you when you're about to fall.

My first Lloyd fic was a soft fluff, I love that man like he's my own old man, and I am afraid I'll die on that ship.

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jamneuromain · 1 year ago

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A Whiff of Blood

Lloyd Hansen x You

Warning: Mob AU, Mob!Lloyd, Secretary!Reader, Graphic Depiction of Violence (I guess Lloyd is a warning of his own?), Reader has light hemophobia (fear of blood), and ofc, the direction mention and description of blood, sexual harassment

Summary: It is a dumb idea to be working for Lloyd when you have hemophobia.

A/N: Based on the prompt from the bingo challenge. The inspiration came from @rogerswifesblog / @rogerswifesblog-updates when we were talking about business dinners and such.

The whiff of blood drifts out of Lloyd's office. You scrunch your nose and pull out a piece of tissue with a floral scent to cover half your face.

It is a dumb idea to be working for Lloyd when you have hemophobia.

The smell grows stronger, so you uncap your perfume and spritz it all over you.

As long as you turn your head the other way, or mask the scent with something stronger, your phobia will not act up. And considering Lloyd is paying you a hefty salary and bonus, you don't complain.

After all, when choosing jobs, at best, you can only pick two features out of "well-paid", "light work", or "close to home".

You are lucky that you can drive for an hour on weekends to visit your mom who lives in the suburb.

The door to his office swings open with a loud "bang", as if - no, probably, Lloyd kicks it open, and out comes two bodyguards dragging a heavy black garbage bag.

Quite heavy. Like 70 kilograms heavy.

You wouldn't want to speculate what is inside.

You turn your head the other way, facing a rather pleased Lloyd Hansen, the mob boss who pays you to be his secretary.

"Mr. Hansen, I've secured the dinner tonight at 7 pm with Mr. Suza Brewer. He owns the biker gang Hellbend ever since you helped him take out the previous leader Fitzroy. You will be having dinner at the restaurant named Bird. It's adjacent to the Ritz-Carlton, so you can take your pick whether to stay in your suite or go back home. Either way, I'll go tell your driver Denny to get ready." You don't even bother getting up, spinning your chair in his direction, you hand him the files, with a polite smile on your face, "These, I need you to sign so your clubs will be running as usual. Your head accountant Marilyn has an appointment with you in fifteen minutes, and I've called the cleaning crew. They are ready to clean up your office right now."

Lloyd snatches a tissue paper from your desk, wiping his silver blood-stained ring on his middle finger clean, before tossing the reddened, soaked, and irritating odor tissue onto the ground and out of your sight. A small smirk on his lips, Lloyd purses his lips to stroke his mustache with his finger, "Send them in."

You nod, picking up your phone from your desk, when he holds up his hand to stop you for a moment.

"Good job, Y/N." He says curtly.

Lloyd's icy blue eyes zero on you. After a few seconds, he speaks up again, "You're coming to the dinner with me."

You nearly jump from your chair. Shocked, but most importantly, confused, because he has never asked you to present during business dinners.

After all, those who were qualified for "business" are either ruthless or sociopathic. While your boss Lloyd is both, you are neither.

"Mr. Hansen, I-"

"You're off for the rest of the day. Call Denny, he knows where to buy a decent dress." He pulls out his wallet from his inside pocket, and hands his black card to you, "Consider this a bonus." His tone unrelenting, pushing the card on the desk further towards you, he issues his final command, "And tell Denny to find you a stylist."

You swallow your refusal and take his black card.

You know he doesn't take "no" for an answer.

"Thank you, Mr. Hansen."

He hums impatiently, waving his hand to gesture that the conversation is over for him.

For the first hour of the said "business dinner", you try your best to focus on the food in front of you, instead of the Brewer man. He is a few inches shorter than Lloyd, but the look he delivers when he stares at you is simply...

Fearful. Even more than Lloyd.

Having worked for Lloyd for nearly three years, you witnessed he yelled, shouted, pulled out his gun to shoot someone's brain out (you vomited on to his shoes, very unfortunately, for which he yelled at you for approximately half an hour), and of course, being mad at some business partners and the determination in his eyes to eliminate his rivals. But none of his looks scared you like the creepy feeling Suza Brewer brings you.

Lloyd gives off the vibe that he will shoot you alive, while Suza Brewer could skin someone alive. And Suza has not stopped stealing glances in your direction ever since you and Lloyd presented in this dinner.

You look at your plate, cutting a small chunk of carrot in half. Trying your best to ignore the four bodyguards, two from Lloyd and two from Brewer, standing in the back.

Convincing yourself. Maybe this Brewer guy likes to look, similar to many men who passed by your desk to reach Lloyd's office.

You raise your eyes carefully, taking a long exhale as you continue to persuade yourself that Suza Brewer brought a lady to the dinner, probably also why Lloyd has asked you to come along.

After a few glasses of wine, the girl Suza brought sat on his lap boldly, feeding him bites of cherry tomatoes.

"I'll say yes to your proposal. You and me, 50-50." Suza suddenly lets out a laugh, "I just want one tiny thing to sweeten the deal." He squints his eyes, and points his finger towards you, "I want - her."

The small chunk of carrot lingers on your lips as you are about to eat.

The young girl's jealousy could tear you in half, Suza's greasy lips smack together, as if tasting your flesh, and Lloyd simply looks at you, with minimum expression you have ever seen on his face.

"Excuse me?" Lloyd clenches his teeth.

"C'mon, buddy." Brewer smacks Lloyd a bit too hard on his shoulder, barking laughter with his yellow crooked teeth exposed into the air, "You can't keep such a sexy thing all to yourself, eh?" He wiggles his eyes suggestively, "Don't tell me you haven't fucked her yet?"

Now you HAVE to say something.

"Mr. Brewer, I assure you that my work with Mr. Hansen is strictly professional." You smile politely, raising your glass for a toast, "In fact, I think that's what we all want, Mr. Brewer, to have a long-term stable business relationship with Mr. Hansen. Here's to our thriving partnership-"

Brewer gets up from his chair and sways towards you. He could barely walk straight but he still manages to stand behind your chair, lowering his head right where your ear is.

As he speaks, he reeks of wine and meat.

"I'm talking to your boss, bitch. " Brewer snarls, slapping your hand so hard that your wine glass falls to the table. Startling you when you are trying to stay calm. "You are but a plaything to Lloyd Fucking Hansen and I'll have you whether you like it or not."

Now here's the difference between Brewer and the rest of the men who pass you to get to Lloyd's office. For those men, they work for Lloyd, and hence, they wouldn't dare to touch "Lloyd's belonging", which is you. Brewer, on the other hand, is a total wild card, which you understand perfectly as Lloyd worked with him to kill Brewer's adoptive father Fitzroy.

He is as unpredictable and unstable as Lloyd, maybe even more so, because Lloyd certainly hasn't laid a finger on you ever since you worked for him, neither sexually nor violently.

You even your breath as Brewer leans closer He grabs your boobs with his hand, having you freeze on your seat.

"In fact, I'll invite him to watch how I fuck his pretty little whore."

The chill seeps deep into your bones. You urge your body to fight back, but sanity tells you that you would probably end up in a dumpster with a bullet hole on your forehead if you ruin this big deal for Lloyd. For a brief second, you think about begging Lloyd. But in reality, your mind is point blank as the mindset in between "fight or flight" kicks in, and it instructs your body to play dead.

It might be a few seconds. Or a few minutes, before your savior swoops in, saying something that sounds like mumbling to your brain.

"We're done here." Lloyd growls, snatching your wrist with a grip hard enough to bruise, tugging you harshly to leave. Your knee and thigh bump into the wooden arm of the chair, to which you bite your lip in pain, and still too shocked to get your language system back online.

"But our contract-" Brewer shouts to Lloyd.

"I'll get back to you." Lloyd snaps back, pushing and shoving your back to move before him.

Your mind is a blur and cannot recall how Lloyd stuffs you into his limo when he steps outside to smoke. He did, however, throw his coat onto you and shut the car door with a loud "thud", having front-row driver Denny lowering the panel between you, whispering with much concern, "What's wrong?"

You curl your fingers into the black woolen coat. Folding it neatly as you have done hundreds of times when he throws his coat over you or over your desk. Placing it on your legs.

"Here. I'll tune the AC up." Denny showers you with his sympathetic look, as he has never seen you so out of yourself, so soulless, and shivering.

Your mind has been replaying how Brewer grabbed your boobs, and the filth he talked about. You also know that you have nowhere to hide, if Lloyd is determined to get something done, if he wants to deliver you to Brewer.

Though the tinted car window muffled some of Lloyd's angry shouting, you are still able to comprehend that Lloyd just got mad again.

"... CALL ME WHEN IT'S DONE!" Lloyd yells at his phone, opening the car door, and sliding in, taking a big inhale of the warm air inside. Glancing at you, he seems not having returned from his angry state, "AND THIS COAT IS NOT -" He lets out a grumpy huff, "never mind."

After a moment of silence, you feel like you should make your statement, no matter if Lloyd being unreasonable. You simply have to.

It's your life at stake here.

"Mr. Hansen, I just wanted to tell you that it has been a pleasure working with you these past three years. i have gained much experience and knowledge working as your personal secretary and assistant. I want to express my thanks for you cultivating me into a qualifying secretary and no matter what happens, I would want you to know that I cherish our business relationship and accept the consequence."

Lloyd listens through your statement surprisingly patiently, and pinpoints the most crucial idea (he thought that it was) throughout your entire speech, "You want a raise?"

You stutter, "No-No! Mr. Hansen! I wouldn't - What you have given me is well beyond market average and I appreciate your confidence in me."

"Ah. So you want to quit?"

His cold blue eyes stare into you. You gulp in fear.

"Yes, I mean - No, I don't want to quit. But circumstances have ... arisen, which makes me wonder ... uh, if I was able to -"

"I've had enough of it." He grumbles, twisting the ring on his finger, "Your next sentence starts with 'I want' and stop using these big words, sunshine. One sentence. Not another word."

"I - I want you to not deliver me to Suza Brewer." You quickly say, "Mr. Hansen." You did your best to be respectful.

His grumpy expression lingers on his face for a second, before turning into disbelief, "That's all you're asking for?"

"Yes...? I really liked working with you, Mr. Hansen, and I don't want to be put into a position that you are choosing between me and your ... business." Seeing that his mustache is twitching, inching close to a sneer, you add, "If you could just let me go, and claimed that I slipped through your custody or got away as soon as I could, I think that Mr. Suza would not mind that much -"

His index finger points up to shush you.

Lloyd snorts, fishing out a box of tictac and popping two colored-candy into his mouth.

Crushing the sugary treat with his jaw, he closes his eyes and roots his upper body firmly onto the back seat, "Denny, take us to the warehouse by the Westside Pier."

The Westside Pier.

The one place Lloyd would go to if he captures a traitor or fulfills a hitman contract.

The one place he could make a body completely go away.

He's about to end ... you?

The cold October wind does nothing to help you fight against the icy feeling in your bones.

The stylist Denny founded accompanied you during shopping and chose a most-fitting black dress for you, which goes a little over the knees. Along with the warm AC everywhere, the length didn't bother you -

-until now.

You hold Lloyd's folded coat in your hand, following Lloyd out of the car with teeth clattering, more out of cold than of the horrible thoughts of what he would do to you.

Lloyd turns around, grunting in a sarcastic way, "Can't believe your clever brain didn't work out why the coat-" before he stops whatever that's about to go through his lips, roughly taking the coat from your hands and putting it around your shoulders, "Try not to freeze to death."

Your hesitant expression must have been obvious, because he looks at you and purses his lips in slight irritation, "Don't do anything stupid. And follow me."

What does this even mean? That he doesn't want to kill you after all? Or that he has changed his mind and thought you know too many secrets to be alive?

Your mind buzzing with thoughts as you follow Lloyd through the gate of the notorious warehouse.

The swinging lightbulb over your head and the faint smell of blood make you nauseous. You have not stepped foot into this warehouse because you have heard of the cruel things Lloyd has done to his opponents, all of which happened here.

"I don't care how much your boss pays you, I-I'll pay you double!" A man screeches pathetically, taking hit after hit on his stomach from Lloyd's muscle man as two other hold him upright.

Looking at Lloyd's direction, the man's swollen and bruised face lights up in an instant.

"Lloyd! Buddy!" He gobbles in a mouthful of blood, "So glad, ehhehe, you came!"

Lloyd grabs his hair, and punches him in the stomach.

"Fuck you, buddy," Lloyd swings another punch at Brewer's stomach, a cold smile on his lips, "fuck you, alright?"

A sharp scream of pain. "Lloyd, I don't understand-"

Lloyd drags his head in front of you, bending his neck to face you, to which you cover your nose because of the strong smell of blood bombarding your nerves. "There. She's my people. You disrespect her, you disrespect me. Got it, you dumb fuck?"

"Sorry!" The man shrieks his apology, "I'm sorry!"

Oh. So that's what he meant.

You bury your nose under his soft woolen coat. Burying the lower half of your face. Your cheeks getting warm, and a small grin creeps up.

Feels kind of nice. To have someone watching over you.

"Our business," Brewer pants, coughing out blood, losing a few of his teeth, "you need me to do our business, Lloyd."

Lloyd smirks, waving to gesture the removal of Brewer.

The man is still screaming he's sorry, but the two muscles hold him by his arms, forcing him to stand on the edge of the pier and tying a large rock around his waist.

"But Mr. Hansen," You stop him in his tracks, "your business, your deal with-"

You point towards Suza Brewer, now with a gag so all he could manage is some muffled voices.

"Don't worry your head around it, sunshine." Lloyd places his hand on the coat collar and tugging it tighter. The look on his face blank, but somehow more sincere than his cold grins, "I'm working with his stepbrother now. Pal is so grateful that I help him take care of Suza; he decided to offer me 70% of the cut."

You let out a whispered "Oh". Glad that Lloyd's "business" is thriving but also ... not that glad.

He's doing this for his business after all ... while he'd get to ... make it up for you?

A strange feeling tugging your heart. Some sort of relief, but not entirely. You are disappointed, somehow, as if you believed there should have been more to this gesture.

The muffled screaming stops after a loud splash comes from the edge of the pier.

The three muscle men return. One of them announces: "He's been taken care of, boss."

Smelling the whiff of blood on them, you can't help but crouch onto the ground and hurl your guts out.

Lloyd gestures those men to "beat it". And as the air clears from the smell of rusted iron and salt, a white handkerchief dangles in front of your eyes.

"Don't puke over my shoes again." Lloyd stands still, pinching his handkerchief between his index and middle finger, handing it to you.

You gag a few times, covering your mouth with the smooth white handkerchief, turning into another direction other than his shoes.

"Mr. Hansen, I don't know you -" You fight the instinct to be sick in front of him, standing up from your crouching position with wobbly legs, "carry a handkerchief." You take a deep breath to calm your nerves, wiping the corner of your mouth using the white fabric, now stained with the red smudge of your lipstick, "I'll dry clean it along with your coat, and send it-"

He seizes the handkerchief and stuffs it in his front pocket, "Don't bother."

He pats on your shoulder. The same way he would pat his men. A silent encouragement and praise of "Good work".

"Mr. Hansen, I-"

You want to say something. The precise moment when your heart skipped a beat and you've captured something vague in your mind, some terrifying yet imminent. Your bones rattle in the possibility of the blurry idea. But when his blue eyes turn to you, the idea takes its chance and slips from your mind.

"-thank you." Is all you could say.

"Wait for me in the car." He searches his pocket for his box of matches and cigarette, waving his hand, shushing you away, with the cig between his lips. He sounds stern as ever, but deep down, you feel like something has changed.

Lloyd watches you as you head back to the car. You, his tiny, fragile, delicate, poor little secretary who gets sick at the sight or the smell of blood.

He watches you still wrapped in his coat. When the cold October wind sweeps by your feet, you shiver under the warm expensive wool.

He stares for a long time when the match used to light his cigarette burns the tip of his fingers.

"Shit." He grumbles.

#lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen #the grey man #mob!lloyd hansen

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ronearoundblindly · 5 months ago

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No Promises (3)

Lloyd Hansen x rival assassin!Reader

I Left You Something On The Body (see previous or LH Masterlist)

Summary: You and Lloyd take to leaving consolation prizes for whichever one of you 'loses.' It...escalates delightfully.

Warnings for DARKFIC. Language; descriptions of sexual situations, toys, various paraphernalia. Smut-adjacent (masturbation). MINORS DNI. I have plenty else for you on my Light Masterlist, but this is not for you! WC 982

And you do; you let Lloyd have several open contracts after the keycard incident.

Sometimes you wonder about the man providing the most fun you’ve had in years, but mostly, you relax in a noisy city high-rise with a spectacular view. A small vacation between assassinations. You drop off the network for a month or so, picking up a straight-forward job nearby, and then show up at the target’s house to find him already dead.

Pinched onto the body, overtop a blood-soaked button-down, are golden nipple clamps.

You snort in disbelief.

The sick bastard, he’s really wooing you now.

A thin chain between the clamps sports a tied tag.

To: The Cobalt Cunt

You let out a dreamy sigh, the little tingle in your mind of possibly fucking (with) him again vibrating to life. You even miss him in a weird way.

On the reverse of the tag, it reads, “not safe for lace.”

It’s on obviously and more fun than you ever imagined. At some point, you can’t tell if you two are letting each other get places first on not. The money is, oddly, totally irrelevant, and your career takes on a renewed joy.

Lloyd claims a target. You show up, kill them, and drop off an intricately-packaged Gucci jock strap with “Eat Me” embroidered at the back of the waistband, right above his asshole.

For good measure—and to remind him what he’s missing—you add a spritz of your perfume to the cup.

That’s where you want to be nestled, it implies. That’s where you belong, right against his dick.

Sadly, the next ‘surprise’ takes a while as you two are not after the same jobs. There’s plenty of work to go around till you find an oblong box wrapped in brown paper on the armchair ten feet from an enormous bloodstain.

With an empty scotch glass and a crumb-covered plate beside it, you know Lloyd’s been trolling for your attention. His snacky, sweet-tooth is somewhat notorious.

Your inconspicuous, purposefully plain gift waits patiently, the soft whipped cream of a strawberry shortcake dripping down its serving stand.

There’s no rush though, and you make a little ritual of opening it to reveal a beautiful dildo with golden speckles throughout the silicone molding. It is absolutely from a cast of Lloyd; you’d know that curve anywhere.

If that’s as close as you can get? Fine by you…

The rest of him barely participated before anyway.

Geneva.

Lloyd’s pissed and tired after the flight. Suzanne is the fucking worst and made him repeat the plan three times because her pea-brain is as sharp as a limp dick.

He dances down the plane steps, noticing a welcome party that is not his people. One sunglasses-clad, black-suited fellow walks up to Lloyd with an enormous gift basket.

It’s so goddamn pink Lloyd recoils and squints his eyes.

Good christ, it’s hideous. He loves it in a sick way.

Pink cellophane, fuzzy pink handcuffs, a sparkling fuchsia cock ring, rose gold anal beads with pesto-colored rope connecting them, and strawberry flavored lube.

Mood restored, Lloyd chuckles, turning on his heel to get back on the plane.

He’s going home. He has toys to play with.

He doesn’t bother to explain shit to Suzanne. One of these days, he’s just going to pop her for free.

This one doesn’t coincide with a job at all, but that’s what makes it all the sweeter to you.

Delivered to the place you’re staying for the week is an adorable, yellow stuffed rabbit with a pull-cord. Across its tummy is 'sunshine' in cursive letters.

You honest-to-god squeal in delight as you listen to each of the five custom recordings programed in.

Lloyd tuts then says ��should have sized up my ring, you cock-drunk whore,” a deep gasp and a squelch punctuates the end.

Oh boy. It’s Christmas in July. Happy you!

You fake your own shocked gasp at the second soundbite.

“Know you don’t taste like fucking strawberries,“ he grunts before bitterly adding, “but I’ll take one for the team and eat that pussy any day.”

Third: “Bet I was the best you ever had, even when I wasn’t awake, you poor thing. So needy…”

Fourth: “How hard did you come, Sunshine? Be honest.” He laughs like the cat who got the cream to end that one.

Finally, the last of the pulls is just the slapping noise of him jerking off and finishing with a deep moan.

Now, at least, you know what Lloyd sounds like when he comes.

Utterly self-satisfied, Lloyd goes about his life of luxury.

He’ll be damned if he’s going to break and go to you. Fuck that. The thrill of this taco-and-hotdog game is worth it anyway.

He still works, and not every job revolves around you.

For one such fulfilled contract, he’s being paid in artwork and has the delivery men bring in the large framed canvas to uncover in his current villa’s sitting room.

The expectation is a well-known portrait.

It’s a painting alright, but it’s…very modern.

Lloyd crosses his arms over his chest and smothers a proud grin.

The torso and open legs of you stretch out facing the viewer, gold leaf embossed nipple clamps and their chains dangle over your stomach, and the blunt end of a golden dildo sits nestled in your cunt. There are brush strokes and paint visibly raised from the surface.

He wonders whether it was done from a photo or whether you sat there, bare, for some artist to reference for hours, maybe even days.

Lloyd had a spot in mind for his real payment, but this will do nicely. He’s quite pleased with the view. It shall go over the mantle in the bedroom, and he shall fuck whoever he wants—his fist included—while staring right at it.

The half dozen or so other people in the villa’s great room who can all see the painting don’t say a fucking word.

How the hell is he supposed to top this?

A/N: Full disclosure, I'm pretty sure this is the funniest thing I'll ever write, and I'm okay with that. I can't stop laughing 🤣🤣🤣

[Next Part: A Blazer Full of Bullet Holes]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

blue art deco divider by @/saradika-graphics--thank you for your beautiful work!

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #dark fic #lloyd hansen drabble #lloyd hansen series #lloyd hansen smut #in a weird way it's fluffy??#lloyd hansen fluff

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buckymorelikefuckme · 2 months ago

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most ardently

lloyd hansen x fem reader

words: 1.1k

warnings & tags: probably inaccurate regency era, pride & prejudice (2005) inspired, i've made lloyd quite soft in this i'm so sorry, enemies to (implied??) lovers, some natasha/sam crumbs even though they're in a totally different franchise/universe pls let me have this, idk idk idk idk it's just!!! this!! also my bad @ mr. collins

a/n: p sure i mentioned being on a jane austen kick lately so this is definitely the result of that. literally wrote this just now so it's absolutely unbeta'd or proofread and i honestly don't know if it even makes sense. might delete it later, we shall see. anyway! feedback is highly encouraged and greatly appreciated. xo

“May I have the next dance?”

Your joyful laughter, shared with your dearest friend, Natasha, abruptly cuts off at the sound of his voice. You blink a few times, as if that will help make sense of the scene before you. The chatter of the ball fades away for the briefest moment.

Mr. Hansen stands stiffly, his spine straight as an arrow, chin held high. His expression holds his ever present disdain and aloofness, but his eyes… For the first time, you're sure you see a hint of uncertainty. It looks rather misplaced on him, especially since he's quite vocal of his own assuredness in practically everything, and yet, there it rests.

“You may,” you hear yourself respond after a pause.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Natasha’s head turn to you in a snap, no doubt mirroring your internal shock at your reply, but your gaze remains held by the man before you. Mr. Hansen’s shoulders loosen imperceptibly and he nods, giving you a quick bow and waiting for your polite curtsy. He lingers, looking as if he wants to say more before he seems to think better of it and finally leaves.

As soon as she deems it alright, Natasha is dragging you behind her hastily, leading you to a more quiet corner in a different room, whirling around to face you with her eyebrows almost reaching her hairline.

“What have I done?” you whisper in a panic.

She raises one of her hands to cover her amused grin. A stifled giggle from her makes you let out a hysterical one of your own, and then the dam breaks. You're back to laughing together, though for an entirely different reason this time.

“Perhaps you will enjoy your time with him,” she suggests playfully.

You groan in protest through your smile. “But I don't want to enjoy my time with him.” With a dramatic sigh, you continue, “Though, I suppose it's better than allowing his misery to affect my mood.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “I dare say he will not be the miserable one during that dance. He could surprise you, you know,” she counters, her expression pointed yet kind.

“Somehow I sincerely doubt that,” you reply haughtily, which has her giving you another pointed look that has you laughing. “Come,” you say, “let us find a better hiding spot. I want to keep out of Mr. Collins’ sight so I will not have to dance with him again.”

“That is fair,” Natasha concedes with a grin. “Hopefully we’ll find space near Mr. Wilson and he’ll finally ask me to dance.”

You do not have the heart to tell her that her confidence intimidates him, but you do still silently hope that he will ask anyway.

***

To her delight, Mr. Wilson does ask her to dance, just in time to line up with all the other couples before the music starts. You are among them with your sour-faced partner, Mr. Hansen. There are more than a few envious glares sent your way, though you cannot understand why.

Sure, Mr. Hansen is objectively a handsome man, and he's far richer than anyone else at this ball, but he's also blunt and rude and prideful. He leaves much to be desired with every unwanted conversation you have with him. It's as if he enjoys ruffling your feathers on purpose. Very unbecoming of a gentleman, in your opinion.

“Are you having a pleasant time this evening?” Mr. Hansen asks a minute into your dance, sudden and awkward.

“Quite,” you reply, attempting to maintain civility, but hoping to dissuade conversation.

Mr. Hansen’s brows furrow slightly at your curt response. “I’m glad the merriment is to your liking.”

“I should not think my opinion on the matter makes any difference for you,” you say, eyeing him curiously.

He clenches his jaw, looking away. “Right. Of course.”

The rest of the dance is spent in tense silence. No sooner than the music ends, you are curtsying and attempting to slip past him without having to speak another word. However, one of Mr. Hansen’s many admirers decides to take revenge on you for stealing a dance from him by purposely sticking out her foot to trip you. A gasp escapes you as you lose your balance, yet before you can embarrass yourself completely by falling to the floor, two strong hands catch you by the waist, spinning you around in their stronghold.

Your shocked gaze meets Mr. Hansen’s, his arm warm where it's wrapped around you, as is his other hand on your shoulder as he stabilizes you. His eyes, this time, are full of true concern, of worry. They trace every inch of your face, his so close to yours that you can feel the puffs of his breath across your chin.

“Are you hurt?” he inquires softly.

There's an odd, swirling feeling in your stomach, heat rushing up your neck to your cheeks at his proximity and the unusually gentle way he's handling you.

“I… I’m fine,” you stammer.

He cuts his eyes to whomever stands behind you, his face falling into a familiar and severe scowl. “I believe you owe her an apology for your childish actions.”

You finally manage to pull your stare from him to the accused person. The woman is flushed with shame at having been called out, stuttering through her, no doubt, half-hearted and insincere apology, her eyes flitting to the people watching the scene unfold.

“All is forgiven,” you rush, cutting her off. “Thank you.”

She shifts from foot to foot, pursing her lips unhappily, then finally curtsies and hurries off. Her absence draws your attention back to Mr. Hansen, who is still holding you securely and glaring at everyone else and their prying eyes, shifting them away from the two of you.

“Mr. Hansen,” you start, his head whipping back to you and his grip tightening. You exhale shakily. “I am grateful for your help, but I am sure I can stand on my own now.”

You see the exact second he realizes, his hold relaxing slowly, fingers peeling themselves off of your body as he takes a step back. For whatever reason, you feel wobbly on your feet at the loss of him. Mr. Hansen swallows as he rights his coat, bowing jerkily and turning on his heel to walk away. You watch his hand flex at his side, feeling the phantom touch of it on your shoulder.

Natasha enters your view, Mr. Wilson in tow. Her expression is full of questions, but you find yourself at a loss for any answers, your stomach and heart fluttering in what you can only assume is nerves at the near mishap.

That has to be why, surely.

…Right?

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fluff

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rosedpetal · 6 months ago

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Like Father Like Daughter

Summary: Lloyd Hansen is a former CIA agent slash mercenary slash sociopath who gets off on the doing the most unspeakable things. When his high school sweetheart gets in a coma, he finds out she took from him more than just his heart and a promise ring.

Pairing: Dad!Lloyd x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, hospitals, murder, guns, violence, Lloyd being mean to his daughter (you), daddy issues dynamics, death of a parent.

Author's note: this is a repost.

Minors, do not interact.

Masterlist

You were growing to hate hospitals. The sterile smell, white walls, floors and ceilings, doctors and nurses wearing those annoying scrubs that made everything much more depressing.

You were growing to hate light colors.

Tired of reading, you took a sip of your water bottle, eyeing your mother's asleep form on the hospital bed. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and tubes everywhere. She was stable, but they had no idea when she would wake up.

Or if she would.

"She got lucky." The doctor said to your grandma, after explaining the after a car accident of that nature, your mother being alive was a miracle.

You didn't think of luck at all. Not when you got out of school earlier, seeing your grandpa in tears while he crushed your limbs in a hug, sobbing in your hair and repeating like a prayer that everything was gonna be okay.

Your sweet, cheerful and loud mother have been at such a state for so long. Two months in, and you could hear the nurses gossiping when they thought you were asleep cuddling your mother.

"Keeping this patient is useless. She's as good as dead".

You started to lose hope, but you couldn't give up. Your mother had to come back at some point.

She was the only person you could count in. Of course, your grandparents were great, but a child's place is with their parents. Or just your mother, in your case.

When you were younger you pried as much as you could, but she would refuse to tell you anything about your father, only telling you that he walked out on her before he even knew she was pregnant and she never heard of him since.

Somehow, you didn't believe her.

But after the accident that almost took your mother from you, you couldn't really care less about a father that you never knew.

And as the time passed by, all you did was pray that your grandparents didn't lose hope too. After all, the decision to keep the life support on was theirs.

"You can either tell me what the hell is going on or I can just gut you like a pig, which one is gonna be?" Lloyd grinned at one of his spies. The man had been working for him for years now, a record that was getting Lloyd uneasy.

He would have to kill him soon.

"I found something interesting, that's all." The man replied, and poured a generous dose of whiskey on one of the glasses that was by Lloyd's coffee table.

Lloyd looked at him, amused.

"I didn't realize you had a death wish, getting yourself comfortable with my Scotch and everything."

"It's not for me, Hansen. It's for you." Klaus replied, emotionless.

Lloyd sat up, getting tense. Klaus passed him the glass, and he almost gave in the impulse to use it to break the moron's skull.

"I'm gonna ask again, and if I don't get a straight answer my gun is gonna get friendly with your brains." Lloyd took the gun from the holster and aimed at the man's head.

"Your ex fiancée is in a coma".

Lloyd let a breath out.

"And that's all this fucking tension about? Why would I give a fuck about that bitch? It's been more than thirteen years-"

"She has a daughter about that age." Klaus cut the infuriated Lloyd. "She looks a lot like you. Blue eyes, dark hair. Same dental arch..."

The same motherfucking asshole smile. He wanted to complete, but kept his mouth shut. Lloyd was impulsive and unpredictable, and after working with him for long enough, anyone would get a taste of almost getting murdered by him on his multiple mood swings.

Lloyd's head tilted to side.

Oh fuck.

"So, you're saying that I'm stupid enough to get some bitch pregnant by accident?"

"You popped the question to her, thought."

"I was young and stupid."

"And now, you're just stupid."

"For the sake of our fake friendship I'm gonna let that slide. And why were you even sneaking into her shit, anyway?"

"I wasn't. Do you remember the bounty you collected two months ago on that senator's head?"

"How could I forget?" Lloyd rolled his eyes. "It was a hell of a car chase."

"Well, the senator driver's car crashed into hers."

...

Lloyd really loved irony. But not when it came to bite his ass back.

After Klaus showed him some pictures of you in the hospital your mother were in, not even him could deny. You looked exactly like him, but with long hair and without a mustache in your baby face.

"Fuuuuuck!" He threw the glass across the room, hitting the wall, and getting it smashed into million pieces.

His sneaky job almost got his daughter's mother killed, for fucks sake. How would he tell you that? Did he even want to face you?

Klaus kept quiet while Lloyd threw his tantrum. Then, he spoke:

"When am I taking you to her?"

Lloyd turned to face him, angry.

"I'm not gonna meet some brat just because I found out she came from my balls!"

He couldn't really care less about your mother. He loved her (or thought he did) and then it was over. It was okay, he got over it. But he was not about to meet a child he knew he never wanted.

And what benefit would he bring to your life, dragging you to his mess?

Lloyd made up his mind. He would just ignore your existence.

"In what room is she, again?"

"301, boss." Klaus replied, trying to hide the smirk on his face.

Lloyd rolled his eyes, but chose to ignore him nonetheless. He was neither soft nor wanted to be a dad, but he was a curious motherfucker. So, the next day, first thing after knowing you were out of school, he made Klaus take him to the hospital.

"I'm here to see my daughter. Her mom's on the room 301."

The receptionist, who was not really interested, just pointed directions and waved him off. When he got in front of the door, he almost chickened out.

Oh, come on, he was not to be afraid of some child.

Even if it was his.

So, he knocked on the door. He knew you'd be there. You've never left your mother's side after school hours, and your grandparents didn't mind indulging you.

He heard a soft "Come in!" and took a deep breath before finally turning the doorknob.

It was a lot to take in.

Your mom, the only woman he ever loved, looking small, pale and pathetic. It was nothing like the girl he knew in her teens, bubbly and all-smiles.

Then, he saw you. Looking at him wide-eyed, and how the blue in your irises were similar to his. Your dark brown hair, that would match his if he didn't dye it jet black. Your nose were your mother's: a cute button on your rosy face, as well as your pouty lips.

"Who are you? I think you are in the wrong room."

You inquired. He could tell you were afraid of him. Arms crossed on your chest, biting your upper lip nervously.

He cleared his throat.

"I'm... Your father." It surprised him how he didn't sound anything like his usually cocky self. Your eyebrows rose, and you scoffed.

"Went to buy a pack of cigarettes and never found your way back to my mom?" You sassed.

"That's not fair! First of all, I don't smoke. And second, I had no idea your mom was pregnant! I would chase her to hell if I did. She was the one that left, ended things and disappeared like I meant nothing!" Lloyd pointed his index finger to you, incredibly offended.

"Which makes me think what kind of fuck-up you are if she ran away from you, then." You retorted, and noticed his reddened face.

"What's with all this prejudice? I could be the nicest fucking person you know. Maybe I have an animal shelter, ever thought of that? What if I read to old people in asylums in my spare time?"

"Do you?"

"No, but that's not the point here, young lady."

"Do you know how do I know you are not the nicest person? You said a bad word." You pointed, lips curling upwards.

"You said it first!" He accused, and this time, you grinned.

Maybe your mom left him because he was a man child, after all?

Your smile faded. You looked at your mother, and she nothing about her changed. Not even her heartbeat. You thought that perhaps she would get an incentive having your so-called-father in the room after such a long time.

"What's your name?" Lloyd asked, and you huffed.

"Why are you still here?

"I'm not leaving until I get to know you. My name's Lloyd, by the way. Lloyd Hansen. What's your name?"

"Get out!" You let out an exasperated sigh, regretting it immediately. You've always been curious about who your father were, and now you had the chance to.

"Do you really want me to?"

The pout that formed on his lips almost made you laugh again. Okay, he was charming, you had to give him that. So, against your better judgement, you gave in.

"No, please stay."

Lloyd didn't know if it was the sad way you almost pleaded for him to not leave, but he felt like a magnet was pulling him towards you, and you got up of the chair, sitting on your mother's bed and pointing the chair to him.

He sat and started fidgeting with his fingers.

"I'm Y/N. I'm thirteen. I like to read, but I'm also lazy and my mom's always scolding me to study more. That's me in a nutshell." You finally said, feeling a little disappointed that you had nothing better to say.

"Sounds like a normal thirteen-year-old to me. Have you ever killed an animal?"

"Excuse me, what?"

"Just kidding!" Lloyd said, fast. He noticed the change in your demeanor, which meant that topic probably upset you. He'd make sure to find out about that later.

"Oh my god, have you?" Your jaw dropped, finally putting two and two together. "It's that why my mother left you? You are some kind of psycho that tortures animals?"

"I don't torture animals!" Just people, Lloyd thought. "It was an innocent question, okay?"

"Yeah, you sound really normal to me." You rolled your eyes. "Get the fuck out, Lloyd. Or I'm gonna call the cops on you, being my father or not, which I don't believe you are by the way."

"Okay, in case you haven't noticed, you look exactly like me and nothing like her."

"You're not the only man with blue eyes and dark hair in the world, Lloyd."

"I totally agree with you on that, and this is why I brought this!" Lloyd announced, taking a ziplock bag out of his pocket with a q-tip inside of it.

"What the hell is this?"

"Open your mouth, kiddo!" He grinned at you, getting closer with the q-tip between his index and thumb.

"I'm not giving you my DNA, you creep!"

"Okay, hard way it is." He sighed, almost sadly. "I love you."

Your jaw dropped again, and he took the opportunity to stick the q-tip in your tongue, collecting the saliva. Before you could shriek, he put it back in the ziplock.

"You fucking asshole!" You yelled. "I'm calling the security-"

"Keep your voice down." He warned you, and you whimpered at the sudden change on his behavior. Then, he got up and gave you a smile. "It was nice catching up with you, kiddo. Toodles!"

You were still stunned when he left.

Days went by, and you haven't seen Lloyd since. Part of you were angry at yourself for being disappointed by that, but you just shrugged it off and told yourself it was better that way.

And it was really surprising when your class was over and you saw him leaning against a black car with black windows, with sunglasses adorning his face. He had his arms crossed over his chest, a lollipop on his mouth and that fucking weird mustache still on his face.

"Ready to go home?" He asked, almost bored when you finally reached him.

"Are you insane? You look like a creep! You're gonna freak the other kids out, Lloyd!"

"Okay, I was expecting a nicer greeting from you. Haven't you missed me?"

"No." You lied. "I'm not going anywhere with you, you could be a child molester for all I know."

"All right, now you've really offended me." He threw the lollipop on the curb and took the sunglasses off. "Don't even joke about that, I'm not that kind of sicko. Get in the fucking car right now, and don't make a scene."

Gritting your teeth, you let him open the passenger door for you and got inside his car. It was probably really expensive, with nice leather seats and everything.

"My grandparents are gonna kill you." You stated when he got in the driver's seat and turned the engine on.

"They're not doing shit, kiddo. I paid a little visit to them earlier, and they agreed to let me take you with me for a little while. They didn't even fight, by the way." Then, he leaned closer, like telling you a secret. "I don't think they like you that much."

"Oh, you're insufferable! Did you threaten them? Did you hurt them? Lloyd, I swear to god-"

"I didn't do shit!" He snapped, gripping the steering wheel in his hands. "Your grandparents fucking owe me for screwing everything up for me, now keep your mouth shut and enjoy the ride!"

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Didn't I just tell you to shut up?"

"Fine!" You screamed in defeat. If he wanted you to stay quiet, you were going to give him the silent treatment. He turned the radio on, with a satisfied smile on his face.

Lloyd drove like a drunk teenager, getting angry honked at in a ridiculous amount of times in just a few minutes. If you were still on speaking terms with him, you would've scolded him for that.

It was when he ran the red light that your panic attack came. You started hyperventilating, feeling sweat in your palms, and you chest tightened at the dread that cursed through your veins.

He side-eyed you, noticing how you were grabbing the seat with white knuckles.

"Hey, kiddo, be nice to my car."

You didn't move, though. You closed your eyes, feeling your head starting to spin. Oh no. You were about to throw up.

"Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you? I told you to-"

He got cut off by the sight of the tears streaming down your face, and he slowed down. You finally felt your breath coming down to normal, and you sobbed.

Lloyd pulled over on the street, and you opened the door as fast as you could, just in time for you to vomit in the curb. He put his hand on your back and you stiffened, but calmed down when he stroke it gently.

"I'm sorry, kiddo." He felt like a dick. He realized you were probably terrified of cars now that your mother had been in an accident. You kept silent and finally closed the door, wiping your mouth with your sleeve.

He drove slower then, leaving town on the main road and approaching the countryside. When he entered a nice trail and stopped in front of a giant iron gate, you almost rolled your eyes. Of course this prick was rich.

The area looked lovely all the same. You could picture yourself leaning against the big oak tree while reading a book, a tire swing on the lowest branch.

Lloyd finally turn of the car, and turned to you.

"Before we go there let's just go over the basic rules. Not calling me daddy: it's Lloyd for you. Not testing my patience. Not sneaking into my things. And just so you know, I'm not above beating a child. It's better if you know your place by now.

You didn't spare him a second glance and got out of the car, adjusting your school bag on your shoulder. Why was he such an ass? It wasn't like you wanted to be there. You were perfect fine vegetating by the side of your vegetating mother.

You followed him inside, admiring the immaculate white floor, the tapestry and all that expensive shit that looked extremely nice. His grand foyer had two staircases, and a giant chandelier hang on top of it.

"The first room on the left is yours. Mine is on the right. Do not go into my room. Or any other rooms. If you get bored just take a nap or something." He clarified. You couldn't bite back the remarks anymore.

"So you just brought me here to patronize me?" You asked him in an angry tone.

"Patronize you? Oh, your mother raised a little feminist, didn't she? Bet you despise all men and all that bravado." He mocked you.

"No, you're actually the only man I despise, Lloyd. Don't worry. I'll stay out of your way, I don't feel like torturing myself by spending time willingly with you." You spat back and went upstairs on the left staircase. When you got in the midway he yelled at you:

"By the way, the kitchen is free and open 24/7. Don't go starving on me, kiddo!"

You gave him the could-shoulder and opened the first door on the left, looking wide-eyed at the interior.

There was a four-post bed, with luxurious tule canopy adorning with the purple comforter set. On both sides of the bed, twin nightstands that had the same royal-looking lampshades. In the center of the room, a fur round white rug, with a coffee table and two baby pink armchairs around it.

There was a vanity table that was also white on the corner, and the wall facing the bed had two doors. It was probably the closet and the bathroom.

On the other wall, two french windows that had beautiful creme colored curtains. The walls had a flowery wallpaper, and coming from the high ceiling a pending light.

"Pretty fucking awesome, right?"

You let out a shriek, holding your chest in your hand. When did he get behind you? Sweet Jesus.

"Don't I even get a "Thank you, Lloyd, for your kindness"? I did redecorate it, you know. I started doing it even before I got the lab results on your DNA."

You turned your head to him.

"Oh, yeah, about that. 99,9% your father. We still got a lot of catching up, don't we, daughter?"

"It's Y/N for you." You told him and put your bag on the bed, making an acquaintance with it. That mattress would surely be a problem when you'd have to get up to go school. "Where are my things, by the way? I need my stuff."

"Your grandma packed you a suitcase with your things. I threw your old laptop out, and bought you a new one. A new phone too. It's all set up for you. There are new toiletries in your bathroom, and I don't know if you wear makeup or not so I bought anyway and put in your vanity.

That was nice, but you didn't care.

"I want to see my mom."

"No, you don't. You're not spending the rest of your life by her side, that's not healthy."

Your face heated up in anger.

"You don't have a say in that! I want to see my mom! What if she wakes up and I'm not there?" You yelled, and he just scoffed.

"Then I take you to her the minute she does. Now suck it up and be nice for a change, will ya?"

He left and closed the door. You hid your face in the pillow and screamed, crying until your head hurt.

It was almost eight p.m. and Lloyd spend the rest of the afternoon in his office, yelling at people over the phone and doing boring paperwork for Carmichael.

It was a nice distraction, because he didn't knew what the hell he was going to do with you. He would not be parading you in public, he had too many enemies to pull a stunt like that.

Maybe bringing her here was a mistake, he sulked. But he couldn't just let you go, not now that his most trusted man insisted he took a paternity test and arranged a nice bedroom for you in his home.

He could send you away at any moment, thought. He'd never get attached to an insolent mini him just because she was cute and shit.

Oh no. Nope. Not going in that territory. It was foreign, dangerous and he couldn't go back once he got there.

When he looked at his watch he cursed. He'd had to make something for you to eat (and hire a cook).

Lloyd sighed when he reached the kitchen. It wasn't that he was a malfunctioning adult, but he couldn't cook if his life depended on it. He took no shame in admitting that he ate instant noodles when he wasn't dining at a nice restaurant, but he couldn't let you eat that crap everyday.

He googled an easy recipe. Thank God he'd made time to do the groceries, otherwise you two would have to go out to eat, which was a big no for him.

But he didn't know where his kitchenware was. Or what to cook. Or how to.

Okay, you'd survive with instant noodles tonight, he decided.

"What are you doing?"

"OH MY GOD!" Lloyd screamed, seeing your post-sleep face behind him. "Don't you ever sneak on me like that, I might end up shooting you, you little shit!"

You glared at him.

"Do you own a gun, Lloyd? Are you some mafia lord or something?" You pried, curiously.

"What I do is none of your business, and if someone asks you about me, you'll play dumb, which I suspect it won't be hard for you."

The harshness in his voice made you change the topic really quick.

"At least I'm not dumb enough to not know how to cook a meal. Now get out of my way while I make something for us to eat." You sassed at him and opened the fridge, looking for meat. You could feel his gaze burning into you, but paid no mind to him.

In thirty minutes, you had the meat seasoned and sitting nicely in the oven, while you made some salad.

Lloyd was sitting in one of the chairs by the counter, angry-texting someone.

"Dinner's ready!" you hummed, feeling your mouth watering at the smell. You got two plates in the cupboard and offered one to Lloyd, who gladly took it from you and started serving himself. You suspected he was quite hungry, but said nothing to spoil his sudden good mood.

After finishing your diner, you put the dishes away and soaked a sponge with water and detergent before scrubbing them, absent minded.

"When did you learn how to cook?" Lloyd asked you, too stubborn to compliment you.

"My mom taught me when I was tall enough to reach the oven and do the dishes. Told me I had to be independent and all."

"You two are pretty close, huh?"

"Well, she did raise me by herself."

"Okay, now you're just being an asshole."

That earned a grin from you.

Since it was Saturday, Lloyd decided that he would let you sleep until noon if you wanted to. He was reading his newspaper (okay, he was actually trying to solve the crosswords) while the maids mopped the floors and dusted the things.

He was surprised when he saw you dragging your little feet down the stairs, hair everywhere, yawning and wearing plaid pants with a black strap top.

"Slept well, kiddo?"

"Very." You replied, rubbing your eyes. "What are we doing today? And why do you have so many maids? Can I see my mom just for a while?

"Why do you ask so many questions?" Lloyd whined. "Thank God I wasn't around when you started to speak. Must've drove your mom out of her goddamn mind. Okay, how about we go shopping today? We can even have ice cream after, what do you think?"

"What about mom?"

"She's not going anywhere, is she?"

"Fuck you." You spat.

Lloyd was stunned. He tore his gaze from the newspaper to you, and before he could scold you, you were running back to your room.

"That's not very nice, kiddo!" He yelled. "Say that to me again and I promise you'll be regretting it!"

"Sir?" One of the maids, a middle-aged woman, hesitantly spoke to Lloyd. "The girl was crying."

Lloyd sighed. He knew you for less than a month and you were already being an annoyance. His patience was running thin, he didn't know how much more of you attitude he could take before snapping.

He knocked on your door, and heard you sniffling.

"Go away!"

"Okay, kiddo! I hope you're decent right now, because I'm coming in!" Lloyd announced before opening the door to you with your face buried in the pillow.

He sat on the bed, and you moved further from him when you felt the mattress sinking by your side.

"I'm sorry." That you are a little drama queen, he wanted to add. "Guess jokes about your mom are off limits, then?"

You said nothing, raising your middle finger to him with your face still on the pillow. He chuckled.

"So, we're even? Because I'm not having you talking back to me all the time, kiddo. At some point I'm gonna lose my shit and the moment that happens, I only hope for your sake that you're a good runner."

Your chest rose lightly, a sound of muffled laughter coming from you.

For a little while, things were good. Great, even. And that's how Lloyd sensed some shit would hit the fan at any moment.

Maybe you were too excited to finally have a father figure in your life, but you were actually happy for the first time after your mom's accident. Lloyd would have a chauffeur take you and pick you up from school, and you'd visit your mom once a week.

Your grandparents would go to Lloyd's house to see you and check on you (you learned later that it was their "arrangement" because Lloyd actually had something to hold over their heads).

You were eating chocolate ice cream while rocking softly in a bench swing Lloyd had people built for you with him on your side drinking his Scotch.

"I killed a cat once."

You said it so casually as if you were talking about the weather, and Lloyd choked so hard on his drink that you had to pat his back.

He stared at you with tears in his eyes, still coughing.

"Well, it was an accident. I was three or four? I don't remember. Mom had found a cute grey kitten and she sheltered him for a few days in our home. I was so excited to have a cat!" You hesitated a little, and frowned at the memory. "One day, mom was cooking dinner and I hugged the cat. Hard. I suffocated him, and when mom found us she lost her mind."

"She yanked my arm really hard and screamed so harshly at me that I still have flashes of that moment. I cried, because I had no idea what was happening, and I didn't realized I've killed it."

"We never talked about that again, but I think my grandparents found out what happened later, because I spent some time living with them after that. They weren't on speaking terms with mom, and when she got me back they would supervise us and shit."

Lloyd considered you for a while.

"I appreciate us bonding over this happy story, but why are you telling me this now?"

"Because now I realize why she reacted that way, and why she disappeared on you. When you asked me if I had ever killed an animal when we first met, it didn't cross my mind. But then, I had a feeling. Killing animals in childhood is a classical sign of psychopathy. Mom overreacted because she thought I was just like you, Lloyd."

You looked over Lloyd with a little grin on your face.

"Stop being cute, kiddo. And just so you know, I'm a sociopath, there's a little difference. I wasn't sure that was the reason your mom left me, maybe she finally realized I really was fucked in the head in an irredeemable way. I reached out to her only once, and your grandfather got in the way and told me to leave her alone. They told me a little while ago that they knew about the pregnancy and they wanted to keep you from having me around."

"Well, the effort didn't matter in the end, but okay."

"And the fact that I'm a sociopath doesn't bother you?"

You shrugged.

"Not really. You could be worse, it's not like you killed mom or something."

Lloyd tried to keep his cool. He was fucked.

You tiptoed the stairs, trying to make the smallest noise possible. Lloyd made you pinky promise him that you were going to stay in your room, but you were so hungry! And it didn't help you that he filled the kitchen with your favorite snacks.

You sighed in relief when you got some chips, a Ben & Jerry's cup and a bar of Hershey's. You hugged your food and when turned to go to your room, you screamed.

A man, about Lloyd's age, eyed you up and down, smirking.

"Damn, you're a bit young for him, aren't ya pretty thing?"

You cringed so hard at the way he said it, feeling disgusted. You just walked past him, trying to go back to your room as fast as possible, but he grabbed your arm, making you drop your snacks.

"Tell me, pretty girl... How old are you? Fifteen, fourteen... Wouldn't be my youngest, though."

You wanted to kill him with your bare hands. With renewed animosity, you kicked his groin as hard as you could, and he let go of you to hunch to his front, wailing.

Before you could react, you heart a gunshot. The man's head blew with the impact, his body dropping to the kitchen floor and staining the impeccable floors. You were so shocked that you couldn't move.

"Go hide behind that door. Don't come out until I go there, you hear me?" Lloyd asked, voice hushed. He was already dragging you to the pantry room and locking you there. "Stay fucking quiet, kiddo."

You heard more gunshots and some yelling, and you laid on the floor, hugging your head as best as you could, your heart hammering in your chest.

All of this lasted maybe five minutes, but it felt like fucking hours. You were beginning to imagine the worse. Maybe someone hurt Lloyd, and he wouldn't come to save you.

When you heart the lock of the door, you tried to drag yourself under a shelf, dropping everything.

Okay, you were screwed. You screeched when Lloyd's hand forced you on your feet, feeling so relieved that you hugged him.

He froze. And then, he explode:

"What the FUCK were you thinking? Coming out of your fucking room, knowing I had people over? Do you realize how dumb you were? Do you know what could happen to you if they realized you are my child?"

"I didn't know..." you tried to defend yourself.

"I TOLD YOU! I fucking told you Y/N, don't come out of your room when there's people over. They could be armed and they could kill you! You-" he interrupted himself, trying to find words to say. "You're grounded! For the rest of your life!"

"I already apologized!" you cried out, annoyed.

He took a deep breath.

"So what? You still could've get yourself killed!" He started raising his voice again. "If you get yourself killed, what the fuck am I supposed to do, huh? Ever thought about that?"

Oh. You just realized it wasn't about you disobeying him (or making he kill so many people).

He cared about you.

"Maybe I would finally be in peace, without you nagging at me every fucking hour." You defied, chin up.

He sighed. And somehow, you knew you were in deep trouble. You swerved from him, his fingers barely grazing on your skin.

You let out a little scream while you ran from him, who was chasing you like a madman. You got in the nearest room and locked the door, breaking in a fit of hysterical laughter.

You were so fucked right now.

"You fucking brat! Open the fucking door right now so I get to beat the shit out of you!"

"No!" You managed to yell back between laughing and sobbing.

"Get out of that way, I'm breaking this fucking door!"

"I'm gonna throw myself out of the window!" you threatened.

"I FUCKING DARE YOU! You little bitch! We are in the first floor! Go ahead, we're just getting started!"

You yelped when you heard his body colliding with the door, and ran to the window. You managed to escape just before the wood broke under the pressure of Lloyd's rage. You ran through the back of his house, the chilling breeze doing nothing to you as you were pure adrenaline.

You yelled when he grabbed your middle and threw you over his shoulder, putting you down almost immediately.

"My fucking back!" Lloyd snapped, annoyed and panting, with his hand on his lower back. You burst into giggles. This bastard of a man could have his hands bloody, but how he managed to be so ridiculous doing so never ceased to amaze you. "Think this is fucking funny? The only reason I'm not beating you right now is because I'm tired, okay?"

"I thought we were just getting started." You teased him, and he started to chase you again.

Later that night, Lloyd had Klaus taking the three bodies out of the house. As you scrubbed the floors to clean the blood (Lloyd's punishment for you) you couldn't help but joke:

"You just traumatized me, dude. I'll probably need lots of therapy and shit to recover."

"I think you'll survive." He replied coldly, leaning against the wall while he watched you.

"I had no idea a head could just blow up like that!" You continued. "I think there's some brain under my nails."

"Shut the fuck up. This is your fault."

"I don't feel guilty though. The man thought I was some plaything to you, he even said that he had younger girls... I'm glad he's dead."

"Not that I'm complaining that you are being surprisingly brave, but I think it's best if we hide your... Tendencies. At least in front of other people. Okay, kiddo?" He said and turned to leave to his office.

"Okay da-Lloyd." You corrected yourself before you could actually say the word Dad. Lloyd stopped in his tracks. "Lloyd, I'm so sorry, it slipped! I promise you I'm never doing that again."

He didn't turn to face you. You thought that was it, he was mad at you but would let it slide. You never saw the tears forming in the corner of his eyes, because all he wanted right now was for you to see him as your father.

It didn't take long for things to go down to shit. Lloyd was having a surprisingly smooth day, going to the city to have a meeting with Klaus and the rest of his minions. He left you alone in the house and when he got back and saw you sobbing on the front porch he something was terribly wrong.

He barely walked out of his car when you came at him, angry and punching his chest with your tiny fists.

"YOU ASSHOLE! YOU'RE THE REASON MY MOM GOT IN THAT DAMN ACCIDENT!"

He couldn't control your anger, tossing and screaming at him, punching and slapping and kicking. And he let you. Because he knew it was what he deserved.

When you were tired out, he tried to hug you, but you flinched away from him, letting such a pity cry come out from your throat that he felt like the Grinch when his heart grew so big it broke into his chest.

He could feel his heart breaking too.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry, you have to believe me when I say it wasn't on purpose. My minions were chasing this really bad guy, and his car crashed into your mother's."

You said nothing, the tears rolling down your cheeks, your eyes puffy and nose red.

"I had no idea of her whereabouts after she broke things off with me all those years ago, you have to believe me when-"

"When you say you were just chasing a bad guy? Like you aren't one? Should I believe this was some sick coincidence, when you are rotten to the core, Lloyd?" you cut him off, the words cruelly coming out of your mouth. "My grandparents are coming to pick me up. I don't wanna see your face ever again. I wish it was you who got hurt, not my mom."

Your grandparents arrived shortly after that, and by their short "Hellos" and "Goodbyes" Lloyd could say they knew everything too.

But how did you find that out?

Later, drowning the second bottle of Scotch in his office, when the gears in his mind finally stopped turning.

That asshole.

Klaus' lifeless body slipped from Lloyd's grasp. His motivation to reveal the truth about your mother's accident couldn't be pettier. Lloyd always knew that snake would betray him, but he hadn't expect it to hurt so fucking bad.

He got his most trusted men to keep an eye on you, and for weeks he got little news on you, the aching on his heart always there. When he found out that your mom had a brain death, all the hope of getting your forgiveness left him.

Still, he couldn't just leave you on your own.

Lloyd watched as you placed white flowers on your mother's grave, your hair messy and some streaks falling from your bun.

You suddenly turned to him, feeling watched. You rolled your eyes when you recognized the mustache, scoffing in annoyance. Lloyd took careful footsteps towards you, his hands on his pockets.

"I'm sorry, kiddo."

"You already said that." You replied softly, tired of arguing and tired of grieving.

"No, Y/N. I'm sorry I wasn't around to guide you through your early years. I'm sorry I wasn't enough that your mother felt like raising you by herself would be better than doing it with me. I'm sorry for storming into your life and messing you up, and I'm sorry for all the pain I put you through, and I promise you, it wasn't on purpose. I'd never hurt you on purpose. I'm sorry I'm not a good father." He finished, his eyes watering. You sniffed and gave in, hugging him and sharing your heartbreak.

You already lost a parent. You couldn't just turn your back on the other. You turned your head to him, still in his embrace:

"Take me home, dad. We have a lot of catching up to do."

Lloyd happily complied. This time, he would make it right.

#lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #the gray man fanfiction #lloyd hansen fluff #chris evans character #chris evans character fanfiction

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universitypenguin · 5 months ago

Text

The Lobster Trap

Word Count: 1,178

Summary: Princess finds out about Lloyd's views on marriage and his past when she over hears a conversation between him and Zach.

Author's Note: Thank you for the ask @yenzys-lucky-charm

Warnings: Fluff, minor (semi-intentional) eaves dropping, anti-marriage views.

Masterlist

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Thank you so much for your question! I’m thrilled that you’re still enjoying the story (and that you actually took the time to reread it!)

Lloyd has always been a closed book when it comes to his relationship and personal history. He avoids discussing the past, particularly his time in Europe and the Fitzroy kidnapping, which led to his arrest and catalyzed some very painful changes in his life. Despite doing a lot of inner work, Lloyd is still very uncomfortable with deep introspection and would rather avoid conversations about his past, especially the darker aspects of his time in the intelligence community.

His experiences there, along with a traumatic childhood, have left him with a lot of memories he'd rather forget. He’s not the type to readily share them, especially not with Princess, who would be horrified if she knew the full extent of what he’s been through, and what he’s done. However, that reluctance doesn’t mean that Princess isn’t desperately curious about his past… she just respects him enough that she doesn’t pry.

Your ask inspired me to write a scene where Princess overhears a conversation between Lloyd and Zach and learns a little about Lloyd’s past. Without further ado:

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The quiet rumble of the Chevy Tahoe’s engine was a soothing hum in the background as you made the most of the drive home by catching up on sleep. Or at least you were trying to sleep. It was more like a very relaxed half-doze that you’d fallen into, the state between waking and sleeping where everything felt hazy but your mind was still above the surface of sleep, aware and semi-alert.

It was a long drive back from Charlotte and the trip hadn’t fazed Lloyd or Zach, but you were exhausted. You were determined to hit at least one REM cycle, so you kept your eyes closed, trying to lull yourself to sleep. You felt the car shake as Zach passed through a railroad intersection that you remember from the trip down. It’s right before a small picturesque town, which you have to drive across to get to the highway leading north, towards D.C. you almost want to open your eyes and peek at the scenery but if you do, all hope of sleep will be gone. You keep your eyes closed.

There’s a rustle of cotton against leather as Zach turns to check on you.

“Is she still asleep?” he asks in a low voice.

“Has been since we passed through Greensboro. I’ve been keeping an eye on her in the mirror,” Lloyd replies.

“Mmmhh.”

They lapse into silence and you hear the tick of the turn signal as Zach comes to a stop at the light. The only way through town is the main road that goes past the businesses and the city park. Opening your eyes is even more tempting.

The car swings left and you realize that from your seat, the park is on the opposite side of the road. Opening your eyes would basically be pointless. You snuggle deeper into the seat, sighing. Sleep is right around the corner, you can feel it creeping up.

“Would you look at that?” Zach asks.

You don’t open your eyes but they swing towards Zach under closed lids, in an automatic movement.

“That’s a lot of dress,” Zach says, chuckling.

“Especially considering she’ll only wear it once.”

You realize there must be a wedding going on in the park.

“You think the dress is expensive?” Zach asks. “You’ve never seen a bill from a divorce lawyer. And mind you, mine was amicable. I don’t even want to think about what a contentious divorce costs.”

Lloyd grunts. “Especially when there are kids involved.”

You thought you heard something in his tone, a subtle shift that hints of something painful. Zach doesn’t seem to notice.

“True. But marriage isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Look at Bishop—married fifty years and still crazy about his wife. Landon’s happy enough with Ellie. It works for some people.”

“It’s like a lobster trap–easy to get into, hard to get out of.”

“With the wrong person, yes. If you have the right one…”

“You can keep pouring, but I’m not drinking the Kool-Aid,” Lloyd says.

“You make it sound like a death sentence.”

“For some, it might as well be.”

Zach laughs. Lloyd doesn’t.

“There are only a few reasons to get married and none of them apply to me,” Lloyd says.

“Yeah? What are those reasons?”

“Religion, stability for children, and the legal benefits. I’m agnostic, I don’t plan on having kids, and as far as the legal stuff, no one needs those things from me.”

“The legal stuff would be more of a downside in your tax bracket, though,” Zach points out.

“I’m thinking more of retirement benefits, inheritance rights, automatic next of kin, that stuff.”

“Come on, Lloyd,” Zach says. “You’ve dabbled in relationships over the years. Not a lot, I admit. None of them ever made you think, even for a second, that she was the one?”

Lloyd scoffs. “No. Not even for a second.”

The hardness in his voice took you by surprise.

“What about… what was her name? Miranda? You two were serious for a while.”

"Michela," Lloyd says the name as if he’s testing it out. "We both knew the score until she wanted to change things and I wasn’t onboard with that. She told me what she thought of that, and me, before she split.”

Zach considers this for a moment. “You never talk about the women you date. It always made me wonder if there was more going on than you were letting on.”

“Or less,” Lloyd replies.

“Well, that’s harsh.”

“There’s no point in dragging up the past.”

“Mmmhh. Your past is full of regrets, I suppose,” Zach says.

“And yours isn’t?”

“Touché.”

The icy way he spoke of his past relationships shed a tiny ray of light on Lloyd’s highly compartmentalized private life. Your heart aches and you wonder how deep the mental scars from his past truly run. It was impossible not to notice the bitterness underlying his attitude towards marriage. You wished he could see that not all relationships are doomed, but you knew better than to challenge such a deep-set belief. Zach apparently didn’t share your reservations on that subject.

“It’s not all about the past, you know? It’s about what you want for the future. You should think about finding someone who understands you, someone who could share your life–all of it, not just the parts you let them into.”

“That sounds like a recipe for disappointment. I’ll stick with keeping my expectations low, but thanks.”

Tension hangs thick in the air, before Zach relents.

“Alright. Maybe you’ll change your mind someday. Marriage isn’t all bad. When it’s to the right person, it’s actually pretty great.”

There’s a sneer in Lloyd’s tone when he speaks again.

“I didn’t realize you believed in fairy tales, Zach. Marriage brings out the worst in most people. Unless you have a good reason to need one, it’s pointless.”

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Masterlist

#the princess & the lawyer #series: the princess & the lawyer #princess x lloyd #lloyd x princess #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hanse fanfic #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen imagine #chris evans characters #chris evans characters fluff #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #the gray man fanfiction #the gray man fanfic

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 17 hours ago

Note

We knew Lloyd has a soft spot for the reader, but now we know he has a soft spot for Christmas too🥰🎄❤️💚

How would Lloyd react at you decorating the tree alone?

Jaqui, thank you for the sweet ask and joining my little holiday game. So how would Lloyd react at you decorating the tree… without him. I have a few different thoughts but I think we will have the fluffy one.

Authors Note: Just a little slightly domistic Lloyd becuase we sometimes need this man to be a soft little puppy, who loves his girl so much. He would do everything for her and just be a sweet man.

Masterlist | Holiday game

He wouldn’t be mad, even though he’s a though guy and has a cold expression all the time, he’s never cold toward you.

So when he comes home to the tree being already half decorated and you fidgeting with a few more lights to put into it, he only leans into the door frame and watches you.

Of course, he loves to help you decorating it. But he also knows how stressed you are to make everything pretty, to have everything perfect.

Something he loves you for. As much as he hates having you stressed out or doing stuff on your own when he could help, he also knows that some things will help you to calm down.

“Thought I said you should wait with the tree so I can help you, cupcake,” he says. His soft is voice and not a hint of judgement, but he just couldn’t help himself. “It looks beautiful, just like you.”

Lloyd pushes himself off the doorframe and walks closer to you. His eyes never leaving you until he wraps his strong arms around you to pull you closer. Your back resting against his broad chest and he takes a few steps backwards with you to admire the Christmas tree.

Before you can open your mouth to tell him it’s not finished yet he leans his head down. His chin resting on your shoulder and you can feel his warm breath against your neck.

“How about I’m gonna help you finishing the tree and after we can make some hot chocolate and eat those delicious cookies we made, cupcake?” He suggests, exhausted form his mission but never too bad to not help you or jsut spend time with the love of his life.

You nod, leaning your head back to enjoy his warmth and affection for a moment before you have to jump back in the hectic of Christmas. At least until the tree is decorated, after you will sit down with Lloyd, snuggled into his side while you’re watching the grinch, because it’s just way too funny to have Lloyd complaining that he would never do it like that.

And he has to know because Lloyd was such a grinch before he met you, before you showed him the magic, the love, the warmth and perfection of Christmas — of being happy and in love with someone who’s not just himself.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @blackhawkfanatic (add yourself.)

#holiday game #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fluff

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year ago

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Can I please request best friends, dad!Lloyd, finding you masturbating in his bed!! Maybe include some toys+squirting?? Thnnnx!! Love your blog💘💘

hey honey, thank you so much!

summary - you've been pining over your best friend's dad and decide to take your chance, knowing he's out and your best friend is asleep, you be a little bit naughty and touch yourself on his bed, not knowing he's coming home early.

warning - smut, masturbating, voyeurism, squirting.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You were sneaky, waiting until your best friend fell asleep so you could sneak out of her room. You’ve hung around enough to know that her father works late, only coming home early in the morning, sometimes covered in blood. You had a slight crush on the man. I mean, could you really be blamed? Wearing your tiny white nightie as you head toward Mr Hansen’s room, you sneak inside, not bothering to close the door as your friend sleeps deeply.

Your trusty toy tucked into your hand, with your free hand, you drag it along his sheets, sighing as they are so soft. You get wet just thinking about Lloyd lying naked between the sheets, stroking his thick member. You whimper, crawling onto the bed and lying down. You moan as your body relaxes. Your eyes slip closed, and your fingers skim your nipples. They slowly slide down your body, landing between your legs and circling your puffy clit.

You blindly turn your toy on, placing it directly onto your clit, causing soft mewls to escape your lips. Your mind begins to drift off thinking of Lloyd, imagining him walking in on you, degrading you, until he finally flips you around and thrusts into you. You are so caught up in pleasure that you don’t hear Lloyd arriving home earlier than usual or entering the house and making his way to his room. You don’t even notice him leaning against the doorway, and you whine as you arch your back, grinding down onto the toy. “Oh, Mr Hansen.”

Lloyd crosses his arms as he watches you with a smirk and clears his throat. His smirk grows when your eyes fly open, and you freeze, mouth opening and closing as you try and find an excuse for why you are in his bed, touching yourself. “Well, sweetheart. If I had known this is what I would’ve been coming home to, I would’ve come home much faster.” His eyes slowly move down your body, licking his lips when they land on the soaked toy between your legs. Lloyd waves his hand. “Don’t stop on my account, please. Continue.”

“M–mr Hans–” He cuts you off with a raised brow. You feel your body heat up and your cunt throb as he stares you down. You gasp as you press the toy harder against your clit, and your legs fall open, giving Lloyd a better view.

“Mm, that’s right, pretty girl. Get off in my bed. I bet you wouldn’t even be able to stop even if my daughter woke.” He smirks, making his way over and sitting close to you on the bed, causing your mind to go fuzzy from his scent alone. You throb when he touches your thigh, stroking it as his gaze sticks to the toy between your legs. “You’re such a naughty girl, pining over your best friend’s dad… Hmm.” You look at him with wide eyes, mouth falling open and eyes crossing. “You thought I didn’t notice? It’s quite flattering, pumpkin. Why do you think I walked around half-naked? Or brushed up against you.” Lloyd smirks, stroking your cheek before gripping your chin and resting his thumb on your plump bottom lip. “Are you going to cum for me? Make a mess on my sheets?”

You whine, nodding. Lloyd groans when your lips wrap around his thumb, and you begin to suck, staring up at him with wide innocent eyes. Your walls pulsate, and your clit throbs, toes curling as your end approaches. “Mr Hansen!” Your back arches, and your juices squirt out of you, tiring your body and causing you to sag into the bed. Your eyes flutter, the toy falling limp between your legs. “I–I’m sorry…” You realise what you have done and try to get up, but Lloyd stops you.

“Don’t be sorry, pumpkin. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Lloyd grabs the toy, feeling his cock stir with how wet it is and holds it up, watching with a smirk as your juices create a string. “Naughty, naughty girl. Look at the mess you’ve made.” You watch with wide eyes as he licks up your arousal before throwing the toy aside and climbing on top of you. “Just because you’ve had your fun, sweetness, doesn’t mean you can leave. You don’t want to leave without letting me pump you full, right?”

You shake your head, feeling your cunt throb in anticipation. Your fantasy was finally coming true.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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sosa2imagines · 7 months ago

Text

Broken Hearts. Part 1

Warnings- Cheating, abusive husband, possessiveness. ---------------------------------------------------

“One way or another, I'm gonna find ya I'm gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya”

Your heart pounded against your chest like a relentless drum, echoing through the walls and drowning out the sound of your pacing footsteps. Your legs ached from the endless motion, muscles screaming for a reprieve, yet your mind remained fixated on the front door, awaiting a sign, a sound, anything that would signal Steve's return home.

Steve Rogers successful business man, he can own anything with his good looks and money, but can't have your heart anymore. Broken and shredded to pieces.

The clock on your nightstand ticked incessantly, the harsh sound a cruel reminder of the passing time. The night seemed to stretch, each second dripping by like molasses. You glanced at the alarm clock again, the digital numbers glaring back at you, mocking your impatience. 3:24 AM.

Steve's love for Peggy had always lingered, a specter in the shadows of your relationship. Whenever his gaze would turn distant, you could sense the ghostly hold Peggy exerted over his heart. Memories of her whispers in his ear, the touch of her fingertips on his skin, haunted your imagination.

In college, Peggy had never spared a glance in Steve's direction, her sights set firmly on charming wealthy students. But once Steve's star began to rise and his net worth skyrocketed, Peggy suddenly found herself drawn to his path.

Her interest piqued not by his character or achievements, but by his newfound financial status. The irony wasn't lost on you. Peggy's change of heart spoke volumes about her true motives and the fickle nature of her affections.

Her name slipped from Steve's lips effortlessly, like a gentle caress he couldn't resist. You longed to be the only love that filled his heart, but the ghost of Peggy Carter cast a long shadow over your relationship.

His excuses were varied and numerous. Crucial meetings, and the ever elusive ‘work-related emergencies.’ He would tell you with a straight face that he had to stay late at work, while he secretly met Peggy in hidden corners of the city, away from prying eyes and suspicions.

Your gut instincts told you something wasn't right, that his absences were not entirely innocent. But love kept your doubts at bay, and you tried to push away the nagging feeling that something was amiss. You trusted Steve, desperately wanting to believe in the strength of your relationship.

Whenever he returned home late, a faint but unmistakable scent of Peggy's perfume clung to Steve's skin. You tried to ignore it, pretending it was nothing more than a coincidence, but the sharp pang of pain pierced through your heart.

You noticed the faint nail marks on his back, faint reminders of passionate embraces he had with Peggy in secret. His disheveled state was a clear sign, of the physical connection he shared with her, and your fears grew stronger with each evidence you discovered.

Your love for Steve drove you to make sacrifices, to prove your devotion and commitment beyond measure. Leaving your job was a painful decision, a surrender of your own independence and identity, hoping it would strengthen the bond between you and Steve.

It was a desperate attempt to win his undivided attention and affection, a last resort to make him see the depth of your love and loyalty, even going as far to eating only food he likes.

Your heart ached with longing, the desire to start a family with Steve burning deep within you. You proposed the idea to him, hoping for a positive response. But to your disappointment, Steve's response was distant and vague.

Peggy's manipulative nature had always bothered you. She had a way of exploiting Steve's good nature, taking advantage of his unwavering loyalty.

Despite your concerns, Steve remained oblivious to her true intentions, viewing her through rose-colored glasses. He could only see the best in her, disregarding the evidence of her selfishness and deceit. You tried to open his eyes, but Steve’s unwavering trust in Peggy left you feeling helpless and frustrated.

Slowly but surely, Steve's attempts at hiding the marks and the scent of Peggy's perfume began to weaken. He became careless, no longer making an effort to cover up the evidence of his infidelity.

His disheveled state and the lingering scent of Peggy's perfume seemed to mock your sacrifices and love. The lack of effort in concealing his lies only fueled your suspicions and deepened the ache of mistrust. It was a cruel reflection of his growing indifference and waning devotion to you.

As the front door creaked open, your heart leapt into your throat, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins. With a forced air of nonchalance, you lay perfectly still in bed, feigning sleep. Your breath hitched in your throat as the weight of your husband's presence filled the room.

You could hear the soft padding of Steve's feet against the carpeted floor. With each passing second, the tension in the air grew thicker, the knot in your stomach tightening painfully. Finally, the weight of the mattress shifted as Steve settled beside you, his body a mere breath away.

The silence between you both was suffocating, broken only by the sound of your shallow breathing. You fought the urge to flinch, as his hand brushed against your shoulder, a brief touch filled with a mixture of affection and guilt. But you remained firm, determined to maintain the façade of sleep, even as your mind raced with conflicting emotions.

Steve's voice whispered through the darkness, a faint attempt to gauge your awareness. “Baby doll?” he called softly, the word carried on a gentle exhale. His touch, a gentle poke meant to test your response. You remained motionless, feigning deep sleep through clenched teeth, praying that your act would hold.

Time seemed to stretch, the minutes lingering as Steve waited for a sign of awakening. You held your breath, willing yourself to maintain the illusion of slumber, while your heart thumped loudly against your chest. Steve's hand remained gently resting on your shoulder.

Despite your feigned slumber, your mind was vividly aware of Steve's movements. He reached for his phone, his fingers moving quickly over the screen as he typed a message to Peggy. Once his communication was complete, he placed the device back on the nightstand and shifted his body closer to yours. His arm draped over you, a possessive gesture, as if asserting his power over both you and Peggy in his secret deception.

As Steve's arm encircled you, you fought against the natural instinct to recoil from his touch. Your body stiffened instinctively, tensing beneath the weight of his embrace, but you managed to conceal your discomfort. Pretending to remain blissfully unaware, you kept your eyes tightly shut, determined not to let any crack in your performance. It took every ounce of your willpower to maintain the illusion of deep sleep and contentment, even as your inner turmoil threatened to shatter the facade.

The following day, you woke up early, fueled by a mixture of determination and heartache. With a feigned smile and a practiced lie, you told Steve that you had errands to run that would keep you preoccupied until late in the evening. His eyes betrayed a flicker of relief, believing your words without question, allowing you to leave the house unnoticed.

Sitting across the table, Matt Murdock, your best friend, appeared calm and composed. His eyes, sightless yet perceptive, remained unfocused as he tilted his head slightly to focus on your voice. Despite his blindness, Matt's exceptional senses had sharpened over time.

Matt wanted to tell you something about your aunt's will. She had passed away few weeks ago. Your husband did not accompany you, to her funeral, because he was balls deep busy with Peggy.

“Y/n thanks for meeting on such a short notice” “No problem Matt.” “How are you?” “Good... doing nice.” “It's Steve isn't it?” “Wait, what?” “Y/n, I know he is an ass and don't you dare lie to me!” God Matt's senses were impeccable. “Well… Peggy is back.” you answer truthfully.

“Divorce him!” He just says it so casually, you look at him with your mouth open, trying to say something but closing it again. “Are you serious?” you ask him bewildered. “Yes! Dump his cheap ass, remember Andy Barber our friend? He is back in Boston, he will help you with the divorce.”

He even hands you Andy’s contact number and you just stare at him with disbelief, sure you wanted to leave Steve, but you were waiting for the final nail in the coffin.

“Matt I'll think about it, can we please drop this topic?” “Fine, but please consider my advice.” “Okay…”

“The reason I called you here is because, your aunt left her house and café for you. You are the sole owner now, of her house and her café 'Snowflakes'“ “Wow that woman was adamant I look after her café, she really did left it for me.” Your aunt always believed in you and she was sure, you would handle her café with ease.

“She was also adamant about Steve…” Matt smirks. “Matty!” You plead.

“Fine. The place is run by Happy, his wife May, she cooks and bakes. Peter May's nephew and his girlfriend MJ, work there part time.”

Looking through the records, you are impressed by them, and excited about the new opportunity. But for now they don't need you. Not because they don't want you, but because of your husband. Steve won’t allow you.

Later that day, returning home earlier than expected, you were ambushed by a sight that shattered your fragile composure. There, in your own bedroom, Steve and Peggy lay intertwined on the bed, their bodies moving together in rhythmic ecstasy. The sound of their moans filled the air, a symphony of passion that pierced deep into your wounded soul.

The sight of Steve's betrayal, coupled with the pain of seeing him engaged in such intimate acts with Peggy, hit you like a tsunami. Your heart shattered into countless pieces, each one stabbing relentlessly, until you feared there was nothing left but a hollow shell.

Your legs threatened to buckle beneath the weight of your emotional turmoil, but somehow you managed to remain standing, silently witnessing the spectacle before you.

Blinded by grief and consumed by raw despair, you found yourself fleeing from your own home, desperate to escape the suffocating presence of betrayal. You stumbled towards the nearest park, your vision blurred by tears, your sobs echoing through the empty streets.

The park, once a place for carefree strolls, now became a sanctuary to release the floodgates of your anguish. You collapsed onto a bench, tears streaming down your face, as the pain of Steve's infidelity overflowed from within.

This was the final nail in the coffin and now you had made your mind.

Steve texted you asking when you will be back.

After an hour of raw vulnerability in the park, you found the strength to compose yourself.

“Y/n?” you ignore Steve calling you, going straight to your room, you open two suitcases and start to pack.

“Doll?” Steve stops in his tracks seeing you pack your stuff.

“Congratulation Steve, you are free to do, whatever you want with your bitch!” You clap your hands and Steve gives a fake hurt expression. “Doll what are you talking about?”

“It is over Steve!” You give him a tight smile. “Baby doll, what are you talking about?” Steve has the audacity to act dumb.

“Save the trouble ok? I know you have been with her long enough, to finally have her on our bed! I saw you with Peggy, so stop the bullshit, it is over!”

“You are still my wife!” Steve reminds you, as if you done something wrong.

“Wait!” Steve's possessive grip on your shoulders sent a chill down your spine, and the anger simmering beneath his tense words alarmed you. Fear crept into your heart, mingling with the pain of betrayal. In that moment, you feared the depth of Steve's possessive tendencies and the lengths he might go, to keep you captive in his web of control.

“You are not going anywhere baby doll, you are my wife and forever will be. Just because you are jealous, I won't let you go!” “You can't stop me!” “Y/n!” he screams, making his grip tighter on you, “You are going to stay with me like a loyal wife, whether you like it or not. You are not going to go understand?” He shakes you and barks every single word.

He shoves you on the bed, throwing the suitcases on the wall and locks the bedroom door.

“You are not going to leave me! you are mine and mine only!” “Steve open the door!” you keep on slamming, but it is of no use. “I'll be back by tomorrow, till then deal with your mood swings and accept the fact, you belong to your loyal husband!” with the that he slams the door and leaves.

You cry and cry not knowing what to do. Exhaustion and fear threatened to consume you, but with a final burst of resolve, you remember you have your phone with you and you dial the number of the only person, who can help you. Lloyd Hansen

Just on the third ring he picks up, no matter how busy he is he will always be there for you.

“Hey Sugar what's up?” “Ll..l..Lloyd…” “Sugar, I'm on my way!” “Please hurry up…” “Don't you worry.”

Part 2

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan @emerald-writes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis @geeky-politics-46

@whore-for-chris-evans @caplanreblogsfics

#chris evans characters #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers fanfiction #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen x reader fluff #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 year ago

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Switched Sides - Side Story || Lloyd Hansen

Lloyd with a baby girl? That would be so cute. She will be spoiled all the time. Thanks for the idea @jamespersephone

Little Doctor

Character : soft!dark Lloyd Hansen x reader, Lloyd Hansen x daughter, Lloyd Hansen x OC.

Categories : Fluff and fluff.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Last Chapter

Side Story 1, Side Story 2

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

"Baby shark dooodoodoo, mommy shark doododo."

These lyrics are supposed to be a cute children's song, but the person who sings makes it sound like a military song.

The person who sings it is Lloyd Hansen. He knew this song a couple of years ago; he never thought that someday he would sing this towards another person.

But Lloyd doesn't mind if he has to sing this song hundreds of times since the other person keeps laughing when he sings it.

That other person is his daughter, Hazel Hansen.

She's the cutest baby and always smiles at anyone. She only cries when she's hungry; other than that, she's a calm baby, and her brother loves her.

"Dada." Hazel stretched out her little hands to Lloyd.

Seeing her cuteness and the way she called him 'Dada' made his heart feel full. He put his hand on his chest, lowered his knees and lay on the floor.

"Urgh. I need a doctor."

Hazel widened her eyes; she stood up slowly and walked towards her father. She put her hands on his chest. "Pain, pain, go away."

Lloyd chuckled, seeing his daughter look serious. She starts playing as a doctor when she sees Y/N treat Mark's hurt knee and Kendall bruises his forehead since the boys play sports all the time.

She wants to be like her mother.

Mark and Kendall, who have been with them all this time, also want to be her patient.

Mark touched his knees. "Aw, my knees."

Kendall was overacting, "Hazel, my shoulder hurts."

Hazel wiggled from her father and then ran to her brother to check on them. "Pain goes away. Brother is fine."

Mark and Kendall pecked her fluffy cheeks. "Thank you, doctor Hazel."

Y/N, who was knitting a sweater, shook her head. Looking at how the three boys are clinging towards Hazel, it will be difficult for her to get a boyfriend in the future.

In the future.

"Dad, I'm going to the library. I'll be back before seven." Before Lloyd could say anything, Hazel ran faster, leaving the house.

Lloyd felt something didn't fit right. He had prepared all the books related to her school in their study room so she didn't have to go to the library.

He doesn't want his baby daughter to feel uncomfortable in public places.

"She told me she has a study group."

"Group? How many people?"

"All female or with boys?"

Y/N smirked; the boys in this house would be on their guard if they found out that Hazel was studying with her crush.

She teased them a bit. "Hazel only goes out to study, and you guys are already on guard. What would happen if she went to prom with a boy?"

Lloyd scoffed, "Over my dead body."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Not a chance."

Kendall shook his head. "That will never happen."

Y/N laughed, hearing their similar answers. Poor Hazel, her future boyfriend will struggle to deal with these three men.

Thank you so much for reading and following the series.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Last Chapter.

Side Story 1, Side Story 2

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

Taglist:

@sabrinaselina55, @magnificentsaladllama , @cherrybubblebullet @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters , @bagoffeelings @darkofimagination, @starsofcloud, @thatzolagirl, @distancedss, @mswgtsd @chibijusstuff , @jamespersephone

#chris evans characters #lloyd hansen x reader #soft!dark lloyd hansen imagine #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen x fic #lloyd hansen x y/n #switched sides series #lloyd hansen imagine #lloyd hansen x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x reader #the grey man au #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen fanfiction

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eccentricallygothic · 7 months ago

Text

| Teacher's Pet |

Pairing: Professor!Lloyd Hansen | Student!You.

Warning(s): Puppy kink, hair pulling, m!dom, Daddy kink, mild meanie!Lloyd, allusions to punishment and sex, possible degradation, humiliation, size kink.

It's exam season.

You hate exam season.

Lloyd knows it.

So he becomes just a tad bit lenient towards your tantrums and lash outs during.

Because he knows you're just a harmless little puppy who is doing way more than they were meant for and the overworking of your baby brain causes you stress.

“Ugh!” You slam your books close and fold your arms before collapsing your head on them, feeling pushed to your extreme.

Lloyd, who had previously been working on his own bigger and less baby-like table beside yours approaches you with a soft smile on his face.

You are convinced that you could spend the rest of eternity with him and his touch would still force your limbs and senses into all kinds of disarray upon contact.

His fingers snake through the soft strands of your hair before the digits twist and cause for the locks to curl around them in a serpentine manner. Your heart leaps up and reaches for your throat when you feel the hold gently firm up so to hoist your form upwards.

“Ah, there is that face” you open your eyes to come face to face with the handsome man, the sharp tip of his nose nearly touching yours as that one silver bristle of his otherwise dark mustache becomes all the more visible from this angle.

“D- Daddy…” You whimper, unsure of your own wishes.

You don't have the time and with him it is always a marathon. One that renders you physically unable to do much, if at all, later.

But his mouth is so inviting, his breath is so warm and minty, his hands are so manly and stern, his chest is so wide and firm, and your body is so reactive.

“Who's my good puppy?” You jutt out your tongue on instinct, all sense of dignity escaping your rational faculties like it had never been there in the first place.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha!” You let out the jagged sighs that you have perfected at this point, your smaller hands appearing next to your face almost instantly, fingers closing into half fists to mimic the paws that he adores and loves to clench into his bigger fists when pushes you deeper and deeper into the surface of choice by the conjunction where your naked sexes meet in moments of depraved passion.

“And what does my good puppy say?” His pride is evident by the grin that his smile is transforming into.

“Wuf, wuf, wuf!” And then you continue to breathe the way he has taught you again, going on a limb to glide the blade of your tongue over his nose excitedly although he prefers you not act out of turn.

His huge form shakes from the mirth. “Tell you what, finish this chapter within the next hour,” his greyish-blue gaze glides over the nearly crumpled pages on your desktop. “And Daddy will give his puppy a nice little reward” although your brain has already descended past the point of intellectual activity, you are yet to realize it.

The professor smirks as he lets you bolt down to the papers which you overenthusiastically flip and browse while beaming brightly, ignorant of the inevitable.

“But remember, puppy” Lloyd speaks over his shoulder as he turns his broad back to you so he can attend to the coffee machine. “Bad puppies get punished just the same as good puppies get rewards.”

For he knows you will not be able to finish the chapter now that your mind is no better than a puddle of mush.

Daddy is looking forward to it.

#lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x ofc #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen drabble #lloyd hansen imagine #chris evans characters #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans character x reader

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jamneuromain · 10 months ago

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Hii!!! I just read A Whiff of Blood and it was amazing!!! Omg its been a while since I read Lloyd being caring without having another motive. This is pure goodness 😍

I was wondering if there could be a scene where y/n asks to leave work early bc she has a date. Lloyd says fine but ends up at the same restaurant as her with Danny to spy🤣 and y/n saw them and this will be the first time she yells at her boss. how would the boss react? falling for her even more or trying to save his dignity and ego 😎

Hi babe! So sorry that this one-shot is taking forever to come out (and I've made a little adjustment to it :3 hope you don't mind

A Rush of Blood

Lloyd Hansen x You

Warning: Mob AU, Mob!Lloyd, Secretary!Reader, Lloyd is being a (surprisingly) softie(?

Summary: You asked whether you could leave early for a date, while Lloyd decided not to keep his feelings bottled up any more.

W/C: ~4.5k

A/N: This is the final sequel to A Whiff of Blood, Thank you for all your love for Mob!Lloyd<333

Lloyd can’t help but look at your empty seat for the fifth time in a row. The boring-ass meeting for the quarterly revenue of his properties drags on, yet you haven’t returned for a while now.

Lloyd checks his watch.

It’s been fucking two minutes and forty-two seconds since you excused yourself with your phone buzzing in hand.

The ticking watch gets him more annoyed and impatient by the second. Two minutes and forty-four seconds, two minutes and forty-five seconds, two minutes and forty-six - where the heck are you?

You pick up the call as soon as you reach your desk, “Allie?”

“Hey hon. Bad news, I’m stuck at the airport. There has been a huge blizzard here in Alaska and all flights are banned from taking off.” Allie remains her chirpy sound, but a hit of restraint peeks from her words.

Allie has been your friend since high school. You’ve bonded over the mutual love of boy bands during your teen years. Though you have moved on from your love of pop singers/bands, Allie maintains her enthusiasm for K-pop idols.

“I’m in the middle of a conference, so, sorry about making this short,” you sigh, “I assume they can’t get any plane in or out for today?”

You scheduled for fine dining with Allie at one of Lloyd’s restaurants later this evening. At this rate, you are no longer surprised if he owns the Hollywood landmark too.

“Not in this damn weather, no.” She curses under her breath, “Not for three days as far as I’m aware.”

“Jesus.” You rub your temple as it is throbbing, “Sorry about the weather. I’ll reschedule the dinner.”

“No… don’t be.” Her hesitation on the phone sounds slightly suspicious.

“Allie?” You raise your voice dangerously, “What did you do?”

“Don’t be mad,” she holds a pregnant pause, “I’ve got this really cute boy – he’s a year behind us, by the way – and he’s working now in LA, Scott McCall – that’s double C in McCall, and I planned to introduce you two during dinner.”

“The fu- Allie!” You whisper-yell in the phone, “You’re gonna dump me and let me have dinner with a completely random person?”

Allie squeezes a few dry laughs over the speaker, “Eh- Sorry?”

“You better pray there’s no plane in three days because I’m going to crawl through the phone lines and strangle you if I have the chance.” You sputter a curse, “And burn all your K-pop albums.”

She gasps, “NOT THE ALBUMS!”

Typical Allie.

“Seriously though, you had the chance of meeting him two months ago... at an exhibition. The gallery downtown near the bakery? The Retro-modern Exhibition? The one you left early? It took him a lot of strength to get to me and then to you, so … just try, okay? If it doesn’t work out, it’s fine.” Allie sounds unlike her usual self, “If it works out … I guess you’d have a great story to tell your kids.” She can’t help but joke at the end.

“Yeah yeah, ha-ha, very funny.” With a sigh, you agree to her match-making plan, “Fine. But I really have to go back to work now, ‘kay?” You roll your eyes instinctively when the other end of the phone passes a squeaky “yes” to your ears, “I’ll be there on time. Dinner, six thirty, he’d better not be late.”

“You’re my life-saver. Mwah! Love ya’ bye!” After blowing a kiss via mid-air, Allie hangs up the phone as if fearing you will regret your decision in less than a second.

You end the call at the same moment the door to the conference room swings open, and out came a few executives for his real estate.

“Sorry, Mr. Hansen,” you put your phone into your pocket, straightening your shirt because you have been leaning on your desk. You know how much Lloyd hates disturbance, and creases on a shirt.

Lloyd purses his lips with a frown, an expression he wears often to indicate he’s not happy.

“If it’s okay for you, Mr. Hansen, I’d like to leave early today.” You request rather boldly.

For three years of your work as a secretary, the only other time you left early was a medical emergency of your mother. She fell down the stairs, hit her head, and had a broken femur. Though it wasn’t much of a big deal when she was transferred to a ward later, it scared the hell out of you to take the call from the local hospital, telling you your mother was sent to the ER in an ambulance.

Lloyd was generous enough to grant you a week of leave, but you got back on Day 5 after making sure your mother was well and taken care of.

“Is your family alright?” He asks, clearly still remembering the last time when you got kidnapped on the street, for which he had to assign Claire – a bright young lady, whom you’ve grown fond of over these past weeks – to act as your bodyguard and occasionally your assistant. Under Lloyd’s orders, she went to oversee the security cam installation at your apartment door.

“They are fine.” You suppose it’s better to tell him the truth regarding your leave, rather than having him meet you in his restaurant a few hours later, “I uh… have a date tonight.”

“A date?” He raises his eyebrows, repeating syllable by syllable, “A date, you say?”

“Yes, a date.” It feels like a betrayal all of a sudden, a betrayal of your work ethic. Your throat tightens, “Ahem, I’ll be leaving at five, if that’s alright with you, Mr. Hansen.”

Lloyd studies you for a moment.

“Okay.” He shrugs, sounding carelessly, “If you finish the work for today.”

You are pretty sure that there’s no more itinerary for either Hansen or you after this meeting, but you still play your role as a dutiful secretary and ask, “Anything else you would like me to do?”

“Call James and tell him to pick up the loan I gave out to the Dawson scum, five mil’ in cash or non-bearer bonds. If Dawson returns even one dime short, I want his arm broken. And deliver the drycleaning to my place by five tonight. Tell my butler, while you’re at it, he can hold off the repair down at the basement, this can wait till January. And,” he pauses, “I want you to tell Dani, head to her place personally, and tell her that I’m cancelling the Cuban appointment.”

“Yes, Mr. Hansen.” You pick up the landline straight away, ready to dial James’ number.

“You are not taking any notes whatsoever.” Lloyd narrows his eyes, “What are the tasks I just gave you?”

Lloyd seems extra grumpy today, plus you are not a note-taker anyway. You cover the speaker with your palm, though puzzled as to why he’s moody all of a sudden, but comply with his demands, “Call James, collect the debt from Dawson; get the drycleaning to your house by five, and tell your butler Marlin not to rush on the basement repair; and lastly, tell Dani you’re cancelling the Cuban appointment.” And you have no clue what this “Cuban” appointment is. Darn, Lloyd does keep a whole lot of secrets from you, “Anything else, Mr. Hansen?”

Fuck.

He sounds like fucking Cinderella’s stepmom dumping beans into the fireplace. Since when did he get off on ordering you around doing meaningless chores? He could perfectly do them himself, not to mention some of the biddings he has just told you were unnecessary – the basement repair? It was a damn doorknob getting stuck, not a pipeline that leaks like a faucet.

“Claire’s not here, take Avik with you.” He grumbles, returning to his office and slamming the door shut.

Avik is a silent, tanned man who often acts as Lloyd’s muscle. He emerges from thin air – or probably from some corner, standing rigidly behind you like a statue.

“Hey Avik, mind if I drive?” You put a warm smile on your face, swinging the car key on your finger.

Avik merely nods, gesturing that he’ll walk in front of you.

After picking up Lloyd’s drycleaning and telling Marlin the exact words from Lloyd's mouth, you head off to your next assignment.

Dani.

Dani is a woman approximately your age, speaks fluent Spanish, English, and Italian, probably a couple of other languages that you couldn’t understand too, and rumored to be Lloyd’s ex.

She is a charming lady living in a mansion away from the glamourous nightlife of LA, but not shy of parties. In fact, you’ve accompanied Lloyd to a few that she hosts, and if you ever need a party planner, she would be your No. 1 choice – if you can afford it.

You tap on the steering wheel somewhat anxiously, checking your watch. It’s five to six, and Dani’s residence is halfway across the city, and you have yet to finish the job that Lloyd told you to.

It feels like double standards when you explicitly told Allie that your date cannot be late.

Dani’s lovely butler, Mrs. Santos invited you in, leading you to the guest room.

“To what do I own this honor of having Lloyd’s personal assistant arriving at my place?” Dani flips her hair and giggles.

“Lloyd has sent me to tell you that,” you still remember the strange code phrase word by word, “He’s cancelling the Cuban appointment.”

Dani carefully studies you for a moment, before bursting out laughter, “He… He said that? The Cuban appointment?”

Darn, even when she’s laughing, she’s charming as always.

“Yes.” You answer her question, “If there’s no message you want me to forward to him, I’ll be out of your hair.”

Dani hangs a mysterious smile on the corner of her lips, her honey-toned skin practically gleaming as she speaks, “None. But if you don’t mind me asking, do you have any plans for tonight? I want to borrow you for one of my parties – you know,” she shrugs, “connections and all that.”

Dani’s parties are always filled with delightful cocktails and exquisite people she knows from all over the world. It’s a perfect chance to refresh your connections with all sorts of people – thieves, CEOs, fences, politicians - part of the reason why she asked you to stay.

Yet, you were already booked for tonight.

“Sorry,” you politely rejected, “I’d love to, but I have a date tonight.”

“Well, you-” Dani points at you with her perfectly manicured finger, sounding cheerful, “are welcome at my place, anytime. You can bring your date here even, if you need a place to chill.”

“Thank you, Dani.” You respond, “Have fun at your party.”

Dani cocks her head to the side. The bright flashy diamond earrings peek from under her hair, swaying as if they were about to fall. She hums thoughtfully before wishing you a pleasant evening.

As soon as you step out of her estate, Dani picks up her phone and dials Lloyd’s number, “I recall a certain someone claims that he needs absolutely no help landing a girl,” She twirls her hair around her fingertips, chuckling, “the Cuban appointment, Lloyd? Wow, you must be really desperate. Now, you want me to help you sabotage her date? That I can do...”

With Lady Luck by your side, you’ve successfully reached the restaurant five minutes early with someone already at your table, while Avik sits at a table on the other side of the aisle, keeping an eye on you.

“You must be Scott.” You pull your chair to sit, trying your best to ignore the bulk of muscles on your righthand-side, watching as the young man across the table hastily puts down his water glass and stands abruptly with his face flushed.

“H… Hi.” He can barely stop the grin on his face, “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Allie is right. He is cute.

Scott scratches the back of his head, plopping down on his seat, asking hesitantly, “If this is not too intrusive, how did you get a reservation? My friend has been dying to try this place for a week and the nearest spot available is three months later.”

“My boss is a close friend of the restaurant manager.” Lloyd practically runs this place. The manager gets scared shitless every time he needs to deliver the quarterly books to Lloyd and he asks you to do it in his place. Hence, he’s greatly in your debt. But you are not going to tell Scott you work for the largest gang in the city, so you feign your interest and ask, “What about you? Allie didn’t tell me what you do for a living.”

His face goes flushed pink again, “I uh… I work as an assistant curator,” he adds, “but I paint.”

“Oh really? That sounds fun. What do you paint?”

Scott chats on and on about his love for contemporary art and various ways of making a beautiful moment permanent when you notice Avik stands up and leaves.

“… sorry,” you apologize to Scott, for you have missed the question he asks, having paid too much attention to the bodyguard Avik who doesn’t seem like returning, “what was that again?”

Scott shuts his mouth momentarily before managing a small smile, “I was just thinking that we should get the waiter. Is there anything you like on the menu?”

The food was divine, and the wine was savory too. Though the waiters seemed a little distracted – you guessed it was probably their boss telling them to stay away from your table for you to enjoy your date. After exchanging pleasant conversations, you know it’s time to end this lovely date.

Before getting the check and leaving, you excuse yourself to freshen up.

Scott nods with his curls bouncing.

Scott is nice.

He is smart, funny, and cute with his untamed curls.

You put on a thin layer of lipstick. Looking into the mirror, the polite smile breaks away when you watch your reflection.

Scott is a decent guy. Why don’t you like him?

A vague outline rises in your head, before evaporating.

Stop it. You tell yourself. Scott is a nice guy. You should enjoy this date.

Only when your figure disappears behind a few tables, did someone sit on your spot.

“Evening.” A moustache man traces his finger on the cup from which you drank, crossing his legs, “Scotty, right?”

Scott clenches his hand on the arm of his chair, but Avik appears quietly behind him, grabbing his shoulders to have him sit down. A hard piece of metal is pressed to the back of his head. It doesn’t take much common sense to understand that Avik has a gun pointing at him.

“Don’t get all flustered,” Lloyd pours some wine into both glasses, “I’m just here to… be nice.” A wicked grin creeps up his lips as Lloyd continues, “The woman who you’re dating tonight?”

Scott gulps, squeezing a “yeah” out of his teeth.

“That’s my girl.” Lloyd dead-pans, massaging the light smudge of your lipstick on the glass, “So, if you have any wrong idea, or any thoughts about her…” Lloyd has a cold gleam in his eyes, shakes his head and tuts, “Don’t.”

Poor Scott has his face drained of colors. His lips quivering, “I-I’m not- I don’t want to be part of this…”

“Good.” Lloyd smirks. Drinking from your glass, he licks his lips to savour the sweet honey taste of your lipstick, before giving his final order, “Now be a good boy, say your ‘nighty night’s, and get the fuck out of my turf.”

“Boss.” Avik’s eyes dart to the lavatory, signalling that you are approaching this table.

“Aaaand that’s my cue.” Lloyd stands up from the chair, looking content, “Keep this little interaction between us, will ya’?” He pouts, “I’d hate if she gets upset.”

By the time you reach this table, Scott sweats in buckets like he has just been to a sauna.

“Is everything alright?” You can’t help but ask.

“Yeah… yeah.” Scott could barely mask his trembling voice, or keep his eye contact, “I’m … feeling uncomfortable… right now.”

“Is it the food? Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“No… I mean, I think so. The asparagus was raw.” Scott wipes the sweat off his pale face, “It’s been lovely, but …”

Your eyes dart to the table where Avik was sitting. Nope, he isn’t there. For a second you thought that Avik might have terrorized Scott into backing out. Such a stupid idea, why would Avik do that? You throw this thought to the back of your head, before suggesting if Scott needs a lift home, or to the hospital.

Scott nearly jumps from his spot upon hearing the offer, which confuses you as he avoids speaking or looking at you, as if you were a plague.

He takes his belongings, bids you good night before sprinting out of the restaurant.

What the fuck have you done???

You trouble yourself with the question when Avik returns to your side without a single sound, “Avik, I was wondering where you’ve been.”

“The backroom where I can observe the surveillance footage, ma’am.” His voice booms, “Shall I drive you home?”

“Yes, I suppose.” You sigh.

Avik gestures for you to walk, but you stop in your tracks.

“Avik?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Did you have any food yet?”

You did not see him ordering anything when he was sitting across the aisle, nor do you believe that he’d risk losing his job over some half-cooked asparagus.

“… No Ma’am.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. The exhaustion of trying to satisfy Lloyd’s tasks and doubting whether he’s being paranoid again takes over you for so long, you seem to lose a little bit of human emotions – neglecting dutiful Avik, as a result.

“Sorry about that, Avik.” You apologize, feeling slightly better that you’ve come to your senses after a long day, “I’ll have them prepare something vegan for takeaway.”

“…thank you, Ma’am.”

Grabbing a waiter passing by, you tell him about your request, before resting on your chair.

Out of sheer boredom, you tap on your glass, scraping the lipstick smudge off the crystal-clear surface with a used napkin.

Avik coughs as if he has just choked on his own spit.

“Everything alright, Avik?”

It seems like you’ve said this for the second time tonight.

“Yes. Ahem. Yes, all is well.” Avik clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Because you can totally have tonight off. I’m more than capable of driving home myself.” You offer sweetly, expecting him to take the suggestion and leave you here.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Avik replies rigidly, his shirt collar tightening around his tanned skin as he speaks, “Thank you, but your safety is my priority.”

You should have known better than to negotiate with Lloyd’s muscle. They follow his orders like workers around a queen bee. Pursing your lips together, you decide not to spend time bargaining with Avik, but scroll on social media to distract yourself.

Avik lets out a long, slow exhale when you are focusing on your phone. He’s great at bodyguarding, but terrible at being a double agent.

The takeaway package arrives shortly – or it could be you are too tied up in the TikTok drama to notice time slipping away from the tip of your fingers. Avik takes the wheel while you sit in the back, trying hard not to think about the sudden change in Scott’s attitude.

It’s not like you don’t enjoy Scott’s company. You do. But Scott’s dashing out of the restaurant leaves a certain impression that you don’t think you’d forget anytime soon. Maybe the food was raw. Or burned. Or he had some pills. Still, it doesn’t explain why he ran out of the place like a bloodhound was chasing him.

Or is there something wrong with you? Something he’d grow repulsive of?

“Stop the car, please.” The thoughts in your head are preventing you from breathing. With Avik’s puzzled frown in the rearview mirror, you shrug, “You can go park the car. I want to have a little walk and some fresh air.”

After what must be an internal debate in Avik’s silence, he slowly stops at the curb, agreeing for you to have your fresh air.

The street is silent, not a living soul in sight. You close your eyes and breathe in the fresh air.

Oh well, maybe the air is not so fresh after all, with the smell of gasoline and dust and … smoke?

You turn around.

Lloyd’s Rolls-Royce follows you like a toddler in small steps, with a hand outstretched from the window that flicks his cigarette stub to the curb.

“Mr. Hansen?” You could’ve been dreaming. Why would Lloyd’s car follow you? Why – “What are you doing here?”

Lloyd steps out of the vehicle, popping a peppermint into his mouth. Crushing the candy with his jaw, he mumbles, “Just having a late-night stroll.”

A ridiculous idea comes into mind, and you ask in disbelief: “Are you following me?”

“No.” Lloyd stares at you straight into your eyes, but you’ve seen him lie better, “This is my turf. And you can’t ban me from patrolling my own territory.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes.

Sure. Patrolling. Very convincing. He just happened to stumble in front of your apartment building among hundreds of thousands of streets.

“Of course.” Maybe it’s the wine, because for crying out loud you would be tongue-tied if you were to say this at work, but the sarcasm drips out of your tone like water out of a broken faucet, because you are not in the mood. At all. “Good night, Mr. Hansen.”

“I had a great night.” Since he counts the scurrying of one horny young man as a win, Lloyd casually drops, “Can’t say the same about you.”

What the heck is wrong with him?

Now it’s definitely the wine that does the talking, as you poke him square in the chest with your index finger, your voice littered with fury, “It’s after-hours, and you don’t own my after-hours, in case you don’t have a watch, okay?”

Lloyd offers his characteristic lop-sided smile, “What - you’re gonna buy me one?”

“No?!” You huff out in disbelief. Has he taken hallucinating drugs? Why on earth is he acting funny? “This is not - look, Mr. Hansen-”

Lloyd steps closer. You get that whiff of smoke from his body, and the musky cologne that he occasionally uses in rare circumstances, and your words somehow get stuck in your throat.

“Lloyd.” He pronounces his name, loud and clear, “C’mon sunshine, lllllloyd.”

Lloyd. The name rolls to the tip of your tongue. It feels natural and soft, unlike Lloyd Hansen himself. But the syllable drives your heartbeat wild. He is your boss. You are obligated to call him Mr. Hansen.

Well, maybe not obligated. But you would feel more comfortable calling him Mr. Hansen. The name Lloyd sounds like an over-step of your work relationship.

Your work. Your beloved secretary job. Which is fine. Which you enjoy, as you handle his affairs with some effort. But the name. He’s asking you to call him Lloyd and that sounds more intimate than what you should be calling your boss.

“I- ” You are at a loss of words. What does he want? Does he want you to be his mistress? Which is ridiculous, because you don’t want to be the type of canary living in a birdcage and sing for him whenever he pleases. More importantly, he cannot be having thoughts about you – or does he want this to be a one-night thing where he could pull up his pants and comment on how long since he had a good fuck?

-stop it. It’s an insane thought. He’s not interested. So are you.

You accidentally look at his eyes, and you recognize the burning desire rooting deep down. It scorches you instantly as your eyes meet, before you lower your head to avoid the demanding gaze.

“You’re my boss…” You mutter weakly, knowing well that this stupid excuse does not prevent you from enjoying (or feeling safe at) Lloyd’s presence – most of the time, when he’s not bloody or throwing punches – or from the plain fact that maybe, just maybe that you feel a little different towards him, and that for the briefest of moments, you wished that he was sitting across the dinner table tonight, taking you out on a date.

Lloyd’s expression goes still for a second.

You can’t tell whether he’s mad or upset.

He sighs, taking a step towards you to close the space between you two, before framing your face in his hands and whispering in frustration, “God, you’re so dumb.”

His lips are soft, contrary to his mean words. They land on you with a bitter taste of burned tobacco, as his tongue swipes the seam of your lips, forcing an embarrassing mewl out of you.

It felt like Lloyd and his roughness. It felt like an iceberg breaking into chucks, whales lifting their head to breathe and the dam that withholds feelings inside your head cracks. It felt … right.

He slowly breaks away the kiss, sighing again, right next to your lips, his moustache making your cheek itch.

“Am I about to get a kick in the balls?” He asks softly, nose gently rubbing on yours.

“No…no.” Not that you don’t want to, because how dares he! Following you and kissing you like that! But because your head turning into a warm mush.

“Good.” He nibbles on your lips, you can feel his lips curving into a smile, “ ’cause I kinda like them.”

“Hmm?”

“Never mind.” He lands another kiss on you before pulling away. The bad-boy grin visible on his face.

You feel like you need to say something. Anything. So, you open your mouth and: “Do you want … a cup of coffee at my place?”

Lloyd cocks his eyebrows in surprise, but there’s no way he’d let slip of this chance, “Sure, why not.”

The mush in your brain refuses to leave. Your body acts on auto-pilot, leading you away from him.

You don’t even notice that he’s not following you this time, until he calls your name out of the blue, with a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Yes, Mr. Hansen?”

Lloyd decides to let slip of your poor choice of words this time, simply pointing his thumb in the other direction: “Your home is this way.”

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