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deliciousangelfestival · 7 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

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 15 days ago

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Hii!🥰 Can I please request a Lloyd Hansen x civilian!fem!shy!reader where she is walking home from her waitressing job when she witnesses him and his men doing their less than legal work and tries to hide, but Lloyd notices her. He’s definitely offed people for less (it’s Lloyd we’re talking about😅), but he finds this girl to be completely adorable, and can’t help but have a soft spot for her, so he lets her go with a wink (and a lot of flirting). They see each other again when Lloyd happens to the diner she works at (definitely greeting her with a “hello sunshine/cupcake”🙇‍♀️😭), poor girl would be terrified but he really would never hurt her. Anyways, he asks her on a date, and he’s just so gentle and sweet and such a flirt and she agrees (they’d both fall head over heals for each other, Lloyd’s only soft spot🥹)

Only Soft Spot » Lloyd Hansen

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x Civilian!Female Reader

Summary: Lloyd doesn’t have any soft spots, but he develops one when he lays his eyes on you.

Warnings: Fluff, language, shy!reader, waitress!reader, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You were walking home from work, rummaging through your bag to make sure you didn’t leave anything at the diner you work at. Once you made sure you have everything, you readjusted the straps of your bag on your shoulder and continued your walk home. That walk was cut short when you heard a loud noise from a vacant graffitied building from across. You stopped walking and stared at the building. Your curiosity was piqued and you decided to check it out, even though it’s probably a group of people hanging out inside or something like that. You looked both ways before crossing the street. The front entrance and windows were boarded up so you went to the back entrance, knowing there’s an opening back there. You carefully and quietly made your way inside of the building. You seen a small group of people standing around something. You didn’t know what they were looking at. You hid behind a wide pillar so you didn’t get caught, sneakily peaking your head out from the side of the pillar.

The people spread out. You seen someone tied to a chair, all beaten up and bloody. You looked at the people standing around the person, seeing guns in their hands. Your eyes widened.

This can’t be good.

“Take him out.” A man with a mustache said, Lloyd Hansen.

“Yes, boss.” Another man replied, one of his men.

The second man rose his gun up to the person tied to the chair, shooting him in the chest where his heart is. The gunshot sounded loudly in the empty building. You yelped and jumped at the sound of it. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned around to see where the sound came from. Your eyes widened when they seen you. You immediately ran, running as fast as your legs would let you. One of the men rose his gun up.

“Put your gun down.” Lloyd said.

“She witnessed what we just did, boss.” Another one of his men says.

“I said, put your gun down!” He demands. “Don’t make me say it a third time!” He says.

The man nodded and put his gun down. Lloyd got a pretty good look at you before you ran away. He smiled to himself, knowing he likes you, even though he doesn’t know your name or anything about you. What he does know that you’re a soft spot for him. Lloyd is a man who doesn’t have any soft spots, but he just developed one… you.

You didn’t stop running once you left the vacant building. You ran as fast as you could till you reached your house. You opened your bag, scrambling to find your keys and unlocked your house door. You slammed the door shut behind you and locked it. You leaned against it, panting heavily from the running you just did. You closed your eyes and slid down the door, sitting on the floor and trying to catch your breath. Your mind began to wander as you were catching your breath.

There’s no way that man is dead, right? Maybe you didn’t see it right. Oh, what are you kidding? You just witnessed a murder. Stupid curiosity.

You shook your head, trying to gather yourself. Once you caught your breath, you stood up and went to the bathroom to take a shower before getting ready for bed. What you just witnessed was the only thing on your mind for the rest of the night.

The next day, you spaced out a couple times when you should’ve been working. You were leaning against the counter and staring down at your blank note pad, tapping your pen against it.

“The older couple at table 3 wants more coffee.” Your coworker said.

You gasped softly and jumped when she walked up next to you. She looked at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you ok?” She asked.

“Yea. I’m just a little tired.” You answered.

“You might want to get yourself some coffee too.” She says, patting your back.

You nodded before grabbing the pot of coffee and refilling the coffee for the older couple at table 3. The door to the diner opened, the bell ringing through the diner.

“Please seat yourself. I’ll be with you in a moment.” You say to the customer who just walked in.

“No rush. Take your time.” Lloyd says.

Lloyd seated himself in a booth in the corner of the diner. You went behind the counter to get a menu and a cup of coffee for the customer.

“Coffee?” You asked.

“Yes please.” He says.

You put the cup of coffee on the table in front of Lloyd before getting your note pad out to take his order.

“What can I-” The words died on your tongue when you looked at him.

Oh shit… it’s one of the men from last night.

“Hello, sunshine.” Lloyd smiles and winks.

Everything you learned from the training of your job flew right out the window. You honestly thought he was here to ask you what you saw last night.

“Join me, cupcake.” He says, gesturing to the empty booth seat in front of him.

You nervously sat down across from him, placing your note pad and pen on the table.

“Are you nervous?” Lloyd asks.

You shyly nodded your head yes.

“There’s no need to be nervous around me, sunshine.” He leans his arms against the table. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” He promises.

You sat there, staring at him and feeling shy.

“First things first, I want to make sure you didn’t tell anyone about what you witnessed last night.” Lloyd says, keeping his voice low.

“I-I didn’t tell anyone.” You say quietly.

“That’s good. I would like that to stay between me and you.” He said. “Now, let’s get down to business.” He says.

Your eyebrows shot up.

“Not that kind of business, silly.” He chuckles.

You felt relieved when he said that.

“My name is Lloyd Hansen of Hansen Government Services.” He finally introduces himself. “Your name is Y/N, right?” He asks.

You completely forgot you were wearing a name tag on your work uniform.

Did this man do research on me?

“That’s what your name tag says.” He says, pointing at your name tag.

“Oh… yes, that’s my name.” You confirmed.

“That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful woman like you.” He compliments.

You blushed and looked down.

“I’m a man who doesn’t have that many weaknesses or soft spots for that matter, but when I seen you, I discovered a new soft spot… you.” Lloyd says.

“M-Me?” You stuttered. “Why me?” You asked.

“I like you, sunshine.” He smiles. “That says a lot about me, because I don’t like many people. You’re number one on the list of people I like.” He says.

A smile formed on your lips.

“If it’s ok with you, I would like to take you on a date sometime.” He says.

“I’m more than ok with that.” You say with a smile.

Lloyd smiles, grabbing your note pad and pen. He wrote down his phone number and gave it to you. You did the same.

“Now…” Lloyd begins. “Tell me what’s good here.” He says, looking at the menu.

“This is my favorite.” You say, pointing at your favorite meal on the menu.

“I’ll take that.” He tells you.

You nodded and went to the kitchen to tell the cook what Lloyd ordered. You came back a few minutes later with his food, placing it in front of him on the table.

“Thank you, cupcake.” He smiles.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Hansen.” You smiled back.

“Call me Lloyd, sunshine.” He winks.

You nodded and blushed before going back to work. A couple minutes later, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You took it out of your pocket to see who texted you. It was Lloyd.

Lloyd: Saturday night at 7pm. I can’t wait to get to know you

You: Sounds like a date🥰

You giggled and put your phone back in your pocket. You took a glance at Lloyd to see him smiling at you. You blushed before going back to work.

From that moment on, you and Lloyd were head over heels for each other. You also completely forgot about that incident from that night.

💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

-Bucky’s Doll

#lloyd hansen #the gray man #chris evans #cevans #chris evans characters #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen one shot #lloyd hansen imagine #civilian!reader #shy!reader #waitress!reader

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eccentricallygothic · 5 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.

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

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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 · 6 months ago

Text

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 · 4 months ago

Text

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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buck-star · 1 month ago

Note

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 x female yn #lloyd hansen x f!reader #lloyd hansen x you #Lloyd Hansen fluff #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x reader #chris evans character x yn #chris evans character x fem reader #chris evans character x you #chris evans character x reader #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans characters

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thereoncewasagirlnamedjane · 26 days ago

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you’re a mean one.

‣ pairing — lloyd hansen x doctor f!reader

‣ contents — oneshot, coarse language, rom-com vibes??? dark but soft??? new year special, allusions to violence, blood/injury, fluff, and i would say morally grey protagonists but tbh there’s really nothing grey about them.

‣ summary — they say that there’s nothing more frightening than a pissed off, gun-wielding, profusely-bleeding lloyd hansen who’s trying to be nice… except, maybe, for his equally unstable doctor.

‣ word count — 1.8k (omg finally a short one!!)

‣ notes — this is my first time writing for lloyd and it was so much fun, even if writing a rom-com style piece for a couple of psychopaths is still extremely hard lmao. i might make this AU a ~thing~ later, although i’m still a bit unsure 👀 anyway, happy new year, my loves! bonus points if you can pinpoint my pushing daisies reference 🤭

✩ read on ao3 ✩ janie’s masterlist ✩ library blog

Lloyd stares down at the brown file folder lying open on the kitchen counter, your picture pinned to the inside flap, pondering how quickly even the most carefully laid plans can change.

Because you were supposed to be the means to an end. He’s been doing this a very long time and he’s since learned, that for men like Sierra Six, it always comes down to sentiment. According to Carmichael’s intel, before you left the CIA for the private sector in search of more, let’s say, lucrative work, you and Court Gentry had quite the history—the sordid romantic kind, the kind that’s the easiest to exploit.

Lloyd scoffs, his hand tightening around his wine glass. The thought of you in bed with that rogue CIA shitbag makes him physically ill, and he quickly throws back the remainder of his drink to push down the bile that’s rising in his throat.

You were supposed to be bait. Lloyd was to kidnap you and hold you hostage, use you to lure Gentry out into the open. It’s a classic move; it had worked so swimmingly—er, for the most part—with Fitzroy and his niece, after all.

But he’s made a devastating miscalculation.

He failed to consider how different you’d be compared to what was written about you on paper. He already knew you were probably decent, if not outright good, at your job, but to be singlehandedly the most talented surgeon he’s ever met? And he’s met a lot of them, given his line of work. At the very least, you are a million leagues ahead of his previous physician; casualties have gone down drastically since you came around.

And even though he’s been shot, stabbed, and shivved more times than he can count, he can barely even see the scars those wounds left behind. Your sutures are impeccable, each stitch immaculate and uniform, like a work of fucking art—and he’s not exactly the kind of man who’s known for appreciating art.

Not to mention you are absolutely fearless. The day you met, when he’d slapped those handcuffs on you and pressed the barrel of his gun to your temple, demanding your cooperation or else he’d splatter the walls with your pretty little brains, you simply smirked and said, “I don’t know, Mr… Hansen, was it? I only bow down to one master.”

He almost swore.

“Talk dirty to me then, sweetheart,” he quipped back, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear, not expecting you to lean in closer and press yourself to places you had no business touching.

“The almighty dollar,” you whispered, your beautiful face then splitting into a wide and menacing grin that matched his own. He felt a shiver shoot up his spine and almost ruined his favourite pair of pants on the spot. Lloyd took a deep whiff then, his nose buried in your hair, the sweet smell of your shampoo mixing with the distinct scent of batshit crazy. It made him a little lightheaded, to be honest.

To a mercenary like himself who’s loyalty also only ever lay with the highest bidder—and he uses the term “loyalty” with a very large grain of salt, the kind that’s less like a grain and more like those blocks they give cows to lick—you were a woman after his own damn heart.

He really had no choice then, did he, but to place you under his employ. Not only was he already in the market for a new doctor, he needed someone exactly like you—someone who showed no fear whenever Lloyd lost his temper and threw one of his infamous tantrums. Even Brewer would have to leave the room with a roll of her eyes, but the way her shoulders tensed up belying her discomfort… but you?

“Calm down and shut the fuck up already,” you’d tell him, looking bored as you carefully inspected your perfectly manicured nails, “or else I’ll pump you so full of ketamine your pathetic little heart explodes.”

You’d then bat away the barrel of his gun that he points at you in anger, calling him a goddamn drama queen. You never bat an eyelash whenever he returns to the base with someone else’s blood splattered all over his clothes, some of it even dripping from the ends of his hair.

And on occasions when he does return all banged up and cut open, you’d giggle manically as you unravelled a roll of gauze, bundling the strands together in a tight wad before unceremoniously jamming it into his wounds. He’d scream in surprise and agony, a litany of curses bouncing off the walls while you ordered some nearby men to hold him down by the shoulders. Once it was over, with Lloyd panting through the pain and sweat dotting his hairline, you’d unabashedly boop him on the nose with a proud grin.

“Here you go, Boss Man,” you’d cackle, pulling off the plastic off a lollipop and shoving the candy into his mouth, sugar mixing with iron on his tongue. “For being such a good boy.”

If anyone else spoke to him the way you do, they would already be sinking to the bottom of the harbour. Whenever he threatens to end your insolent, insignificant life with a simple wave of his hand—because what exactly did you think happened to his old doctor?—you’d laugh right in his face as though you don’t believe him.

You really are fucking insane, aren’t you?

Lloyd rules over his criminal syndicate with an iron fist, a notoriously short fuse of a temper, and a penchant for holding grudges for as long as it suits him. It’s why, even though it’s been weeks now since he last saw signs of Sierra Six in the vicinity, he should still be more than determined to use you to get even.

All good things to those who wait, after all, and Lloyd definitely knows how to savour a meal.

He’s killed countless times before and slept soundly afterward, sometimes pulling the trigger so casually he didn’t even bother looking at his target. He’s never had any moral qualms about using people to get what he wants, then disposing of them once they were no longer useful. You wouldn’t be the first, and you certainly would not be the last. He can make it so that nobody even knows you’re missing, and he should, by all means, enjoy every last delicious second of it.

So, why?

Why, if he is all those things and more, are you somehow the dangerous one?

Because, a voice taunts him, a voice he’s both thrilled and loathed to realize is none other than his own… wait, what’s the opposite of a conscience?

You won’t do a damned thing. Not now, and not ever. Lloyd picks up your file and, after a few more seconds of meaningless contemplation, he tosses it into the nearby fireplace. He watches, growing more satisfied by the second, as the flames lick at and curl the edges of the pages, the logs popping and crackling until there’s nothing left but cinders and ashes.

Because you and everyone else in this godforsaken place is wrapped around her tiny little finger. Everyone at the mansion straightens and practically salutes when you pass, some of them staring after you longingly as you walk by. Men hardened by years of service, disillusioned by a government that was more than happy to use them for their own means and then leave them to fend for themselves once they were back on home soil, simper and whine just for a few seconds of your attention.

It makes him fucking seethe, so much so that he’s made sure to threaten every single one of them with acid poured into the empty eye sockets—oh, because they will be empty once he’s scooped the eyeballs out of their heads with a dull and rusty melon baller—of the next person who makes heart eyes at you.

After all, while they say that near death experiences can change a man, it can’t change him that much.

“You’re not supposed to be drinking yet,” your voice drifts into the kitchen, prompting him to turn around and smirk when he sees you leaning against the doorway, that blasted white coat doing things to him it shouldn’t be. You glance around, noting the lit candles and chilled champagne, smile growing wider when you smell a roast cooking in the oven. “And here I was thinking you only ever call on me when you’re bleeding or dying.”

“You’re my doctor, that’s kind of how it works,” Lloyd snarks, knowing that, if he’s lucky, you’ll make him pay for that comment later. “And I’m not dyin’ anytime soon, cupcake.”

“Is that right,” you chortle, striding closer to pour yourself a glass of wine. The movement jostles your coat open enough that he can see your outfit underneath, the same one you’d been wearing when you stitched him up the other night. “So, this isn’t your blood that came out of a giant hole someone cut into your body, staining all of my nice clothes?”

“Occupational hazard, but if it makes you feel better—” and since when did he care about what made people feel better? “—I’ll buy you a whole new wardrobe,” he offers, eyes trailing up the shape of your thighs, the mouthwatering curve of your hips, his hand finding its way into the delicious dip of your waist. For the first time in his life, Lloyd is seriously considering honouring a promise.

“You certainly know the way to my heart,” you turn around in his arms and loop one arm around his waist. He yelps when you press at his wound, the skin healing well but still tender. God damn, he thinks as he watches your gaze darken; it actually gets your rocks off when he’s in pain, doesn’t it? “Looks like you’ll live another day, at least.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he can’t help but quip. The oven timer goes off suddenly, at the exact same time the clock strikes twelve. “Now get your claws off me, you sick freak, or the food’s gonna burn.”

Despite the colourful nicknames, you seat yourself at the table and softly hum your approval, sounding much more pleased than offended. And Lloyd knows he’s just as crazy as you are, even though there really hadn’t been much doubt, because he proceeds to serve you dinner in full view of his henchmen. He doesn’t think they’ve ever seen him set foot in the kitchen once since he started this little business of his, but tonight they will learn.

You are his, the Harley to his Joker, a tenacious but not so delicate flower blooming in the concrete. Tonight, he finally makes that clear to everyone who’s around to see, and they all have no choice but to bow down to the newly minted queen of his castle.

“Happy new year, Boss Man,” you grin, “think we’ll make it to the next one?”

“Maybe,” he considers before clinking his wine glass against yours, leaning in close enough to taste the dessert off your lips, “no thanks to you, sunshine.”

It earns him another pinch, but damn it all if he doesn’t like it.

fin.

afterword — not me finding new ways to incorporate food as a love language in my stories 🙈 i can’t help it, okay???

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x f!reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x asian!reader #lloyd hansen oneshot #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen #new years fic #go frost yourself! winter event

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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 · 6 days ago

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Hey can I please request a Lloyd x reader where she is his ex-wife but he wants her back? Maybe they have a child together (they're the only people who he is really sweet and soft with, he lights up when he sees them) and idk maybe their child wants them together too? He's trying to find excuses to see her or kiss her and he has their child as a support?

Idk whatever you find interesting or have inspo for ❤️

Thank you for this amazing ask. I hope you like it. Warning- Little angst and fluff.

Your hands tremble slightly as you pack your son's backpack for his weekend with Lloyd. It’s a routine exchange, one you've done countless times since the divorce, but the familiar ache always lingers.

Sharing custody of Victor is always a bittersweet affair. Every time you see him, the resemblance to his father becomes more and more apparent. His bright eyes and mischievous smile are like a living reminder of what you once had together. Yet, despite the pang in your heart, you push your feelings aside, knowing that this arrangement is for the best.

The doorbell rings, and you exhale deeply before opening it.

Lloyd stands before you, immaculate in his polo shirt and with that same cocky smirk you've come to know all too well. Despite your best efforts, your pulse quickens at the sight of him, a reaction you've tried to suppress but have never been able to completely control.

Damn that moustache! Always been your weakness.

You fix your expression, forcing a neutral smile as you step aside to let him in. You're used to this routine by now, but the sight of him still dredges up a mix of emotions you'd rather keep bottled up.

“Ready for our little guy?” he asks, his voice annoyingly smooth, like melted chocolate. Victor bolts past you, yelling, “Daddy!” as Lloyd scoops him up effortlessly, peppering his son's face with exaggerated kisses that make the boy squeal with laughter.

When your son was born, Lloyd had named him Victor, saying he's his biggest victory in life.

You force a polite smile, ignoring the way Lloyd's eyes flick to yours, softening. He always looks at you like that, like you're still the most important thing in his world, even after everything.

After Sierra Six.

The memory burns like acid. Sierra Six had been your breaking point. Lloyd's obsession with catching the rogue operative consumed him, pulling him deeper into his dangerous world and further away from you. You had begged him to walk away, to prioritize his family, but he couldn’t let it go.

“You don't understand, Sugar!” he'd said during one of your final arguments, his voice sharp but his eyes pleading. “This isn't just a mission. It's personal.”

It became personal for you too, when Six's retaliation nearly cost you and Victor your lives. A car bomb meant for Lloyd had detonated outside your home, leaving shards of glass and smoke as a grim reminder of the risk you couldn’t live with anymore. You’d left that night, taking Victor with you, and filed for divorce shortly after.

“Thanks for packing his stuff…” Lloyd says now, breaking you out of your thoughts. He hesitates, then adds, “You could come with us, you know? We're just going to the park.”

“That’s your time with him…” you reply, keeping your tone neutral.

Victor tugs at your sleeve. “But, Mommy, you should come! Daddy says he misses you.”

Your breath catches, and Lloyd clears his throat, awkwardly running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Victor, buddy, why don't you go grab your soccer ball from the car?”

Once Victor bounds away, Lloyd steps closer. “He’s not wrong…” he says softly, his gaze holding yours.

“Lloyd…” You start to protest, but he cuts you off.

“I know I screwed up. I know I didn’t protect you the way I should have, but I’m trying, Sugar. I’m trying to fix things. For you. For Victor. For us.”

You cross your arms, a shield against the vulnerability in his voice. “You can’t just say these things and expect everything to magically go back to how it was.”

“Then let me show you...” he says, taking another step closer. His hand brushes yours, testing waters. “Let me prove it to you.”

Before you can respond, Victor runs back, his soccer ball in hand. “I got it! Mommy, are you coming with us?”

Lloyd kneels down, pulling Victor into a side hug. “Tell you what, buddy. Why don’t we see if we can convince Mommy to join us next time, huh?”

Victor pouts dramatically, his big eyes, the same shade of blue as his father’s turns on you, “Please, Mommy? Daddy says families should stick together.”

Your heart squeezes at the sight of them, your two boys. Lloyd stands, his eyes never leaving yours, and he leans down just slightly, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath.

“Think about it…” he murmurs, before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. It lingers, a promise in its tenderness, and leaves you standing there, your resolve crumbling ever so slightly.

As they walk away, Victor waves enthusiastically, and Lloyd throws you a smile over his shoulder. It’s cocky and hopeful all at once, like he knows the kiss wasn’t just for show.

Maybe, just maybe, he’ll find a way to win you back.

The weekend passes slowly without Victor. You spend the quiet hours tidying up, trying to distract yourself from the lingering thoughts of Lloyd’s kiss and the words he left unspoken. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop replaying his plea, “Let me prove it to you.”

On Sunday evening, Lloyd drops Victor off as planned. Your son runs inside, chattering about their adventures at the park, the ice cream truck they chased down, and how Daddy let him drive his tiny remote-controlled car.

Lloyd lingers at the door.

“Can I come in for a minute?” he asks. His tone is careful, cautious, as though he’s testing the waters.

You hesitate, but something about the vulnerability in his expression makes you step aside. “Just for a minute…” you say.

Victor is already in the living room, playing with his toys, oblivious to the quiet tension between you and his father.

Lloyd takes a deep breath, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day. About things not magically going back to how they were.” He pauses, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re right. They won’t. And they shouldn’t. Because I want things to be better than they were before.”

You swallow hard, your heart beating faster, “Lloyd, I…”

“Let me finish, Sugar.” His voice softens, and he steps closer, closing the distance between you. “I’m not asking you to forgive me overnight. I’m not asking you to forget what I did or the pain I caused. I just… I’m asking for a chance to show you that I’ve changed. That I’m trying to be the man you and Victor deserve.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you hold them back. “You think one kiss and a few sweet words will fix everything?”

“No!” he says firmly. “But I think being here, every day, showing you how much I care… that might. I’m not giving up on us, Sugar. Not now, not ever.”

Before you can respond, Victor runs up to the two of you, holding a drawing in his little hands. “Look! I made this at Daddy’s house!”

The picture is messy but a clear stick-figure family of three, all holding hands. Above it, in Victor’s uneven handwriting, are the words, “My family.”

Your chest tightens, and you glance at Lloyd, whose eyes are filled with unshed tears. He kneels down to Victor’s level, gently ruffling his hair. “That’s a beautiful drawing, buddy.”

Victor grins and turns to you. “Mommy, don’t you think we should be a family again? Daddy’s been so sad without you.”

You look down at your son, then at Lloyd, who is watching you with a mixture of hope and fear.

“I don’t know, Victor,” you say softly. “It’s… complicated.”

“But you love Daddy, right?” Victor asks innocently, his big blue eyes staring up at you.

You hesitate, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue. “Yes…” you finally admit. “I do.”

Lloyd stands, his expression unreadable. “Sugar, I know I’ve made mistakes. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for them if you’ll let me.”

Victor tugs on your hand, his face lighting up with excitement. “Please, Mommy? Let Daddy stay.”

The weight of the moment presses down on you. Slowly, you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. Let’s see where this goes.”

Lloyd’s eyes widen in surprise, and then a rare, genuine smile spreads across his face. “You mean it?”

“Yes,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But you’re on thin ice, Hansen.”

He chuckles, his confidence returning. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Sugar.”

Victor cheers, throwing his arms around both of you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel a flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, you can be a family again.

The days that follow are a whirlwind of emotions. Lloyd takes your cautious ‘okay’ as a challenge to prove himself, and he doesn’t waste any time.

He starts small, picking Victor up from school, helping him with homework, and showing up at your door with dinner. Each time he’s around, you find yourself torn between wanting to push him away and feeling your walls crumble a little more.

One evening, as you’re washing dishes, Lloyd appears beside you, drying a plate you hadn’t asked him to touch. “You know,” he says, his voice low and teasing, “we make a pretty good team.”

“Lloyd, I don’t need your help.” you say, trying to focus on the sink.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “You might not need it, but I like being here. With you.”

Your face heats up, and you elbow him gently. “Back off, Hansen.”

But instead of retreating, he grins and presses a kiss to your temple, quick and soft. You whirl on him, glaring. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Testing my limits,” he replies smugly, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “You’re adorable when you’re mad.”

You roll your eyes, but the blush on your cheeks betrays you. He notices, of course, and his grin only grows wider.

Lloyd’s efforts intensifies over the period.

Over the next few weeks, Lloyd becomes a constant presence in your life. He shows up unannounced with groceries, fixes the broken cabinet in your kitchen, and even surprises Victor with a mini soccer goal for the backyard.

One afternoon, while Victor is napping, you find yourself sitting on the porch with Lloyd. He’s unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“Why are you doing all this?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He looks at you, his expression sincere. “Because I lost you once, Sugar. And I’m not making that mistake again. You and Victor… you’re everything to me.”

The raw honesty in his voice leaves you speechless. Before you can think of a response, he leans in, brushing his lips against yours. It’s soft, tentative, as if he’s giving you a chance to pull away. But you don’t.

When he deepens the kiss, his hand rests gently on your cheek, you lose yourself for a moment, the familiar warmth of him overwhelming your senses.

When you finally pull back, your heart is racing. “You’re impossible…” you mutter, your cheeks burning.

“And you’re beautiful,” he replies, his lips quirking into a lopsided smile.

Despite your reluctance to admit it, Lloyd’s persistence begins to wear down your defenses. He’s patient with Victor, kind to you, and relentless in his mission to win you back.

One night, as you’re tucking Victor into bed, he grabs your hand. “Mommy, do you still love Daddy?”

Caught off guard, you glance at Lloyd, who’s standing in the doorway, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“I…” you start, unsure of how to answer.

“I know you do,” Victor says confidently. “Because you smile more when he’s here.”

Lloyd chuckles softly, stepping into the room. “Our kid is a great observer, you can’t hide anything from him.” he teases.

“Go to sleep, Victor…” you say quickly, pressing a kiss to your son’s forehead before retreating to the living room.

Lloyd follows you, closing the door behind him. “He’s not wrong, you know,” he says quietly.

You sigh, turning to face him. “Lloyd, this isn’t easy for me. You broke my trust…”

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life earning it back!” he interrupts, stepping closer. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, and I’ll fight for you every day if that’s what it takes.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you finally let the weight of his words sink in. “I’m scared…” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he whispers, cupping your face in his hands. “But I’m here, Sugar. I’m not going anywhere.”

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of pancakes. Victor’s laughter echoes from the kitchen, and when you walk in, you see Lloyd standing at the stove, flipping pancakes like he’s been doing it for years.

“Morning, Sugar,” he says, flashing you a boyish grin. “Thought I’d make breakfast for my family.”

You shake your head, but there’s no hiding the smile on your face.

Later that day, as the three of you play soccer in the backyard, Victor pauses and looks up at you. “Does this mean Daddy’s staying forever?”

You glance at Lloyd, who’s watching you with hopeful eyes. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah, buddy... I think it does.”

Victor cheers, throwing his arms around both of you. Lloyd pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“I love you…” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you could have your happy ending after all.

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rosedpetal · 7 months ago

Text

Over Again

Summary: You tried to run from him, but he wasn't about to allow that.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Word count: 1k

Author's note: this is a repost.

Warnings: smut, imbalance relationship dynamics, all that fun stuff.

Minors, do not interact.

Masterlist

Shit.

You mumbled under your breath, feeling your eyes water and a strangled sob leave your throat. Your back hit the cold bathroom wall, and you tried your hardest to inhale and exhale, the mechanical act of breathing seeming too hard to do in the moment.

The two red lines in the pregnancy test made you know your life was never going to be the same again.

You lived with your parents. You were drowning in college debts (which was how you ended up in this whole mess). You were pretty sure you couldn't afford to buy diapers and formula for at least the next fifteen years.

Your cries got louder, and you squeezed the plastic test in your palm, as if it could make everything go away.

It wouldn't.

With your arms crossed over your chest and fidgeting with your leg anxiously, sunglasses to attempt to cover your face and a flowery sundress, you stood in the line to enter the shady clinic that Betty gave you the address to.

"The father left?" a sudden low male voice spoke behind you, and you shrieked.

You turned to look at him, fear rushing through your spine.

Lloyd looked too good for his own good in one of his stupid polo shirts, the creepy grin under the ugly mustache that you grew to love when it rubbed your most intimate parts adorning his sculpted face.

The few women in front of you were too aggravated by their own little problems to acknowledge the commotion you made.

"Lloyd, I-I can explain." You gulped. "I'm just here waiting for a friend, I-"

"Shut the fuck up, sunshine. You're a terrible liar." He mocked you, eyeing like a stalker do to its prey. "You're not showing yet. Little Hansen's already giving you hell?"

You cringed when he said that, a wave of nausea threatening to spill the contents of your breakfast.

"How did you...?"

Before you could say anything more, Lloyd roughly yanked you by your arm, shoving you to the backseat of his expensive car. The driver rolled the partition up, giving you two privacy.

"You know, sunshine, you could've come to me. But you chose to go behind my back, and that I can't forgive."

"Lloyd-"

"I told you to shut the fuck up." His blue eyes darkened, the gaze of lust and anger weighing on you like a thousand pounds. "Now, you're going to be a big girl and explain with words why on the damn earth you were going to have an abortion. Now."

Your tears fell freely on your face and you felt his fingers on your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"I'm so so sorry." You broke, just the way he loved. "I didn't wanna be a burden."

Lloyd gently caressed your face with the back of his hand, wiping your tears away his thumb.

"I was willing to do everything for you, sunshine. Pay your student debt, date you. Maybe put a ring on your finger. You just disappeared on me. You broke my heart." He sighed, resting his forehead on yours.

Things weren't supposed to go this way. Lloyd was just your sugar daddy. He treated you like a dumb little thing.

Of course, he did spoil the hell out of you. He was great in bed too. In fact, that's why you stayed so long and came back to him all the damn time.

But two years into this dangerous dance you and him waltzed to were becoming too much. Lloyd would never give you anything more than a few bank checks, Tiffany threats and the best sex a woman could dream of. Other than that, he'd never respect you.

Never let you be your own person, never let you go. So you had to run away.

"Tell me, sunshine..." Caging you with an arm thrown over your shoulder and sliding down his hand under the hem of your dress, reaching to where you needed him more, he asked: "Have I not been giving you enough?"

"You'll never love anyone, Lloyd. Not even your own child." You whispered, heart pacing faster under his sweet gaze. You hated the way he gave you butterflies. You shouldn't want his attention.

But you needed it so bad.

"Baby, you're out of your damn mind if you think I don't absolutely adore you, mon chérie." His mustache tickled the side of your face. "I told you I'd take care of you. Stop being so damn stupid and allow me to do so."

You barely noticed when he pushed your panties to the side, his index finger coating your wetness. You whimpered when he entered you in an embarrassing easy way.

"Lloyd..."

"Tell me you don't need this, and I'll walk away."

You knew him too well to know he was lying. He'd never do that. He was too dark, too deranged, too selfish to do anything that wasn't going to benefit him in the long run.

"Oh!" He curled his finger inside you. The wet sounds coming from your pussy were driving him insane.

"You're always so responsive for me, baby." He purred on your ear. "Makes me so fucking hard."

"Yes! Yes! Just like that, fuck!" You cussed through your teeth, feeling the butterflies pressing into your belly. You screamed and your pussy gushed, soaking Lloyd's hand, giving to him so sweetly that he almost came in his pants. He rode your high to the point of overstimulation, and you desperately pried his grip away from you, breathless.

"You can't leave me, sunshine. I won't let you." He kissed your cheek, licking the salty tears. "I'm going to put a diamond ring on your finger, and you're gonna behave like an obedient little wife. If you do, I can even let you entertain the idea of working."

"Lloyd..." You mumbled, numbed out from pleasure.

"Don't sleep on me yet, baby. You have to take care of me now." He demanded, putting your hand inside his pants.

Then he kissed you. Over and over again.

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen angst #cevans character

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universitypenguin · 6 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

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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:

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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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eccentricallygothic · 8 months ago

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| 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 · 11 months ago

Note

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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