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sosa2imagines · 4 months ago

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Broken Hearts. Part 24 (Epilogue)

Warnings- None.

Time had passed, and six months had gone by since that fateful day.

You found yourself casually walking down the cobblestone streets of Paris, the city's rich architectural beauty capturing your fascination.

A subtle smile graced your lips as you soaked in the sights and sounds of the city, a sense of peacefulness settling within you despite the memories of the past.

The street was teeming with life, filled with the sound of voices and laughter, a vibrant energy that seemed to fill the city. It was a stark contrast to the silence and solitude that had consumed you during those dark days.

People moved about their day, engaged in various activities, all adding to the lively atmosphere. Children giggled and played on the cobblestones, while vendors called out their wares, contributing to the symphony of sounds.

For the first time in what felt like forever, a profound sense of peace washed over you, and a newfound hope slowly began to take root in your heart.

The memories of the past were still there, lingering like shadows in the back of your mind, but the pain didn't feel as raw as it once did. It still hurt, but the anguish had lessened, and hope had started to weave its way back into your life.

During your aimless strolling, a charming café caught your eye, nestled away in a tranquil corner.

The cafe's welcoming ambiance drew you closer, the softly glowing lights illuminating the interior, as you hovered in uncertainty, reminding you of your own cafe, which was smoothly getting run by Peter, MJ, Happy and May.

For a moment, you debated on whether to indulge in a solitary cup of coffee, but the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed espresso proved to be too alluring to resist.

Settling into a quiet seat near the window, you placed your order, requesting a latte from the waiter. As you waited, a sense of contentment and tranquility washed over you.

With the cup in your hands, you took a slow sip of your latte, allowing the warm beverage to soothe your soul.

In the tranquility of the moment, your thoughts turned to the events that had occurred after that horrific day, the waves of grief, disbelief, and loneliness that had gripped you, leaving you drowning in despair.

As the truth unfolded, it came to light that Lloyd had meticulously pre-planned the bombing of the compound. The man Steve and Bucky had killed was there to strategically plant explosives in various locations around the building.

Amidst the turmoil and pain, you still remembered the steadfast support of both Nick and Ari. They had been there for you during your darkest moments, their comforting presence a beacon of hope amidst the storm.

And in that quiet café, as you took another sip of your latte, a profound realization washed over you. You had found a new family in them, a support system that would hold you up when you lacked the strength to carry on alone.

You had taken on the responsibility of managing Lloyd's business, a challenge you faced with determination and grit.

With the help of Nick, Jake, Ari, and Andy, you all worked together to keep the business running smoothly. They brought new ideas to the table, implemented new procedures, and helped you navigate the complexities of the things Lloyd use to do.

As fate would have it, with the help of Jake, you obtained the videos that Steve had recorded with Peggy without her knowledge.

With this evidence, Jake forwarded these recordings to Peggy's husband, Daniel, who subsequently initiated divorce proceedings against her.

The consequences were severe for Peggy; she lost her husband, her financial stability, and ultimately, her job. With her life in disarray, she was forced to relocate far away, as everything unraveled around her.

Together, you formed a team that worked towards achieving the shared goal, and over the months, you had grown to become like family, always having each other's backs.

Nick had always possessed a fierce protective nature, and following the incident, this trait intensified further. Whenever you were in public, he would stick close to your side, his proximity deterring any would-be troublemakers.

He vigilantly observed every man that dared to cast a glance in your direction, his intense gaze enough to make many look away. Nick found pride in the role of your protector, and it made him feel closer to Lloyd.

Time passed, and it became increasingly evident that Nick had taken the role of your steadfast protector. He remained a constant presence beside you, acting as a barrier between you and any men who would attempt to display interest in you or approach you.

You would sometimes tease him about it, saying he was your knight in shining armor, but deep down you appreciated his fierce defense.

Standing in front of the breathtaking Eiffel Tower, you were captivated by its beauty, when suddenly you felt a powerful pair of arms encircling your waist. A familiar voice whispered in your ear, “What's going through your mind, Sugar?”

Upon turning, a broad smile spread across your face as you laid eyes on the man who stood behind you, his sturdy arms firmly encircling your waist.

“You…” you said with a soft chuckle, feeling an overwhelming mixture of affection and nervousness. As you looked up at him, a flutter of butterflies took flight within your stomach.

In a tender and affectionate gesture, Lloyd leaned down towards you, his warm lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss.

In that instant, time seemed to stand still, and all other thoughts and distractions faded away, leaving you nothing but the blissful sensation of his touch and the tenderness of the moment.

Against all odds, Lloyd miraculously survived the devastating blast, albeit severely wounded.

Thrown a decent distance by the sheer power of the explosion, he found himself in the debris, battered and bruised. Yet his resilience prevailed, fueled by his unwavering determination to fulfil the promise he had made to you.

Through sheer force of will, he propelled himself forward, struggling to make his way through the wreckage. As he spotted Nick, Ari, and you in the distance, preparing to leave, he realized it was crucial to make his presence known.

Ignoring the throbbing pain that coursed through him with each step, he gritted his teeth and pushed his legs to carry him towards you, every movement becoming increasingly challenging, as he tried to call you all.

Nick was the first to notice, his eyes widening in surprise and relief as he laid eyes on Lloyd. You and Ari soon followed suit, quickly returning to his side.

As Lloyd staggered towards you, his clothing tattered and drenched in blood, his face smudged with soot, you could notice the look of relief in his eyes as he finally collapsed into your arms.

Lloyd had been forced to undergo strict bed rest in the wake of the incident. Consequently, the responsibility of managing his business had fallen upon you, with the supportive assistance of Nick, Ari, Jake, and Andy. Despite their unwavering help, the task remained demanding, requiring significant time and effort on your part.

In typical Lloyd fashion, despite the doctors' best efforts, Lloyd adamantly refused to cooperate with them and resolutely refused to accept a designated nurse for his care. Consequently, you found yourself thrust into the role of his personal nurse, having to tend to his needs and ensure his recovery process went smoothly.

As the days dragged on, Lloyd's restlessness grew exponentially. Being confined to his room, with little freedom to move or engage in any productive activity, took its toll on his mind and spirit.

“I feel so damn useless,” he grumbled, his gaze fixed on the ceiling above him.

“You're healing,” you replied calmly, positioning yourself beside him. “You need to rest. We've got everything covered, don't you worry.”

Lloyd let out a sigh, his irritation clear as he expressed his desire to be useful. “But I want to help,” he protested. “I hate just sitting here, not doing anything.”

With a wicked smile, you proposed a bargaining chip that you knew he couldn't resist, “If you behave, and rest, I'll go down on you…” you suggested, your tone sultry.

Yep, that was the only way to get Lloyd to rest.

Though it took a considerable amount of time, Lloyd eventually recovered from his injuries. To mark his healing, he was adamant about taking you on a trip to Paris.

“You desperately need a vacation, Sugar!” he declared adamantly, disregarding any protests you might have had. “And what better place to unwind than the ‘City of Love’ itself?”

So, here you are now, walking through the bustling streets of Paris, hand in hand. You both visited famous landmarks, indulged in delicious French pastries, and just enjoyed each other's company.

As you walked hand in hand, a gentle breeze blowing through your hair, Lloyd smiled at you, grateful for this moment with you.

“I love you Sugar.” “I love you too, Lloyd.”

This trip to Paris marked the beginning of many more adventures for you and Lloyd. You and Lloyd traveled to different parts of the world, exploring new cultures and creating unforgettable memories together.

From the vibrant streets of Mumbai, to the breath-taking landscapes of Iceland, you experienced it all, together.

Each trip brought you closer, your love and bond growing stronger with each passing day. And even amidst the chaos of the world, you found solace in each other, a love that weathered any storm.

In the secluded countryside of Romania, on Barnes' private property, two men stood engaged in heated discussion, meticulously mapping out their next steps.

Steve and Bucky had miraculously survived the blast as well, though not without sustaining harm. While Steve had thankfully escaped with only minor injuries, Bucky had suffered a major loss- his left arm, shot by Nick's bullet.

Bucky's state of despair was palpable; he felt a profound sense of inadequacy and disappointment in himself, perceiving his injuries as a personal failure. His anger towards Nick simmered beneath the surface, yet he found himself unable to face him due to his condition.

The absence of his left arm wrought havoc in his life, thwarting his ability to execute even the most basic tasks, thereby intensifying his feeling of unworthiness.

Steve keenly observed the turbulent wrath and frustration seething within Bucky, striving to offer comfort. However, his efforts were met with deaf ears; Bucky's wrath flared, fixated on seeking retribution, with Nick as his desired target.

Bucky paced the room like a caged animal, his fingers tightly clenched into a fist. “I can't just let those bastards get away with it!” he hissed, the anger in his voice evident.

Steve's voice held firm and reassuring, responding confidently, “We will, Buck. I promise you.”

Bucky continued his restless pacing, his right hand clenching into a tight fist.

With vehemence in his voice, he asserted, “I can't simply let them get away with this! They must be held accountable for their transgressions!”

“We will make sure of it, Buck. You have my assurance,” Steve responded, his voice resolute and encouraging. “With Lloyd now deceased, their strength falters. We shall exact our vengeance.”

With Tony Stark's assistance, Bucky was equipped with an advanced, vibranium-based prosthetic arm, meticulously engineered to meet his unique requirements. The arm was remarkably lightweight and comfortable to wear, yet it possessed the strength to match his remaining natural arm. Armed with this formidable prosthetic, Bucky's combat abilities were elevated to unparalleled levels.

In collaboration with Steve, Bucky strategically devised an elaborate scheme, aimed at reclaiming you and exacting revenge upon Nick and Ari.

As a captivating tune filled the air through the radio, Bucky made a request, his voice tinged with excitement. “Turn up the volume, Steve.”

“Absolutely,” Steve readily obliged, adjusting the radio's volume knob, immersing them further in the music.

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

Part 23- ✅

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

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

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@whore-for-chris-evans @caplanreblogsfics

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah @ghalouha

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jamneuromain · 10 months ago

Note

For your Lloyd and Secretary one, what if someone who works closely with Brewer finds out about how he died and seeks out for vengeance? And how about he kidnaps and enslaves Secretary and Lloyd has to get her back? But the Secretary thinks that Lloyd would just replace her, even if she had developed some feelings for Lloyd, she still believed that he would leave her. But Lloyd finds her.

Hi nonnies! Sorry for taking so long to write :3

I love your ideas and I present to you--

Out for Blood

Lloyd Hansen x You

Warning: Mob AU, Mob!Lloyd, Secretary!Reader (Driver!Denny Carmicheal), Graphic Depiction of Blood and Violence (I guess Lloyd is a warning of his own?), Reader has hemophobia (fear of blood), a lot of cursing.

W/C: ~5k

Summary: You were captured by a rival gang. Would Lloyd come and save you?

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

For the record, your hemophobia is directed to blood coming from other people, not your own. You wouldn’t faint or puke if you had a papercut, but you would (and did) puke when Lloyd showed up at your door a few weeks ago, littered with blood and cuts.

Tasting the faint tang of rust and salt from the cut inside your cheek, your tongue inevitably touches the wound in your mouth.

Ouch, it stings.

An almost ridiculous - but somewhat fits the situation you are facing - idea comes to mind.

You hope Lloyd could pay for your dental care if your tooth gets knocked out.

In a dark humid stinky cell, you are obligated to keep yourself from fainting.

How long is it since you’ve been captured? An hour? Two?

You don’t know. Not that the concrete walls give any clues as to where you are and when is it.

Your head is dizzy, and somewhere on the back of your head is throbbing, possibly the spot where someone knocks your head with a baseball bat or a heavy club.

-who the heck still uses a club to beat the shit out of their victims to issue a kidnapping these days? Aren’t they worried about possible brain injuries?

Your hands and feet are tied to a plain wooden chair with zip ties, not something you can get out of without tools and time. Knowing that they kidnapped you and took you to this place, instead of dumping you down the pier with a large stone tied to your feet? You’ve got time, some of them at least. They want something from you, hence the reason why you are alive.

The problem is to rescue yourself before they realize nothing is coming out of your mouth.

So, the real question is, how much time do you have?

Dull thuds of footsteps approach you. After some screeching from the iron bars and the clang of the lock opened by a key, that is supposed to be the cell gate’s composition, you assume, for you are forced in another direction having been tied to the chair, another screeching sound, and the door swings open, entering two men.

They stand before you, one has his hands on his hips, the other crossing his arm.

Think. Your mind goes one hundred miles per hour. Think. Sometimes Lloyd keeps his captives alive, but only when his men are wearing masks. But these two are showing their faces in broad daylight – nightlight, to be precise, since you left the office around 7:30 pm, and later got a smack in the head after having picked up the dry cleaning for Lloyd.

You watched their faces closely. The first man who appears before you is shorter than the other, it is difficult to tell his height when you are sitting on a chair, but you assume he is approximately your height (which is definitely short for an average man), medium build – again, it is hard to tell with his jacket on, you have to conduct most of your analysis base on guesswork. Something about his face looks familiar, however, you cannot pinpoint who or what, since as a secretary, you meet a lot of people daily.

The other guy, the taller one and the more muscular one, doesn’t strike you as someone you know in the past. A hint of tattoo peeks on the back of his hand, a sharp edge with the color of tattoo ink. The beard covers half his face, and that he’s bald, in contrast to his wild facial hair.

“Well, well, well.” The first one smirks, “If it isn’t Lloyd’s pretty thing in our hands.”

Think. They haven’t killed you yet, but they are planning to. Think of something smart. To stall. Or to gather enough information so that Lloyd will know who to revenge on if you are dead.

The hair on the back of your neck practically stands when the word “dead” crosses your mind for a split second.

You cannot panic. Not now. Think.

“You can drop an invitation to my mailbox, y’know? If you wanna talk.” You look up at them. A small smile raises the corner of your lips, but you are not smiling, not really, because your sharp eyes are taking in the minor changes in their expressions.

The first one raises his eyebrows, somewhat surprised, while the second one remains stoic.

“Impressive.” The man compliments, “Thought you would thrash and kick, but I guess you have seen too much of this - ” He gestures to your tied-up position, “working for Lloyd, eh?”

You neither confirm nor deny, yet, you make an attempt at deciphering his intentions, “What is it with this time?” God, you sound like you have been kidnapped twice a week since you got the secretary job. You raise your eyebrows as he does, “Threats to cooperate? Info about his latest business? Or are you two with the FBI?”

They both glance at each other when you mention the FBI.

Good news, they are not cops.

Bad news, they are not cops, which means they are more likely to kill you.

“Hey, you.” You turn your head to the silent bulk of beard, “Didn’t I see you tattling to your badge buddy two weeks ago? Is it what this is about? That I see you tipped off the cops?”

Of course, you haven’t seen the second man tattling to the cops. You don’t know him. But considering the tension ever since you pose the possibility that they are with the police and law enforcement, it is not a bad way to start an argument between the two of them.

That is, hopefully, there are only two that initiated your kidnapping. The plan of brewing a feud among the kidnappers would be more difficult to implement if there’s another person involved.

Under the first man’s continuous stare, the second man huffs out a grunt, grabs your hair in one hand, and lands a blow into your stomach with the other.

“Cука.” He grumbles, stepping back to where he was standing.

If it weren’t for the pain in your stomach, as the blow on your stomach feels like your guts have cracked into four pieces, you would most absolutely jump up from the chair that has you tied, and clap, for he has bared his identity before you, stripping clean.

Thank fuck you know a few curse words in Russian, one of them being “cука”, which means “bitch”.

Russian mob it is.

You know about the Russian mob in LA. A few weeks ago, Lloyd teamed up with one of his business partners to sell illegal substances (a nice way of putting it) and gradually took up the Russian turf. He got shot and was nearly killed after that, when the Russians ambushed him in the clinic he used to go, killing his doctor and one of his men. Lloyd himself barely got out alive and took shelter in your apartment.

Today, around 7 pm, Lloyd took his driver Denny and two of his henchmen to a club he owned to meet the Russians to settle for a truce. As his secretary, you know that he usually conducts his mob business there, instead of in the building where you work. So, you finished up the paperwork and called it a night, while ordering some pizza since cooking would take an additional one hour and a half.

You were on your way home, stopping by on the side of the curb to pick up Lloyd’s dry cleaning when you lost consciousness after a hit in the head.

Oh crap, you would have to send those clothes to the dry cleaning again.

Focus. You take a deep breath, clearing the irrelevant thoughts from your mind. Think smart. How could you subtly prove yourself worthy to them?

“Fine.” You huff out, “You are not working with a badge buddy, I get it.” Adding some sarcasm to the mix, you twitch the muscles on your face, your tone as despising as your expression, “I’m sure what I’ve seen with my own eyes is purely some illusion-voodoo shit.”

Great. Now you sound like Lloyd fucking Hansen.

The first man clears his throat, effectively silencing the grumbling Russian guy.

“Quite a temper.” He pulls a chair from the corner of the cell, sitting in front of you, pointing at himself, then back at you, “You know, we could’ve been friends, you and I.”

“Oh yeah?” You quirk your brow, “What’s stopping ya’? Enlighten me.”

Shit. Too Lloyd.

You are somewhat surprised when he responds per your ask, “If you insist…”

Yeah well, you weren’t exactly insisting (or interested, for that matter, you couldn’t care less). Nevertheless, you nod for him to continue.

“Suza Brewer. Rings a bell?” He smiles, but the friendliness is nowhere to be seen.

Of course, the name Suza Brewer rings a bell. Unfortunately, it’s the bad kind of bell.

Brewer had threatened to have you to himself, and asked Lloyd – not in a nice way – to balance between their deal and you.

… since you are alive and breathing and your limbs are still intact, without a doubt, Lloyd chose you, his faithful employee over the dumb biker Brewer, and fed Brewer to the fishes. You had speculated that there were crocodiles underwater where he disposed of the bodies, because damn, Lloyd’s body-dumping was never found by police forces, or any other people, for that matter, and now you are equally tempted to throw this kidnapper beneath the Westside Pier too.

If only you weren’t tied up like a lamb for slaughter.

“Vaguely.” You pretend to think, tilting your head to the side, even though the back of your shirt is soaked with your cold sweat, “Is he in trouble?”

Hell, Brewer is more than “in trouble”. He’s more like “in crocodile”. His body parts could be swimming along with those hideous beasts, travelling hundreds of miles apart from each other, as you speak.

Somehow, the phrase “in crocodile” has you close to smiling. Especially in this circumstance. Fuck. You are most definitely contaminated by Lloyd Fucking Hansen. You bite the inside of your cheek from actually smiling. As a result, you accidentally bite on your wound.

It stings like a bitch.

The man in front of you speaks softly, “Suza is my brother. And your boss, Lloyd Hansen, killed him.”

This is not going to end well.

You pray to whatever deity that would answer, and hope that you could have a better ending than the Brewer guys. If not, then at least a quick, painless death.

The man observes your face for any expression that could slip away some info, but eventually, he sighs and continues, “So, I decided that I would avenge him, by taking away Lloyd’s most prized possession.”

Ah. Lloyd’s most prized possession would be his gun. He’d spend an hour every day wiping it spotless with a fine cloth, counting the bullets in his gun before popping the magazine back in place. You have heard about a few of the henchmen joking that Lloyd would be more pissed if a man touches his gun, compared to touching his dick,

You have seen the gun on many occasions. Most of the times on his belt, occasionally in his hand, and once, only once on the table when he was dismantling it. But he quickly put it back together seeing you with the pile of paperwork and shoved it back on his belt. Twice, if you are counting the time when he nearly bleeds out in your home.

“Aaaaaaand you want to ask me what his prized possession is?” You pipe up.

That’d be easy. However, you doubt what this Brewer brother had in mind could be this plain and straight.

As far as you know, Lloyd doesn’t have any siblings, parents to account for (he was adopted by a gang member around five, who died in an alley fight a decade later), women that he’d ride or die for (he picks different escorts when he’s in the mood, no one, in particular, meets his eyes), or any offsprings (then your job would be more nanny than a secretary). In fact, you wrecked your brain for the answer to this question, and the truth is, that Lloyd doesn’t care about anyone in any way – apart from the men (and women) working for him. Even so, his expression of “caring” is to drop a generous check if any of them was taken out or quit voluntarily, and never pay attention to them again.

He doesn’t have any pets, neither a dog nor a goldfish to keep him company.

You wonder whether he harbors any feelings at all, except the thrill of being a sociopath.

… maybe he loves his gun in a romantic way, who knows.

“No. I got that part.” Brewer No.2 speaks with a wild glint in his eyes, “And she’s sitting right in front of me.”

You huff out a laugh. This could be the top 1 joke of the Hansen Government Services, that Lloyd sees you as his prize? Pfft.

But the man’s determent tone tells you differently. That he believes Lloyd cherishes you the most. Which means he is going to take you away.

“Don’t believe me?” He shrugs, “My intel snapped pictures of a file, hidden in his top drawer, on top of every shit he has.” Showing the pictures he has on his phone, he added, “You were on that file, Ms. Secretary.”

It was Lloyd’s desk. Dimly-lit, but still, Lloyd’s desk. Someone could burn that desk down to ash and you’d still recognize it. And the file laid bare. With a CV and a photo…

Oh no. Oh shit. It is you.

You’d be lucky as hell if Brewer No.2 simply told you something bad about Lloyd and gave you some money to run far away, as if this is some bullshit mob romance novel. In this situation, he is more likely to skin you alive and send your fingers in a FedEx package to Lloyd’s doorstep as a Christmas present. Or pull out your fingernails before shooting you in the head. Or torture you in the most painful ways possible. Oh God.

The fucking Brewer family and both of these men could go straight to Hell strapped on rabid Cerberus with burning white-hot iron shoes that could not come off.

Think. Think! He hasn’t killed you yet. Why he hasn’t killed you yet? You could be more deader than Suza Brewer who was stuck at the bottom of the pier right now. Why is this Brewer No.2 keeping you alive? What does he want from you besides to intimidate Lloyd?

You have no choice but to ask, “I’m guessing that, since I haven’t got a bullet between my eyes, you want something else too?”

A wicked grin perks up his lips. Handing his phone to your face, he says, “I want you to call him.”

Forget dental care, you now hope Lloyd could pay for a decent funeral.

Brewer No.2 dials the number for you and puts it on speaker. Your heart thumping in your ears, praying that he’d answer. But also praying that he won’t. What if it’s a larger trap to lure him here? You’d rather he doesn’t pick up and get it over with. Plus, he’s too busy to pick up calls, he’s negotiating with the Russians-

“Who’s this?” Lloyd’s sharp voice pierces through the speaker, and seems to have gripped your throat tightly.

Brewer No.2 urges you to speak, but turns out he’s too hyped up to wait for your mumbling lips to make a sound. He drags his tone almost annoyingly, “Hello, Hansen. I’m Levi Brewer, brother of Suza Brewer. I’m here to collect a debt.”

“Oh yeah? Enlighten me.”

That’s so un-Lloyd-like. He’d normally end the call until the person on the other end of the phone could learn to speak what they want directly, which you have witnessed a few dozen times. You can almost imagine Lloyd’s unamused face and his killing glare, having had to deal with Brewer No.2, Levi Brewer.

“You, Mr. Hansen, killed my brother, which is why I’m taking the love of your life away from you.” Brewer No.2 announces, pulling out his gun to flip the safe off. The crisp clicking noise is like a heavy punch to your stomach, declaring the clock of your life ticking towards its end.

Jesus. You? The love of Lloyd’s life? You could’ve sworn Lloyd has a deeper bond to that escort named Cherry than you.

“Say hello to the pretty little thing I’ve just captured.” Brewer slams his palm across your face, squeezing a yelp out of your tightened throat.

The only “pretty” thought about you is that you are pretty sure you are neither “little”, nor “thing”, but that’s a debate settled for another time.

“Say your name, beautiful. I’m sure your boss would catch up soon.” Brewer No.2 points the gun to your face, and places the phone near your lips.

No matter how reluctant you are, you know this might be the only chance where you can tip Lloyd off. And maybe, just maybe he’d revenge on Tweedle Dee by allowing Dee – Brewer No.2 share the same fate as his brother. “Evening, Mr. Hansen.” You mumble, the taste of iron roots deeply in your mouth that you cannot speak clearly, “Sorry to disturb you.”

Lloyd doesn’t reply. He must be mad. Deeply mad at you for ruining his negotiation with the Russians.

Russian? Fuck, the Russian in the room – you spare a quick glance at the silent bulk of beard in the corner – shit, they were in on it together. The Russian mobs asked Lloyd to give you up – nonono, it can’t be, Lloyd wasn’t that good at acting, and considering Levi is sharing this news that you were kidnapped just now, he could be plotting with the Russians.

Does Lloyd know? Your head is messing with your thoughts. Does he know about your abduction? Was he permitting this to happen?

No. Brewer works against Lloyd, which means Lloyd couldn’t have known.

Who should you trust? Was Lloyd generous enough to give you up? Even though he declined Suza Brewer’s deal: you for the business? And fed him to the sharks because he disrespected you?

… probably crocodiles, but who cares at this point.

“Are you hurt?” Lloyd asks.

“Not really.” The tip of your tongue presses against the wound in your mouth, eliciting pain to clear your head – desperate measures for desperate times – and you continue, “I was wondering, though. I think two teeth of mine are loose. Does the employee benefit cover dental care?”

Think, think, think! How can you pass on the message?

Before Lloyd can answer, you take a head start, “Must be one of those Alenka … Alonka Chocolate bars?”

Last Christmas, the Russian mobs sent over a basket of those chocolate bars, Lloyd ordered to have them tested (in case there was poison) and gave them to his employees after they came out clean. But that was about a year ago, and Lloyd saw the wrapping papers in the basket near your seat right before the day ended. He joked about “eating with the enemy” while you admitted the chocolate was not half bad.

There. The message. Loud and clear.

“The dental plan gives you a 10% discount,” Lloyd says calmly. Which is a big fat lie, because no dental plan would be so petty. He wants to say something about 10. But about what? Ten minutes until he’s here? He’d bring ten men along?

“But I won’t tolerate tardiness, sunshine,” Lloyd’s voice sends a shiver down your spine, “Your working hours are nine am to eight pm. Don’t you dare be late.”

Holy Mary and Joseph. First ten, now nine and eight? Lloyd is about to tear this place down in less than ten seconds.

“Enough chitchat.” Brewer No.2 takes the phone back and aims his gun at your face again, “Say your goodbyes. Lloyd Hansen, you are about to hear her final words.”

“My final words?” You lean back onto the chair, steadying yourself with your feet as much as possible, “You really talk too much.”

A loud blast erupts from where the silent Russian is standing. He is most definitely covered in a few dozen kilos of rubbles and bricks. Levi instinctively covers his head, but the blast knocks him to the ground, where he stays unconscious. You are the only one with enough preparations to lower your body, even though being tied to the chair. But you still get thrown over by the blast and the chair collapses underneath your body.

A few henchmen armed to the teeth step through the hole in the wall. After them, Lloyd.

Lloyd in a black coat.

Your ears are ringing, and you can’t tell what he’s trying to say.

Another man with a black briefcase comes to your side. Your pupils were examined, your pulse was checked, and your lungs were listened to.

“… you feel any pain?” The other man asks you.

You shake your head. It hurts a bit in your mouth but that’s just a little cut.

“She’s alright.” The man who appears to be a doctor confirms, helping you up from the ground.

You stand on wobbly legs. The past hour has been too much of a scare that your knees are shaking. You trip over your own feet, before a pair of solid arms steadies you.

“Easy tiger.” Lloyd’s voice booms by your ear, having your head snap in his direction.

He came.

Oh God he came.

Knowing this was a semi-trap, but he didn’t need to be here. He could wait until this is over and give you a proper burial.

And you could’ve died. He could’ve died. You both could’ve died.

You stumble into his embrace, fingers clenching his thick woolen coat.

You probably shouldn’t. He’s your employer, your boss. He’d probably sue you for sexual harassment. But you did.

The blood soars in your ears. You dare not breathe out loud, fearing that you are dreaming.

It feels like a dream. It all did.

“ ’s alright. It’s alright now.” Lloyd murmurs. He runs a hand down your spine, inching your head close to his shoulder.

“How-How did you find me so soon?” Among everything, this is the one you were the most curious about. Yet you dare not look at him. Even if he has just saved your life.

Lloyd narrows his eyes. If you were any other girl, you’d be crying and weeping, and wiping snot on his coat, telling him how much you wanted to be with him the moment you thought you were dying. But no. You were not any other girl.

Fuck.

Long story short, he doesn’t want to elaborate, for you have plenty of time to discuss about this later, “Noticed there was something wrong with the Russians. Then your doorman called.”

“My doorman?” You raise your head to look at him, your brows furrow in confusion, “The guy at the residence entrance? Henry?” While your fingers slowly untangling from his coat.

“He had my number – I’m the last tenant of that condo – told me your pizza came and he couldn’t reach you,” Lloyd explains as simply as possible.

Ah yes. You ended your work around 7pm and ordered pizza…

You make a mental note to thank Henry for saving your life.

A groan drifts to your ear. You turn around on instinct, as Levi Brewer regains his senses.

“Where… I… What…”

In a split second, Lloyd pulls out his gun to shoot him twice in the chest.

A scream gets stuck in your throat, when the crimson blooms in Brewer’s chest.

Your body is shaking, trembling - a natural fear towards the predator behind you.

Brewer crumbles to the ground.

Lloyd lets out a sigh. He puts his arm around you, guiding your hand towards a piece of lukewarm metal. The metal that has just shot Brewer in the chest.

“You have no idea how to shoot, do you?” He asks, but doesn’t expect you to answer. It is a miracle that you are not fainting, he had hoped for far less before arriving.

Wrapping your index finger around the trigger, Lloyd takes a deep breath before flipping off the safe.

“Eye.” He lifts your chin in the direction of Brewer on the ground.

“Arm.” One of his hands steadies your shaking arm into a stable angle.

“Mark.” He lowers the gun point to Brewer’s forehead.

His warm chest against your back, blocking every possible way of escaping. The familiar feeling of having your throat in his hands creeps up your neck, making it difficult for you to breathe.

Your heart thumping loudly, your breath as shallow as it can be, as the warm air coming out of his mouth reaches your ears.

“Aim for the head. And shoot.”

He curls his finger next to yours, and your finger hits the trigger.

The gun is well-positioned, allowing the bullet to dive into Brewer’s forehead, leaving a round of crimson around the bullet hole.

You spin on your heels immediately, fighting the hurling stomach deep down.

The hard piece of metal comes between you and Lloyd.

A gun.

Lloyd’s gun.

You just used a gun to kill someone.

You are never getting a decent job anywhere in the world.

You are going to keep this skeleton in your closet forever (and of course, working for Lloyd until the day you die).

The cold metal burns your palm. You remember about the jokes that Lloyd never allows anyone to touch his gun.

“I… This belongs to you.” You shove the gun into his hands, as if this is some beast that would bite your fingers off if you keep it for one more second.

Lloyd snorts when his prized gun is pushed into his hands. But he doesn’t say another word. He clasps the gun back on his belt before ordering his men to leave.

You follow his troop out of the building in silence. The past hour has been a series of roller-coaster events that you need some time to process.

Denny is waiting in the car when you climb in. While the rest of Lloyd’s men get in a van, Lloyd barks a few orders to them that you haven’t paid attention to. You sit in the car, your back rigid, and you put your hands on your knees like a pupil in class.

Denny offers a sympathetic smile when your eyes meet in the rear-view mirror. He isn’t the type to talk, serving as Lloyd’s driver. But he’s nice enough to hand you a bottled water from the glove compartment, which you take with a murmured “thanks” and clench it with your knuckles turning white.

The adrenaline fades from your blood system, and your heart beats in a stable rhythm, your breathing finally adjusts itself to slow inhales and exhales.

The bruises on your wrists and ankles are scorching in pain. The back of your head is hurting too. Luckily, none of your bones is broken, which could be the best news of this evening.

This feels way too familiar.

As Lloyd opens the car door, your heart jumps to your throat again.

You are worried. Worrying about he’d fire you, thinking you have leaked information to the Brewer guy. Worrying about you have touched his gun, using it to kill someone, no less, and he’d cut off your hand for using it. Worrying about Lloyd would be dead if he steps into a trap with you as bait, that Levi Brewer intended to kill him…

Why the fuck are you worrying about Lloyd? He’s perfectly fine taking care of himself. It is you who needs extra self-defense lessons.

“What… Um, what happened to the truce you went to negotiate with the Russians?” You can’t help but ask, knowing that the dead Russian who kidnapped you was dragged out of the rubbles and put into a body bag, heading in another direction on the van that had Lloyd’s men on it.

“It was a trick,” Lloyd grumbles, “to stall. We agreed upon no phones, so it took me a while to get the call from that doorman. Then I knew they were trying to stall me from getting to you.”

You were whacked when you had just picked up the drycleaning for Lloyd. “-my car, and my – your clothes -” You remember.

“-were taken care of.” He picks up where you left off, “I’m assigning you an assistant, Claire. She’s living next door. She has driven your car back to the garage, and sent the clothes to dry cleaning as well.”

“An assistant? I don’t need an assistant.” You argue, “I can work fine on my own.”

“And get knocked out on the street in the middle of the night?” Lloyd snorts impatiently, “She’s there to protect you, but ask her to pick up the coffee, take out the trash, and drive the car for you, I don’t care. Claire would be by your side when I’m not close enough to save your ass.”

Ah. So you are a liability to him.

Maybe you weren’t suitable for a mob secretary at all.

You were no prized possession, as Brewer claimed to be.

And he’s your boss. You should feel lucky to be alive instead of mulling over whether he treats you special or not.

“Yes, Mr. Hansen.” You collect your feelings. It is perfectly normal for him to assign you a bodyguard/assistant. Hell, it’s even perfectly normal that he wants to fire you for your incompetence. Hiring an assistant? He doesn’t want you to get kidnapped again, that’s all.

… or replace you when she gets the gist of your job.

You think bitterly, staring at the tinted window.

“By the way, you don’t have to come to work tomorrow.” Lloyd casually tells you, “Paid leave, and it’s Friday anyway, you deserve some time off after this …” He carefully considers the choice of words, “… incident.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hansen.” You reply automatically.

It is such a weird thing that you let out a small exhale of relief when you heard the word “paid leave”, as if he would’ve thrown you off the car and told you that you are fired right after saying you don’t have to come to work.

Lloyd isn’t so ruthless after all.

Your heart beats faster, hopeful for …

What are you hopeful for?

You kick the ridiculous thought into the corner of your mind, answering, “I’ll be back on Monday.”

Taglist (Also tagging those who might be interested): @stargazingfangirl18 @sarahdonald87 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @magnificentsaladllama @biteofcherry @petalj @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @thezombieprostitute @yiiiikesmish @warriorblu @vonalyn @notathingjustthere @lokislady82 @irishhappiness @toozmanykids @alicedopey @cakesandtom @universitypenguin @openup-yourmind @helenaeisenhower @wilsons-striped-ties @tittittoee @bean-is-reading @yearningforsappho @esposadomd @salvatoreitmeanssaviour

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

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rosedpetal · 4 months ago

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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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sstan-hoe · 1 year ago

Text

𝒊𝒗. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝑯𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — mob!andy barber × fem!reader × mob!lloyd hansen

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — they wanted you, they enjoyed the hunt just as much as you enjoyed being chased. You didn't make it easy for them but it only prepared you that life with them wouldn't be easy.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — triggering warning for toxic/abusive relationships, talk/action on rape, talks about sexual activities, please be careful

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — I fought with himself, I actually wanted to go full smut with this chapter. Instead I will keep it for the finale next week. I concentrated on readers past, but tried to show not too much incase people got uncomfortable. Next chapter, our girl will be a bad bitch and do what she deserves to do! Reblogs and/or comments are appreciated!!!! Is the chapter too short?

𝑻𝑯𝑬𝒀 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑫 𝑴𝑬 𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹

The past, a time you either remember in joy, anger, or pain. Everyone thinks differently, acts differently, and processes it differently.

They say you learn from the past, but what if you’re running from it? Would you ever learn from that, or could you escape it forever? Probably not, but it doesn’t hurt to try…. At least for a little while.

“But sweetie…, I love you…, do you not love?” his voice calm, collected as he held your hand. “Of course, I do,” you said eagerly.

“Then do it for me, you know I would never hurt you…, not on purpose at least! If you won’t listen then-,” “no! I will listen, I promise.”

“Do not interrupt me.”

---

To say you were addicted to Lloyd and Andy was an understatement, you were a monster for them. From the moment you woke up to the moment you fell asleep.

Always looking for their touch, seeking their closeness. It was remarkable how quickly you fell for them, maybe it was because you finally let your feelings come to the surface.

For too long you had suppressed your feelings for them, so now it was time to finally live those feelings out.

Waking up between Lloyd and Andy with Alf cuddled up under your blanket became fast, something you could get used to. Both men had you wrapped into your arms, it made you feel safe.

Alf was the first one to wake up, nudging his nose against your chin. Your hand came up to stroke over his fluffy head, “five minutes,” you whispered sleepily, nuzzling your head into him.

Lloyd woke up to the sound of your voice, his arm tightening around you. He was still tired as well, but before he could fall back into his slumber a nose nudged him as well. "Black's," he grumbled, which woke Andy up in response. Eyes blinking lazily to see Alf turning his head towards him and as soon as he saw Andy blinking, he jumped to his side.

Alf nudged Andy’s cheek, "good morning to you too," he said while scratching the dog's ear. Titling his head towards you and Lloyd, he was already asleep again while you rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

"Morning, darling'," Andy whispered and leaned over his partner to give you a kiss. Happily, you kissed him back, the kiss as soft as a pillow.

"Why do I not get a kiss?" Lloyd's voice broke through your moment, his voice teasing yet a bit snappy.

You rolled your eyes at him before leaning down and giving him a kiss, one that was meant to be sweet, but he turned it into a dirty tongue fight. Andy shook his head with a smile.

The need for air broke the kiss, you panted heavily. Lloyd had a proud smirk on his lips as he laid back, then turned to Andy with a cocked brow. The brunette rolled his eyes before leaning down to press his lips to Lloyd’s, who immediately shoved his tongue down Andy’s throat.

If your eyes could widen like they did in animation movies, they would be huge. How could a kiss between two people be this hot? It should be illegal.

You couldn’t even take your sight of them, too lost in their actions. Suddenly a large black, fluffy dog jumped at you and ripping you from your thoughts. You let out a shout in surprise, body falling down and into Lloyd, knocking him and Andy out of their kiss.

Alf licked his tongue diagonally over your face, “yeah, got it, thank you,” you said as you wiped his spit from your skin.

“I’m gonna make breakfast, come on Alf,” you announced. Climbing out of bed Alf followed you closely, Andy and Lloyd looked at each other for a moment before they followed you too.

“Oh, I thought I only had one dog,” you joked as all three of them walked behind you, Alf barked, “see, Alf agrees,” you added, grinning at them.

“We’re not dogs,” Lloyd argued, scoffing lightly to which Andy raised an eyebrow. In response he rolled his eyes, knowing his partner was right and with the way they acted around you it was sure that they were smitten.

It became some kind of routine that you would make breakfast while they took turns on taking Alf out for a walk. That also meant one day Andy would fuck you over the counter, the other Lloyd would eat you out and fuck your face.

Just as you put on Alf’s leash, Andy’s phone rang. The man scrunched his nose up in annoyance as he answered it, he looked at the caller ID before excusing himself.

Lloyd watched him, having an idea about the topic. To ease your confusion, he guided you to the kitchen with an assuring smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he told you, but that didn’t help one bit.

While Andy talked on the phone, Lloyd and you prepared breakfast. His sneaky touches were driving you insane, the mob boss tried to hide them from Alf. Why? He felt guilty exposing him to such inappropriate actions.

You only shook your head at that, it was ridiculous, but god was it cute. Add to that, Lloyd had taken a liking into talking with Alf about everything, really everything. He also taught him some tricks.

Andy walked in, phone pressed against him chest. His eyes met Lloyds and he motioned for him to follow. To be quite honest, you felt left out. It became obvious what the topic was, however, you didn’t say anything in hopes they would tell you.

Spoiler alert, they didn’t. The two came back, acting as if nothing happened and that bugged you. For the moment you let it go, until Lloyds phone rang, and he walked out of the room.

Rage seethed through your body, “no. No, you stay here and talk,” you demanded. You were the victim and had the right to know.

Lloyd looked at you with shock, taking the phone from his ear, “sunshine…,” “no, I’m being serious. I deserve to know, and don’t care if I’m in the wrong,” you argued as you stepped around the kitchen counter.

He looked at Andy who wasn’t certain himself, “darlin’ you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he tried, but it didn’t help.

“I told you, I don’t care. Tell me, who was it?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. You glared at them, waiting impatiently, a small part wondering if you truly wanted to know…. No, you had to find out.

“Our men gave us a name, Charles Brooks. We have nothing on him yet or well had, the phone was about to give me details.”

Lloyd wouldn’t need details. Alone the name sends shivers down your spine.... You got quiet suddenly and it seemed even Alf remembered the name. Slowly you walked to the sink, lowering your head to splash it with cold water, you needed to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

Andy noticed your body language, “you know him,” he stated with a serious expression. “Yeah, no shit Sherlock” you scoffed, shaking your head.

You turned your back to the sink, looking at them. If he was back, then it would mean you would go through hell again. He had people stalking you, knew what you were doing.

“Sunshine?” Lloyd asked carefully, taking a step towards you. “He is my ex-boyfriend, it ended over a year ago. The relationship was toxic, he wanted to control everything and didn’t trust me. A few times he got close to hitting me, but never did and if it weren’t for Wanda and her husband, Vis, I wouldn’t be here today.” You explained, a tear rolling down your cheeks as your remembered the faithful night.

His loud screams of anger echoed through the walls of your flat, the sound of a vase being thrown on the ground making your blood freeze.

“Come out you little slut, you can’t hide from me,” his aggressive voice called out, footsteps coming closer and closer. You clasped your hands over your ears as you hid in the closet, praying he wouldn’t find you.

“Acting like a whore, flirting with every guy that gives you even the littlest of attention,” he chuckled.

You hadn’t done anything, the man asked you where the bathroom was and smiled as a thank you, nothing more. Still, he saw it as a threat to him and went mad.

The door of the closet was ripped open, revealing your boyfriend. His head red, teeth clenched, “come here,” he seethed and reached out to grab your hair. Charles grip was tight, tucking on your roots as he dragged you out.

“Don’t make me hurt you, you know I would never…unless you don’t behave and everything, I do is because of you, remember that,” he growled, acting as if it really was your fault, but it wasn’t.

Not that you knew that however, in this moment you would believe him anything. Do everything, just so that he would stop and not hurt you.

“No, please, please don’t hurt me,” you begged him in tears, but he only barked a laugh, “god, I love it when you beg.” Charles picked you up and threw you on the bed, “now you’re gonna learn how to behave….”

----

“Vis, I haven’t heard anything from her, she promised me to call. You know I don’t trust him,” Wanda picked anxiously at her nails as she paced around the room.

Vision stopped her, gently taking her hands, “then we will call Bucky and Thor, end it tonight,” he proposed and Wandas eyes lit up. A decision was made, she called them up and they made a plan within ten minutes.

Separately they drove to your flat, Bucky broke the door open with a grunt. Vision could hear your pained cries, “stay here,” he told his wife who nodded.

The three slowly walked into the hallway, nearing themselves to your bedroom. “Fucking like it you bitch? Well, too bad for ya,” they could hear Charles say, causing them to cringe internally.

“Stop, please, we can forget it, just stop…please,” you whimpered, laying there helplessly. Slowly Bucky walked up behind him and grabbed him, ripping him away from you and throwing him on the floor.

“Hey fucker,” he greeted Charles with a sweet smile. Bucky landed a punch in his face before Thor kicked him in the balls.

“Time to say goodbye,” Thor told him, hosting him up to land a punch in his guts. Meanwhile Vision tended to you, taking a blanket to wrap around your naked body, “Wanda is outside, it’s over. You’re save,” he assured you, the only thing you could possibly do was cry and hiding against Visions chest.

“God, darlin’, we’re so sorry,” Andy came over to you, hugging you close. His hand stroking over your head as tears streamed down your cheeks.

In that moment Lloyd decided that he would torture the guy to death, make relive his worst moment over and over again. He walked over to, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, “we will make him pay, he will never ever hurt you again.” It was a promise he intended to keep.

“Can we just go back to bed?” You whimpered, instantly they both nodded, and Andy scooped you up into his arms while Lloyd called for Alf.

The three of you laid down, Alf cuddling under the blanket with his head resting on your chest. It helped you even your breathing, still you couldn’t shake the feeling off that something was bound to happen.

Your phone was still in kitchen, which was probably the best as it made a notification sound. A text message popped up, “missing me already sweetie?” an unknown number belonging to it.

You trusted them, that’s why you told them, and it was a weird feeling as you had never told this to anyone but Wanda, Vision, Bucky, and Thor. Not even your parents knew, after all Charles had cut everyone off. The only ones that didn’t leave and weren’t budging had been those four. Now you also had Lloyd and Andy to help you, and they would burn the world for you.

𝑻𝑯𝑬𝒀 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑫 𝑴𝑬 𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹 — @smile1318 @wintasssoldier @xcaptain-winterx @georgiapeach30513 @alina02 @jobean12-blog @buckymcu12 @shara-ne @lou-la-lou @meyocoko

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | I do have a taglist however it has conditions that must be followed — you can follow @sstanhoe-updates for updates without anything

#andy barber x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #andy barber series #andy barber smut #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen series #they changed me forever series ✨️🍂#lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen angst #lloyd hansen au #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber au #andy barber angst

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steviebbboi · 1 month ago

Text

Lloyd Hansen Masterlist

🌶️ = smut; 🥹 = fluff; 🩹 = angst; 🌚 = soft dark content

Demon's Devotion 🩹🌶️🌚

Pairing: IncubusDemon!Lloyd x F!Hunter!Reader

Type: One-Shot; submission challenge ficlet for @yenzys-lucky-charm & @sweater-daddiesdumbdork Horny Hootenanny writing challenge 🎉; Also a submission challenge ficlet for my Stevie BB 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge . 🎉; (Complete)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: A deal that should have been black-and-white has suddenly become grey. Swapping souls means swapping places. You just didn't think that meant to spend eternity with him.

#lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen masterlist #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen angst #lloyd hansen smut

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ichorai · 2 years ago

Text

hatred ; lloyd hansen. (m)

pairing ; lloyd hansen x mission partner!reader (afab / gn pronouns)

synopsis ; you wanted lloyd hansen. but god, did you hate him.

words ; 2.1k

themes ; smut </3 literally nothing else i hate myself

warnings / includes ; lots of swearing, hate sex, lloyd being mean and awful and violent, lloyd getting off on pain, mentions of fighting/death/murder/guns/injury, lloyd calls you a plethora of pet names, overstim and creampie, biting/scratching/hair-pulling, a tiny bit of dacryphilia and begging

main masterlist.

The silk sheets crumpled beneath your grip as you tightened your fists around the fabric, a low hiss spilling from your lips. You leaned back gingerly and tugged your shirt off with a groan, prodding the tender bruise on your side, grimacing at the blotchy, dark purple hue. The blurry memory of CIA’s top asset—Six, was what he was known as—roundhouse-kicking you into oblivion flashed into your mind, and you pushed it away just as quickly as it came.

“Knockity knock, sweet cheeks,” your wretched mission partner, Lloyd, announced as he swung the door to your room open, ironically not bothering to knock at all. He strode in with a stupid grin etched across his features, kicking the door shut with the back of his heel.

You scowled. “Get out, Lloyd.”

The way his eyes slowly slid down your body didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Not gonna do that, honey,” he quipped condescendingly, gaze trained on your chest, much to your dismay. “See, we had one goddamn mission to finish tonight—and you blew it. You should be fucking glad you don’t have a bullet in your head right now.”

Abruptly, you swept yourself off the bed and onto your feet, drawing yourself to your full height. “You think I don’t know that? Maybe if your pea-sized brain could remember to radio your location, then I wouldn’t have dropped the bomb. How about you jump down from that skyscraper ego of yours for a second and consider that we both fucked up?”

Lloyd stalked forward a couple paces until he was practically nose-to-nose with you. He was practically bristling, lips curled into a snarl and eyebrows knitted together.

“I wish I never had to work with you,” he spat. “You’re a famous li’l bastard, you know that? Everyone you’ve worked with is now six feet under—and now I can see why.”

Before you could steel yourself, your palm came striking down his cheek, the slap ricocheting loudly across the room. His head pivoted to the side and his mouth dropped open, partly in disbelief, and partly from growing fury. Growing… arousal. The skin beneath where you had hit him immediately grew an angry shade of red, and he slowly turned to look back at you, eyes narrowed.

“I hate you,” you said, so close to him that his chest brushed against yours.

Your eyes darted to his lips.

He noticed.

“The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” Lloyd husked out.

And with that, he kissed you.

There was not an ounce of affection in the exchange, all tongue and teeth, growls and grunts, bites and scratches. One of your hands pressed flush against his chest, bunching his ridiculously tight shirt into your fist, while the other snaked around his neck to yank at his short-cropped hair mercilessly. Lloyd seemed to like the pain, groaning into your mouth before kissing you harder, forehead knocking into yours. He shoved you with no care whatsoever, maneuvering you until your back slammed against the wall.

A strained, involuntary noise of pleasure fell from your lungs as he shoved his knee between your legs, the hard muscle pressed right against your sex—practically dripping with need.

“Look at you,” he purred, pulling away for a second to slot his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your head up with a teasing smile. “You need something, sunshine?”

Before you could answer, he jolted his leg up, hitting your clit in just the right place. A strike of pleasure curled within your abdomen and you stifled a moan by biting down on your tongue, shoving a fist against his shoulder in a fruitless attempt to punch him.

“Aw,” Lloyd cooed, “that’s not very nice.”

He was man-handling you again—this time, tossing you onto the bed as if you were a ragdoll. His hands clamped around your ankles, dragging you down the sheets until your ass was right at the edge of the mattress.

His shirt was discarded somewhere to the side of the room, and whilst he began working on ridding himself of his belt, he looked down at you, sprawled out over the bed and chest heaving and lips kiss-swollen—fuck, his cock throbbed painfully just looking at you. With hooded eyes, you arched your back slightly to rip off the rest of your clothes, core pulsating with intense want.

You wanted Lloyd Hansen.

But God, did you hate him.

Him and his stupid pet names for you. Him and his carelessness—his unbridled anger. Him and that horrible pornstache that he sported.

You hated every bit of him.

As soon as his pants were off, you yanked him down, kissing him with wild abandon. Your nails scratched down his chest, leaving angry crimson marks in its wake. To your amusement, Lloyd only growled at that, moving away from your lips to lick a hot line down the curve of your jaw, and biting into your neck—hard enough to the point where you had to slap his shoulders with a hiss. He drew back with a smirk, a hard glint to his deep blue eyes, before dipping back down to press kisses into your collarbones. His hands gripped your hips, rocking you back and forth against his tented boxers.

When he got to your breasts, biting into your warm flesh with a low, chesty hum, you slipped your hand down his chest, and snuck your fingers into his boxers, wrapping them around his thick girth, pumping slowly.

He groaned loudly, spitting out a long string of curses and grabbing your wrist, shoving your hand away with a pointed glare.

Before you could register much else, his boxers were off and his dick was bouncing against his toned abdomen. You gulped audibly, inching away from him as you suddenly realized what you were doing—or, more accurately, who you were doing. A shiver spidered up your spine and you watched him with wide, cautious eyes.

“Nuh uh, honey,” he whispered scathingly, yanking you back to him and easily flipping you onto your stomach, despite your half-assed struggling. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He roped you back up until your back was flush against his chest, one hand wrapping around your throat and the other pinching one of your pebbled nipples, before crawling further down to your sopping cunt.

“Oh, sweetie,” he crooned into your ear as his fingers ran through your slickened folds, hot breath fanning out over your neck. “All for me? Fuckin’ slut.”

Without warning, three of his fingers suddenly thrust into your pussy, and a loud groan left you as you struggled in his grasp, simultaneously trying to push him away and draw him closer. His thumb pressed against your clit and you lost all control, hands reaching behind you to claw at his neck and his scalp.

“Beg for it,” he whispered, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Beg for me.”

As you squirmed, you managed to find a single thread of self-preservation within you. “Fuck you.”

Lloyd bit into your shoulder, as if warning you. “I won’t ask again, baby.”

When his thumb softly drew a circle around your clit, you could feel yourself giving in, melting into putty in his arms.

A litany of pleads fell from you, and you hated yourself for it, but you couldn’t stop. You needed him.

“Please, Lloyd, please—” A gasp cut off your words when he flicked your clit, dripping fingers drawing out ever so slightly before shoving themselves right back in. “Please fuck me. Please, I’ll do anything, Lloyd, I… please—oh—”

Seemingly satisfied enough, Lloyd began pumping his fingers into you rapidly, your wanton moans only fueling him further. Memory fuzzy with pleasure, you hadn’t even realized when your head lolled back onto his shoulder, his lips meeting yours in a frenzy as he fingered you.

Your first orgasm came crashing down onto you like a tidal wave against shore, and you shook violently in his muscular arms, jerking away from his fingers desperately as the beginnings of overstimulation began creeping into you. He only stopped his movements when you roughly bit into his lip mid-kiss, hard enough to break the skin and draw blood.

“Fuck!” he growled, glaring at you with genuine anger, tongue sweeping over the cut, copper hitting the back of his throat. His cock twitched, growing impossibly harder, and he ripped his fingers out of you. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

His fingers, creamy with your arousal, were suddenly shoved into your mouth and he watched with hungry eyes as your tongue swiped across the digits, taking them in deeper until you gagged. He bit back another groan.

“You’re such a whore,” he murmured into your ear, slipping his fingers out of your mouth, biting your lobe roughly. “My fuckin’ whore.”

A silent scream left your mouth hanging open when he swiftly sank you down onto his cock, so thick that you could feel him throbbing inside you, feel every veiny inch of him as he bottomed out, one hand gripping your thigh and pulling your legs further apart so he’d sink deeper into you, and the other pawing wildly at your breasts.

He cursed as you clenched around him, hoarsely moaning out his name.

“Say it again,” he whispered, pulling out halfway before sinking back into you. “Say my name again, honey.”

“I hate you,” you practically sobbed as he began thrusting into you in a near feral manner. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

This seemed to rile him up further, and the hand that was once at your breast found its way back to your throat, squeezing tight until black spots danced around your vision. Lightheaded, you let out a pornographic moan, hands scratching down his thighs framing yours.

His hand inched higher up your own thigh, and he flicked over your clit as his dick pounded into you.

“FUCK!” you yelled, reaching back to pull at his hair. Almost without realizing, you came around him for the second time, twitching in his hold. Overstimulated, you croaked out, “Lloyd—stop. Fuck, stop—”

Lloyd merely chuckled against your sweaty neck, only spreading your legs further apart and driving his dick into you harder. “Take it, baby. Fuckin’ take it. I know you like this—you’re soaking me, honey.”

A moan twisted out of your dry throat. As overstimulated as you were, his words were only turning you on more. The filthy sounds of his hips snapping into yours made your head spin.

“I hate you,” you sobbed again, knowing this would only drive him on, and you crumpled back into him, letting him use you like a sex doll.

A stray tear slipped down your cheek and his hand left your throat to grab at your jaw. “Aw, are you crying, sweetheart? Fuck, that’s fucking hot as fuck.”

Panting, you rocked back against him, eyebrows drawing together as your third—and hopefully last—climax rolled over you. This time, you stiffened against him as more fat tears rolled down your cheeks, clenching around him so hard he shouted out a creative line of swears before shifting into a different angle to hammer into you harder.

His dick twitched inside you—he was close.

“Fuck,” you muttered, slapping his sweaty shoulder, panicked. “Don’t you dare cum inside, Lloyd, oh—” You broke off into a groan and he swooped down to capture your lips in one last messy kiss, nose slotting roughly against yours.

He grunted into your mouth, forehead resting over yours as his seed painted your insides, much to your frustration. Much softer this time, he slowly pushed his softening dick in and out of your abused cunt, nearly laughing when you started slapping him again.

“Fuck you. I fucking hate you,” you spat. He shut you up by enveloping your parted lips with his—you could taste the blood in his mouth.

Eventually, he slipped out of you, peering down with a satisfied hum to see his cum spill out of your puffy folds.

“I hate you,” you whispered one last time, throat scratchy with thirst.

He patted your ass with a sickeningly condescending smile. “The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” he replied, an echo of what he said before. “Though—I don’t need to like someone to fuck them. Who knows… maybe I’ll even come back for sloppy seconds.”

With that, he unceremoniously let go of you, making you face-plant into the pillows. You twisted with a hateful snarl just in time to watch him stride out of your room stark naked, whistling a merry tune as if he hadn’t just fucked your brains out, not even bothering to pick up his clothes strewn across your floor.

Pompous, arrogant, motherfucker.

You really fuckin’ hated him.

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen fanfiction #the gray man fanfiction #lloyd hansen drabbles #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen imagines #lloyd hansen angst #the gray man fanfic #lloyd hansen fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans x you

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shotgunbunny · 2 years ago

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Haii sorry if this is an odd request but could you write a angst fic w/ Lloyd where he visits the readers grave and recalls all their fun memories 🥺 sorry it's a bit cheesy I just want wanna be hurt so bad

༻𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩༺

I just finished reading All the bright places so I'm in a super angsty mood😌

(Warnings!! Angst!! Dead reader!! Unhinged Lloyd!! Sadness!! Fluffy memories!! Implied smut.)

Everyone always wanted to know how Lloyd Hansen became the sick and twisted individual he was today. No one could track down the moment. No one could link anything traumatic to him.

Lloyd made sure of that, he became hellbent on hiding who he was after you left. He wouldn't let you be his weakness ever again. He had failed once and he'd never fail again, so he painfully burned every document of your existence yet, he couldn't burn you out of his mind.

He had keyed the exact moment he had left his sanity behind and it was with you. Every part of his humanity was left behind with you. And now he was unstoppable. He was unhinged and a monster.

Every time Lloyd passes by a flower shop he's transported to your first meeting. To the very second he fell in love with you. That's why he avoided them, yet he never damaged them. He respected flower shops, almost as if he could hear you chastising him for being so rude to a place filled with life.

It was a shit day. It was a really shit day. It was raining and Lloyd had crashed his car. Only 3 weeks after he had finished Harvard and what does he do? Goes and crashes his goddamn car. Well by his car he means his mums, so he has to find a way to apologize.

He passed by bakeries and Gucci stores yet it didn't appeal to him as an apology. And then as he was walking he saw a glimpse of a yellow dress dash inside a store. He stared and walked slowly towards the store. He noted it was a flower store. The plants were outside getting soaked, something he assumed would be good.

Yet he watched as the girl in the yellow dress ran out and collect another two pots and run back in. He smirked watching her to and fro. He walked over, getting soaked. The door opened and out stepped you. "Do you want some help here sunflower?" You looked up at the man, noting his strange moustache but finding it endearing somehow.

"Yes please bluebell!" And before he could even question the nickname you rushed inside with another two potted plants. He smiled, and picked up as many as his arms would let him. You opened the door and let him in. You headed out and noted there was only one plant left. You snatched it and headed into the dry store.

You placed it on the counter and turned, jumping out your skin at seeing the man looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. You stared into his eyes, noting how blue and beautiful they were. "Bluebell? Where did that nickname come from sunflower?" You giggled. "Your eyes are blue and your top is blue." He smiled at you.

He was dressed in a long sleeved blue top with black pants. He made it look so amazing, almost like he was a model. You stared at each other and you turned away, tending to the plants from outside. "Hey sunflower, you don't have any flowers that say 'I'm sorry mum.' do you?" You turned and gave him the harshest glare you could.

He held his hands up in defeat and your look, "What did I do wrong sunflower?" You bravely poked his chest, "Yeah what did you do wrong bluebell? Why do you have to apologize to your mum? Were you mean?" He looked down sheepishly and rubbed his wrist, "I kind of crashed her car." You stared at him with wide eyes. "You're gonna need alot more than an apology mister."

He smiled down at you offer his hand to shake, "Call me Lloyd I think I'll be visiting this flower shop often." You took his hand and he pulled it to his lips placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles. You uttered your name to him, finding a heavenly symphony drifting into your ears when he said your name.

You were working hard, it had been months now and you and Lloyd had been dating for four months. He spoiled you rotten yet despite his whining you refused to quit your job.

Which is where you were right now. However you couldn't tell what was wrong with this Orchid. Suddenly two big hands covered your face and blocked your eye site and a smooth deep voice echoed behind you. "Guess who Sunflower?" You giggled, "Hmmm is it Suzanne?" He took his hands away and gasped.

You giggled and turned to look at him, he stared at you a smile joining his lips at the sound of your giggle. You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and then turned back to look at the flower. Lloyd placed his big hands on your hips and pulled you into him. He placed his chin on top of your head. "What's wrong sunflower?" You stared and muttered, "I'm not sure bluebell."

You took it into the back and saw someone had over watered it. You sighed and began putting it into different soil and then remembered Lloyd was with you. You smiled, "Fun fact bluebell, did you know that orchids don't need soil because they get all their nutrition from the air?" He stared at you so inlove. "I didn't. But if they don't need soil why are you putting it in soil?"

You smiled, "Because then it will be comfier and will have extra nutrition." Lloyd breathed out of his nose just staring at you, "You're lovely sunflower. Absolutely lovely."

You turned and pressed a kiss to his lips, he kissed back instantly embracing this moment and how fast his heart beat inside his chest.

It was your year and a half anniversary, and Lloyd had left bluebell flowers on your doorstep with a note telling you to dress nice and be ready by 7. You were so giddy. You put on your beautiful pale yellow flowing dress that Lloyd got you on your year anniversary so that he could remember that yellow dress you wore when you first met.

You smiled, truly adoring it, feeling prettier than the flower he often called you. You were nervous yet excited beyond reason. He always went all out for anniversaries. So when 7 o'clock rolled up, as did Lloyd in his sleek car. You took steps down to him, a smile on your face matched perfectly with your blush.

"My sunflower you truly leave me speechless sometimes." You giggled and when you reached him you kissed him, ofcourse he had to bend but he would always welcome your kisses. When your lips met his, he was home. He felt safe and loved. He pulled away and looked down at you.

"Come on, let's go." You took his hand as he led you to the passenger side. You sat and as you began driving to his car, you could tell he was nervous from how tense his biceps were. You reached out and placed your hands on him, trying to relax him, he flashed you his signature smile. And before you could blink you were at his house.

You adored his house, you even started bringing flowers to brighten up the living space. You always giggled at the fact he kept a bouquet of sunflowers in every room. He always kept you close, so that he could wake up to you in some form.

You got out, and headed along the driveway that was scattered in fake rose petals. You turned to him, "You take my breath away everytime bluebell." He looked down and then back up a real smile adorning his lips. "I suppose that means I'll have to give you mine." He stepped forward and latched your lips together before blowing and literally giving you his breath.

You laughed, and headed into his home. And instantly gasped. Hanging from a thread was a key and a note that read 'Live in my greenhouse, sunflower. Move in with me.' you laughed and turned and hugged him. "Ofcourse I'll move in with you!" He couldn't help but laugh with you. That night was sealed with your bodies joining each other. Wrapping your soul around each other and embracing the love you held for eachother.

And ofcourse the happiest day of Lloyds life. Your wedding. The way you smiled only at him. How your eyes locked together all the way down the aisle. You were truly infatuated with eachother. And nothing could have stopped Lloyds from marrying you that day.

Everything was perfect, that's what the general consensus was. But all that mattered to him was you. You were perfect. You peppered him in kisses the entire time.

And your first dance was so magical. Lloyd still has every step you both took engrained in his mind. How he held your so delicately against him. How you looked like a goddess in his arms. Your eyes burning with love and pure happiness all while you swayed to the long.

He could have drowned in your presence and all he would ask for is if you would hold him under your waters. He felt so peaceful, so fulfilled. You were Mrs. Hansen. The only right thing he ever did in his entire life.

He bought flower shops everywhere and named them after you so that your first meeting was everywhere. So that your love was sold in every store. So that yours and his story lingered on every petal bought by young lovers and old soulmates. He would make sure that your brilliance shined throughout the world through colours and smells of magnificence. Yes he was truly happy that day.

Lloyd wiped his tears. He had heard many fairy tales of how he turned into a monster. But none knew he died the second you did. There was no happiness left for him. And it broke him that so many flower stores held your name.

Like you were lingering beyond the grave telling him you wouldn't be dead if he didn't walk into that flower shop. He can't look at sunflowers without his bones aching for your soft whisper to call him bluebell.

He can't do anything but kill and forget all about you, even if it killed him. But for now, he could keep this secret. See he made sure you were burried in the Netherlands purely because of how many flowers were there.

Your tomb didn't have your name, it was merely engraved as "sunflower, the love of bluebells life." He visited every year on your wedding anniversary. He left a single sunflower and bluebell. Just so that you two could be together in flower form.

He always stays there for hours thinking about how much he loves you even though you aren't present. He has so much love he just can't let it go. Not when you existed. And despite how much Lloyd hates flower shops now, he never changed the name.

Hoping that in some other universe they remain the same, and you both met there. He lets his head fill with fantasies of different worlds in flower shops, and always you.

His one true weakness, and it destroyed him. He couldn't help but become a monster after, with no softness to hold him and comfort his skin he saw no reason to slaughter those that stood in his way.

Lloyd let out a sigh, placing a gentle kiss on your tombstone. He stood up, but now he had a slouch. Only truly fulfilled men had the right to stand at full height, and he never got his forever with you, or the family.

No instead he got a phone call dragging him out of his silent grieving, "What?" The line went silent before he heard Carmichael give him a request to hunt someone down for a drive. He hung up and with one last glance at your resting area and a tight lipped smile, he headed to his mission.

He was unknowningly about to meet you in a flower store in another universe soon. And that was the tragic tale of the Hansens.

#lloyd hansen x plus size reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x innocent!reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen angst #lloyd hansen fluff

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stuckyslut8 · 4 months ago

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imyourbratzdoll · 2 years ago

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Hiya!💗 my request, is about Lloyd Hansen, where like the reader accidentally does something to make him mad, and it kind of like flips a switch in him and they fight and he says something really mean, it can be about maybe the reader does something to make him mad, maybe he points out something about her and makes the reader insecure and then the reader becomes distant then Lloyd notices and realizes he messed up and tries to fix it?? Love your work btw 💗

hey! thank you so much! I hope you like it!

summary - the reader does something that causes lloyd to snap, he says some words he doesn't mean, and she becomes distant. do they fix their relationship?

warning - angst, thoughts of cheating, insults, slight fluff, self-hate.

the gif I use isn't mine, the divider by @firefly-graphics and @newlips

You were a smart girl. Why had you done something so stupid?

You had decided to clean the house while Lloyd was away, wanting him to come home to a clean house. You didn’t mean to knock liquid over vital documents. It was an honest mistake. You didn’t know they were the only copy, you had tried so hard to fix your error before Lloyd came home, but unfortunately, you didn’t do it in time.

“What the fuck is this?” Your eyes shoot up, and you stare wide-eyed at Lloyd. His eyes dart down to the destroyed papers. His brows furrow as a sneer appears on his face. “Are those the fucking papers I needed?!” He storms over, ripping the drenched papers out of your hands and glaring down at you.

“I–’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I was just trying to–”

“Trying to what? Ruin everything?” He growls, chucking the papers into the trash and looking around the room. “You couldn’t just leave shit alone? You had to be annoying and ruin everything like you always do!” You blink as tears blind your vision, Lloyd’s frown deepens, and he grips your arm before dragging you to the door. “Oh, are you going to cry now? Of course, you are! Because that’s all, you know how to do! I don’t even know why I’m with you! You’re not even my fucking type! So fucking ugly and useless.” He growls, the words just spewing out of his mouth now without thought.

You gulp back the sob that’s trying to make its way out. You nod your head slowly, freeing yourself from his grip, before running out of the room and to your and Lloyd’s room. You grab some of your clothes and move them to the guest room, not feeling comfortable staying in the same room as Lloyd. You spent the night crying into your pillow. What made it worse was that you could hear Lloyd inside the house, having the time of his life.

A stabbing pain made its way to your heart when you heard the sound of a female laughing. You slowly got up and began to get ready. You didn’t want to be here if Lloyd was going to cheat on you, which hurt the most because you never thought he’d go that far, but you guess you really disappointed him.

You slither into tight black pants, pulling on a tight black mesh corset covered in flowers and gold. You slide on your black-heeled boots and mess your hair up slightly before applying light makeup to your face, finishing it off with a dark red lip. You decide to spray Lloyd’s favourite perfume onto your skin, loving the musky scent of vanilla.

You open the door and begin to walk out of the room, making sure to grab your bag and phone before walking through the hallway and past the lounge room where Lloyd and the mystery woman sit. You keep your head up, not wanting to see who your replacement will be because you know it will break you even more.

“Baby! There you are! Where are you going?” You hear his voice but decide to ignore him. You continue to walk down the steps and toward the front door. You are so zoned out that you don’t hear him calling out to you or running to catch up to you. You are only brought out of the zone when he seems to grab your arm, and Lloyd frowns when you flinch from his touch.

“What, Lloyd? What could you possibly want now? Don’t you have a whore waiting for you upstairs? Couldn’t have waited till you broke up with me to fuck someone else?” You glare at him, not wanting to be around him.

His brows furrow, wondering why you are acting like this or why you’d think he’d cheat on you. His eyes drift down your body and take in your outfit, wondering where you could be going wearing something like that without him by your side. Before he can open his mouth to say something, you rip your arm out of his grasp and swiftly exit.

It’s been a few days since the fight, and Lloyd has noticed you’ve been avoiding him. You become distant whenever he manages to be in the same room as you— A shell of yourself. You’d flinch whenever Lloyd touched you, causing his heart to break. He couldn’t put his finger on why you were acting like this.

He’s sitting at his desk in his office, going through some paperwork. His phone goes off, causing him to groan as he answers it. “What?!” You do not mean to eavesdrop on his phone call as you walk past his office. “What do you mean you can’t get rid of her?! Didn’t I pay you enough?! I told you that she’s useless to me! So what the fuck are you waiting for?!” You jump slightly, feeling detached more as you realise this is over. You should’ve left that night. You knew he slept with her when you came home. How else could you explain the destroyed lounge and his messy clothes?

You gulp, head back to your room, and sit on the uncomfortable mattress. Your head goes into your hands as sobs escape your body. “Why do I have to ruin everything? Why am I so fucking ugly and useless?!” You sob, tears flowing down your face as you realise you’ve lost the one person you’ve ever loved. You are so lost in your pain that you don’t see Lloyd standing at the door, his eyes tearing up as he listens to your words. He finally realises why you’ve been so distant. “I’m so fucking pathetic that he goes and fucks someone after a fight. Why me?”

Lloyd quickly launches forward, his arms wrapping tightly around you and holding your shaking body against his, rocking you gently as he whispers into your hair. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m not going anywhere.” He presses a kiss into your hair, tears flowing down his face. “I love you so much, and I’m so sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean any of it. You’re my one. My only.”

Your body leans into him as he continues to hold you. “I never cheated on you, Pumpkin. She was the target, but the men I hired screwed up, and she got away.” You slowly turn, looking at him through blurry eyes. Lloyd’s heart breaks at how broken you look. He leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead. “You don’t have to forgive me now. I will do anything and everything to make this up to you. Whatever you want is yours.” He stares into your eyes before he stands and lifts you.

Your arms wrap around his neck, about to ask where he’s taking you until you realise he’s heading toward your room. “You’ve been sleeping on that awful mattress, and it’s time for you to stay in our bed,” Lloyd demands, lying down on the bed and wrapping you into his arms, making a promise in his head that he will never hurt you again.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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nicoline1998enilocin · 5 months ago

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Hi, and welcome to my Lloyd Hansen Masterlist. It is nice to welcome you to my little corner of Tumblr! 🤍

On this Masterlist, you'll find all the one-shots and requests that include fluff, smut, and angst, but each story will have its appropriate warnings. If you'd like to check out who else I write for, you can check my Chris Evans and Main Masterlist!

I do not work with a tag list. If you want to be kept up to date when I post new stories, you can follow @nicoline1998enilocin-library 🤍

All graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

|| 🥀 - Angst || 🤍 - Fluff || 🌶️ - Smut ||

Coming Soon!

#masterlist #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen angst #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen smut

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sosa2imagines · 4 months ago

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Broken Hearts. Part 23

Warning- Mean exes, guns, violence, angst.

Lloyd's command echoed through the room, his voice filled with menace. “Drop your weapons! Now!”

The tension was palpable as Steve and Bucky locked eyes with Lloyd and Nick, their gazes intense and defiant. For a moment, the only sound was the shallow breathing of the two groups.

Then, Steve broke the silence, his voice gruff and laced with challenge. “You really think you can take us down?”

Bucky's menacing grin widened as he stared down Lloyd and Nick, his gaze fixed on Nick. “Well, well, well...” Bucky drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The infamous Nick Fowler. What an honor. I can't wait to pull the trigger on this one.”

Steve's gaze, however, was locked on Lloyd. His eyes were unflinching, his expression intense. He paid no attention to Nick, his focus entirely on Lloyd, who returned the glare with equal fire.

Nick stood his ground, his voice resolute yet measured. “We won't back down. You're outnumbered, and you know it.”

Bucky's anger flared. “She's mine!” he roared, his voice echoing through the room.

Nick's words were firm, challenging Bucky's claim. “You don't own her!” he asserted. “You abducted her against her will. That's not love, it's an obsession!”

Bucky let out a sardonic chuckle, his grip on his gun still steady. Steve's anger was palpable, how dare they question the depth of his love for you? He wouldn't let them take you away without a fight.

Bucky's face contorted with possessive anger as he growled, “She belongs to me.” His words were filled with an almost feral intensity, and his gun was aimed directly at Nick's heart.

Lloyd sent a silent signal to Ari via the comms, “Now!” and Ari nodded swiftly, understanding the plan. He swiftly took your hand, guiding you towards the exit.

“No! She doesn't get to escape!” Bucky's voice thundered through the room as he shot out the lights, plunging the area into darkness.

With the lights extinguished, Steve and Bucky retreated to another room, leaving Nick and Lloyd in the pitch-black gloom.

Lloyd spoke into his earpiece, attempting to reach Ari through the comms. “Ari, come in... can you hear me?” His voice was a hushed whisper.

There was a moment of silence, each second feeling like an eternity as Lloyd waited for a response. Then, finally, Ari's voice crackled through the earpiece, filled with tension. “I copy. What's your status?”

Lloyd let out a sigh of relief at the sound of Ari's voice. “We're in the dark,” he replied quietly, “but we're safe for now. What about Sugar? Is she with you?”

Ari's reply came promptly, his voice still filled with urgency. “Yeah, we're both in the shadows, safely hidden. But we need to find a way out of here, and fast.”

Steve and Bucky knelt behind a wall, both silent and attentive. Bucky murmured, his voice a hushed whisper. “They're going to escape. We have to stop them.”

Steve nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on the source of the approaching footsteps.

With lightning speed, Steve and Bucky charged forward towards the open door, where they had heard the footsteps. Catching sight of Ari and you fleeing, Steve lunged toward Ari, his voice filled with angry hostility. “Come back here, you little bitch!” he roared, firing off random shots in your direction, causing you and Ari to split apart.

“Run!” Ari urgently shouted at you.

You hesitated, but followed Ari's command and quickly dashing away in a separate direction. Your heart raced as adrenaline coursed through your veins, fear and urgency fuelling your movements.

Fear consumed you as you dashed forward, only to suddenly crash into Bucky. He swiftly spun you around to face him, his warm breath grazing your face as he drew close, his voice low and imposing.

“Where do you think you're going?” he growled, his grasp on your arm increasing slightly. You attempted to break free, desperately tugging against his firm hold.

“Let go of me!” you protested, your voice wavering from fear and anger. Your heart pounded against your ribs, each beat an echo of your growing panic.

“I said let go!” you pleaded vehemently, but Bucky disregarded your request, pulling you even closer against his firm form. His iron grip refused to loosen, his face showing no sign of yielding.

“No!” he hissed with stern finality. “You're not escaping.”

Despite your valiant efforts to break free, Bucky's stature and strength rendered your struggle futile. He yanked you even closer, his voice dropping to a deep whisper, his breath hot against your ear.

“You're mine,” he asserted, his command laced with possessiveness. “Do you understand? You belong to me.”

As Bucky started to pull you away, he let out a whistle, signaling to Steve to follow suit.

However, Nick was the first to catch up to the two of you, sprinting to intercept.

Nick stood resolute, his expression intense as he confronted Bucky. His firm command rang out. “Let her go, Barnes!”

Bucky's reaction was immediate, his hold on you tightening. His eyes narrowed as he shot a furious look at Nick. “Stay out of this!” he snapped back, his voice tinged with possessiveness. “She's mine. I'm not letting her go.”

Nick remained unmoving, his gaze resolute as he stared down Bucky. His voice was unyielding, laced with anger. “I said, let her go,” he repeated firmly and launched himself.

Caught off guard by Nick's unexpected attack, Bucky's grasp on you involuntarily loosened, allowing you to break free.

The ensuing brawl escalated instantly as Nick and Bucky traded punches, their bodies engaged in a fierce struggle for dominance. With every impact of fist against flesh, the room felt tighter with tension.

You retreated, watching the heated battle in bewildered shock. Your heart hammered violently against your chest, unable to process the unfolding situation.

Nick held Bucky down, his voice firm as he instructed you, “Run! Head towards Lloyd!” He gestured urgently in the direction of where Lloyd was located. You nodded, wasting no time in sprinting off down the corridors, your legs moving as fast as they could.

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins. In the distance, you could still hear the ongoing fight between Nick and Bucky, their grunts and thuds reverberating ominously off the walls.

In the dim light, the outline of Lloyd's shape came into view, filling you with a mixture of relief and trepidation. Drawing a deep breath, you called out to him, your voice quavering as you cried, “Ll…Lloyd!”

The sound of your voice registered instantly, and Lloyd swiveled to face you, his tone laced with a touch of relief. “Sugar!” he breathed out, recognizing you rushing towards him.

Overwhelmed by emotion and fear, you leaped into his embrace, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. Clinging to him as if he was your only anchor amidst the turmoil, you buried your face onto his neck, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Lloyd held you against him gently, his touch tender as he comforted you, rubbing your back with soothing motions. “It's alright,” he murmured with a calming reassurance, “You're safe now.”

“Shhh,” Lloyd whispered gently, his deep and soothing voice trying to calm your frayed nerves. “It's alright. I have you now. I won't allow them to harm you.”

As he held you tight, he could feel the weight of your sobs against his chest, the tremors of your body a sign of the surge of adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

The sound of gunfire echoed through the air, jolting you out of your weeping. Startled, you clutched tighter to Lloyd, taking refuge in his protective embrace.

Lloyd glanced in the direction of the noise, his grip on you becoming even more secure. “Hold on,” he murmured, his voice soft yet urgent. “We need to leave this place.”

Suddenly, Steve appeared, pointing a gun at both of you. His finger trembled on the trigger as he fixated his gaze upon you two.

Steve's voice was cold and dangerous as he commanded, “Let her go.”

Lloyd held you firmly, refusing to relent his grip. “She's not going anywhere,” he stated firmly, his arms a fortress around you.

As Steve's finger tightened on the trigger, his expression hard and unyielding, he repeated his demand once more, his voice filled with even greater urgency. “I said let her go!”

Ari swiftly drew his gun and commenced firing at the surroundings, generating a momentary diversion designed to divert Steve's attention. He cried out, “Go, go, go!” urgently signalling Lloyd and you to capitalize on the distraction.

Not wasting a moment, Lloyd seized the opportunity and swung out with a forceful kick, successfully knocking Steve off-balance from the unexpected attack.

In a seamless motion, he immediately followed through with a powerful punch aimed straight at Steve's face, effectively knocking him back and onto the ground.

Without giving Steve an opportunity to recover, Lloyd swiftly connected with a second punch, this one aimed at his jaw with bruising force. “Ari, take her away and don't look back!” he commanded urgently.

Ari acknowledged Lloyd's directive, his focus shifting as another gunshot echoed through the vicinity, causing you concern for Nick's safety as well. In a panicked tone, you protested, “No, I'm not leaving you!”

Lloyd turned back to you, his voice resolute, “Don't worry, Sugar. I will return to you. It's a promise, but you must go now.”

With a tinge of sadness, you reluctantly allowed Ari to guide you away, your heart gripped with a mixture of fear and worry. Though you wanted to remain, you knew the importance of following Lloyd's instructions.

Leaving him behind, you could feel the weight of farewell, your heart heavy with anticipation of his promise to return.

You allowed Ari to lead you by the hand, guiding you out of the compound as your heart thumped uncontrollably, desperately trying to drown out the sounds of combat reverberating from inside.

The thoughts about Lloyd and Nick consumed your mind, their safety now uncertain and unknown.

The flurry of emotions coursed through you incessantly, an overwhelming mix of worry, fear, and adrenaline coursing through your veins, leaving you feeling utterly overwhelmed.

The anguish consumed you as you trailed behind Ari through the dark corridors, fighting hard to maintain composure.

Once outside, your emotions surged out uncontrollably, and you collapsed onto the ground, sobbing for both Lloyd and Nick.

Ari hastened to your side, dropping down beside you and gently pulling you into his arms, his own worry for his friends mirroring your own.

A wave of guilt washed over you, and you couldn't help but blame yourself for the perilous situation your friends found themselves in. Your mind swam with regret and responsibility, the weight of the events weighing heavily upon your conscience.

Ari, seeing your self-blame, took it upon himself to attempt to console you. He held you close, his voice a soothing balm in the midst of turbulent emotions.

He stroked your hair gently, his touch reassuring as he spoke softly, “It's not your fault, you know. None of this is on you.”

His tone was filled with empathy and understanding, his words a soft murmur in the midst of the chaos unfolding.

He held you closer, his embrace firm and protective, attempting to quell the tumultuous storm of emotions that raged within you. “There was nothing you could've done,” he added gently. “They're going to be alright. They're strong. Trust me.”

The sound of an explosion, startled you both.

Your heart dropped as the blast rang out inside the facility, immediately followed by a second one. Panic clutched at your chest, and you gasped out the words softly, “What was that?!”

Ari's face mirrored your fear and concern as he took your hand firmly in his, his gaze fixed on you with steadfast worry.

He squeezed your hand gently, his touch a silent reassurance. “I don't know,” he replied, his voice steady but tight with tension. “But something's definitely not right.”

He paused, his expression dark with worry as the sounds of chaos continued beyond the walls.

Sensing your distress, Ari swiftly pulled you into a firm embrace, shielding you from the sight of the burning compound. Your body trembled as the heat from the flames reached you, the echoes of explosions carrying in the distance.

He held you close, his arms acting as a protective barrier, surrounding you with his strength and warmth.

From the distance of the burning structure, you noticed a weary figure stumbling towards you, its silhouette limping and smoke-tinged.

A soft cry of relief escaped your lips as you recognized the figure as Nick, his attire scorched and burned in several places on his body. His exhaustion was evident in his expression, yet there was also relief on his face as he reached you.

With a firm yet gentle hold, he pulled you into his arms, enveloping you in a tight embrace, his grip steady and secure.

He held you close, his body trembling slightly. “You're safe,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Thank God.”

His eyes met yours, a mixture of weariness and concern evident in his gaze, and a hint of something more that remained unspoken. He continued to hold you, as if drawing strength and comfort from the contact.

Despite the comfort of Nick's embrace, a sense of unease crept over you, and you instinctively looked over his shoulder, searching for any sign of Lloyd. Concern and worry for his safety filled your thoughts.

“Where's Lloyd?” Your voice was laced with trepidation as you pressed him for a response. Panic gripped you as Nick remained silent, his lack of response fueling your worry.

Nick's silence and the sadness etched on his face only heightened your anxiety. “Why aren't you saying anything? Where is he?” you repeated, your desperation growing with each passing moment.

The sense of dread intensified as Nick exchanged a somber glance with Ari, and your body suddenly felt drained of all color. The silence between them was deafening, a potent indicator that the outcome was far from good.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to break free from Nick's grasp, driven by the intense need to find Lloyd. “Let me go!” you implored, your voice cracking with a mix of terror and worry.

Nick, however, held you firmly, refusing to release his grip on you, his arms like iron bands around your flailing form.

Your desperation mounted as you let out a scream, his name ripping from your throat. Instinctively, you attempted to break free from Nick's hold and make a dash towards the burning compound, determined to reach Lloyd.

But Nick's grip on you was steadfast, keeping you firmly in place, despite your struggles.

Your body strained against his hold, but Nick stood firm, not allowing you to go any further. In a low, urgent voice, he tried to reason with you, his eyes filled with both sympathy and determination.

Your body sagged in Nick's arms as the weight and reality of the situation washed over you. All the emotions - fear, despair, and grief, came crashing down at once, and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

With a strangled sob, you slumped against him, your body trembling as you broke down, crying in his embrace. “LLOYD”

Nick held you tightly, his arms wrapped around you like a cocoon, offering comfort and security in the midst of chaos and despair. He didn't make any attempts to stop your tears, he just held you close, gently stroking your hair as you wept against him.

Your heart was shattered and your voice choked with sobs as you clung to Nick, pleading desperately through your tears, “Please, Lloyd needs me...I want Lloyd...he promised...Lloyd...” the words tumbling out between broken cries.

Nick's expression mirrored your grief as he held you tight, his own emotions running high but suppressed for the sake of comforting you, as so did Ari.

Part 22- Part 24

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

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

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@whore-for-chris-evans @caplanreblogsfics

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah @ghalouha

78 notes · View notes

jamneuromain · 1 year ago

Note

I have an idea omg. We need more of Lloyd and reader... What about a situation when Lloyd got injured, like he kicked someone's ass , got his knuckles bleeding, or maybe he got a cut or smth... and the reader though she's aware of her blood-seeing problem ofc decided to help him, trying to fight her hemophobia best she could because Lloyd needed her help. Or it can be quite the opposite, the reader got hurt in some way, bleeding a bit, and Lloyd decided to help her because he knows her reaction to seeing blood and all. What do you think?😬☺

Hi Elena😌❤️ （sorry that it took so long I accidentally deleted my draft ... and took very long to recover from the devastating fact :l

Your "Lloyd got hurt" idea certainly is very interesting....👀

So, what would happen if Lloyd got hurt and he has no one else to turn to but his secretary with hemophobia...🤔

Bleed Out

Lloyd Hansen x You

Summary: Lloyd is under your protection for now.

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

One thing, one particular feature you like about the apartment you're living in, is that this little condo - along with the rest of the building and five other blocks in the vicinity, belongs to a high-end resident community that has strict security guard patrol schedules and limited key-card access. These precautions resulted in rocket-high market prices and a rather wealthy neighborhood, as the owner of these buildings forbids renting, for every keycard that could access the front gate, elevators, and their matching apartments, accompanied by facial recognition embedded in the little chip. When you get home every night (or afternoon, if you are lucky), you have to press your keycard and stand before the camera before the gate grants you inside. This brings quite some comfort for you, working for a mob boss named Lloyd Hansen, and knowing that his associates are basically "wanted" by rival gangs for the valuable information they possess.

While it is impossible that you could afford such an exquisite apartment with your salary, though very well-paid, you are truly grateful because Lloyd signed this condo - his condo - to you without a word (or asking a dime from you) when you told him during your final interview that you will be needing a week to relocate before starting the job.

That's when you made up your mind that Lloyd Hansen is a boss worthy to work for.

It's not a big place. Having two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen. Decorated in white, black, and grey, clearly matching Lloyd's taste when he asked his lawyer to give you the key card and have you move in.

You've lived here for three years now. Adding soft cushions and light-colored sets to the tedious design here and there. Like the sunflower tablecloth and daisy plates and bowls. Like the pink polka dot sheets and duvet covers. And the fluffy slippers, taken out from the cabinets, ready to be put on as soon as fuzzy socks don't work their magic any more.

You are finishing washing the mug you just used. After putting it on the racks, you wipe your hands with a clean cloth. It is a workday tomorrow, and you intend to sleep early to wake up with a fresh spirit to deal with your (sometimes) moody boss. Treating yourself to a nice little read in the bedside lamp radiating yellow glow - another decoration that you feel much needed for this place, you reach out to turn off the lamp when there's a sudden rush of knock on your door.

You zip your mouth shut.

The news two weeks ago, about a woman who was curious about the baby crying at her door, was yanked out of her apartment as soon as she opened the door, being raped and killed in her own bed.

You are smart enough not to ask "Who is it", letting this unexpected guest learn that a young female is at home.

When the unexpected visitor doesn't hear your reply, they knock on the door more fiercely, nearly knocking your heart out of your throat.

You remember the tutorial online: Approach the door with caution, and check the surveillance camera. If there's no one in sight, call the cops. If there's anything out of the ordinary, like a baby or a kitten by the door, call the cops.

In summary, call the cops.

Your fingers hover above your phone, having the police number on speed dial, when you turn on the surveillance camera monitor by the door.

A very bruised, cut, and tired Lloyd, having a gun in his hand, banging on your door as he winces in pain.

"Goodness gracious-" Your gasp gets stuck in your throat. Opening the door in an instant, there's nothing else in your mind than keeping him alive. Your goosebumps on high alert as Lloyd's eyes scan over you. You pull him in, checking that the hallway is secure, before closing the heavy door as quietly as possible.

You turn to him, "Mr. Han-" Your words stop mid-sentence as you feel the need to fight the bile down your throat.

Yes. Mr. Hansen is very much covered in the one thing you hate most in the world.

Blood.

Blood splattered on his chest, his ridiculous choice of the blue-white striped polo shirt and cuts littered over his face and bare arms. His pants are dripping. Some crimson-colored liquid will stick permanently onto your floor and your beloved carpet.

Redness, some stained into near-brown, all over his figure.

You hold your breath, not letting the iron taste linger to make matters worse.

Lloyd walks, more like limps to each of your rooms - now that you can breathe a little while the blood smell is gone temporarily, and convince yourself that it's just ketchup on your boss (though you doubt that trick works) - and inspects each of them with his finger on the gun's trigger.

Taking in the whole situation, three things pop into your mind.

Lloyd is in desperate need of medical attention.

You are most likely to faint as soon as he returns, seeing this amount of blood.

Lloyd wouldn't knock on your door if this isn't desperate for him as well.

As Lloyd approaches, you are wrecking every brain cell to work a way out of this.

" 'S anyone here?" He asks, pulling the safe of his gun back on, before plopping down on your couch and groaning because he most definitely pulls one or two, if not a few of his wounds.

However, one of THE most brilliant ideas comes to you when you are holding your breath.

You shake your head, raising one finger to tell him you need a moment - or you hope that your running off conveys the message, and dash towards your bathroom.

Lloyd sags down on the couch, not even bothering to get up or turn his head to watch whether you've pulled out a gun pointing at him. You probably wouldn't do so, since you chose to pull him in, instead of letting him bleed out by your door.

When you appear in front of him again, his body briefly stuns a moment, before emerging in a burst of full-blown laughter. He laughs so hard that his laughter turns into coughs, which leads to him pressing his hand over his chest in case he tears his wounds further.

You place your hands on your hips. Compared to him, you are least amused by your idea.

You smoothed your hair back and put on your scuba diving goggles from a paid leave last year. Lloyd personally oversaw your two-week vacation, paying from your hotel suite to your travel expenses, and even ordering you full scuba diving equipment for your one-hour scuba lesson.

Of course, you weren't actually interested in becoming an expert, but the scuba equipment was too nice to be thrown away.

"Not funny." You breathe through your mouth. Even though the orange plastic - or glass, you don't quite know which - changes how the bloody Lloyd looks in your eyes, it still doesn't completely change the idea that Lloyd is, in fact, covered in blood, as much as you don't want to think about it. And it definitely doesn't block the smell of blood, which probes the nerves at the back of your nose whenever you breathe through your mouth.

Lloyd scans your "outfit", his laughter slowly dials down, eventually turns into a lazy smile ghosting his lips, "You're right. It's not."

It's over 10:30 pm, and you usually would have been sleeping, or lying on your bed, at least. But no, you are stuck in the living room with your boss who's about to die any minute, and you are only able to stand in front of him, alive and thinking, with a fucking scuba mask on.

So, fuck this.

You roll your eyes at your cold-blooded boss. "Should I call your doctor? Or send you to the hospital?"

The smirk disappears.

Although he didn't say "no" to the hospital, by now you've realized the hospital choice was crossed off the board, as he chose you instead of ringing the police - which will no doubt lead to an investigation since Lloyd is the most notorious mob in Los Angles.

You search for the first aid bag that you stocked away when you moved in. It has rarely been used.

"Doc's dead." He murmurs, but loud enough for you to understand. He spoke with a sadness that only appears when he has lost one of his people. "I took Jared to his clinic."

You know Jared, he is one of the muscles working for Lloyd. He helped take care of one of Lloyd's rivals, Brewer.

"The deal with the Russian mobs tonight went wrong, but we got out in one piece." Lloyd explains curtly, "I got him to Doc's place to get stitched up. But we were attacked... Doc died, so did Jared."

So... two of his people.

Medical alcohol and Q-tips were picked from the bag, then a roll of gauze. You place those on the coffee table.

"I think you need something bigger than a Q-tip." He chuckles, unbuckling his belt, removing his pants. You open your mouth wanting to argue it's probably best that he doesn't move right now, but you silence yourself when you see a flesh wound -

Blood trickles down his thigh, leaving a scorched round hole on his leg. You turn your head to the other side as soon you feel the need to hurl. Even with your goggles on, deep down, you know that it's blood, not ketchup, nor some red paint oozing from his body.

“Don’t puke on my shoes. Crocodiles died for it.” A strangled grunt comes out of his mouth when he finished speaking, having your heart tug in the slightest of agony.

The belt he took off just now is turned into an instant tourniquet on his thigh. The blood drips slower than it did, but it keeps ruining your carpet.

“Yeah, I bet the crocodile spirits hate you right now.” You mutter under your breath, snatching a face mask from the first-aid kit, taking a small inhale after you put it over your face.

Much, much better now.

Lloyd snorts out a short laugh, “You look like one of those bird-man in the Middle Ages when they are battling the plague.”

“Yeah well,” You place your hand on your hips, feeling somewhat braver to deal with this bloody mess all over your living room, “You’re about to bleed out on my couch, so let’s start with you telling me what else I can help with.”

Lloyd spares a glance at you when he’s busy rolling the gauze and pressing it onto his gunshot wound, his expression uninterpretable. Though you would guess that he is mildly impressed.

“Got any liquor? Something strong?” He raises his brows almost challengingly, “I don’t see any painkillers here, so … Bourbon? Whiskey? Scotch? Anything?”

You do have a bottle of whiskey that your cousin gave to you when you moved in. He’d come to visit and lend a helping hand from time to time. You take two glasses from the cupboard and half a bottle of whiskey.

You could use some liquid courage with a murder scene and your psycho boss in the middle of this lovely condo.

With the aid of whiskey and your patching and cleaning of the rest of the wounds, Lloyd is able to sleep through the night soundly without worrying about being a rigid corpse in the morning.

Yawning, and accidentally stretching his patched-up wounds, he allows a string of curses to flow out of his lips. Judging by the sunlight peeking through your curtains, he’d say it’s 9 or 10 in the morning. Last night, he was tired when the adrenaline gradually faded away, and he did not have the chance to take a close look at your – used to be his – place.

You did not put this place through any major changes, just some minor traces, reminding him that he is, in a sense, invading this cozy little apartment with his banged-up body.

With a decent set of fresh suit, shirt, and tie on the chair beside the bed.

Faint murmurs come from the other side of the door, Lloyd tenses up immediately, pulling his gun under the pillow, where he stocked last night, and turns the doorknob slowly.

“… shut up.” He hears you smack someone’s arm jokingly.

Your voice blends in with the voice in his memory of last night, when he winced in pain as you tried to take out glass shards from his forehead with a pair of tweezers, when he swung another gulp of whiskey from the bottle.

“Fucking hell, woman, I swear you’re trying to scoop my brains out rather than finding the glass pieces.” He grumbled.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kick you out, Mr. Hansen. Now I’m kindly asking you to shut up so I can take care of your wounds before it could get any worse.” You said impatiently, having struggled between the discomfort in your stomach and your determination to get him patched up, but adjusted your attitude soon after, keeping your mouth shut and pushing his upper body so he would lean on the couch and be still, while you turned on the flashlight to search the little glass piece on his forehead.

The warm and shallow breath fell on the ridge of his nose. It was broken, sure, tingling and itching, but it also meant that you were close, close enough to kiss-

“Cuz, are you sure that-”

The male voice is cut off when Lloyd in a black suit appears in front of you and a young man. One of his hands behind his back, you know far too well he’s holding the gun and will shoot your cousin’s brain out if you don’t explain quickly.

“Morning Mr. Hansen. This is my cousin, Connor Ashborne, studying at UCLA Med School.” You smile politely towards your boss, “I called for him to check up on you, since you refused to go to any doctor with a gunshot wound. He’s here to provide professional medical assistance.”

“Mr. Hansen,” the young man extends his hand for Lloyd to shake, “I’ve heard of a lot of things about you.”

“Lots of bad things, I hope.” Lloyd throws in a comment half-sarcastically, plopping himself down on the couch, ignoring your cousin’s extending hand, “Shit.” When he stretches his wounds again, the gauze must have clotted with his flesh for this level of pain.

“Cuz?” Conner turns his choice to your hand, “It’s your call. I can’t force your boss to do anything.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You mutter, “He’s more stubborn than a bull with eyes on the red flag.”

“Careful there, sunshine.” Lloyd gulps down some whiskey, numbing the pain in his thigh, “I can hear ya’ loud and clear.”

You silently shrugged towards your cousin, letting him know that you could not be of help any more than he did. “You should probably head to your classes.” You speak softly towards Connor, “Say hi to your sister for me, will you?”

“Sure thing, cuz. Remember those antibiotics and pain meds for the... patient in the kit.” He pulls you into a hug, “No need to thank me, I know, I'm one of a kind.”

Yeah, he's a one-of-a-kind dick when he wants to be. You can't help but smile knowing that his ego bloated after coming to your aid.

“I’ll see you around Christmas, yeah?”He asks.

“Around Christmas.” You confirm, patting his back.

Connor shoots you a wink and a “Bye, cuz”, grabbing the bicycle helmet on the kitchen counter and rushing out of your apartment like a gust of wind.

"A-hem." Lloyd clears his throat.

You let out a long exhale, realizing the big problem-o is still sitting on the couch like he owns this place – he indeed still does, as you have helped combing through his real estate. He owns the whole residential community – more specifically, has a lot of shares in the company which runs this residence, at the very least. Putting your best, and most professional courtesy on, you ask Lloyd, “I’ve called Denny earlier this morning. He’s now driving around the block. Denny has driven to your place and picked up the usual breakfast from your cook. Should I call him and tell him to come up? Or you’d like to head to the office right now?”

“Tell him to come up. I’ve been shot. It seems fair to skip work this morning.” Lloyd has the usual smug smile on his face. Stepping into his crocodile shoes onto the floor, spreading his arms over the couch, he looks down at the ground before narrowing his eyes and raising a sharp question: “You’ve had the carpet thrown out?”

Of course, you’ve had the carpet thrown out. Or you would throw up five times per hour.

You thought so when carrying the blood-soaked carpet downstairs, after making sure Lloyd was asleep around midnight. As his secretary, it is your job to make sure he doesn’t have to worry about anything besides his business.

You carried the carpet downstairs, avoiding cameras as carefully as possible, with your ridiculous scuba goggles and face mask on, and dumped the carpet, into another residence trash can two blocks further. With his blood and his scent on it, it is easy to lure those henchmen away if they bring hounds to search for Lloyd.

Lloyd does not go down without a fight, that you were certain. You were also certain of the fact that the transaction gone wrong would make relative parties involved less than happy, hence the ambush at Doc’s place. If they struck once, it seemed possible that they would strike again, knowing that Lloyd was hurt.

Also packing hydrogen peroxide, a powerful bleach, and a pack of Q-tips with you, you carefully erased the traces of Lloyd’s blood from the street to your residence building, and inside the elevator.

“Miss Y/L/N!” The security guard exclaimed on seeing you back inside the building. He was smart enough not to comment on you pulling your scuba goggles and face mask off, but smiled warmly, “A rough night?”

You smile back, “Hi Henry. I hate to pull ranks on you, Henry, I really do. But in less than ten minutes you are going to get a call from your boss, who has gotten a call from his boss, asking you to do exactly what I tell you to, which is to make a copy of the surveillance footage of the security cameras, and delete the original copy stored in the computers stored somewhere in this building. You are also going to tell me whether anyone has dropped by when your shift ends this morning, who looks suspicious, asking questions even though they don’t live here.”

The smile froze on Henry’s face, “Miss Y/L/N, it’s against the company orders…”

Just then, the phone on Henry’s desk rang, which Henry took the minute it made a sound.

The smile turned to a serious frown.

“…Yes. Yes, Sir. I’ll see to it.” He hung up the phone after a polite “Good night”, straightening his security guard uniform, and moved around the desk, “This way, Ma’am.”

After burying your head in the toilet bowl and throwing up almost half an hour ago, you had used your cell phone and called Lloyd's business partner up ahead, told him that Lloyd had issued a command to erase surveillance camera footage of a specific building and asked to keep a copy.

His business partner, hauled up from his bed because of this phone call in the middle of the night, knew better than to refuse.

… and that was why the Russian mob drove through the block later that morning at 1 a.m. and did not find a trace of Lloyd taking shelter in your condo after circling the area for quite some time.

Find A Whiff of Blood Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

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

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bookishtheaterlover7 · 8 months ago

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Awwwwww... This hit the right spot for romance 🥹

And I'm a real sucker for Lloyd being soft for his Y/n... ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

𝙇𝙡𝙤𝙮𝙙 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛…𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩?

*𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵>>*

Masterlist | w/c: 650

*𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

*𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵!𝘓𝘭𝘰𝘺𝘥 𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘹 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

୨♡୧

“You mad at me, Princess?” Lloyd coos.

You scowl, turning your head away as he tries to kiss your neck. He reaches for your hand, but you yank it out and flip to the other side of the bed before he gets the chance.

“Oh, so you’re really mad at me tonight.”

He sighs, pushing aside the covers and moving closer to you. His hand rests on your lower back, rubbing it softly in hopes of you breaking your silence.

“Just let me help you.” His tone is gentle, understanding that getting upset wouldn’t make your little attitude disappear.

“Just leave me alone,” you mutter.

Keep reading

#lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen angst #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen #the gray man #chris evans characters #lloyd hansen x black reader #hurt/comfort #insecure reader #🥹#reblog #booky reacts #booky's reads

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eccentricallygothic · 2 months ago

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Psycho Husband!Steve Rogers who is a crazed coercive bastard.

Warning(s): Noncon, misogyny/sexism, depraved housewife kink, head shaving/hair cutting, he's a mental mf who thinks he is only doing what's best for you; cruel punishments are care and better sense according to him, age gap, fear kink, infantilization, humiliation, size kink. MDNI.

. . .

You meekly sit atop your husband, Steve Rogers' lap as he feeds himself and you the dinner you meticulously prepared for him as he cares greatly for detail and perfection.

The older man hums with each bite, one large paw caressing your back from over the thin -nearly sheer- material of one of the many dresses that make up the entirety of your wardrobe.

“Absolutely delicious, baby, good job” he has been praising you with each bite and so you cannot help but smile at the compliments, your smaller body resting against his as you gently comb his hair with your fingers.

This is good.

Him being pleased is good.

“Thank you, my heart” you kiss his cheek that he had shaved just this morning when you were on your knees getting rid of his morning wood. He usually does that at night but you chose to wear a certain dress yesterday that caused for you to remain trapped in bed from the moment he got home till the both of you woke up tangled and sticky.

“See?” Now his fingers silkily glide up the length of your spine, past its dents that appear on your nape and towards your scalp that holds no barriers between your skins. “Wasn't I right?” Steve's fingertips flex all over your shiny head that he keeps empty from any hurdle between yourself and him. “Didn't it make things all better for us, hm?” Your tongue grows heavy and you feel it beginning to swell.

But you must not speak your mind.

For you are not allowed to have one.

“Yes, hubby, you were” you feel him stroke the bald crown of your head and the feeling of his coarse skin rubbing your soft and moisturized one sends shivers down your spine.

His dark but relaxed blue eyes watch you, outwardly friendly but secretly inspecting you closely for the tiniest slip up. “Just too stupid to see it back then, weren't you?”

You nod nervously, offering him a smile as you avert your gaze from his, choosing to awkwardly play with his dress shirt instead. “Yes, hubby, I was.” Before you look up momentarily. He hates it when you don't look at him while speaking. “Thank you for teaching me better.”

“And what did I teach you?” You bite your tongue, his words scalding your ears.

Of course, he wants you to say it.

It is a routine that he likes to do every night.

“That you are always right because you know better.” You resist the urge to cringe from how he suddenly gives you a burst of praise head rubs.

It is a trap, meant to set you off.

He knows you don't like his hand rubbing your bald head like you're some kind of an animal and he still does it.

You've made the mistake of fighting back one too many times in the past.

But now you know it never fares well for you.

So better to just obey.

“Yeah?” His eyes begin to dance all over your form in that lewd fashion of theirs. “And how did I teach you that?” This is nothing new, and yet your heart drops.

“You taught me by…” Your face becomes hot from the embarrassment and humiliation. “B- By…” Fuck.

Even after all this time, it's no easier to do it.

“By?” You can feel his sick arousal poke into the back of your thigh. He shifts to readjust himself. “Know what, honey?” He actually has the gall to sound friendly like he's doing you a favor out of the goodness of his heart. “I'll help your little mind out by giving you a hint.” You cannot hold his gaze anymore. So you drop your eyes and train them on his collars as you whimper into his cheek from how he hugs you closer with the arm he has draped around you. He loves proximity. “It had something to do with a machine and a cute head” his long fingers caress your scalp in circular motions.

Your heart is erratic against his chest. “H–” the whimper you let out is shaky and pathetic. Your expression falters into one of pain but you recover just as fast. At least on the outside. “T- Taught me by shaving my head.”

Steve's smirk is one of pride. “Oh? And what setting did I shave it on? Did I leave anything behind or did you become a complete cueball?”

Tears sting your eyes from the sensitivity and helplessness as you feel your throat tighten even more. “N- No, hubby. Nothing was left. You shaved it all off…” Closing your eyes momentarily is the only way you can let out your next words. “Until I was a cueball.”

“And why was that, huh, baby?” Now he speaks to you like you're a child.

He does that when he is horny.

The realization makes your stomach twist.

“B- Because you warned me many times but—” your voice breaks and you softly sob into his cheek all of a sudden because the memories overwhelm you. “I didn't l- listen and my hair kept getting in the food I would prepare for you.” He somberly cooes and lowers your head forwards in a submissive position to caress the links of your spine.

“Oh, honey. Is that what happened?” Though Steve rests his cheek atop your bald head that he keeps shiny with scented oils and feigns sadness his bulge is too stiff against your tender skin for his little act to hold any weight.

“Yes, hubby.” Your tears fall on your lap.

“And how did it happen, huh, darling?” He loves the helplessness of your situation. That has got to be it. “Can you tell me?”

You nod and swallow the bile in your throat. Denial is not an option. “The scary razor went all over my head, hubby” you make yourself sound like a baby because that's what he likes. “Like buzz buzz buzz~” you try to mimic the sound and gesture as you run a pretend trimmer over your naked scalp.

“Aw, it was scary for your little baby self, was it?” You timidly nod, pouting a little. “That's because you're so small and easily scared, aren't you?” He presses kisses all over your head and pinches your cheek.

“Yes, hubby.”

“Aw, my poor girl” he cups your face and lets his thumb trace the shape of your mouth. “I get it, you’re just a baby” he cannot but kiss you deeply before speaking again.

“But it was necessary, wasn't it? And it worked” it is typical of him to seek validation for his unhinged actions from you, probably helps him sleep easier and pumps his pompousness further. “No more hair in the food.” He smiles and forces you to look at him by tipping your head back.

“No more hair in the food.” You echo him like the hollow doll he has made of you.

“Awww” he chuckles at the dejection in your voice. “Cheer up, silly. You look just as perfect as the first moment I laid my eyes on you” his lips repeatedly peck yours for a few moments. Then he continues. “I am the only one whose opinion matters for you and I think you're the most gorgeous thing alive” he scoops you up in his arms before standing up and you give him a smile like you're supposed to. He leans in to capture it in his own. “The cueball only makes you sexier and more nude for me. So it's a win all around” you whimper into the words he utters against your mouth. “C'mon, hubby will make you feel all better.” He whispers before carrying you to the bedroom. It is impossible not to be aware of your devastation and that is why he offers compensation the way he does. “Yeah?”

All you can do is nod defeatedly.

. . .

If you made it down here, hi you're cool.

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