Discover Top Posts Tagged with #the grayman

Ooo can I please request a Lloyd Hansen x fem!shy!reader where she is Carmichael’s assistant (so she’s not an agent or anything). She doesn’t know about the more shady stuff that her boss has been up to but she has met Lloyd on the few occasions that he had worked with Carmichael and Suzanne. He took a quick liking to her and was all intimidating and flirty, and she shied away from his attention. Anyways, now later on, the start of the Gray man plot starts, where Carmichael has Suzanne contact Lloyd to use “Hansen Government Services” to track down and take out Six. Lloyd agrees to help on one condition, Carmichael to give up his assistant (Y/n) and have her permanently be Lloyd’s assistant instead (which he would also require that she lives in the mansion). Y/n would probably be scared about this whole situation, between finding out about her (now ex) boss’ shady business and now being sent to work for and live with a man like Lloyd. He doesn’t treat her like he does his other employees though, he’s patient with her, never yells at her, and he’s also extremely flirty and sweet in his own intimidating way. He spoils her rotten and tries to make her comfortable in her new home. Lloyd is completely in love with her and he knows she is is love with him too. One of Lloyd’s enemies breaks into the mansion one night to get to Lloyd, but finds Y/n first and they try to hurt her? Lloyd would completely obliterate them omg, no one hurts his girl! She’d cling to Lloyd after he saves her🥺

Hey, I hope you enjoy this.

Warning- Fluff, little angst, slight assault. Lloyd is a warning!

You’ve worked for Denny Carmichael for just over a year.

It’s not the worst job in the world. The pay’s decent, the office has a view, and if you keep your head down. Carmichael usually ignores you, which is honestly a blessing. He’s curt at best, cruel at worst. You’ve mastered the art of silent efficiency, typing fast, fetching coffee hotter than hell, and answering his calls before the first ring finishes.

You’re not an agent, not even close. Just a regular assistant who updates schedules, reviews briefings she’s not supposed to read too closely, and pretends not to notice the occasional encrypted file with a red warning label.

It’s all above your paygrade, anyway.

Or it was, until he walked in.

The first time you saw Lloyd Hansen, it was like someone dropped a wolf into the middle of a business meeting. All sharp smiles, arrogant swagger, and a polo-shirt unbuttoned just enough to be inappropriate. He looked like trouble dipped in designer cologne and fancy moustache. And he looked right at you.

“Who’s the shy one?” he asked, gesturing toward you with a half-empty coffee cup he’d just taken from Carmichael’s desk without asking.

You froze.

Carmichael didn’t bother to introduce you. He waved you off with an irritated glance, mumbling something about "irrelevant staff." But Lloyd? He didn’t stop looking.

And he kept looking every time after that.

Now, weeks later, you’re alone at your desk, tucked in the corner of the tenth floor office, typing up meeting notes and wondering if it’s too early to sneak your third cup of coffee, when the elevator doors open with a ding.

You don’t look up right away. You don’t need to. You feel it, that oppressive, magnetic presence. Like gravity just shifted.

You glance up. And there he is.

Lloyd Hansen. All six-feet-something of smirking, menacing charm. Aviators hanging from the front of his polo-shirt. A toothpick between his teeth. Like he owns the building. Like he owns you.

“Hey there, Sugar.”

You flinch. The nickname slides off his tongue like a threat wrapped in honey.

He saunters closer, not even pretending to head for Carmichael’s office. “I was hoping I’d catch you here.” His voice is lower now, just for you. “Did you miss me?”

You blink, mouth slightly parted, your fingers still frozen above the keyboard. “I…I didn’t know you were coming in…”

“Oh, it’s a surprise visit.” He leans against your desk, so close his cologne makes you dizzy. “Thought I’d see how my favorite desk jockey’s doing.”

You flush. You hate how warm your face gets when he talks to you like this. You manage a whisper. “I…I have a lot of work, Mr. Hansen…”

“Lloyd,” he corrects with a slow, teasing grin. “Mr. Hansen makes me sound like I give a damn about rules.”

Your breath catches as he plucks a paperclip from your holder and flicks it between his fingers.

Carmichael’s door opens sharply behind him. “Hansen!” your boss barks. “Office. Now!”

Lloyd doesn’t move right away. His eyes stay on you, then he winks. “I’ll be back for you, Sugar.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

But your pulse is still hammering and you already know you’re in trouble.

"You want me to clean up your mess, Denny?” Lloyd Hansen leans back in his chair, legs spread like he owns the Pentagon and the planet it sits on. One boot scuffs the marble floor with deliberate disrespect, his smirk lazily cruel as he watches Carmichael squirm.

Carmichael grimaces. “Sierra Six has gone rogue. He’s dangerous.”

“And you lost him.” Lloyd’s voice is soft, almost bored. “Tsk, tsk. That’s not very 'elite CIA' of you, is it?”

Suzanne Brewer shifts beside Denny, clearing her throat. “We need someone outside the Agency, someone untraceable. You said you could handle it.”

Lloyd twirls the gold pen he stole from Carmichael’s desk earlier, then pauses mid-spin.

“Oh, I can handle it,” he says. “I’ll find him, I’ll gut him, and I’ll gift wrap his corpse with a bow, red or black, your pick.”

Carmichael exhales a breath of relief, but Lloyd raises a hand.

“One condition.”

Denny’s jaw clenches. “Of course there is.”

Lloyd doesn’t bother to explain. He simply pushes a thin folder toward them, one you didn’t know existed. One labeled with your name.

“Her.”

Suzanne glances at it, brows lifting. “The assistant?”

“My assistant now.” Lloyd’s tone sharpens. “She’s underutilized here, answering your pathetic emails and dealing with your tantrums. Waste of good potential.”

“She’s not part of this operation,” Carmichael says flatly. “She doesn’t have clearance, hell, she barely has spine!”

Lloyd chuckles. “Exactly. She’s perfect. Quiet, soft, compliant. I like her.”

Carmichael’s face reddens. “She doesn’t belong in this world…you are…”

“And yet, here she is.” Lloyd stands, towering, voice turning venomous. “Don’t forget who the fuck I am, Denny. You called me. You don’t get to say no.”

For a full ten seconds, no one speaks.

Then Carmichael nods, bitter and furious. “Fine.”

Lloyd’s smile returns too sharp. “Good boy.”

You don’t know any of this until it’s already done.

You’re filing some paperwork Carmichael left for you, he didn’t say goodbye, didn’t even glance your way, when two men in suits show up at your desk.

“Miss,” one says, holding out a leather folder with a red seal. “Effective immediately, you’ve been reassigned.”

“What?” Your voice wavers. “Reassigned to what?”

The man doesn’t blink. “You’ll be working for Lloyd Hansen, under Hansen Government Services.”

Your blood turns cold, “I…I’m not trained for field work…this is a mistake…”

“You won’t be in the field,” the second man says. “You’ll be his executive assistant. Relocation is part of the contract. Your things are already being packed.”

You stare at them. “I didn’t agree to this!”

“It’s been authorized,” one replies. “By Carmichael himself.”

Your heart pounds. You don’t understand. This has to be some kind of joke.

But it isn’t.

Thirty minutes later, you’re in the back of a black SUV, gripping your phone with numb fingers, trying not to cry as the city fades behind you.

The driver says nothing. He doesn’t have to. He’s taking you somewhere far more dangerous than you’ve ever imagined.

To him.

The mansion is surreal. Marble floors. Velvet drapes. Security cameras everywhere. It smells like leather, bourbon, and something darker.

You’re led up winding stairs, into a private wing with tall doors and a view of the world you used to belong to. You’re not sure if it’s a gilded prison or a wolf’s den.

When the door opens behind you, you already know who it is.

“Sugar.”

You freeze.

Lloyd strolls in like this is all perfectly normal, tugging off his gloves, grinning like a cat about to play with its food. “You’re finally home.”

Your voice is small, terrified. “I didn’t agree to this…”

He steps closer, tilting your chin up with two fingers. “You didn’t need to.”

His eyes devour your fear. He likes it. But beneath the thrill in his gaze, there’s something else, obsession, maybe. Possession.

“Relax,” he purrs. “I’ll take real good care of you.”

You expected chaos. Screaming. Orders barked in your face. Maybe even a locked door or two.

Instead, Lloyd gives you a room with cathedral ceilings, the softest sheets you've ever touched, and a closet full of clothes you know damn well didn’t come from a department store.

You haven’t even unpacked yet when he knocks and waits patiently.

You open the door slowly. He’s leaning against the frame, two glasses in one hand and a wine bottle in the other.

“Room service!” he says with a wink.

You blink at him. “This… this isn’t a hotel.”

“No,” Lloyd murmurs, handing you a glass. “This is my house. My rules. And rule number one…” he raises the glass in a mock toast, “you get spoiled.”

You don’t know what to say. You’ve been bracing for a nightmare, but he’s smiling at you like you hung the damn moon.

The next few days blur like a fever dream.

He doesn’t yell. Not once. Doesn’t scold you when you mess up his calendar or accidentally send the wrong file to one of his contractors.

He just laughs, nudges your foot with his under the desk, and says, “You’re cute when you panic, Sugar. Makes me wanna bite you.”

You try to keep things professional. You really do. But damn he makes you blush, all the time.

But Lloyd doesn’t play by anyone’s definition of professional.

He brings you breakfast every morning. Personally. Scrambled eggs, avocado toast, fresh fruit, exactly how you like it. You never told him. Somehow, he just knows.

He has your favorite snacks stocked in the kitchen before you ask. He adjusts the AC because you looked a little cold once. He even sets up a separate workspace, facing his, of course so he can keep an eye on you while you work. “I like you where I can see you,” he tells you, voice low. “You calm me down. Which is ironic, ‘cause all I wanna do is wreck you.”

You choke on your coffee.

He just grins.

The weirdest part?

You start to feel safe.

Safe in a mansion built like a fortress. Safe in the presence of a man with blood on his hands and your name on his lips like a prayer.

And he never touches you without permission. Never pushes. Just lingers.

Like now, when he walks past your desk and drops something beside your laptop. You glance at it. A box.

You open it carefully. Inside is a delicate, glittering necklace. A charm in the shape of a sugar cube. Diamond encrusted.

Your lips part in disbelief. “Lloyd…”

“Wear it,” he says, already turning away. “So everyone knows who you belong to.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. You want to argue, say something snarky, logical, self-protective. But instead… you touch the necklace with trembling fingers.

And smile.

That night, he sees it around your neck and smiles like a man who’s just won a war.

You meet his eyes, your voice barely above a whisper, “I know what you’re doing.”

Lloyd leans in, gaze molten. “Yeah?”

“You’re trying to… soften me. Spoil me into staying.”

His lips brush the shell of your ear. “Sugar, you already stayed.”

He pauses. “And I already know you’re in love with me.”

Your stomach flips, “W…what makes you think?”

“I know,” he interrupts gently. “Because I know how you breathe when I walk into a room. How you flinch, not because you’re scared, but because your body doesn’t know how to handle me.”

He smiles against your jaw. “You’re mine, Sugar. Always have been.”

And the worst part? He’s right.

The mansion is quiet that night. Too quiet.

You’re curled up in your oversized bed, one of Lloyd’s T-shirts hugging your body like a second skin. You never meant to fall asleep in it, it just smelled like him, and your own clothes didn’t feel comforting enough anymore.

The dreamless dark is thick when you hear it.

A faint creak. A footstep where there shouldn’t be one. Your eyes snap open. Your chest tightens. You slip out of bed, bare feet padding across the hardwood floor. Maybe it’s one of Lloyd’s men doing rounds. Maybe…

A cold hand clamps over your mouth.

You scream, but it’s muffled.

“Shh,” a low, unfamiliar voice hisses against your ear. “This isn’t about you, sweetheart. But if you make it about you, I’ll carve a message into your skin before he even gets here.”

Your heart races like it’s trying to escape your chest. You struggle, thrashing, clawing at the masked man holding you against the wall.

He slams you once hard into the dresser. Pain blooms across your ribs. And then, you hear it.

The echo of a gunshot. Not from the intruder.

From him.

Lloyd crashes into the room like a hurricane dressed in black and fury. No mask. No hesitation.

Just rage.

“What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?” he snarls, voice rough and feral.

The intruder doesn’t get a full sentence out before Lloyd unloads, two to the leg, one through the shoulder. Precision pain. The man screams, buckles, and tries to crawl away.

Lloyd stalks after him like a goddamn lion.

“You thought you could touch her?” he growls, grabbing the man by the collar. “You came into my house and laid your hands on my girl?”

Another shot.

“You should’ve died before you even thought about it.”

By the time his team storms in, the man is bloodied, sobbing, and barely breathing.

“Clean this shit up,” Lloyd mutters, panting, gun lowered but still ready. “He doesn’t get to die yet. Not until I say so.”

He turns back to you. You’re on the floor, still shaking, arm cradling your side. Your lip is trembling, and you hate that you’re crying, but you can’t stop it.

Lloyd kneels beside you in one breath. His hands hover before they touch, so gently it almost breaks you.

“Sugar,” he whispers, lifting you like you weigh nothing. “Jesus. I should’ve been here. I should’ve…” You cling to him hard, not letting him finish his sentence. He holds you closer. “I’ve got you now,” he murmurs into your hair. “You’re safe. I swear it. No one touches what’s mine.”

You bury your face in his chest.

And that’s the first time he doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t flirt. He just holds you. Tight. Like he’s anchoring both of you to the earth.

Days pass. You sleep in his room now, his bed, his arms. Not because he makes you, but because the nightmares only stop when he’s there.

He never pushes. Never crosses a line.

But he never leaves your side.

And somewhere between quiet breakfasts and late-night movies on the massive couch, it happens.

You fall.

Not slowly. Not sweetly.

You fall like a match to gasoline.

One morning, you turn to him with trembling fingers and swollen eyes, half embarrassed, half defiant. “I think I love you,” you whisper. “No. I know I do. I’ve tried not to, but I can’t… I can’t stop. I don’t want to.”

Lloyd blinks.

Then, something softens in his face.

The kind of softness no one alive has ever seen in him. Not Suzanne. Not Carmichael. No one.

Only you.

“Sugar,” he breathes. He cups your face like you’re porcelain.

And kisses you. Not rough. Not angry. Not possessive.

Just home.

But you still feel the hunger under his skin. The heat barely restrained. When you pull back, breathless, he chuckles against your lips. “Finally,” he murmurs. “Took you long enough.”

You smack his chest. He catches your wrist. Kisses your palm.

“Now you’re really mine.”

Taglist- @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan

@mrvl-addict @mercurial-chuckles

@emerald-writes @castielscaplan

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

@ghostlythinggoingaround @winterssecretgirl @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis @zuri-767-666

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@caplanreblogsfics @winterslove1917

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah

@pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss @kpopgirlbtssvt @peaches1958 @avioletkurt

#the grayman

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#the grayman