gyllenhaalstories

[gyllenhaalstories]

HOW BURNT (2015) SHOULD HAVE ENDED (somebody please throw Adam Jones in the ocean, and I'll take it from there)

#movie: burnt #character: tony balerdi #you can call me queuetin

[gyllenhaalstories]

WOAH THIS IS ONE OF THE BEST COMPLIMENTS YOU COULD EVER TELL ME 😭💖 Thank you!!!!!!!! I love writing for Danny, it makes me so so so happy to know I capture him well! 🥹 He might the only character I can write more accurately, I don’t know what to think about that! If I don’t hear Danny screaming the dialogue in my head while I write, I have to start over until it sounds right and the fLAmingos approve! 😂 Thank you again!!!

WE'RE NOT COWBOYS — DANNY SHARP

summary: danny likes his banks robberies short and sweet. he avoids collateral damage at all costs... most of the time.

warnings: reader is gender neutral! bank robbery, weapons, injury, blood, some sort of comfort/fluff mix? your guess is as good as mine. 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2515

gif credits: @/stephendorff (cropped) / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i watched ambulance again and i could not resist writing whatever this is. 💵 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"Why is it taking so fucking long?" A man shouted from God knew where. "Where's Mel? Has anybody seen Mel Gibson?" More men answered 'no sir' in sync.

You sobbed, the pain stung so bad that even crying hurt. You were stuck in a cycle. The more you cried, the more it hurt and the more it made you want to cry.

A tall, bearded man stared down at you. He rubbed his knuckles, soothing the pain he caused himself by punching you in the face. You had taken him by surprise, squealing of fear while he hurried out of the vault with the last of the money and valued goods he stole. He took a better hold of his rifle, he tried to assess if your life was worth wasting a bullet on.

"I swear to God, I'm gonna kill that guy!" The first person spoke again and marked a pause before continuing, he chuckled while he specified his wish. "I won't! Okay? I won't. Not until today's precious cargo is safe and sound."

Nope, you were not worth it. He abandoned you by the bank tellers' desks, shaking like a palm tree in a storm.

"There you fucking are! Thought you got lost, that's not very Braveheart of you." You heard some mumbling you assumed came from the man who punched you. He received more reprimands and threats in exchange for his tardiness. "Do I have to tie you to one of those kiddy leashes so you don't run away? I saw some parents walk their child with that shit last week. Los Angeles, man... It'll drive you crazy!"

You heard instructions being given, the men were wrapping up and leaving the building. All men except for the one who's footsteps echoed louder and louder. You covered your mouth with your free hand, trying to be as quiet as you possibly could in this moment. You closed your eyes too, maybe if you could not see him then he would not see you. Wrong.

"Hi."

You ignored him, rocking yourself back and forth until another wave of pain made you wail.

"Hey, hey, hey. Listen to me. You're okay, you're fine."

You made the mistake of looking up and locked eyes with this man dressed in fancy attire. He looked like a manager with his tailored suit and dress pants, he even got a shiny name tag to go with it. You failed to read what the tag said.

"My name's Daniel," he offered you a smile you could barely decipher with your vision, blurry from the tears. "Everyone calls me Danny."

You did not budge, bloodshot eyes staring at his foggy figure.

"You're hurt." He noticed a drop or two of blood on your brow bone. "Who hurt you? Was it Mel Gibson?"

You nodded frantically, but stopped. It hurt too much.

"That fucker." He said under his breath, but covered it up with another disingenuous smile. "You stay there, okay? I'll be right back. Don't move."

He ordered you to stay immobile and you listened. Where would you go anyway? Maybe he had an army of Mel Gibsons out there. All you knew was that they swarmed in the bank, you froze in place and, because of your reaction (or lack thereof), you failed to follow the other workers and visitors when they were bunched up in a corner of the facility.

Danny speed-walked his way back to where he came from, instructing his men to leave without him. He'd be fine, there was just a small inconvenience he had to deal with.

The next thing you heard was his familiar footsteps hurrying back to you.

"Good job! You listened." His tone was somewhere in the middle of patronizing and comforting, but at this very moment you preferred to cling to his words and to do as he said. "I'll take a look, okay? Let me look at you." He crouched down.

You pulled your hand slowly away from the left side of your face, where you were punched. You flinched when Danny approached you.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. And I'm gonna make sure the guy who did this..." He looked at your wound then back into your eyes. "Pays for it. Got it?"

You nodded, slower this time than before. You figured out what he meant by that and the thought was sinister.

"Oh, poor little thing." He grinned, his facial expression softening when he assessed the gravity of your state. "It's just a black eye. You'll be fine."

You were starting to wonder what being fine meant to him.

"It won't hurt for long, trust me. I've gotten my fair share of those. I'm a little bit of a troublemaker." He winked at you and giggled.

The adrenaline rush started to drop, leaving you shivering.

Danny quickly noticed. He kept an eye on you, noticing how much you flinched and tensed up when he moved, while he took off his jacket and the black cashmere sweater he wore underneath. "Can ya feel that? It's soft. It's cashmere. I love cashmere." He draped the sweater over your body, hoping that it would stop you from shaking like a leaf. "I'll get you something for the pain."

Your mind began an epic race. If this guy was anything like the villains you saw in movies, he'd probably drug you or kill you the second he earned your trust. Oh God. He was earning it already! You were doomed, this was how it ended for you... Sitting on the dusty floor of the bank and being sweet talked towards your demise.

While your mind spiralled endlessly, Danny had searched the place around. He located a vending machine, probably destined for employees for their lunch break. Now, all he needed was a handful of coins. Lucky him, banks were full of coins. He scavenged through messy desks and even messier drawers until he found what he wanted. He headed towards the machine and, while waiting to select his desired item, he made a quick phone call to Castro.

"Mister Sharp, I can't do this right now! No, I'm not watching the soccer game. I'm just busy, the guys are arriving! What am I supposed to do? Okay, got it. I'll go! I'm coming! Yeah, I'll get a car! I'm running! Are you good? You seem stressed again. Stress is bad. I heard tea helped, have you tried to drink tea? Wait, how am I gonna make it back here? Mister Sharp? Do you need flamingos this time?"

You caught no word of that, despite how his employee was shouting through the phone, too busy listening to your own thoughts. Only Danny's silhouette walking towards you pulled you out of this misery.

He pressed a cold can of soda on the corner of your eye. "It will soothe the pain and you won't swell as much. First time getting punched, huh?" You shrugged, he took that as a yes. "I remember my first time... It was with my brother."

You frowned, the phrasing could not have been worse.

"No!" He yelled, clearing everything up. "I mean the first punch. He punched me. We were playing cowboys and he just popped one right in my face. He said it was an accident. I believe him. He became a Marine, maybe that moment inspired him."

You were not in the right state, both physical and psychological, to unpack what you just heard. Instead, you focused on the cold aluminum of the can and how it numbed the stinging pain.

"There's gonna be a car waiting for us soon. I'll take you back home? You can take something for the pain, lay down and sleep it off. It will turn different colours while it heals, but you'll look as pretty as ever in no time."

You swallowed the lump in your throat that was telling you to not trust him. He was a stranger. A dangerous stranger, at that. Your gut feeling rang all sorts of alarms, but still... You wanted to believe him.

"If anyone asks, you can tell them you were clumsy. Hit yourself while opening the cupboards. They'll buy it, people are so gullible."

The flag could not have been more red than that.

Speaking of red, there was a red reflection coming from the windows.

"There he fucking is, took him long enough." Danny sighed with a roll of his eyes. His demeanour changed radically when he aimed his attention back to you. "Think you can stand up? Here, let me help you." He offered you strong hands to pull you up.

Your legs were shaky, your knees barely held you up on your feet but you managed.

"I gotcha." Danny wrapped a solid arm around your waist, silently encouraging you to lean on him while he guided you towards the exit.

You held the soda can tightly, subconsciously preparing yourself to use it as a weapon if needed.

Danny's employee, Castro, held the door open for you. He drowned the both of you in a river of excuses before his boss could even speak a word. "T'was the only set of keys I found, sir! I made it as fast as I can like you told me to! I always listen so well, maybe not about the flamingos though... But you know, maybe one day you'll think of paying me more. I'm kinda like the employee of the month."

"Employees of the month wouldn't forget the first fucking rule! What is it Castro? We don't touch these cars." The two men repeated this last sentence together like a parent lecturing his child.

You looked around. Your gut was telling you to run while they were arguing, to run and save your life.

Danny's grip tightened around your waist, as if he guessed what went through your mind. He discarded of Castro, sending him off to God knew where again. He opened the door of the luxury car for you.

You sat down, let him buckle your seat belt. It oddly felt like you were a hostage he tied up to prevent you from running away. Perhaps because that was exactly what you were.

"Tell me, sweetheart. Where do you live? I'm taking you for a ride. How romantic!"

*~*~*

Danny sang along, badly if you dared to admit it, to the songs on the radio while he drove you back to your place. He parked the car and walked around to the passenger side. He most definitely overcompensated his insanity with chivalry.

You got out of the car and sighed of relief. He was right, people were gullible and you were the best example of it. "Hey, Danny." You handed him his sweater. "Thank you."

"You can keep it. As a souvenir." You sure would remember this terrifying day and you did not need an expensive cashmere sweater to remind you of it.

The two of you walked until you reached the front door. "Can you promise me something?" Danny hooked a finger under your chin and made you look in his direction. "You can keep a secret, can you?"

You nodded.

"Good. You seem like a trustworthy person."

You smiled faintly.

"Got a beautiful smile too." This hint of praise was not manipulative, well not intentionally. "Listen. We're not cowboys. Well... I'm not. I'm not a cowboy. I do things right. Nobody else got hurt today, you know? You shouldn't have gotten hurt." Danny brushed his finger gently over the bruise. "But you gotta promise me to keep this between you and I."

He felt you tense up, a breath getting caught in your throat.

"You have to. I know you can. I told you how to cover it up." It referring to the black eye, to the context and reason behind it, to this day that was taken straight out of some of your worst nightmares. "This is a day just like any other day for you."

You opened your mouth to disagree. All you wanted was to take some money out of your bank account and go about your day. You did not even get to do any of that and you got a nasty bruise as a bonus.

"By keeping this a secret, you're saving a life." He nodded slowly with a grin on his thin lips. "Yours." His eyes darkened and his smile faded. "We're not cowboys," he repeated. "I only wanted the money and I got it." He shrugged it off like it was nothing. "You don't want to become collateral damage, do you?"

You hoped there would be no other day like today.

"And you won't." He swayed between threatening you one second and, on the next, he was reassuring you. "As long as you promise me." Danny's hands, that were resting on your shoulders, dragged down your arms.

He held your hands in his, it stopped you from shaking. What was it about this man that felt so soothing? You had heard him scream at his legion of bad guys. Yet, with you, he was rather calm and composed. Almost caring.

"We got a deal? Ah, fuck, wait." He rolled his eyes, faking to have forgotten something. His other hand disappeared behind his back and, for one second yet again, you regretted not having trusted your gut feeling. You stared at a stack of cash, fresh out of the bank that he robbed not that long ago, that he pulled out from under the back of his belt. "Now. Do we have a deal?" He presented his pinkie finger to you, waiting for you to seal this promise.

You glanced at the money, then at his face. You were met with eyes as blue as the sky behind him. You locked your finger with his and took the money with you. "Deal."

He started to walk away, turning his back at you. You were left with an immense promise to keep, enough money to take your mind off it for a while... And a cashmere sweater that smelled of his cologne. "Danny!" You called out his name.

He turned to face you, too quickly to have time to put on a fake smile. Danny started to second guess if this whole thing... If you were a good idea. But you cut him short.

"Will I see you around?"

The smile that started to spread from ear to ear was anything but fake. "Fuck yeah, you will. On TV. they'll be talking about it on the news. Impressive, huh? I never get tired of that shit." He took a deep breath, his chest swollen with pride. It took him a moment to register the intention behind your question. He arched his brow, amused. "Oh, you want more of this?" He gestured towards himself.

You agreed to meet again.

He told you he'd pick you up in this same car, so you knew what to expect. It was fine when Danny broke the rules. He could break all the rules he wanted. He was not a cowboy, but he sure was an outlaw.

#others: self reblog

[gyllenhaalstories]

THE GOOD GIRL (2002) dir. Miguel Arteta

#character: holden worther #movie: the good girl #you can call me queuetin

[gyllenhaalstories]

Tom Hiddleston as Loki Laufeyson THOR: RAGNAROK (2017)

#movie: thor ragnarok #you can call me queuetin

[gyllenhaalstories]

#(( a work of art )) #characters: elwood dalton #movie: road house

[gyllenhaalstories]

DONNIE DARKO, dir. Richard Kelly (2001)

#movie: donnie darko #you can call me queuetin

[gyllenhaalstories]

JAKE GYLLENHAAL as JOHN KINLEY in THE COVENANT (2023)

Remember to give credits when using these gifs.

#(( i love my man )) #character: john kinley #movie: the covenant #(( beautiful gifs!!! 💖 ))

[gyllenhaalstories]

PEDRO PASCAL ⏤ Strange Way Of Life | Homecoming: Directing a Key Scene

#gifs: pedro pascal #you can call me queuetin

[gyllenhaalstories]

YOU’RE SO INSANE FOR THIS WOAHHHH 😵‍💫 this is so hot and sinful and!!! it’s leaving me speechless. this is the best lou writing i’ve ever read!!! 😭❤️

angel part 2

pairing: louis bloom x f!reader

summary: louis and his newfound crush slip deeper into their attraction after the 'wet dream'.

warning: this fic contains dark themes such as stalking, dubcon/noncon, smut and others. Read at your own risk. 18+ ONLY.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

The early morning sunlight begins to stream into your room. Its beaming warmth stirs you from your deep slumber.

Your head is pounding. The room feels it's still spinning around you and your mouth is drier than a desert.

Water would be really good right now, but you're not ready to get up yet. Your limbs still feel heavy and sore.

As consciousness slowly permeates back into you, you realize the soreness concentrates down between your hips. You lay in bed and think back to the dream you had.

You're riddled with confusion. You've had plenty of hyper realistic dreams before, but this felt different.

It felt so real and so good that you wish it had been real. You brush it off deciding to believe you're just so hung up on your neighbor. Being single for as long as you have been, his kind gesture and his piercing blue eyes are incredibly hard to not find so attractive.

You could still feel his warm breath on your skin. His hands felt soft and rough altogether gliding over your supple thighs and groping at your breasts. The memory of his wriggling tongue in your pussy already has it growing wet again.

You must've been really wet in your sleep judging by the stickiness on your sex. It seemed sort of clean; it must have rubbed against your bed sheets or something. It explains the small hard stains on the cotton fabric.

Looks like you'll be doing laundry today. You needed to anyways. The stack of dirty clothes that you'd been ignoring during the packing process has piled up.

Louis watches you drag yourself from your bed from where he's stood behind his dull green curtains.

"So pretty even when you wake up," he thinks to himself.

He's so hypnotized by you, he doesn't even look down at the bowl of cereal in his hands as he eats calmly wondering if you know.

He watches your hand slide down between your legs to feel around, blissfully unaware as you search for any residue in your sore pussy.

His stare is relentlessly fixed on you. He can't look away, not that he even wants to. His heart drums faster in his chest along with his thoughts.

Does she know? Did she wake up? Is she going to touch herself? Did she enjoy it?

Inebriated with intrigue and curiosity, he stands frozen with one wide creepy eye peeping out from behind his curtain.

His mouth dries with anticipation, hoping you would touch yourself at the thought of being fucked by him. He can almost hear his blood rush in his head as his breath catches in his throat. He wishes he could hear every sound you make.

Lou doesn't even notice he's holding his only breath as you investigate your body, running a hand over your sore breasts and swollen pussy, when he sets his cereal down on the flower table by the window.

"I can't believe it," he thinks to himself. "That little filthy whore liked it. Can't get enough. Just the way I like it."

While you're asking yourself how this came to be, wondering if your little wet dream became a masturbating sleepwalking session, Lou's got his pants and belt open to unleash his heavy twitch dick.

With every recollection of your soft skin, the taste and the warmth of your pussy, his precum oozes from his domed head, allowing himself to smear it over his veiny member adding to the lube of his spit.

He can imagine how sweet your moans must sound. He would give anything to hear them while defiles your innocent body, plundering for the mind-numbing high.

It brings him to the idea of setting up cameras in your apartment, which doesn't sound so bad.

How come I hadn't thought of that before? He questions himself mentally, being the perverted voyager that he is.

He makes a mental note to plan that later. His mind is too impaired to churn out the details for that. Right now, all he can focus on how your hand is still between your legs.

As you think back to every possible explanation, your mind seems to only concentrate how realistic your dream felt.

You could smell the musky cologne of his body. You could feel his cock pushing and pulling in and out of you. You could feel his tongue wiggle between your folds once he was done pounding it ruthlessly.

The more you think about it, the more you ache for your neighbor.

The thought of him fucking you into your mattress drives you reach your heavy arm to your nightstand and pull out your vibrating friend.

The soreness of your limbs and the throbbing headache aren't enough to silence your pussy's craving. And it yearns for Lou.

Lou watches with a dry mouth hung open as you grind the humming cock against your pussy, drenching it with your slick to push it in.

You lick your lips and moan as you let the vibrator tease your clit, imagining Lou's face so clearly hovering over you as his dick penetrates your cunt.

The thought of the heavenly sounds your bodies would make as his hips snap against your sweaty hot skin.

You imagine threading your fingers into his silky hair as he buries his face between your legs, his tongue invading your core. The intensity of his thick-browed gaze up at you, gripping you with greedy hands and hunger as his mouth works it's wonder on you.

The watch on Lou's wrist rattles softly in the quiet of his apartment as he tugs his dick; his only little compliment to your performance.

With your legs spread wide, you push the vibrator into your slick slit and begin fucking yourself into your own bliss.

You're so fucking horny and drenched that the squelch of your pussy overcomes the vibrations of your toy. You're so hungry for cock and so pretty unknowingly putting yourself on display, holding one leg back to your chest as you fuck your pussy.

You're moaning, gasping and kneading your breast while Lou struggles to not cum just yet.

He wants to wait to cum with you. He wants to cum together because you're his. You were meant to be his and you have to cum together. He needs to feel - or at least pretend enough - that he's right back in your vice of a cunt, dicking you down raw.

His breath hitches as you get closer together and closer and closer until the pulling tension finally snaps in your cores, sheathing you both euphoric waves of pleasure.

"Fuck," he sighs looking at the curtains he'd just stained with ribbons of pearly white cum.

He really needs you again.

He wants more. He'll always want more.

Looking back out the window, he sees you slowly getting to walk to the bathroom and exit from view. He correctly assumes you've gone for a shower, but he needs another round.

With the camera hooked up to the tv, he finally sits back on his couch with your panties in hand. He presses play and begins to watch his work of art from the previous night, he threads his cock into your panties and begins to stroke his length.

He takes a bit of time to notice all the little intimate details of your home that reflect your tastes. Stroking his softened cock to its hardened state again, he makes notes of most of the things you love.

What a lucky little angel you are. He should be watching the news to see what his team's managed to capture without him. Yet here he is, prioritizing you. Worshipping you. You just don't know how truly special you are...yet.

Louis's head falls back as the vulgar images and sound lull him into bliss.

He remembers how pretty you looked. So exposed just for his eyes. All and only his even if just for a while.

Louis's chest heaves as he stares at the TV. You look so peaceful in your sleep. He wonders if he'll ever get to sleep beside you.

While Lou jacks his cock off to the dirty homemade video with your panties hooked around his cock, the fresh scent of the dark brew in your coffee pot wafts through your apartment, infiltrating your bathroom as you wash yourself in the shower.

The warm water rinses away the soreness of your body as you sit on the ground under the running shower.

You close your eyes to enjoy the soothing calm of the shower. Your mind begins to wander. What is it about him that has you so hung up on him?

Sure, he's attractive. He's no LA fitness model. Just a thin, young man with a deadly smile, luscious brown lock and piercing unyielding eyes that could burn a hole tight through you.

He looked fairly common, but there was still something there within that brought a chill up your spine until the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

To be entirely honest, you can't tell if you're attracted to him or scared of him. But whatever it is, it's pulling you like a magnet.

As he waters his treasured flower, he notices across from his window that you're gathering clothes and bedsheets, preparing a laundry basket as you nestle the laundry soap and softener upon the piled fabrics.

He sees this as an opportunity to get closer to you presenting itself. And given the mess he's made on the curtains and your stolen panties, he knows it'll have to be laundry day for him as well.

The complex you share has a community laundromat for the tenants. He presumes that's where you're going, he needs to get there before you do. He needs you to think it's all a mare coincidence.

He watches you wide-eyed as you set your basket down on the couch.

Your toast's popped up in the toaster.

He sighs in relief, knowing now he has enough time to gather his laundry and soap to race to the laundromat to get there before you do.

He stumbles through his apartment, gathering whatever he can find to toss aimlessly into his laundry basket. Then he gathers the curtains from his window to dump them into the basket, along with your dirty lace panties.

He kinda hates that he ruined them. Now, he'll have to wash them and that will wash away your precious scent. No worries, though. He'll just steal another next time and make sure he keeps that one sealed and cleaned to sniff whenever he craves your pussy.

Grabbing a few more clothes, not really caring if they're clean or dirty, he takes one more glance out the window and see that you're still enjoying your simple breakfast.

Dressed in a pink shirt, he ties his brown locks back away from his face and carries his basket on his hip as he calmly makes his way to the laundry room confident in his plan to win you over.

You finish your slices of buttered toast and coffee before wiping your hands together and quickly rinsing the dishes.

The move must have really taken a toll on you because your body is beyond tired, but you still need to push forward though all you wish you could do is sleep under your covers.

Taking a cold water bottle from the fridge, you walk out of your apartment with basket wearing a simple top, short denim shorts and a pair of flip flops.

As you approach the laundromat, you can hear a machine working already from the hallway. The door is wide open, providing more light into the dull dark laundry room.

Outdated washers and dryers line the the walls of the room - if you can even call it that. It really looks more like a building basement with the lack of windows.

You freeze for a minute as you quickly make out the familiar figure standing with his back to you as he calmly sets his clothes in the washer one item at a time.

After a glance over his shoulder, he turns around his head to flash a smile that attempts to seem more welcoming than devious, though faint worry radiating from your amygdala questions his succession in asserting comfort.

"Y/N, right? The new neighbor?" As if he could ever forget your name.

"Yeah. You're Lou, right?" you reply politely returning the smile.

Without any control, your pussy squeezes around nothing arching for him once again as you're reminded of your dream.

"Are you settling in alright?"

"Yeah, I am. Still have some unpacking to finish, but everything is going well. Thanks for asking."

"Sure thing. Oh, " suggest washer number 3. It works the best if you ask me. Don't bother with number 9. It'll take your coins, but it doesn't work. I personally believe it's intentionally rigged to steal our money."

"Thank you for that. I'll have to keep that in mind," you smile politely.

You wonder if it's actually true or if he just wants you to be closer to him given that washer number 3 is right next to him. Why wouldn't he take the best washer instead?

Brushing off the worrisome questions, you feel like you barely know him enough to make judgements about him, so you walk over to the washer beside his and start loading it up.

"Thank you for the cookies again. They were really good. I almost ate all of them."

He smiles to himself. Almost? That could only mean you didn't eat all of them, meaning there are more of the sleep-inducing cookies that can provide him with another opportunity and hopefully tonight.

His dick twitches at the excitement.

"I'm glad you enjoyed them. Although I admit they're much better when eating within the first two days. After that, they start to go stale."

They don't, but he can't risk you not eating them.

"Guess I'll have to finish them all today. What a sacrifice," you reply ironically flashing a smile at him.

He chuckles at your jokes, trying his best to mimick genuine amusement.

"What an awful way to indulge."

"Did you make them from scratch?"

"Oh, of course" he lies. "They're my late grandma's recipe."

He never even met his grandmother or grandparents. He was given up to adoption at an early age. He lies to add a personal taste; he hopes he can win you over a little with a family-friendly detail.

And he does.

"Aw, that's sweet," you swoon. "Did you learn how to cook with her?"

"She taught me enough to get me by."

"Well, she taught you well. Those cookies were delicious."

Yes, you are. The best thing I've ever tasted, he thinks to himself.

"She taught me how to make a wonderful chocolate cake as well. I'd love to make it for you sometime," he beams at all the possible opportunities that flash through his mind.

"Yeah, I'd love that! I love chocolate cake. But you gotta let me make you something too," you reply feeling a little too spoiled.

"You don't have to do that. I love baking," he hasn't the slightest clue how to make a cake from scratch. Thank God for box mix, though.

"Well, I wouldn't feel so bad about accepting all your treats. Why don't you at least let me take you out then? My treat."

"Are you asking me out?" he smirks locking his eyes on you.

"I might be. Doesn't have to be a date if you don't want to."

Your cheeks flush with warmth as he catches your not-so-subtle invitation.

"Yeah, I'd love that. And I appreciate a woman that isn't afraid to take the initiative."

You smile brightly feeling like you just took a step in the right direction.

"I'm free tonight if you are? I know a great place that serves authentic Mexican food."

"Sounds great to me. How about tonight at 8?"

"Perfect, sweetheart" he grins.

His idea to win you over is actually working, all according to plan.

#reblog: lou bloom

[gyllenhaalstories]

#movie: accidental love #you can call me queuetin

[gyllenhaalstories]

WE'RE NOT COWBOYS — DANNY SHARP

summary: danny likes his banks robberies short and sweet. he avoids collateral damage at all costs... most of the time.

warnings: reader is gender neutral! bank robbery, weapons, injury, blood, some sort of comfort/fluff mix? your guess is as good as mine. 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2515

gif credits: @/stephendorff (cropped) / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i watched ambulance again and i could not resist writing whatever this is. 💵 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"Why is it taking so fucking long?" A man shouted from God knew where. "Where's Mel? Has anybody seen Mel Gibson?" More men answered 'no sir' in sync.

You sobbed, the pain stung so bad that even crying hurt. You were stuck in a cycle. The more you cried, the more it hurt and the more it made you want to cry.

A tall, bearded man stared down at you. He rubbed his knuckles, soothing the pain he caused himself by punching you in the face. You had taken him by surprise, squealing of fear while he hurried out of the vault with the last of the money and valued goods he stole. He took a better hold of his rifle, he tried to assess if your life was worth wasting a bullet on.

"I swear to God, I'm gonna kill that guy!" The first person spoke again and marked a pause before continuing, he chuckled while he specified his wish. "I won't! Okay? I won't. Not until today's precious cargo is safe and sound."

Nope, you were not worth it. He abandoned you by the bank tellers' desks, shaking like a palm tree in a storm.

"There you fucking are! Thought you got lost, that's not very Braveheart of you." You heard some mumbling you assumed came from the man who punched you. He received more reprimands and threats in exchange for his tardiness. "Do I have to tie you to one of those kiddy leashes so you don't run away? I saw some parents walk their child with that shit last week. Los Angeles, man... It'll drive you crazy!"

You heard instructions being given, the men were wrapping up and leaving the building. All men except for the one who's footsteps echoed louder and louder. You covered your mouth with your free hand, trying to be as quiet as you possibly could in this moment. You closed your eyes too, maybe if you could not see him then he would not see you. Wrong.

"Hi."

You ignored him, rocking yourself back and forth until another wave of pain made you wail.

"Hey, hey, hey. Listen to me. You're okay, you're fine."

You made the mistake of looking up and locked eyes with this man dressed in fancy attire. He looked like a manager with his tailored suit and dress pants, he even got a shiny name tag to go with it. You failed to read what the tag said.

"My name's Daniel," he offered you a smile you could barely decipher with your vision, blurry from the tears. "Everyone calls me Danny."

You did not budge, bloodshot eyes staring at his foggy figure.

"You're hurt." He noticed a drop or two of blood on your brow bone. "Who hurt you? Was it Mel Gibson?"

You nodded frantically, but stopped. It hurt too much.

"That fucker." He said under his breath, but covered it up with another disingenuous smile. "You stay there, okay? I'll be right back. Don't move."

He ordered you to stay immobile and you listened. Where would you go anyway? Maybe he had an army of Mel Gibsons out there. All you knew was that they swarmed in the bank, you froze in place and, because of your reaction (or lack thereof), you failed to follow the other workers and visitors when they were bunched up in a corner of the facility.

Danny speed-walked his way back to where he came from, instructing his men to leave without him. He'd be fine, there was just a small inconvenience he had to deal with.

The next thing you heard was his familiar footsteps hurrying back to you.

"Good job! You listened." His tone was somewhere in the middle of patronizing and comforting, but at this very moment you preferred to cling to his words and to do as he said. "I'll take a look, okay? Let me look at you." He crouched down.

You pulled your hand slowly away from the left side of your face, where you were punched. You flinched when Danny approached you.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. And I'm gonna make sure the guy who did this..." He looked at your wound then back into your eyes. "Pays for it. Got it?"

You nodded, slower this time than before. You figured out what he meant by that and the thought was sinister.

"Oh, poor little thing." He grinned, his facial expression softening when he assessed the gravity of your state. "It's just a black eye. You'll be fine."

You were starting to wonder what being fine meant to him.

"It won't hurt for long, trust me. I've gotten my fair share of those. I'm a little bit of a troublemaker." He winked at you and giggled.

The adrenaline rush started to drop, leaving you shivering.

Danny quickly noticed. He kept an eye on you, noticing how much you flinched and tensed up when he moved, while he took off his jacket and the black cashmere sweater he wore underneath. "Can ya feel that? It's soft. It's cashmere. I love cashmere." He draped the sweater over your body, hoping that it would stop you from shaking like a leaf. "I'll get you something for the pain."

Your mind began an epic race. If this guy was anything like the villains you saw in movies, he'd probably drug you or kill you the second he earned your trust. Oh God. He was earning it already! You were doomed, this was how it ended for you... Sitting on the dusty floor of the bank and being sweet talked towards your demise.

While your mind spiralled endlessly, Danny had searched the place around. He located a vending machine, probably destined for employees for their lunch break. Now, all he needed was a handful of coins. Lucky him, banks were full of coins. He scavenged through messy desks and even messier drawers until he found what he wanted. He headed towards the machine and, while waiting to select his desired item, he made a quick phone call to Castro.

"Mister Sharp, I can't do this right now! No, I'm not watching the soccer game. I'm just busy, the guys are arriving! What am I supposed to do? Okay, got it. I'll go! I'm coming! Yeah, I'll get a car! I'm running! Are you good? You seem stressed again. Stress is bad. I heard tea helped, have you tried to drink tea? Wait, how am I gonna make it back here? Mister Sharp? Do you need flamingos this time?"

You caught no word of that, despite how his employee was shouting through the phone, too busy listening to your own thoughts. Only Danny's silhouette walking towards you pulled you out of this misery.

He pressed a cold can of soda on the corner of your eye. "It will soothe the pain and you won't swell as much. First time getting punched, huh?" You shrugged, he took that as a yes. "I remember my first time... It was with my brother."

You frowned, the phrasing could not have been worse.

"No!" He yelled, clearing everything up. "I mean the first punch. He punched me. We were playing cowboys and he just popped one right in my face. He said it was an accident. I believe him. He became a Marine, maybe that moment inspired him."

You were not in the right state, both physical and psychological, to unpack what you just heard. Instead, you focused on the cold aluminum of the can and how it numbed the stinging pain.

"There's gonna be a car waiting for us soon. I'll take you back home? You can take something for the pain, lay down and sleep it off. It will turn different colours while it heals, but you'll look as pretty as ever in no time."

You swallowed the lump in your throat that was telling you to not trust him. He was a stranger. A dangerous stranger, at that. Your gut feeling rang all sorts of alarms, but still... You wanted to believe him.

"If anyone asks, you can tell them you were clumsy. Hit yourself while opening the cupboards. They'll buy it, people are so gullible."

The flag could not have been more red than that.

Speaking of red, there was a red reflection coming from the windows.

"There he fucking is, took him long enough." Danny sighed with a roll of his eyes. His demeanour changed radically when he aimed his attention back to you. "Think you can stand up? Here, let me help you." He offered you strong hands to pull you up.

Your legs were shaky, your knees barely held you up on your feet but you managed.

"I gotcha." Danny wrapped a solid arm around your waist, silently encouraging you to lean on him while he guided you towards the exit.

You held the soda can tightly, subconsciously preparing yourself to use it as a weapon if needed.

Danny's employee, Castro, held the door open for you. He drowned the both of you in a river of excuses before his boss could even speak a word. "T'was the only set of keys I found, sir! I made it as fast as I can like you told me to! I always listen so well, maybe not about the flamingos though... But you know, maybe one day you'll think of paying me more. I'm kinda like the employee of the month."

"Employees of the month wouldn't forget the first fucking rule! What is it Castro? We don't touch these cars." The two men repeated this last sentence together like a parent lecturing his child.

You looked around. Your gut was telling you to run while they were arguing, to run and save your life.

Danny's grip tightened around your waist, as if he guessed what went through your mind. He discarded of Castro, sending him off to God knew where again. He opened the door of the luxury car for you.

You sat down, let him buckle your seat belt. It oddly felt like you were a hostage he tied up to prevent you from running away. Perhaps because that was exactly what you were.

"Tell me, sweetheart. Where do you live? I'm taking you for a ride. How romantic!"

*~*~*

Danny sang along, badly if you dared to admit it, to the songs on the radio while he drove you back to your place. He parked the car and walked around to the passenger side. He most definitely overcompensated his insanity with chivalry.

You got out of the car and sighed of relief. He was right, people were gullible and you were the best example of it. "Hey, Danny." You handed him his sweater. "Thank you."

"You can keep it. As a souvenir." You sure would remember this terrifying day and you did not need an expensive cashmere sweater to remind you of it.

The two of you walked until you reached the front door. "Can you promise me something?" Danny hooked a finger under your chin and made you look in his direction. "You can keep a secret, can you?"

You nodded.

"Good. You seem like a trustworthy person."

You smiled faintly.

"Got a beautiful smile too." This hint of praise was not manipulative, well not intentionally. "Listen. We're not cowboys. Well... I'm not. I'm not a cowboy. I do things right. Nobody else got hurt today, you know? You shouldn't have gotten hurt." Danny brushed his finger gently over the bruise. "But you gotta promise me to keep this between you and I."

He felt you tense up, a breath getting caught in your throat.

"You have to. I know you can. I told you how to cover it up." It referring to the black eye, to the context and reason behind it, to this day that was taken straight out of some of your worst nightmares. "This is a day just like any other day for you."

You opened your mouth to disagree. All you wanted was to take some money out of your bank account and go about your day. You did not even get to do any of that and you got a nasty bruise as a bonus.

"By keeping this a secret, you're saving a life." He nodded slowly with a grin on his thin lips. "Yours." His eyes darkened and his smile faded. "We're not cowboys," he repeated. "I only wanted the money and I got it." He shrugged it off like it was nothing. "You don't want to become collateral damage, do you?"

You hoped there would be no other day like today.

"And you won't." He swayed between threatening you one second and, on the next, he was reassuring you. "As long as you promise me." Danny's hands, that were resting on your shoulders, dragged down your arms.

He held your hands in his, it stopped you from shaking. What was it about this man that felt so soothing? You had heard him scream at his legion of bad guys. Yet, with you, he was rather calm and composed. Almost caring.

"We got a deal? Ah, fuck, wait." He rolled his eyes, faking to have forgotten something. His other hand disappeared behind his back and, for one second yet again, you regretted not having trusted your gut feeling. You stared at a stack of cash, fresh out of the bank that he robbed not that long ago, that he pulled out from under the back of his belt. "Now. Do we have a deal?" He presented his pinkie finger to you, waiting for you to seal this promise.

You glanced at the money, then at his face. You were met with eyes as blue as the sky behind him. You locked your finger with his and took the money with you. "Deal."

He started to walk away, turning his back at you. You were left with an immense promise to keep, enough money to take your mind off it for a while... And a cashmere sweater that smelled of his cologne. "Danny!" You called out his name.

He turned to face you, too quickly to have time to put on a fake smile. Danny started to second guess if this whole thing... If you were a good idea. But you cut him short.

"Will I see you around?"

The smile that started to spread from ear to ear was anything but fake. "Fuck yeah, you will. On TV. they'll be talking about it on the news. Impressive, huh? I never get tired of that shit." He took a deep breath, his chest swollen with pride. It took him a moment to register the intention behind your question. He arched his brow, amused. "Oh, you want more of this?" He gestured towards himself.

You agreed to meet again.

He told you he'd pick you up in this same car, so you knew what to expect. It was fine when Danny broke the rules. He could break all the rules he wanted. He was not a cowboy, but he sure was an outlaw.

#jake gyllenhaal #danny sharp #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal imagine #danny sharp imagine #danny sharp fanfic

[gyllenhaalstories]

FELLOW TRAVELERS (2023) 1.01 ∙ You're Wonderful

#tv: fellow travelers #you can call me queuetin

[gyllenhaalstories]

I absolutely love your fics! Can you please recommend some sub!Jake fics? I just can’t get enough of him lol

hi!!! thank you so so so much! i appreciate you for taking the time to say that! 💖 i tried to go through a few writers' masterlist and blogs by searching the word sub hoping it would give me some results and it did! (finally, some good use for my education). i found a lot of content for donnie darko as well so i added that to the list. i must have missed so much sub!jake content, but this is what i gathered for you! i'm always encouraging people to comment with more suggestions!

sub!jake

Dom!reader blurb by @gyll-yee-haw

Good Morning by @gyllenflower

Pretty boy by @/bammargerasgf (the user has deactivated, so i'm linking you to the post i reblogged)

Red Velvet by me @gyllenhaalstories

sub!donnie darko

Come and Get 'Em by gyllenflower

Gift by gyllenhflower

Let's just stay here, Instead by gyllenflower

#anonymous

[gyllenhaalstories]

Hi! Umm... if you're still taking divider requests, could I please get some cherry themed dividers? 🍒

@lunar-cherries

Hi Megan @lunar-cherries - I can make some lil 🍒 ones for sure! Thanks for sending this in, I hope these will work!

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

#others: dividers #you can call me queuetin

[gyllenhaalstories]

Jake Gyllenhaal as Det. Loki II Prisoners

dedicated to @charliehoennam 💞

#character: detective loki #movie: prisoners

[gyllenhaalstories]

991 i hav emerjenci

Wow, what an absolute dumpster fire, right? *gestures broadly* ↓Below the cut↓ are some specific things as a reader/mutual/friend/etc you can do that will make things a little better.

You come across someone posting/using someone else's work without express permission to do so:

INFORM THE ORIGINAL CREATOR/POSTER (OP) DIRECTLY ════════════════════════════════════════ ✧ Let OP know BEFORE you attempt to engage with the person on their behalf. ✧ OP will probably want to lay eyes on the situation, and, if the person stealing their work is tipped off, they might proactively block OP and/or remove posts before they can be verified as stolen. ✧ Do not harass the person who stole the work. It might be coming from a place of wanting to stick up for OP, but it ultimately doesn't help the situation.

OP is experiencing a hate brigade, nasty anons, or trolling over their fic:

PRIORITIZE ACTIONS AND BEHAVIORS THAT KEEP THE FOCUS ON SUPPORT FOR OP ════════════════════════════════════════ ✧ Reblog the fic in question with a glowing recommendation or just leave a comment under it expressing your appreciation for it. Both actions will boost the work in question as well as show direct support for OP. ✧ Reach out privately through DMs if you have that sort of relationship, or send a supportive message through asks. Keep it simple and short as they are probably overwhelmed with the shitstorm at certain points. ✧ Speaking up with a supportive comment or post for OP isn't necessarily a bad thing, but arguing back and forth with the trolls/hate brigade/etc. - even if you are doing it with intention to support OP - only fuels the fire, and some of them are doing it for the attention anyway.

OP seems down / isn't motivated to write / is expressing considerations of leaving fic writing altogether because of the current climate on this hellsite:

GIVE THEM THE SPACE OR TIME THEY NEED, BUT ALSO LET THEM KNOW THAT THEY ARE VALUED ════════════════════════════════════════ ✧ For the love of god please don't bombard them with asks about when xyz is going to be posted. This is a hobby for them, and they have jobs, families, and other life responsibilities that come first. Many would love nothing more than to sit and write all day, but that just isn't the reality for 99% of fic writers. ✧ Show their older works love, too. Many fic writers take the time to curate an organized masterlist of their works, and many have been writing for a while. There is a trove of wonderful content that can be read or re-read while you patiently wait for your fave to update. ✧ If you're waiting for an update on a specific fic, go back through the older chapters/updates and leave a comment saying you love it so much that you're coming back to visit older chapters while you wait to see what happens next in the story. I guarantee it will give them a boost of motivation for that story in particular. ✧ REBLOG AND COMMENT. Yes, do both of those things. I want you open up a fic you love and scroll down to the bottom where you can see likes, comments, and reblogs. I want you to look at the disparity between likes and comments/reblogs. Clicking a heart button is pretty much zero effort, and it comes across as such to many writers. It's not how Tumblr operates. This is a REBLOG site. That is how things make their way around. That is how posts get engagement. That is how other people can discover the fic writers you enjoy. Look, I even made a meme to show you what it feels like when after hours and hours of writing and editing you finally post a fic and then somebody only hearts it:

Even a simple "I loved this so much and can't wait to read more!" does wonders. A quick reblog that mentions your favorite part in the story is like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow for writers.

You come across people trashing a writer you like:

CONSIDER IF IT'S HELPFUL OR NOT TO ADDRESS IT ════════════════════════════════════════ ✧ People are allowed to have negative/differing opinions about things. If they are expressing their dislike, even in a nasty way, they are allowed to do so. ✧ If it is a genuinely harmful/disparaging conversation, look to see what sort of traction the conversation has. Sometimes it's better to just let something die down before it can even take off. Examples of genuinely harmful/disparaging conversation include but aren't limited to: accusing OP of something egregious without any evidence to support it, framing rumors/gossip they've seen about OP as factual, deeming them criminally or morally corrupt based off a personal opinion they have of OP/their works. ✧ Remember that while serious concerns (like the above point) might be good to share with OP, not every instance of negativity or hate needs to be brought to their attention. If it's just some random jerk on a different platform talking about how much OP's writing is amateur hour, you should probably just leave it be. OP is a person at the end of the day, and sometimes things can be more hurtful than helpful for them to see.

OP isn't acting / responding in a way that you like:

REMIND YOURSELF THAT THEY ARE JUST ANOTHER PERSON IN THE FANDOM AND ARE NOT AN INFLUENCER ════════════════════════════════════════ ✧ OP isn't in this fandom to be put on a pedestal (of course there are always exceptions, but I'm not talking about those people) and treated like an influencer. ✧ OP creates works in the fandom because that is how they choose to engage with the fandom. It is one of many ways that people can come together in a community and celebrate an actor/movie/series/etc. ✧ OP is not a content farm. They are writing and sharing because they genuinely enjoy it. They are not being compensated. They are not being endorsed by anybody or any company. They are a normal person trying to take part in a fandom they enjoy. ✧ OP is not obligated to address or comment on a situation, an interaction, discourse, etc. They are not an influencer and aren't equivalent to the parasocial relationships that influencers (aka people who make a living off the internet) have with their followers. OP is not required to "use their platform" for something. It's not a platform. It is OP's personal account where they engage and post in fandom. That is why it exists. OP is not some mega entity that has to speak on something because you demand or expect it.

OP blocked me:

THE CALL IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE ════════════════════════════════════════ ✧ Listen, I know it can be hurtful/confusing if you are blocked, especially if it is a writer you really like. I guarantee you that it was not done out of spite and for no reason. ✧ Take a look at the circles you run in, the posts you like, the sort of comments you leave, etc. Many writers are quick to block these days because the climate of this hellsite is very charged and exhausting. If OP sees your username cropping up again and again in fandom drama or you liked a discourse post with a shitty take or your chummy mutual is going off the rails with some bullshit, you might just get caught up in the Block Party. ✧ Don't go through another channel/account to ask why you've been blocked. No, you aren't entitled to a reason. OP is allowed to protect their mental health and peace, and they don't owe anyone an explanation of why and how they choose to curate their experience on this hellsite. ✧ If you believe you were blocked by mistake (which, again, is very unlikely), just take the L, homie. I know that's not what you want to hear, but that's just how it is.

If you took the time to read this, share it, or just in general intend to apply it to your interactions, ✨thank you✨!

Here is a Pedro gif tax for your time and attention. 💜

#others: important

[gyllenhaalstories]

Too Sweet - David Loki.

Inspired by the song ‘Too Sweet’ by Hozier because I’m obsessed with it!!

Disclaimer: I haven’t seen anyone do this yet but if it has been done please let me know!! ☺️

Pairing; David Loki x f/reader

Warnings!!: brief smut, oral f/recieving, angst-ish, colleagues, alcohol consumption, grumpy x sunshine, mention of crime/murder, knife mentioned, violence, etc.

Summary: David is profoundly attracted to his colleague but tries to stay away due to her sweet nature, which very much juxtaposes his. sulky nature. (key word- tries)

It can't be said I'm an early bird It's ten o'clock before I say a word Baby, I can never tell How do you sleep so well?

7:20 am , the clock read as you walked in. Coffees situated in hand as your pretty summer dress swayed softly.

“Hey Bill! Morning Sandra!” You greeted everyone in the morning with coffee and a smile, it’s was that time between spring and summer where everything was bright and made life feel worth living.

You fixed your eyes on Detective Loki, who had his nose buried amongst some case files and a frustrated grumpy look across his sharp features.

Taking out a black coffee from the holder you trailed over to him. You two weren’t exactly friends but you had a desperate need to be liked by him. Maybe it was because he was always so stern and earning yourself a smile would make you feel like a winner, or maybe it had something to do with the fact you were ridiculously attracted to him? Well, both things can be true simultaneously.

“Detective Loki, coffee?” You smiled down at him whilst extending the cup towards him in hopes he would accept your kind gesture.

Peeling his eyes away from his paper he met your gaze after you said his name.

“Oh, yes. Thank you.” He said in his monotone voice.

He grabbed the cup from your hands, lightly brushing over your fingers but snapped his head back to his paper in a matter of seconds.

There was nothing profoundly interesting on the paper but he didn’t want to engage with you. Just the thought of your company was overwhelming, never mind when you were handing him coffee and saying his name in such a sweet tone of voice. The smell of your perfume, your pretty summer dress and the sweetness that surrounds you would sweep him up in the blink of an eye. You were gorgeous, smart, likeable. You didn’t need to be getting involved with an older bitter man like him.

He did however wonder how you remained the way you are in a job like this. I mean how at seven in the moring are you considerate and nice? He imagined that you slept the way a princess would, other wise it would be a true mystery not even he could solve.

Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

The huge trees howled and peered down at you. Trapping you in as the screeches of crows was the only noise to be heard amongst the dismal scene.

You and Loki had been sent to a barren camp site out in the woods where two suspects had been reported as camping out. Realistically, you shouldn’t have been there, one because you quite literally weren’t suppose to be but had to be because Loki’s partner was off sick. And secondly, because most of your colleagues doubted your ability and thought infantilising you came from a place of concern rather than blatant misogyny.

Loki, however, didn’t want you there because the thought of just being alone with just you made him want to place his head in his palms. You had only exchanged a couple words as far as a sentence can go and you clearly liked to talk. He wasn’t so keen. He anticipated the awkwardness from the minute his supervisor had told you to go with him.

The crunching of leaves could be heard as the two of you stalked through the woods.

Loki spoke to you lowly as he kept his eyes on the tree line rather than you “These men are dangerous. You let me get them okay.”

You scoffed lightly which prompted him to turn his head to you, with his same expression he always had.

“Believe it or not, I am a fucking detective too. I have a gun strapped to my waist. I’m not an idiot”

Your sweet personality had been lost recently, which was most likely from the frustration of people assuming because you were nice you had to be weak too, and embarrassingly, because you still felt as though Loki was never going to crack. There was something about his cold nature that drew you in. You just wanted him to see you, which felt impossible.

You’re hostile attitude shocked Loki, it was quite attractive the way you stood your ground when he was so accustom to your soft spoken self. He raised his hands slightly as he apologised “Okay, sorry. You're right.”

You both continued to walk in silenced until you could see a campsite through the trees. There was a tent, a blazing bonfire, and some belongings scattered about. Loki protectively stood in front of you as you both spotted a man sat on a log, one which looked exactly like one of the two suspects.

Loki ran towards the man with his gun drawn and shouted “STAY FUCKING STILL!”

You followed behind quickly as Loki wrestled the man to the ground and cuffed him. Even if you were wrapped up in hostility you couldn't help but admit to yourslef that it was one of the hottest scenes you'd ever witnessed.

“Think you can run from me mother fucker.” Loki grunted as the man tried to wriggle his way out of the cuffs.

As Loki was taking care of the sicko criminal on the floor you heard movement from the tent. A man quickly appeared holding a knife but he tried to run from you rather than at you. You chased after him and trapped his foot, sending him flying to the floor, the knife flying from his hand and landing in a brush. Loki had noticed this and leapt up to come and help but you already cuffed the shouting man.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH! I’LL KILL YOU LIKE I KILLED THOSE OTHER WHORES!”

Back up had turned up shortly after to come and collect the two men. You stood by the bonfire and watched as the men were shoved into vans. A feeling of adrenaline consuming you as well as a deep sadness for the women who weren't saved from the foul men.

Loki slowly approached you scanning over your drained features as he stepped closer to you.

“Good job today (y,n).” It was blunt and pretty vague but honestly gaining validation from your older attractive colleague was rewarding and his presents dragged you from your depressing thoughts.

You smiled at him, your face illuminated by the orange flames as the sun started to set. He stared back at you whilst trying to decide if he should say what he wanted to. Fuck it.

“You look like you could use a drink. I’m gonna grab one, you wanna come?” He felt nervous, like he was twelve years old asking out the pretty popular girl to be his date to some cheesy dance. It was purley out of compassion and a need for a drinking buddy he told himself, not because he wanted to spend more of the day with you or anything.

The tiredness in your eyes remained but your lips did form into a smirk “I’d like that a lot, Loki.”

The smell of smoke from the bonfire filled the air before you, as he couldn’t help but stare at the reflection of the flames in your eyes, getting lost in your haze.

He snapped out of his admiration and suggested you guys take his car.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat

The sultry music that played in the background of the barren bar was drowned out by the sound of Loki's glass hitting the bar again, only the smell of whiskey left in the glass. After that day, Loki decided he needed a drink and had reluctantly invited you to come along which was his weird way of forming somewhat of a relationship with you. You absolutely did come along because the thought of the two men you and Loki had caught made you want to drink until a single thought couldn't grace your thoughts. And you felt comfortable with him. It wasn’t some sleazy type of invitation for drinks but more a mutual feeling of despair that could be lifting with the taste of alcohol.

Loki had order whiskey, neat of course, which made so much sense. You however had far one too many vodka and cherry cola’s.

At first Loki admired your ability to somewhat keep up with him, until he realised maybe that wasn’t the case, which he realised when you started to drunkenly cry about how you felt like your boss hated you and everone thought you were weak. Loki knew this was drunk nonsense because nobody could hate you, you‘re too sweet.

“Hey hey come on now, he doesn’t hate you. How could anybody hate you? And nobody thinks you're weak, especially not me.” He tried to calm your drunk ass down and started to think maybe asking you for a drink was not a good idea. That compassion he felt for you did scare him a little though.

He had tried to distance himself from you, but it seemed he couldn’t. Every assignment, there you were. It was impossible to remain distance or blunt around you. Even if he was admittedly a bit of a dick to everyone else he realised after being in your presence continuously that you were now almost friends? In a way?

Loki wasn’t drunk, sure he had drunk but he wasn’t drunk. He walked you to his car and helped you into the front seat. I mean what’s a detective without a little criminal activity, and he was still perfectly fine to drive. You on the other hand was not fine and there was no way Loki was letting you get into a cab on your own , not in this state.

Once driving you had gone quiet from your intoxicated rambling that had entertained Loki as he practically carried you to the car.

“Hey (y,n) what’s your address so I can take you home.”

There was no answer.

Loki peered over and you were sound asleep. Of course you were. He grabbed his phone from his pocket so he could call a colleague to find out where you lived but of course it had died.

He looked over at you and felt an odd feeling in his chest. He let out a huff and made a U turn.

My coffee black and my bed at three

He had helped you into his apartment and made a bed up on the couch for himself. But before that he had fixed you both some coffee in order to help you sober up a little. His was black o. He gave you some toast and your sweetened coffee as you thanked him mercilessly. He was glad you were at least conscious now.

“That’s already. Do you want me to take you home, or you can stay here? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

It was pretty late and he had felt an odd shift towards you from the hours before. Your vunreblity you inviited him to see had eradicated the strange tension you two seemed to possess previously. You felt comfortable with him, so he felt comfortable around you.

Despite your intoxicated state, you could recognise the serenity in his voice, probably being the nicest he’s ever spoken to anyone ever.

You shook your head slightly as you eyes fluttered “David you don’t have to do that, I’ll sleep on the couch. ”

The thought of another car ride did make you want to vomit, and you trusted Loki so there was no harm in staying.

The use of his first name threw him off a bit but he was insistent that you took the bed whilst also briefly apologising for his lack female comfortable clothing. He set out some briefs and a t shirt, that was nowhere close to fitting you, onto the bed.

You slipped them on a thanked him one more time before settling in to his bed. The alcohol in your system left a feeling of guilt upon your conscionous as the smell of him hit you from his pillows. However, after a couple minutes with your head touching his pillows you were fast asleep.

You're too sweet for me

The next morning had arrived and Loki started to get up for work, when he remembered you were sleeping soundly in his bed. He quietly got himself together and left you a note on the bedside table which read;

Gone to work, I’ll let them know you're sick. Help yourself to anything and the keys are on the kitchen counter.

Accompanied with the note was a glass of water and a some aspirin to help with the hangover. He stared down at your face, you looked so pretty. God you were too perfect, far too kind and compassionate to be with the likes of him. He covered the duvet over you before he left and made sure to take a final glance at you before leaving.

After waking up from a pleasant sleep to a not so pleasant headache, you were quickly snapped out of your self pity after realising you were in your colleagues bed. Your colleague who you had been trying to impress forever.

You shortly remembered why that was and the hangxiety demons grabbed ahold of you. You shoved your face into his pillows as you cursed yourself for getting in such a state. God, he probably thought you were ridiculous, a stupid child who couldn’t handle their alcohol. Great.

Then the panic of work hit you, fuck were you late? Where was Loki? What was the fucking time? Your eyes scanned for an indication when they laid upon his note. You let out a sigh of relief after reading that Loki was going to cover your ass. You took the pills, made his bed, changed back into your clothes and called yourself a cab home.

You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate

Once you had gotten home you left Loki a message to thank him for his kindness, not only through letting you stay at his house but also for covering your ass at home. The thought of inconveniencing others made you want to die.

Loki's kindness left you with this debilitating feeling in your chest, you two had becomes somewhat friends but the overwhelming attraction you felt to him only became magnified when he provided you with his security last night.

You felt absolutely disgusting with the hangxiety seeping through your soul, your clothes from yesterday, and the fact you hadn’t showered since yesterday morning.

The sound of the shower blasting accompanied with your favourite playlist playing made you feel calmer and cleaner already. You jumped into the shower and decided you had to see Loki. You had to thank him in person. Something about knowing you slept in his bed last night and you haven’t seen him since just didn’t feel right.

If you were seeing Loki, it had to be an everything shower. You had to look and feel perfect. As you massaged your sweet smelling shampoo into your scalp your mind imagined walking up to his door and kissing him. God, the thought made your heart ache and yearn for it to be reality, but you highly doubted he felt the same. I mean it was Loki.

Once every inch of your body smelt, felt and looked divine you admired yourself in the mirror. Your makeup looked stunning but not overbearing, your hair looked like you had just come out of a Victorian secret catalog and you smelt gorgeous.

You quickly checked your phone and saw Loki had replied, meaning he was probably home from work by now. You opened up the message which read;

‘Thats okay (y,n), no need to thank me. Did you get home alright?’

God why did he care so much? Why did it make you want him more, and why did he have to be a colleague? Without even replying to the text you rushed to your car and made your way over to his. Admittedly, you did have one of your friends from the IT department tell you where he lived a little while back. It wasn’t creep or stalking, you’re a detective okay? That makes it fine, I suppose.

Once you arrived and was stood outside his door your heart started to pound. You took a deep breath and gently knocked on his door.

The minutes in which it took him to open the door immediately made you want to run away. But you didn’t. You stayed and stared at the door.

Finally when it opened you saw Loki standing in the doorway, uniform still on and was that a smile plastered on his face?

“Oh hello (y,n).” He said sounding pleasantly shocked to see you. Then he subtly looked you up and down. Fuck you looked so pretty.

You stared for a minute, wide eyed. “Hey, so um-, I just like, wanted to say thanks. Again.” You could feel your cheeks blush from being so self aware.

You could feel his low brow stare as you talked, making you feel even more nervous. You had talked to criminals that had committed heinous crimes but somehow this was far more nerve racking.

He stepped a little closer to you, looking down. “You didn't need to say it again, I told you it’s my pleasure.”

Without saying anything you stood staring into his eyes.

“Well yeah, I just came by to express how thankful I really am.”

He smirked and then brushed a piece of hair behind your ear with his large hand, a small piece of his own hair falling as he leaned forward. God you were so sweet, but he could tell you weren’t here because of that.

Cupping your jaw he gently connected his lips to yours. You gasped quietly making Loki retreat instantly.

“Fuck. I’m sorry I-“

Before he had time to continue you smashed your lips together again, humming into the kiss. It became heated and as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, feeling as though he had reached heavens gate.

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

You tried to catch your breath as Loki's lips attacked yours mercilessly as you both made your way to his bedroom whilst crashing into every surface on the way.

The base of your back hit the wall as his hands started to undress you in between the hard kisses. “You’re so fucking pretty. Wanted you for so long.”

You could only moan in response as the feeling of his hands hugged your skin and his teeth grazed your neck.

Once he had gotten you in just your lingerie set, which he noticed immediately, he grabbed the backs of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Pulling his hair you whined as he carried you to the bedroom. You were so desperate for him, it was insane.

Placing you down on to the end of the bed, he stood before you. You immediately crawled to your knees, and reached for the hem of his long fitted black shirt. He smiled and reached his big hand around your back and un clasped your bra as his other hand stroked your hair. You bit your lip in anticipation as the shirt slipped over his head, leaving him shirtless with nothing but his work pants on in front you you. You admired his god like torso, covered in tattoos.

You whispered a quiet “fuck” and kissed down his snail trail.

Loki groaned as you reached closer down his torso and gripped your jaw, bending down and kissing you hard once again.

“Lie back for me princess.”

Immediately you did as you were told and Loki quickly followed on top of you. One hand firmly gripped your waist hard enough to bruise, whilst the other held your right wrist again the bed. He kissed your sweet collar bones and made his way down to your nipples. He licked and kissed them as your chest heaved.

“Loki, please. I need you to bad.”

An amused grin spread across his face as blood rushed to his already hard cock. He dipped two large fingers into your underwear and they were immediate soaked by your desperation.

“Not as innocent as you seem, are you baby? Mhm?” He hummed.

You shook your head as you tried to not cry out from your needy incoherent state.

He brought his fingers to your lips and you wrapped your swollen lips around them and moaned.

Seconds later he was tearing off your panties and connecting his wet tongue to your pulsating cunt as he praised you through your moans.

“Taste just as sweet as you seem though. Taste and look so fucking good for me baby.”

He sucked on your clit as if it were a divine exotic fruit, almost as sweet as a grape turned into a majestic wine falling from an enchanted waterfall.

You thread your fingers through his hair and whimpered hysterically “Loki! Fuck!”

You're too sweet for me

The summer breeze trailed in through the open window as your head rested upon Lokis bare chest. You both laid there as you played with his big tattooed fingers and he took in the smell of your shampoo that he so secretly loved.

You started to talk his ear off mercilessly and he simply just listened. Taking in all of your words as if they were the most important words to ever be spoken. He nodded and hummed as he admired you. Your skin glowing. He had to admit to himself your sweet charming personality had caught him in a choke hold. There was an element of purity and sunshine that you brought to his sulky self, he was well and truly fucked. You're too sweet.

(Ugh im so obsessed with this song and it is soooo David Loki.)

#reblog: detective loki