#maggie gyllenhaal imagine

[jakegooglyeyes]

Emblem of Roses - 4

Pairings: Jake Gyllenhaal x reader, Maggie Gyllenhaal x reader (Medieval AU)

Summary: You were content with your quiet life as an illegitimate daughter of the King, hanging out with the maids and learning your craft. All that ended when your father married you to Lord Gyllenhaal, the Usurper, as a peace offering and a hostage.

Word count: 5,300

Warnings: 18+ MINOR DNI , RPF, DUBCON, angst, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, hate to pining, polyamory, slow burn with smut, political marriage, mean!Jake to pining!Jake, cunning!Maggie, kind!reader.

Chapter warnings: light smut, dubcon, dry humping, drinking.

*** Your online experience is your responsibility. You have been warned. If any of these content upsets you, DO NOT READ!!! ***

A/N: @gyllenhaalstories I did it, I finished the chapter. *cry* The chapter in which we learn why milord doesn't remember reader's face.

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics​ 

The pungent aroma of fermented fruits and honey invades your senses as you tumble on the earth, bearing the burden of an entire grown man. His Lordship keeps muttering his apologies into your ears in his intoxicated stupor. His drunken struggles only push you further into the ground.

"My Lord, please move."

You croak, elbowing his chest to prevent the man from collapsing on you. The disgrace of your wedding night resurfaces in your mind as his body heat and musky scent envelop you, making the winter night almost too hot to bear.

"Shifty rabbit, I am no Lord to you."

His words come out slurred and a little upset. He pushes himself up with his arms, but his entire lower body weighs you down on the cold, dusty stone floor. He gazes longingly at your form in the dark, licking his lips dry from the excessive drinking.

With a subtle shake of your head, you dodge the air saturated with alcoholic vapor. You are grateful, at least, that Lord Gyllenhaal is oblivious to the identity of his own wife, or so you pray. Whatever ale-infused fever dream has taken hold of him, you decide to comply and bide your time, waiting for the opportunity to wiggle away.

"Cat's got your tongue? Have you forgotten the stupid name you call me?"

With his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, the Lord runs his fingers on your lips, giggling like a fool. Then, as if he has found an entertaining plaything, he begins to rub and stretch your cheeks like a pile of dough. He does not seem to care if you even want to participate in this nonsensical, one-sided conversation.

With a deep inhale, you marvel at this frivolous facet of his personality while suppressing the temptation to knee him in the groin. The last thing you want is for him to regain awareness. Fortunately, his childish antics fail to amuse him for long. His hands slow down to a halt as he cups your face delicately. Your eyes begin to distinguish his quiet, slumping silhouette in the dark. A comforting warmth spreads across your stomach, then your chest, as he descends to be closer to your face.

"Have you forgotten me?"

The Lord is now so dangerously close that the very tip of your nose brushes against his. You reflexively tilt your face to the side, extending your arms in an attempt to support his weight and maintain a distance between you. His cold lips, seeking the softness they desire, land on your cheeks instead, eliciting a displeased grunt. The roughness of his beard scrapes against your skin as he continues his search, led by his mouth. The frigid touch of his lips explores your cheeks with tender care, worried he would miss a single inch.

"Are you angry?"

Unable to get what he wants, he sounds defeated. He is so close to you that you can sense the vibration in his broad chest as he groans. You have no desire to answer him, and the drunkard probably cannot comprehend whatever you say.

"You must be. I didn't come back for you."

His incoherent monologue goes on as he cradles your face with adoration, fingertips dancing on your cheeks. The heat from the palms seeps into your skin, making you feel the rough patches formed by many years of wielding the sword.

You want to say something in response, but the sudden firm grasp on your breast stops the words in your throat, followed by the ragged breaths of the man looming over you. The Lord ceases apologetic fussing, and the underground chamber falls into silence.

Though you have never considered yourself feeble or fragile and are used to arduous manual labor, you find it a monumental task to dislodge him. Despite your best efforts to shake him off, his superior grappling skills, honed through years of wrestling with the bannermen, ensnare you like stubborn vines. Every time you successfully worm your way out, he finds a way to recapture you, trapping you once more in his arms.

The pathetic wriggling presents the Lord an opening to make his way between your legs. His body causes the thick linen skirt to hike up your knees. Any leverage you may have is nullified by the thighs pressing into yours. Your right arm is stuck between your body while you try to push him away. And your remaining arm is left flailing blindly as he keeps one hand underneath your neck. His free hand runs down your side, fondling and squeezing every inch of you he can reach.

Your breaths hitch as the sudden touch catches you by surprise. You can neither see nor move, but the hard protrusion grinding against your pelvis is a tale-tell sign of the Lord's craving. His boots dig into the ground like an anchor as he slowly rocks himself into your hip. Audible sighs of pleasure escape his lips while he looks for release.

The sound of your teeth grinding together fills your ears as you struggle to determine if you feel humiliated or upset. The Lord has never spared you a kind word since the moment you set foot in these walls. To him, you have always been nothing but the wretched royal spawn. Yet here he is, seeking pleasure from you, mistaking you for his dearly long-lost beloved. He is capable of displaying affection and tenderness, just not towards you, his lawfully wed wife, not even as a farce. You cannot help but feel envious of the woman you have never met, the servants, everyone. Your pride is injured, and a stew of repressed bitterness begins to simmer within your heart.

Inexplicable greed creeps into your thoughts, causing a yearning that is both intense and insistent. It whispers into your ear, urging you to seize what is being offered. And, as the Lord's grasp tightens and his fingers manipulate with dexterity, it becomes increasingly difficult to resist the lure of this inner impulse. The warmth emitting from him is simply too comforting.

Sensing that your resistance has stopped, the Lord loosens his hold, falling on top of you as his breathing roughs. You let your free arms lie still on your sides as you bear witness to the Lord's charade. His dry thrusts become more urgent as his fingers fumble with your clothes.

The chilling air current of a winter night licks your skin like the edge of a sword as your chest and belly are exposed after a sharp tearing noise. You instinctively bring your hands up to cover your breasts, only to find the Lord a step ahead. Your breath is caught in your throat when an unfamiliar blistering heat covers the frigid skin of your mounds. The direct sensation is wholly different from being felt through clothes.

You cannot hold back an embarrassing whimper when a hot, wet mouth encloses one of your nipples, sucking in earnest. The hand on the other breast moves in tandem, a motion you can only describe as a hungry kitten pressing its mother's teats for milk. Your face burns with shame as the Lord nibbles on your bud like a scrumptious morsel.

The noxious aroma of wine and the dank air of the basement make your head loopy. You must be ludicrous as the thought of indulging him until he is sated begins to seem plausible. Your hand rises, your fingers brushing against the side of his head, where you feel the heat of his flushed cheeks. The Lord emits a soft groan, interpreting your gesture as encouragement.

Your body and his entangle as he starts to rub against you with vigor. His fingers refuse to let any bare inch of skin escape, caressing and pinching your naked flesh. You whimper and writhe underneath the Lord, unable to cope with the unfamiliar pleasure slowly building up. Although your lower body is still clothed, you can feel his hardness sliding along your untouched private part. The nasal growls in his throat get increasingly desperate as he inches closer to his rapture.

Guiding by instinct and lust, the Lord props himself up and fiddles to undo his trousers, freeing his painful erection. Then, not having enough patience to get rid of your remaining clothes, he searches for your hand and pulls it toward his stiff manhood before wrapping your unwilling fingers around it. The Lord's shaft throbs as his precum slathers your palm, allowing him easy movement. You do not want to know what is in his fantasy as the Lord thrusts into your hand while vocalizing his ecstasy.

With a final jerk, the Lord lets out a shaky breath. Hot, sticky ropes of him land on your breasts and stomach. He falls on top of you, breathing heavily, having been spent and exhausted. Unbeknownst to your husband, a hidden contraction in your core makes you flustered and frustrated. You cannot explain the yearning emptiness you are made to feel.

However, you soon realize you do not have the luxury of caring about your needs. As you struggle to push the man off, you hear approaching footsteps from the stairs leading down the basement. Panic grips your heart as torchlight illuminates the previously unlit storage chamber. Quietly, you free yourself from underneath the unconscious man and seek refuge behind the stack of barrels, holding your breath and desperately clinging to your disheveled clothing as the footsteps draw near.

Loud splash echoes inside the chamber, causing the Lord to grumble in protest as freezing water dumped over his head. You strain your eyes, trying to peak at the yellow flame of the torch. Two feminine figures, Lady Maggie and the middle-aged steward, still holding the empty bucket, stand over the Lady's troublesome brother. Their presence starkly contrasts with the moment of intimacy that had just transpired.

"My Lord, please stand up. The guests are waiting for you."

The Lady's composure conceals her inward frustration at the shameful spectacle. Although you cannot discern her expression through the narrow gap between the barrels, it is clear that she is not happy. The Lord's eyes sting at the torch's lights as he looks up at the women. Finally, he tenses up and comes to his senses. The fleeting remnants of his drunken hallucination vanish, but the sage's fragrance lingers, albeit almost too faint to notice. With a muttered curse, the Lord fixes his attire, salvaging what is left of his dignity, before furiously storming out of the underground chamber.

Lady Maggie's blue eyes resemble two inky pools under the faltering torch as she stands motionless in the middle of the chamber. The sudden departure of her brother amid the feast has left her juggling with the phony sycophants and inebriated nobles. She correctly suspected that her brother was hunting for more wine to drown his thoughts with, so she went to the basement to look for him. With the feast going on, the basement is frequently visited by servants. She does not want the Lord to be caught in an intoxicated state or seen defiling a hapless kitchen maid. These could ruin years of her effort to build up her brother's image as a righteous man.

"My Lady." The steward cautiously approaches her mistress and whispers something in the Lady's ears, which you cannot hear. You can only see the Lady's brows furrow for a moment before she goes back to her mellow impression.

"The guests are demanding his Lordship's presence. What would you have us do?"

The steward asks. Though she is nervous, her voice is as calm as ever, befitting the Lady's most trusted servant. Lady Maggie's eyes finally shift from the empty space where her brother was only moments ago to the steward, and she lets out a deep sigh.

"Gather the servants and inform them that the feast is to be concluded early. Tell everyone my brother had one too many drinks and has excused himself back to his chamber. Ensure guests are properly escorted back to their quarters."

With that, the Lady turns on her heel and strides out of the basement, with the steward quickly trailing behind. The underground chamber once again becomes a dark, cold hollow. You wait until you no longer hear footsteps and leave your hiding place.

Lord Gyllenhaal stumbles up the stone steps leading to his chamber, his thoughts a jumbled mess. His mind berates him for his irrational behaviors. He cannot explain what came over him in the basement, and the pleasant scent of sage still clouding his senses only adds to his confusion. Pushing through the decorated door, the Lord collapses onto his bed. He finds himself in torment, struggling against his desire, still slowly burning inside. Despite his best effort to suppress it, he cannot resist the fixation on the past.

As he lies on the bed, the Lord is consumed by doubt. He tries to make sense of what has just happened in the basement and questions the authenticity of the experience. Was the woman just a figment of his imagination, a manifestation of his longing? The uncertainty plagues him, leaving him to wonder if his mind has played tricks on him.

In that fleeting moment of bliss, the Lord believed the person in the basement was her. The sensation was so familiar and endearing that he felt it ingrained into his flesh and bones. His nerves were ablaze with excitement as the Lord reminisced about the warm body beneath him back then. It was too dark, and he only had his senses to rely on. Yet, there is an earthy aroma that lingers in his memory.

The Lord takes a moment to calm himself, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves and regain clarity. He shuts his eyes, racking his brain in search of the source of the scent. As the memory slowly returns, the Lord realizes the last time he encountered the smell was in your presence. He had overlooked it then due to its subtlety, but the realization now causes a wave of frustration to wash over him. The Lord rises from his bed and begins pacing the room, trying to rid himself of the strange feeling that has taken hold of him. He feels conflicted. He is not so blinded by hatred that he would blame a mere illegitimate daughter for everything her father has done. If anything, you are but a pawn in other people's twisted schemes. He knows that. And yet, he has been disturbed by your presence since the moment he saw you.

As if possessed, the Lord makes his way toward his so-called wife's chamber. He pushes the door open and scans the room, expecting you to be inside. But you aren't there, just like the other day. The space is empty, save for a few pieces of furniture and a burned herb's scent drifting gently. The bed is neatly made, and the hearth is cold. He notices small herb plants dotting the windowsill that he did not see the last time he was here. The Lord walks over to them, inspecting the leaves and little flowers, finding it puzzling that they can grow during the harshest days of the year.

Lord Gyllenhaal gradually takes control of his emotions as he stands in your room. Despite his dislike for you, the subtle scent has a soothing effect on him. He inhales slowly, letting the air fill his lungs as a reminder to keep his composure. As he looks around the room, taking in the sight of the properly tended plants, he cannot help but feel a twinge of ill-suited sentimentality. He finds it laughable that this place brings a semblance of peace to his troubled mind and that he keeps giving himself to these late-night wandering.

As much as he is irritated that this feels like a game of hide and seek, where you have wandered is none of his concern. Any place you should not be is well-guarded enough to prevent you from doing anything stupid. He decides to let the matter be for now and takes a final deep breath, savoring the scent of herbs one last time before leaving the room and closing the door behind him, lost in thoughts.

You stand by the well, cleaning yourself with haste. The freezing water serves to wash away not only the dirt but also whatever the Lord has left behind, dissipating the heat on your skin. Your bones are creaking from the piercing cold, but you do not care. You only want to rid yourself of the evidence of tonight. Once done, you quickly get dressed, securing your torn clothes with a rope, and make your way back to an empty chamber, oblivious to the fact that you have narrowly escaped the Lord's sudden visit.

With a strike from the flint, the fireplace begins to crackle. You breathe a sigh of relief when you feel the soft bed underneath your back, snuggling deep under covers, trying to get warm from the chill that has seeped into your bones. Your thoughts drift to the ordeal you faced in the basement. You wonder if the Lord recognized you, and the idea of being caught by him is frightening. But the fear is accompanied by a strange intrigue. An odd warmth rises on your cheeks as the images of the night are replayed in your head. You ponder the nature of the Lord's beloved one and what kind of person could bring out such vulnerability in his Lordship.

Unable to sleep, you jump to your feet and quickly retrieve a piece of parchment from your belongings, along with a quill and a small bottle of ink. Your promise to your mother weighs heavily on your mind, and you know she must be worried sick. But writing to her has been a challenge for two reasons. First, the constant demands of the fortress have kept you busy day and night, with little time for anything else. And second, you need to figure out how to get the letter to her. You are skeptical about asking Lady Maggie or the steward for help. The thoughts race through your mind as you dip the quill into the ink.

You stare at the blank parchment for a moment, unsure of what to write. You have been through so much since you arrived at the fortress, but you do not want your mother to worry more than she already has. You tap the quill's tip on the ink bottle, trying to find the right words. You tell her you are well, and the Gyllenhaals treat you kindly. You write about the feast and how things are different from the capital. At this point, you realize you have yet to see much of the fortress apart from the inner bailey. You stare at where the words trail off, having nothing more to say. Nothing that will not burden your mother. With a sigh, you roll the parchment and place it back in your chest. You may try again later when your thoughts are less muddled.

A series of knocks on your door makes your heart skip a beat. Your chest tightens as you wonder who could be seeking you out at this ungodly hour. The door opens slowly, and in walks Lady Maggie, wearing a soft expression, accompanied by the stern stewart. You can't help but feel a knot forming in your stomach.

"I apologize for disturbing your rest so late," Lady Maggie greets you with a smile. "But I must speak with you."

The steward places a finely crafted gown on your bed before departing, leaving you alone with Lady Maggie. She gestures for you to take a seat, and as she sits in the upholstered chair next to the desk, the soft glow from the hearth illuminates her graceful figure. Right now, Lady Maggie seems like a divine being from ancient mythology, and you can't help but feel that your modest, bare room is not fit to receive someone of her stature.

"I hope you are feeling well, my dear," Lady Maggie looks at you, noticing the distress on your face. You don't know if she knows about the mess in the basement. Your eyes fixate on the floor, unable to look straight at the Lady. Otherwise, you would know she has been observing you closely since she stepped in, taking in every change in your body language.

"I must request your presence at the feast tomorrow. There will be delegates sent by the King himself in attendance. People will question if the Lord is not accompanied by his wife."

"What?"

You are baffled by the news, and your tongue slips. The thought of meeting the King's people makes you uneasy. Not many of the King's council know your face, but those who do look at you with disdain. Moreover, you can't fathom why the King would send anyone here in this current state of affairs. You quickly apologize for being blunt, but the Lady doesn't seem to mind. Instead, she replies with another question.

"My dear, what do you think about this war?"

The sudden question catches you off guard. You don't know how to answer. Lady Maggie patiently waits for you. The room falls into an awkward silence. You wonder what the consequences are if your answer crosses her.

"I... I believe the Lord's cause is just."

That is all you can mutter. It is a laughable answer coming from the princess. If anyone resented House Gyllenhaal and this forced marriage, it would be you. There is no good reason for a member of the royal family to side with the man who has vowed to kill them all. But this is your genuine thought. You loathe the Lord for how he treats you, but you can't deny that he is a hero in people's eyes. On top of that, you are not the real princess and do not feel any connection to the King.

The Lady bursts into an uncharacteristic fit of laughter. You can't tell if she is mocking you or truly feeling amused by your answer.

"Clever little kitten." Lady Maggie murmurs to herself, seemingly satisfied with what she heard.

"The King has suggested a truce with House Gyllenhaal. Thus, his majesty has sent delegates here as a gesture of peace. That is why I would love for the princess to personally welcome the convoy. After all, you were the key that led us to this peace."

"Of course, my Lady. It would be my honor."

You don't want to meet whoever the King sent, but you have no choice. Despite the Lady's courtesy, this is an order. Someone like you has no place to voice your opinion. Within these walls, hers and the Lord's will is absolute.

"Has Jacob done anything to offend you?" The Lady suddenly changes the subject. The tone of her voice softens.

"No, my Lady." You still need to get used to hearing Lady Maggie call the Lord by his given name. Your mind wanders to the time he noticed you weren't wearing warm enough and the time he saved you from the horse. You realize this would be an excellent opportunity to be in the Lady's good graces.

"The Lord has actually been very kind."

Although not to the "princess."

"That's good, then. If Jacob does something unbecoming for the head of the House, you can always come to me." 

"There is one thing I would like you to remember." Lady Maggie stands up from her chair and approaches you. She reaches out and runs her slender fingers on your cheek, making you flinch. Her fingers are cool to the touch but don't make you uncomfortable.

"My brother may not be tender towards you, but you are still a lady of our House. Therefore, do not appear weak or easily intimidated. Do not let anyone think that House Gyllenhaal is to be trifled with."

The fingertips brush ever so lightly on your face. Then, not sparing a second, the Lady quickly returns to her chamber, leaving the ghost of her presence lingering on your cheek.

Lady Maggie sits before her brother, her expression stern and disapproving as she chastises him for yesterday. The early morning light filters into the room through the window behind her, casting a golden glow on the scene. The Lord listens quietly to her scolding, his head slightly tilted, showing little remorse. Despite her reprimands, he can't help but find comfort in the rays of sunlight that warm his skin. His mood seems to have improved from the past few days of sulking.

The Lady takes a long sip of her morning tea after she feels like she has done venting. She can absolutely complain until her brother's ears fall off, but there are more pressing matters concerning the King's recent move. And you, the Lord's wife.

"The old pig demands a truce?"

The Lord mulls over the news his sister has told him about, not caring to hide his contempt for the King. Lady Maggie nods and quietly hands her brother the letter detailing the King's proposal.

"What is he planning now? He sent us a fraud, but he still wants to pretend she is the princess?" The Lord expresses disgust as his eyes scan the scroll ridden with false flattery.

"The King thinks he outsmarts us, sending an illegitimate daughter, but he has dug himself into a hole. The seaport was opened again under the condition of a marriage between Lord Gyllenhaal and the royal princess. What happens if words get out that the old pig failed to honor the terms of our demand?" The Lady asks, sharing her brother's scorn.

"The port is under Gyllenhaal's control. Betraying us means he would risk our retaliation. But there is no reason for him to go this far... unless the girl has other uses besides being a decoy."

"Perhaps she was ordered to take my life." The Lord speaks as he remembers the gleaming dagger underneath your pillow.

"Unlikely. If the girl was an agent, she should at least make an attempt to get closer to you, not run around like a lost kitten." The Lady stares into the golden liquid in her cup. There is no telling what she is thinking about. Lady Maggie's lips tighten into a thin smile before she replies.

"No need to do anything rash for now. My eyes are on her. The girl is harmless."

The Lord's eyebrows relax slightly at his sister's words. If the Lady says you pose no threat, he will leave you be. Not that he worries about you causing any harm. The fortress has eliminated more than a few spies and assassins. But Lord Gyllenhaal remains skeptical. He has yet to understand the intention of Lady Maggie. Without a trueborn princess, House Gyllenhaal will have no claim to the throne as their original plan dictates. The royal family and pesky nobles would never allow such a thing. A bastard daughter is more a less discardable in their eyes.

"You knew the moment she stepped foot in our Keep, did you not?" The Lord turns his gaze to his sister. Lady Maggie has lost interest in having you give the Lord an heir. If what his sister assumes is true, should the solution not be annulling this marriage and letting the girl go.

"The King agreed to our demand so easily. Naturally, I had my doubts... Say, brother. Would you willingly marry me off to your enemy?" Lady Maggie asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. The Lord narrows his eyes as his question is met with another question. He stops and thinks for a moment. His eyebrows crease as his mind races through the scenario.

"No." He finally responds curtly. "I would never hand you to the enemy."

Lady Maggie nods in agreement. "Exactly. And neither would the King willingly give up his precious daughter just for a few trade routes. This bargain was risky from the start."

"So why keep her here?"

"Her illegitimate status is not ideal. But a bastard she may be, the girl is still the King's daughter and bears the King's mark. She is more valuable than you may think, brother." The Lady sets her teacup down.

"And one more thing. I ask that you treat your wife with honor and dignity. Regardless of who she used to be, she is married to you, as witnessed by the Gods."

The Lord scoffs at Lady Maggie's request. He finds it ironic that you avoid him like the plague, yet it was his sister that led you to be bound in this unfortunate union. He wonders what his dear sister would ask of him if you were the actual princess. Perhaps he must force himself on a drugged-up wife until you produce a child or something worse. Despite her talks of honor and dignity, Lord Gyllenhaal knows his own kin enough to know she is not above using despicable means to achieve her goals.

"You do not know where her loyalty lies." The Lord retorted. He does not feel obliged to be kind to the King's blood, bastard or not.

"Do not let your anger cloud your judgment. I know you are still mourning, but the girl is not to blame for what happened." Lady Maggie sighs. The topic clearly ticks her brother as the calm atmosphere is destroyed. She knows mentioning the past upsets him but has grown impatient with the Lord's constant brooding over a woman he spent a few weeks with.

A woman whose face he cannot even recall because at the time, his eyesight was temporarily lost due to an infection, having been imprisoned in a dark and filthy place for too long.

"Keep your nose out of my affairs, sister." Lord Gyllenhaal snaps.

The Lord stands up as he has done talking. He pulls the mahogany door open to find you standing there, wide-eyed and petrified at what you have overheard.

"How much did you hear?" The Lord's brows knit together as he questions you in a menacing voice. His pulsating vein on his temple tells you he is not too happy. You open your mouth to explain but can only gasp for air. The apprehension is simply too much. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see he has closed his fingers around the dagger by his side, ready to slit your throat if you can't give a satisfactory answer.

"Lower your voice. I called her here." The Lady speaks up from her seat.

You grip the front of the new gown until blood is drained from your knuckles. The last thing you remember is the steward told you Lady Maggie had requested your presence. You had presumed the Lady wanted to speak to you about the meeting with the royal delegates. But you did not expect to hear the Lord and Lady openly discussing your true identity. This whole time, they've known you are an imposter.

"Sorry to make you wait. Come." Lady Maggie calls to you with an ever-present smile as if nothing has happened. You swear you almost cry. The Lady could not possibly ask you to just squeeze your way past the Lord, could she?

Hearing Lady Maggie's reassurance is good enough for the terrifying man before you. He steps back and flicks his head towards the Lady, signaling that you are allowed to enter. You mutter a greeting to the Lord before walking in, keeping your head as low as you can, fearing it will be taken off your neck if you don't. You don't need to look to know the Lord's gaze is burning on your back as you approach the Lady.

"Beautiful." Lady Maggie compliments. "This one fits her perfectly. Do you not think so, my Lord?"

Her brother completely ignores her question. He follows you back in, closing the door behind him and trapping you between the two of them. The Lady pays no mind to his deathly silence. She asks you to take a seat opposite of her. The Lord leans on the wall, eyeing you like a cat watching a mouse unable to escape from an empty pot it has fallen in.

"Let's start from the beginning and properly introduce ourselves, shall we?"

Lady Maggie's smile vanishes.

"Who are you?"

Tag List:

@looloolily

#jake gyllenhaal x reader #maggie gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal imagine #maggie gyllenhaal fanfic #maggie gyllenhaal imagine #fic: emblem of roses #nat writes #fics #smut #cw: rpf #tw: alcohol

[darby-rowe]

ok girl idk if you’re into age gap. but likeeee…. 18/19 year old reader fresh out of the academy and 29/30 year old, politician!coryo 🤭 hes experienced and SEXAYYYYY😫hes rougher than reader has ever had before with her little academy boyfriends and he LIVES for it. “none of your little flings could fuck you like this, could they?” and “you like it like this, don’t you? pretty little slut” 😩😩😩 i’m giggling so hard

OK OK OK OK WOW THIS IS SO HOT I LOVE A GOOD AGE GAP YUUUMMMM. kinda unrelated but my favorite age gap relationship to insert myself into is with bruce banner bc oh my god young lab intern x certified dilf bruce banner oh my goddddjfkdktgm im drooling

BUT ANYWAYS OK I HAVE A THOUGHT. idk if anyone here has seen the movie Secretary (2002) but it’s one of my fave movies of all time FRRR. think of it as like fifty shades of grey but A MILLION TIMES BETTER. maggie gyllenhaal and james spader are in it and they’re both so hot in it. but now im imagining lawyer!coryo and secretary!reader in this dom/sub relationship where he spanks her while she reads his letters and makes her deliver his mail to her while crawling on all fours BITCCHHH IM BLUSHINGNGNGNGNGMGKGKG

but to anyone who’s planning on watching this movie pls read any content warnings bc it does contain graphic scenes and mentions of self harm!

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #darbyrowe.ask

[denimbex1986]

'With three years of theatre in Dublin under his belt, the actor Paul Mescal only came to mainstream attention in April 2020 when he made his television debut in the hit Lenny Abrahamson-directed adaptation of Normal People, the best-selling novel by Sally Rooney. It was the most-streamed series on the BBC that year and made Mescal a household name – his role as awkward, school-age Connell earned him an Emmy nomination and a Bafta for best leading actor. In the four years since, a series of impressive parts has followed: his first feature, Maggie Gyllenhaal’s critically acclaimed directorial debut, The Lost Daughter, premiered in 2021. The next spring, he was in Cannes promoting two lead roles: in Anna Rose Holmer and Saela Davis’s indie flick God’s Creatures, set in a bleak oyster-fishing town in rural Ireland, and Charlotte Wells’s devastating Aftersun. A beautifully constructed tale of a loving but stricken young father, the latter underscored Mescal as a powerful talent with the ability to both charm and break the hearts of viewers with one downward glance – the film also earned him a nomination for an Academy Award. In 2022 he returned to theatre for the Almeida’s production of A Streetcar Named Desire, going on to win an Olivier last year for his portrayal of Stanley Kowalski.

More recently, two new films have been released: Garth Davis’s Foe, a sci-fi romance in which Mescal performs opposite Saoirse Ronan, and the gut-punching All of Us Strangers. Directed by Andrew Haigh, All of Us Strangers tells the story of Adam (played by Andrew Scott) who, upon falling for Mescal’s Harry, begins to explore a tragedy that has cast a long shadow over his life. A dizzying dance ensues between the imaginary and the corporeal, as Adam flits between dreamlike visits to his dead parents and the very visceral beginnings of a new sexual relationship – viewers leave haunted and moved.

The British filmmaker Haigh is known for his works’ intimate scale and emotional heft. There’s Weekend, which dug at real and tender spots in gay male sex and relationships; 45 Years, starring Tom Courtenay and Charlotte Rampling, who depict a couple on their sapphire wedding anniversary processing an earth-shattering secret; and Lean on Pete, a coming-of-age tale of a motherless runaway boy with Chloë Sevigny and Steve Buscemi. In each quietly vigorous work, Haigh’s incredible casting and spare dialogue enable truly believable characters to wrestle with past trauma, belonging and love.

On set for his latest lead, in Ridley Scott’s Gladiator II, Mescal Zooms from a candelabra-filled room in a sandstone palace in Malta with Haigh, who’s at home in London. Here, the pair discuss the radical tenderness of their new film and what it takes to express inner conflict with the delicate restraint they are both known for. It’s the first time the collaborators have had the chance to talk together in public about the award-winning film.

Paul Mescal: I was just hanging out with the Searchlight crew in LA and they were saying that you were taking two weeks’ respite, having gone to every state in the US for this film.

Andrew Haigh: Yes, but I have to remind myself that sometimes you make a film and nobody is very interested at all. When people do care enough to want to talk about it, then you can’t be too grumpy. It’s why we made the film in the first place, to connect with people.

PM: But it’s that weird transition, isn’t it? I imagine there are many transitions for you – the writing process into the shooting, which feels like a private experience, but then you’re making this for an audience, so once you finish filming it, it’s for public consumption. Which is the most frightening part of it. But yes, when something feels like it registers with an audience, you’ve got to run with it because it doesn’t happen all the time.

AH: It’s definitely frightening releasing the film into the world. I try very hard during the actual making of the film to forget about all the stuff that comes afterwards. It’s almost too much pressure, isn’t it? I’m sure it’s the same for actors.

PM: You almost do forget. You get into a shooting rhythm but then the hardest bit for an actor is once you’ve handed it over. I kept bumping into you in Soho during the editing and I felt like I’d given you a version of my own child and you would be like, “Yes, that was really good.” The number one rule is try to avoid your director while they’re in the edit because they’re never going to give you any information that’s going to satiate you at all.

AH: Sorry about that. [Laughs.] In truth, it’s because I’m always so nervous about what an actor is going to think of the film.

PM: Did you feel nervous with All of Us Strangers? Because from a performance side of things, I feel like it’s really strong across the four of us [including Claire Foy and Jamie Bell, who play Adam’s parents].

AH: I was never worried about the quality of the performances. You are all incredible. It’s just when you’ve made something together, trusted each other and worked so hard on something I don’t want you to be disappointed. It matters to me that you like the film. You get offered lots of roles and I always want an actor to feel like they’ve made the right choice. How did you know you wanted to do this and not do something else?

PM: Because it was the best script. It sounds basic but it goes a long way – it was the best thing I’d read in the longest time. And that’s both a testament to your talent as a screenwriter but it’s also that it just becomes immovable in my brain. Something else can come in and it might be stretching a different muscle, or it might pay more money, or it might be to work with a director I like. But this had all those things. Ultimately it was the story, and the character felt both in my wheelhouse and a perfect stretch at the same time.

AH: When I knew that you were interested in the role of Harry, I was a little bit flabbergasted.

PM: I’ve heard you say this in interviews and I’m so curious as to why because I don’t know any actor worth their salt who wouldn’t be – I’d love to know how many actors you sent it to who didn’t respond to it.

AH: Only a few. And they said no.

PM: They said no?

AH: [Laughs.] I’m not going to name any names.

PM: Did you get a flavour of why they said no?

PM: That’s why I love that part so much – because ultimately it’s a supporting part in terms of the script and what the central story is, but he’s also a supporting human being to Adam. It’s like his whole function is to put the scaffolding up around Adam to protect him.

AH: That’s a beautiful way to put it – putting up the scaffolding to help him rebuild.

PM: And then you give such amazing clues into Harry’s own world – just drip-feeding them in tiny moments. You really see that there’s almost another film to be written about Harry that mirrors Adam’s, but you have the restraint to give enough of that without taking the focus off Adam.

In general you write such actor-friendly scripts, which is why if there were a part that size in another screenwriter or director’s hands, I probably wouldn’t take it. But there was nothing about that part that felt small to me. That character has had the same impact on me as other leading roles I’ve played. That’s about the imaginative space that you allow the actor to create – it allows the audience to project.

AH: And he is so important – he’s fundamental to Adam’s change. Still, in the hands of an actor who can’t embody that character, truly understand it, then none of it works. You have this amazing ability to deepen characters – to allow us to understand that a backstory might exist, even if we don’t know what that backstory is. The minute we see you at Adam’s door I can understand the pain, the longing, the need that Harry has, all lurking between your words and gestures. That’s a rare skill. I’m not entirely sure how you do it, honestly.

PM: Andrew, it’s all there in the script. I didn’t invent anything other than the normal actor work – you gave me all the tools I needed and with such economy. Can I say that that scene is one of my favourite scenes that I’ve ever got to play in my entire life. I remember reading it and thinking that you could spend a week on that scene – there are endless alleys it could go down. And I’m so happy with how it felt – it’s the perfect blend of dangerous and sexy and sad, but it’s unclear which part of the Venn diagram it’s sitting in.

AH: And it’s such an important scene too. The film does not work without that scene landing. Although you could say that about so many of the scenes in the film. Every scene asked us all to go to some emotional places. Every scene had its challenges. Some for personal reasons and others in terms of story. When you’re working as a director, a writer or an actor, you are emotionally exposed sometimes.

I struggled a lot with that – even in the writing – how much do I reveal and how much do I hold back? There’s this Nina Simone song, Who Knows Where the Time Goes – she talks at the beginning about a quote by Faye Dunaway, who said she tried to give the audience what they wanted [in Bonnie and Clyde]. And Nina Simone says, that’s a mistake because “you use up everything you’ve got, trying to give everybody what they want”. And I think it is about trying to find that balance, isn’t it? Of, “OK, I’m prepared to give this, but I don’t want to give this.”

PM: I would forget sometimes that you conjured up these people and it is scary, in the most exciting way, to be in your company and thinking, “I know he’s hiding stuff.” Through the writing process, the shoot, the edit, were you thinking about what your lines in the sand were when it came to talking about the movie? Or is that something that came in the weeks before the press run?

AH: Yes, I tried not to think about it too much while I was doing it because it’s really dangerous when you’re making the film to think too much about how the world is going to take it and what people are going to end up asking, because I think I would close up and become afraid. But one of the things I’ve tried to understand is why do I even want to make films?

PM: Why do you want to make films?

AH: I don’t know. Most of the time it’s so painful – the stress and anxiety. But I think for anybody that works in film, there’s part of you that is probably doing it because you just want to be loved by the world. [Laughs.] And the problem is it’s an appalling industry to work in if that’s what you’re wanting.

PM: Yes, because you’ll get it one second and then you’ll lose it.

AH: I always find that fascinating because sometimes things go well and sometimes they don’t and you often can’t even understand why.

PM: What scenes did you find particularly difficult to film? One that jumps to my mind is the scene in Harry’s …

AH: ... apartment.

PM: Yes, that was one that took us ... We had to climb a couple of steps to get there. I had performance anxiety – I’d seen how beautiful your work with Andrew had been and I was like, “We’re entering the final couple of minutes of the film and if I fuck it up, it’s my fucking fault.” But it’s one of those few moments when Harry does become the focus of the film for a second.

AH: You certainly hid that anxiety well. And you nailed the scene. It’s heartbreaking. I also adore the scene between you and Andrew in the bed halfway through the film. I can’t tell you how beautiful you both are in that scene. I feel like I’ve tried to capture intimacy a lot, but there is something special going on here, the way we see you opening up to each other. It is so delicate and tender, the way you hide and reveal.

PM: But that’s what I love about the writing as well. You’ve seen versions of those scenes in films where you see a character repress or hide what he’s feeling through a smile. But the thing that is different about this scene is that there’s somebody on the other side of the bed who loves him and tells him that it’s not OK to do that. And the thing I find so upsetting about that scene is that Harry says, “I’m marginalised by my family et cetera ... but it’s fine.” And the line that devastates me is when Adam says, “But why is that OK?” It’s such a simple line.

AH: Agreed. It’s about knowing that someone cares enough about you to push a little deeper. There’s an exhalation you do in response to that question, a giggle, a gesture and then you stretch. It’s one of my favourite moments in the film. We’re so close to your face, close enough to see Harry’s mind working, asking himself if he can fall deeper into this relationship. It’s those moments I am obsessed with trying to capture. Do you plan for those moments?

PM: That’s not something I think you can prepare for as an actor. You can’t go home and do your homework and be like, “And when he says this, I’m going to stretch and make a little noise.” You just can’t.

AH: One thing that always surprises me is how you can find and sustain that feeling of intimacy with all the trappings of a film set around you. Men in shorts. Cameras in your face. I’m always amazed when actors can ignore what is going on around them.

PM: It’s because we want to be adored. [Laughs.]

AH: That’s what it is.

PM: I feel like sometimes, though, it’s blind panic. Because I think acting has the capacity to be the most embarrassing thing that any of us ever do. And it can be in an instant. I’ve seen actors that I really admire do bad, embarrassing things. When you’re in a scene where that’s heightened – say, if your body is on show or there’s an emotional weight to a scene – weirdly, if you’re working with good actors, you can just throw a bubble around yourselves and white-knuckle it. Andrew Scott is just outrageously good.

AH: And you are outrageously good together. We see you fall in love on screen. We believe every moment of it. It feels so genuine.

PM: When you feel close with an actor like that, like with Andrew, it allows a real-life intimacy and a trust that I’ve only had a couple of times – obviously with Daisy [Edgar-Jones] in Normal People, and Andrew, and Saoirse in Foe. It has nothing to do with talent. Saoirse and Andrew are actually quite similar. They’ve got this well of emotionality where all you have to do when you’re in scenes with them is sit there and listen to what they’re saying. Normally they’ll find a way to unlock you.

It sounds reductive but you don’t have to do anything when you’re working with brilliant actors like that. I would say the size of the performance in Foe is much more robust than Strangers, which is big but it’s also restrained and subdued. In Foe, me and Saoirse just had to plant our feet and really go from the gut.

AH: That’s the skill of it, isn’t it? Because you have to understand what the film needs.

PM: I’d say that there’s a similar performance style across all of your films – and that’s the one thing I love about my job, that you get to go into different jobs with different actors, like Saoirse and Andrew, and you put on different hats and you figure it out. Would you say there’s a performance style that you’re interested in generally?

AH: I’d say there is a tone to my films to which a performance style is integral. Although I’m not very good at being able to articulate what that style is. I guess actors will have watched my films before they want to work with me, so instinctually understand the timbre of the performance I like. We usually don’t need to talk about it.

PM: We never actually spoke about it.

AH: But I think that’s the joy of when you’ve made a few films. You can have a reference of what you like. That’s why our choices are important. The choices we make define the kind of person we are. That’s why I wanted to work with you so much. The projects you choose are always interesting. And you’ve had a crazy few years. How does that feel?

PM: It’s a hard question ... Because I never expected this to happen. I had ambitions, of course, but I could never have expected that this would be where I was going to land. Being in drama school, I remember teachers telling me the statistic was something like “only 16 to 20 per cent of you will ever work as an actor”. So I remember getting my first job in theatre and thinking, “That’s it. Somebody has decided to pay me to do the thing that I love.” And then fast forward five years – it’s the thing that I love most in the world and I’m getting to do it with directors that I admire greatly.

I’m learning, though, that there’s only so long I can continue going at this rate before it starts to take away from my life – but right now is the time to put the foot down and really work hard.

AH: And now you’re doing your first huge movie.

PM: Gladiator comes across your desk and there’s no way you say no to it. But with this scale of film, and to work with Ridley Scott, it’s a no-brainer. Up until this point there have been very few larger films that remotely interested me.

AH: But this is Gladiator. This is not your average blockbuster.

PM: It feels really right. And also there’s the capacity to learn. It’s the first time that I’ve felt a pressure of, “God, I’m worried about box office receipts.” It’s a different metric. But Ridley shoots at a very different rhythm – he’s quick and it’s kinetic and wonderful. He knows exactly what he wants. It honestly reminds me of sport in a way that is really satisfying.

AH: Plus you get to dress up as a gladiator.

PM: We left that point out. That’s the best bit.

AH: You’re going to make a lot of people very happy!'

#Andrew Haigh #All of Us Strangers #Foe #Gladiator 2 #Ridley Scott #Paul Mescal #Normal People #Sally Rooney #A Streetcar Named Desire #Saoirse Ronan #Andrew Scott #Maggie Gyllenhaal #The Lost Daughter #Weekend #45 Years #Lean on Pete #Claire Foy #Jamie Bell #Nina Simone #Who Knows Where The Time Goes #Daisy Edgar-Jones

[killaura]

the long grey pencil skirt deserves more love than it got. yes the mini is hot! but the pencil skirt has so much potential. so much versatility. it's still sexy but leaves some things to the imagination. and it is so well-fitted.

hey gerard outfit anon, I love when you come around.

I agree. there’s a reason the pencil skirt epitomizes pinup sexiness and is a staple for hot cunts in every era! it’s giving maggie gyllenhaal in secretary to me <3

#anon #when my two hyperfixations of fashion and my chemical romance collide it’s like a nuclear bomb goes off inside my brain

[mourningmaybells]

does anyone else imagine a voice narrating to them while reading to get into the mood and vibe of the story or just to tolerate it?

I use the Disco Elysium skill/ Lenval Brown’s voice while studying history and philosophy, William Holden or Humphey Bogart for pulp fiction and Rod Serling for retro sci fi. Also sometimes the woman who narrated the Anna Karenina audio book I got (apparently that was Maggie Gyllenhaal), and Constantine Gregory.

The Disco Elysium skill voice is the most versatile one though.

#disco elysium has done so much for my studying...

[thehours2002]

just imagined a richard linklater style film adaptation of the neopolitan novels and blacked out for a second @ maggie gyllenhaal this is your moment

#staggered as the protagonists aged… ohhhhhhhh

[wevegotbackissues-blog]

'The Batman Part II' Pushed Back A Year

Warner Bros. has announced that The Batman Part II will be moving off its 3rd October 2025 release date and being delay a full year until 2nd October 2026. The 3rd October date will now be taken by The Bride!, Maggie Gyllenhaal’s re-imagining of Bride Of Frankenstein starring former Batman Christian Bale. The Batman Part II is still set to be directed by Matt Reeves with Robert Pattinson…

View On WordPress

#DC Studios #Matt Reeves #news #Robert Pattinson #The Batman #The Batman Part II

[byneddiedingo]

Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight (Christopher Nolan, 2008)

Cast: Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, Aaron Eckhart, Michael Caine, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Morgan Freeman. Screenplay: Jonathan Nolan, Christopher Nolan, David S. Goyer. Cinematography: Wally Pfister. Production design: Nathan Crowley. Film editing: Lee Smith. Music: James Newton Howard, Hans Zimmer

I have never really understood the appeal of Batman, or really of Bruce Wayne: a superwealthy technocrat whose dressing up to hide his identity seems like silly bit of compulsive role-playing rather than an essential element of his superheroism. Moreover, he always seems to be outshone by his villainous adversaries, whose own dressing up is a manifestation of psychosis that eerily mirrors his own. So I'm not as enthusiastic as some are about the rebooting of the comic book hero as a dark knight, rather than the old TV series' campy avatar of the character. The best thing about The Dark Knight is clearly the re-imagining of the Joker and the superb performance by Heath Ledger. Otherwise, I found the usual slam-bang action rather tiresome.

#The Dark Knight #Christopher Nolan #Heath Ledger

[ravenkinnie]

favorite shows/movies?

I literally have been tracking things I watch in an app for years so I can tell you some easily dhdhsjjs

movies

practical magic - I've had the book on my tbr for ages, I'm pretty sure this is one of those movies that rewires my brain as a child

death becomes her - no one ever remembers this movie but it's PEAK black comedy

a nightmare on elm street I'm not even into slashers much ngl but this one hits

the monster - it's a horror about mommy issues cmon

from other horror movies bc I watch mainly horror: the nighthouse, the blackcoats daughter, autopsy of jane doe, haunting of hill house but the original one NOT the remake,

my normal - this is one of my favorite lesbian movies and like. you can tell what's wrong with me hdhdhdj and it is a lesbian movie, as in the main character is a lesbian, but don't watch it for the romamce because it's v secondary

secretary - not a single normal person in this movie, the love interest guy is NOT hot but maggie gyllenhaal?? insane, incredible, obsessed (cw for self harm and unhealthy dynamics tho)

shows:

bojack I don't even need to add anything I never shut up about bojack

elementary - elementary is like. a hot water bottle, a warm blanket, a cup of tea, both lucy liu and jonny lee miller are so good

the haunting of hill house - def not as an adaption of the book but as its own thing I love it

the end of the fucking world - not a single normal person 10/10 british shows are different

the wilds - the plot is goofy as hell ngl and writing a lil cringe at times but I flew through this show because the characters and dynamics between them are done so fantastically

my tiktok fyp has been showing me jessica jones clips lately too and reminding me how good season 1 is but I don't account it as a favorite because s2 is. not great jdjdjshsb just imagine the shows ends after s1 and you're good tho

also I finished "this is going to hurt" recently and I love medical dramas and medical memoirs so I read the book it's based on previously and knew what to expect but can confirm that the show hurts a lot and I started rewatching right after finishing dhjdjdjdk (cw for like. gory bodily stuff tho)

#asks #I'm not mentioning arcane cause y'all know

[jakegooglyeyes]

Emblem of Roses - Masterlist

Pairings: Jake Gyllenhaal x reader, Maggie Gyllenhaal x reader (Medieval AU)

Summary: You were content with your quiet life as an illegitimate daughter of the King, hanging out with the maids and learning your craft. All that ended when your father married you to Lord Gyllenhaal, the Usurper, as a peace offering and a hostage.

Warnings: 18+ MINOR DNI , RPF, DUBCON, angst, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, hate to pining, polyamory, slow burn with smut, political marriage, mean!Jake to pining!Jake, cunning!Maggie, kind!reader.

Status: ongoing

Divider credit: @/firefly-graphics​

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

#jake gyllenhaal x reader #maggie gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal imagine #maggie gyllenhaal fanfic #maggie gyllenhaal imagine #cw: rpf #cw: dubcon #masterlist #fic: emblem of roses #fics

[merrill90mohammad]

Bvlgari Replica Black Ceramic Middle Engraved Rose Gold Rimmed Ring

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#replica bvlgari #best replica bvlgari bags #bvlgari bag #bvlgari serpenti bag #bvlgari bag sale #bvlgari crossbody bag

[daisyease]

Jake Gyllenhaal locks

Please like/reblog if you save 💛

#jake gyllenhaal #gyllenhaaledit #gyllenholland #gyllenhaalic #maggie gyllenhaal #tom holland #spiderman #spiderio #spiderverse #spider son #spiderman ffh #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #spiderman far from mcu #spiderman fandom #mysterio icons #mysterio x reader #mysterio x spider man #mysterio imagine #dearpatiencex

[gyll-yee-haw]

May I request a crack continuation of the one where reader told Jake she was bi. But this time she stokes 20 years worth of sibling rivalry by revealing she used to have a crush on Maggie in Donnie Darko even though Jake was the lead actor? Thank you so much. xo

HAHAHAHA THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER

PART TWO OF THAT COMING OUT THING

---

- A few weeks passed

- Jake was almost getting over that Anne Hathaway thing

- And one day you're casually talking about his movies

- "What about Donnie Darko?" He asked. "Did you like it?"

- You bit your lip, trying to hold back your laughter

- "You didn't?" He looked a bit disappointed

- "No, I love it!"

- "What's so funny then?"

- "I don't think you can handle the truth."

- "Me neither, but can you tell me anyway?"

- "I also liked someone from the cast. Very much, to be honest." You never had to focus so much to stay serious.

- "Okay." He took a deep breath. "And by the way you're talking... It wasn't Donnie, was it?"

- You shook your head. "Elizabeth."

- "Y/N! You're joking, right???"

- You burst into laughter

- "I swear to god." You said as you tried to breath. "If you tell your sister, I'll kill you."

- "There's no way in hell I'll tell her." He frowned. "She would make my life a nightmare. Like, everyone likes her more than me, even my girlfriend."

- You wrapped your arms around his neck and attacked his face with kisses, finally making him laugh

- "That's not true. I have a past, okay? Of having crushes on people dangerously close to you, it's true." You rested your head on his chest. "But you're my one and only now. I love you so much. Don't tell anyone, but I think you are the greatest Gyllenhaal."

- "Nobody thinks that." He gasped

- "Well, I do."

- "Would you mind if I recorded you saying that?"

- "Not gonna happen."

- "Okay, at least I got to hear that once."

- "I'll say it again if you earn it."

- He smirked.

---

Ps: Can you blame her?

If I wasn't gay already

#jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal #maggie gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x y/n #jake gyllenhaal blurb #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #gay stuff

[jakegyllenhaal-imagines]

Imagine:

You visit Jake in Alabama to go to his wedding

mind the tags

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal imagines #spiderman #far from home #spiderman far from home #ffh #mysterio #quinten beck #brokeback mountain #jack twist #incest mention #alabama #maggie gyllenhaal #no i do not ship this it is a joke #incest tw #tw #trigger warning #trigger #triggering content

[glitterysummerkitty]

Dr Bombshell & Mr Hollywood

Chapter 24

       The drive was filled with silence, albeit a comfortable one. Jake wouldn’t tell her where he was taking her and Candice felt incredibly curious. They had taken her car with Jake announcing that he could have his personal assistant to come collect his car from the café. For a moment Candice had become curious and almost asked if this assistant happened to be a female but refrained when the implication of such a query dawned on her.

      Candice looked away from the passing streets and stores to gaze at the man seated next to her. Even dressed casually he looked really good. The tips of her fingers began to itch with a need to reach out and run them on his jaws which were covered in a few days’ worth beard.

      After a short while, Jake pulled into a dark alleyway causing Candice to raise an eyebrow, a questionable expression on her face. Jake simply laughed and asked her to trust him as he opened the door for her. Candice stepped out and looked around suspiciously.

      The two brick buildings on either side, leaning up to the night sky, considerably softened the decibels of the weekday traffic noise. It was a typical New York alley- cold, dark, dank, the air faintly smelling stale. Large trash containers stood leaning against the sides of the buildings with their lids partly up with overly stuffed garbage bags. Swirls of mist rose in the air, giving the place a very eerie feeling.

      There was another car and a few motorcycles- mostly Harley Davidsons, two Ducati and a Suzuki Boulevard- parked along the sides. Even under the dim bulbs on the side of the building the machines glinted evilly.

“Jake why are we here?”, she mumbled gripping the edges of her faux fur jacket closer.

“Jheez Candice... Relax will ya. I am not a psychotic killer. Trust me.”, he smirked as he led her to an unmarked door at the side of the building and brought his hand up to knock- three short raps a moment’s pause and another two. Candice noticed the peculiarity but before she could ask, the huge door opened, groaning at the hinges. A ginormous man stepped out to greet the pair.

      Candice felt her heart palpitate rapidly. The man was easily above six feet and had a chest big as a barrel. He was dressed in a pair of faded denims and a black muscle t- shirt underneath a leather jacket. His thick handle bar moustache moved as he chewed on a piece of gum. Candice shivered as his savage eyes assessed her from head to toe.

“Mihael!”, Jake called out. At his beckon the bull of a man turned his attention towards Jake, his scowling face breaking into a huge mean looking grin.

“Jake!”, he roared, “Long time!”

      While he spoke, he stepped aside and motioned his hand for them to enter. Instinctively, Candice leaned and grabbed Jake’s arm, too afraid to trust the stranger before her.

      Once the pair were inside, Mihael not only pushed the door shut but locked it behind them. Candice gulped. Through the sound of the rushing blood she could hear the faint beats of music. The beats blared against them, the vibrations of the music travelling through her flesh, as Mihael pushed open another heavy set door at the end of the corridor. He began to descend down a set of stairs.

      Candice tightened her grip on Jake’s arm as they followed Mihael, while Jake kept up a lively conversation with him. A chill ran up her spine as she realised they were being led to the basement. Flashes of those horrific memories passed before her eyes making her shudder which Jake intuitively picked up.

“Baby, are you ok?”, he pulled her closer to him and looked down at her with concern in his blue eyes. She shuddered again, but this time with pleasure, elicited by the way Jake called her ‘baby’. Candice bit her lower lip and nodded.

      At the base of the stairs the space opened up to a large area. Candice took note of how the interior was industrial style with exposed bricks and iron pipes running overhead; at intervals black, spindly iron rods extended like spider legs with exposed bulbs attached at its end, illuminating the bar.

      Jake took pride in the way Candice clung on to his arm as they steered through the crowd, dodging drunk and bawling bikers on their way to the bar. His chest puffed up beneath his jacket and he felt like he had grown at least a couple feet taller ever since he entered the ‘The B BrUtherhood’ club, a quaint establishment not very far from his place. Every eye, wide and curious, seemed to follow him tonight.

      He very well knew the reason and it was the woman accompanying him. He had never brought a girl here before. Candice was the only exception he had thought of making and also the fact that she looked like an angel fallen from heaven wasn’t really helping their curiosity, he realised.

      It was very easy to see that he was most men and few women’s object of envy and he couldn’t help but gloat in this revelation. It was some sort of basal animal instinct he concluded, a need to flaunt his mate... Jake stopped his thoughts abruptly, suddenly realising that he was getting way too ahead of the situation. He wanted Candice, not just as a friend but a lot more than that but he would have to be patient.

      Meanwhile, Candice was very uncomfortable with the attention they were receiving. As they pushed their way through the crowded pub he kept waving and greeting people. Candice tightened her grip on his muscular arm, afraid of losing him in the crowd, and began to soak in her strange surrounding.

      There were two large pool tables on one side of the vast space. There was also a dart board where a man in leather pants and a sleeveless t- shirt stood throwing darts unsuccessfully while his pals made fun of him. The place was packed with curious looking patrons. The hazy air was heavy with a concoction of smells- sweat, perfume, testosterone and a hint of tobacco.

       In the centre of the vast room was a vacant spot cleared where men with scruffy beards, tattooed arms danced along with ladies clad in shimmering, overtly revealing, and body clinging clothes. Candice settled herself on one of the bar stools along with Jake, who shook hands with the bar tender, a skinny and pale looking man with blue and green spikes and a silver ring pierced through his septum.

    Despite the freezing temperatures outside, it was relatively warm inside the pub. They had already discarded their jackets at the entrance but Candice had half a mind to lose her blazer as well and that she did, after a moment’s of deliberation. She bunched it together and handed it to Jake who passed it on to the bar tender for safekeeping.

“This is a biker’s exclusive club.”, Jake informed her once the bar- tender left to prepare their drinks. Jake’s eyes travelled along her well sculpted torso, her lacy top doing things to him as it gave a sneak- peek of not just her smooth skin but also the red lacy bra she wore underneath.

      Candice noted how he was still holding her hand in his but didn’t bother rectifying the situation. She was beginning to like the proximity between them.

“Exclusive? How are we here then?”, she queried. Jake grinned, his eyes twinkling under the lights. His gaze told her what she had already guessed. The revelation made Candice’s breath hitch in her throat.

      Jake didn’t even notice Darryl, the skinny bartender, placing their drinks as he was enthralled by Candice’s reaction. She gawked at him with utter bewitchment in her eyes which made him chuckle. The woman definitely had a type and it wasn’t hard to read.

    Finally noticing the drinks he lifted the highball glass and passed it to Candice with a smirk, “Here is your sex- on- the- beach.” Candice knew it was ridiculous but couldn’t help the blush as she took the glass and brought it to her lips. She was incredibly thirsty and the drink was refreshing to say the least.

“What?”, the corners of her lips slipped ever so slightly in a sly smirk as she watched Jake take her in.

      Jake couldn’t help but notice how incredibly sexy and angelic she looked. He smirked at her restless expression. “You look so beautiful. So sexy.”, he leaned in and whispered, raising a hand to push her curls behind her shoulder, exposing her slender neck.

      Candice felt the hair on her neck stand, the warmth in her cheeks deepen. She took another gulp of her drink and composed herself.

“Is that you Jake?”, someone growled behind her and Candice twisted in her seat to look and found two men approaching them.

      They looked to be in their late-thirties to early forties. One of them was lean yet muscular, a pair of amethyst eyes peeking out from behind his straight dark bangs that fell and reached his high cheekbones, gaze full of mirth and challenge. He was attractive and gave off a strong ‘Up to no good’ vibe.

      The man along with him had a far more imposing form with his large frame filled perfectly with taut muscles, each of his arm seemed equivalent to a trunk of a very large oak tree, his eyes holding the same intimidating look. His skin looked tanned and weather beaten, hair dry and sun burnt, all testifying to the fact that the man spent a lot of time outdoors under the sun.

“Fellas!”, Jake got up and gave the two a manly hug. Jake was dwarfed in their presence.

“Haven’t seen you here in a while. How have you been?”, it was the lean one. He scanned Candice from head to toe before adding, “And who is this angel with you?”, he asked leaning against the bar.

“This is Candice.”, Jake slid an arm around her waist and brought her close to him, much too possessively. Candice didn’t object at all. In fact she loved it.

“Please to meet you lovely. Name’s Ottis. And this is Julian.”, it was the bulky man. Candice smiled at him. Ottis flashed his set of yellowing pearls right back at her.

“You must really be something. Never seen Jake here bring any chick before.”, Julian spoke up. He had a subtle drawl to his speech.

      Next to her Jake chuckled. Candice took a sip of her own drink and tried to gather her flustered thoughts. She had never done well around strangers and to be thrust into spotlight before such intimidating looking men made her deeply uncomfortable.

“You guys are scaring her.”, came a sultry voice from next to her. A thin woman sidled up next to Jake and threw an arm around and leaned against him.

      Jake dropped his arm that was around Candice and stood straight, giving the woman one of his signature lopsided grin.  Candice felt that sharp sting of disappointment. The blonde woman assessed the new comer- red hair, a short tight skirt that was barely covering her ass, her bony cream legs covered in fishnet stalking, her five inch stilettos giving her arse a perfect raise, her tank top barely containing her very well endowed breast.

      Candice felt her chest tighten and a feeling of hostility towards the other woman entered. She frowned at the familiar feeling.

“Ellie Mae. Meet Candice. Candice. Meet Ellie Mae.”, Jake gestured. Candice forced a smile but her gaze lingered on the prolonged contact of the woman’s skinny arm around Jake.

“Nice to meet you all.”, Candice mumbled, watching Ellie’s breast pressing against Jake’s arm as she leaned further.

“I am curious. What do you guys do while you aren’t on the road?”, she turned her attention towards the men but mainly caught Ottis’s gaze. She couldn’t help but fear looking into Julian’s eyes. There was something in his wild gaze, it seemed to penetrate her mind, to read every thought she ever had.

“Well I teach at Bell Academy. Mostly sixth to ninth grade. Julien here is thou a mechanic. Owns his shop up at Brooklyn.”, he replied.

     Candice couldn’t help but marvel at the fact. She could hardly coax her mind to imagine a school teacher cruising through miles and miles of stretches of lonely roads in search of adventure.

“Julien is the one who introduced me to this place. He had excellent yelp reviews so I took my dear Audrey to him. Nothing but the best for my baby girl.”, Jake smiled.

“Audrey?”, she raised an eyebrow.

“My Harley Davidson.”, Jake smiled proudly. With his beer in one hand he lifted his other arm and put it around Ellie’s shoulder. The red head snuggled closer to him.

      A sudden flash of heat consumed Candice’s heart before the uneasy feeling solidified in the pit of her stomach bearing her heavy. She took a deep steady breath before placing her empty glass back on the bar. The beats of the song that had been playing ended and was followed by the song ‘Something just like this’. She loved the song and decided that it would be the best time to move away. Forcing a smile onto her face she addressed the two men but mostly Ottis.

“It was nice meeting you all but I guess I am going down to the dance floor. That’s my favourite song.”, she muttered, refusing to meet Jake’s gaze or the way Ellie’s boobs were now pressed against his torso and not just his arm.

      Candice did really love this song. The first time she had heard it the words had literally hit home. She didn’t want a superhero or a fairy tale life but she definitely wanted some sense of balance, security and most importantly love. As her hips began to sway she thought of how her miserable life has been far from such things since the moment she had been born up until now. Before she knew it fresh tears began to prick her eyes. She shut them tightly, refusing to cry again.

“What happened sweetheart?”, she tensed as a pair of strong hands wrapped around her waist from behind but relaxed when his smooth husky voice filled her ears and his musky smell filled her nose.

“Ellie isn’t going to like it that you’re dancing with me.”, she grumbled loud enough for his ears.

“Ellie? Why would she mind? Her husband, Ottis, is there to keep company.”, he whispered against her ears, both continuing to sway to the music. Candice felt her stomach twist. Ottis ought to reign in his wife, she decided sorely.

“Well. It didn’t seem that way when she was practically thrusting her melons into your face.”, she scoffed, unable to stop herself. Jake stopped dancing forcing her to stop as well.

“Is that jealousy I sense?”, he asked, clearly enjoying her reaction. He knew Ellie had a massive crush on him and he was well aware of the open relation she shared with her husband but he would never reciprocate to her desires. The only reason he had even allowed so much proximity between them that night had been for one reason and it seemed to have worked.

“Don’t flatter yourself Gyllenhaal.”, she turned around in his arms to face him and glared which only made Jake burst out laughing.

      He pulled her closer to him, not leaving even a sliver of space between them. He loved jealous Candice. Candice looked at him, her dreamy eyes wide. Jake gazed into them and felt himself getting lost in it’s depths. They were absolutely stunning, innocent, seductive yet hidden amongst them was wisdom far beyond her years. A fire danced in it’s depths- not a spark but a blazing passion. He confidently brought his hand up to the back of her head, grabbing hold of her hair he jerked it slightly, holding her gaze prisoner to his.

“I beg to differ darling. You are jealous. But you should know that I have my eyes set on you. Nobody else but you.”, he whispered before bringing his lips down to hers.

      Candice protested in his arms for a second before finally relinquishing in the warmth of his lips. It started slow, sloppy, nothing like the ones you would read in the cheesy novels but it did escalate into one soon enough. As Candice grew sure she titled her head and opened her mouth, giving him access to her depths. She shuddered and swallowed his moan as she clung on to him, fingers holding tightly unto his t- shirt.

      It felt a while when they finally came up for air. Jake couldn’t believe the incredible feeling shooting through his body. Never in his life had he experienced something like this. The experience was a little more than just erotic. The sublime yet deep effect it had left his nerves shattered and mind cling desperately to sanity.

“Will you take me on one of your MC excursions?”, she asked suddenly, her voice giddy and swollen lips spread out in one of the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

      Who could have said no to such a smile yet Jake had quickly devised a devious plan.

“Only if you allow me to take you out for dinner.”, he smirked. He felt her fingers run through his hair, the tips of her fingers gently grazing his scalp. A feverish feeling coursed through his nerves.

“Like a date?”, Candice asked, her honey voice sounded languid.

“Yes. Like a date.”, Jake gazed into her eyes, fear of rejection causing his heart to thump erratically, as he waited for her answer.

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