twwcs

[twwcs]

you'll be hanging out with the sweetest person ever and they'll randomly tell you a childhood experience that would have vaporised you and you're like oh we should find your parents and murder them irl

[twwcs]

poorly edited bald oscar and xmen bts still haunts me

How do you think Nathan would react to being called an egg because of his shaved head?

I am wheezing over this! XD

Walrus and Eggman

Nathan Batemanl x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals  •  Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

Summary: Nathan is the egg man.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, teasing, sexual innuendo, established relationship, reader being a little shit, Rocky references, Beatles references, typos, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 537

“Do you have to blast the Rocky theme tune every time I work out?” Nathan quirks an eyebrow at you, sweat sliding down his skin, as he takes a large gulp of his smoothie. 

“You should do those one handed jump push up things he does.” You say, giving him a shit eating grin. 

He groans lightly, rolling his eyes. “I knew we shouldn’t have binged them all the other day.” He opens the fridge, rummaging around for something. 

“It was your idea.” You add in a sing song voice. 

“I could crack these eggs into a glass and drink them for you?” He waves an egg above the door while he keeps looking.

You pull a face instinctively, and it’s like he can sense it.

“What?” He smiles, placing five eggs on the counter. “It’s good for you.” 

“Don’t make me say something mean that will crush you.” 

“You could crush me between your thighs if you want?” 

You ignore him. “Why are you keeping eggs in the fridge anyway?”

He frowns as he closes the fridge. “That’s where you keep them?” 

“This isn’t America,” you gesture at the eggs. “You don’t have to refrigerate them.”

He narrows his eyes at you, reminiscent of a child trying to work out if you were trying to trick them or not. “So, drinking them is gross, but leaving them out to get all warm is fine?” He pulls a face at you, one that you know is playful. 

“Are you gonna drink them?” 

He shakes his head, opening a cupboard and taking out a frying pan. “I’m having an omelet." 

You wait a beat, until he’s cracked one egg against the side and is about to break another. “Does it make you sad?” 

“What?” He glances over his shoulder at you, too preoccupied with cooking preparation to clock your tone until it was a second too late. 

“I mean,” you try not to snot, “your head is like an egg, so-”

Nathan gives you one of the most unimpressed looks you have ever seen. 

“What?” You laugh.

“I shave my head.” 

“So?” 

“So?” The indignation in his voice reaches a whole new level. 

“Still egg like.” 

“I’m gonna kick you out.” 

“Can’t.” 

“Why?” 

“I’ll walrus it.” 

Nathan fully stops what he’s doing and turns to look at you. “What the fuck-”

“Just sit here, sunbathe, you can’t move me.” 

He folds his arms. “Oh, I think I can.” 

“Well, then it would be Eggman and the Walrus.” You grin manically, far too pleased with yourself and Nathan’s post exercised exhausted brain, there was no way you would have managed to lead him on like that otherwise.

“I’m going to throw an egg at you.” He huffs.

“Okay,” you shrug, “they are your people.” 

“Oh, that’s it.” He marches over to you, a wicked grin on his face, his arms wide open. 

“No, no, no,” you dart to the side, barely avoiding his embrace. “That’s not fair.” You laugh. 

“You deserve a sweaty hug.” He reaches for you again, barely grazing you with his fingers. “Be a good walrus and accept a hug from your egg man.” He says it so seriously, you can’t help but dissolve into laughter. 

Thank you for reading!

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[twwcs]

NOOO IM SOBBING ASFSGSS THE DUCKYY

it’s sooo hard to convinced myself that Anselm would do just that and after giving it some thoughts .. it’s just not that bad as in let Anselm be Anselm in his various weird yet loving way. Now that i’m thinking.. Willian Tell hmm would do just THAT no question asked.

Hi Rally! Do you have headcanons of convincing Anselm to only get married at the courthouse and not throwing any lavish party or celebration? With that in mind do you think Anselm would be fine with whispering the love he had to the ground as in only the earth knows how deep his love is or does he really need to shout it to the world (people) to hear. I’ve been craving some quiet yet loud love act but at the same time every single person i know should know it, something like that😆😌

I'm sure he could keep it quiet, if it meant so much to you. But he would 100% be a weirdo about it and kind of misunderstand. Like, one morning you'd find him literally laying on the ground on his stomach, getting his black suit all dirty, picking at the moss and talking to the ducks on the little pond behind the mansion.

"So she doesn't want me to make grand gestures, or to tell people, but she didn't say I couldn't tell you." The ducks swim around the pond, one of them ruffles its feathers. "I love her so enormously. We're getting married at the courthouse later today. Just the two of us. I had to tell someone."

One of the ducks swims up near Anselm, poking at the ground.

"Oh, would you like to attend?" Anselm asks. "We're keeping things quiet, my love and I, but surely a water fowl friend could attend our nuptials."

And then there's a duck in a bow tie at your courthouse wedding. And when you leave the main courtroom, newly husband and wife, there's a GIGANTIC cake waiting for you in the lobby.

Anselm's like, "Oh, wow! Who put that there??? We should probably have a slice. We can leave the rest for the other couples getting married today, but it's a perfectly good cake."

Because let's face it, Rani, the man's going to do something over the top. So, you'll still have a wedding cake, but it's you two, a bunch of strangers who are also getting married that day, and a duck.

Anselm Vogelweide masterlist :: main masterlist

[twwcs]

not active on tumblr for a minute and all of sudden all of the ads have autoplaying sounds now huh wtf

[twwcs]

Hey horny writer lil heads up for you guys, the “ai” google is forcing into docs to “scan for grammar errors” has been proved to also be scanning for spicy content and multiple ppl have already got notifs saying like “we’re sorry, there was a system error and some of your work was lost” and it was only the horny stuff so uh

Pleeeeease back up your files !!!! Don’t lose your horny to a robot, that’s Doc’s job, not Docs’…

[twwcs]

anselm vogelweide- a gala event

Summary: You meet a mysterious man at a gala and... immediately have sex with him. (18+, fem reader, fingering, semi-public sex, car sex, biting, creampie, ~2,9k)

1 of 9 fics I wrote for @the-oscar-isaac-collective Coffee & Cream Digital Fanzine

-----

The gala is lavish. Too lavish for something supposedly raising money for charity.

You look down at the printed program on the table.

“A Gala Evening for Feline Enrichment and Development in Established Domains for the Arts”

Hmmm...

Attending charity events is part of your job, but you don’t care that your company bought a table for ten grand or whatever. Dinner is over. If you stay any longer, some bozo will hit on you and you’ll have to scuff his shoes with the pointy part of your heel.

The other people from your company are already up and networking. A perfect time to slip away, but instead, the chair next to you pulls out and someone sits down.

He cuts a very handsome figure in a black tux with a black shirt and bow tie, a neatly combed riot of curly hair and impressive beard.

He looks at you with an assessing gaze from behind his yellow-tinted glasses. He’s odd, but in a way that tugs at you.

“Anselm Vogelweide.” Charming, vaguely European. He speaks just loud enough to be heard over the eight piece orchestra.

His eyes crinkle deeply. He smiles like you’re the only one in the room. Not a bozo. If this guy hits on you, you might have to say yes.

You shake his hand.

He smooths down his beard. “You won a silent auction item that I wanted very much.”

“The Bavarian-American club thing? Honestly, I just bid on it because no one else did and I’d only be out a couple hundred bucks. I don’t even know how to play Schafkopf or whatever.” You half shrug. “You can have it.”

His eyes roam warmly over your face in a way that makes your skin heat. “That wouldn’t be fair to you, and I’m already a member of the club.”

“I wasn’t going anyway. Germans aren’t great at making conversation,” you say, seeing if it’ll make him leave.

Anselm lets the insult slide off of him, but his eyes glint sharply at you. Like he’s decided you’re very worth his attention.

Unfortunately, you’re starting to feel the same about him.

Anselm’s hand rests on the back of your chair. You feel the faint brush of his thumb over your skin through the open back of your gown.

“Very well, but I insist on reimbursing you.” He looks around the room. “Dinner was fucking terrible. Perhaps you’d let me take you for something nicer. Just the two of us.”

“Now?” You ask, surprised.

“Now.” He grins.

“What about the charity?” You pick up your purse and let Anselm take your hand to help you up.

“Oh, that. It’s a front for money laundering,” he says plainly. “Don’t worry, the actual donations are going toward animal rescue.”

He links his fingers through yours, giving a slight tug when you hesitate.

“You didn’t really think there was such a thing as, that. Nonsense words.” He points to the banner at the front of the room, lays a hand over his chest. “This is my gala, and now I’d like to leave. With you.”

Is he serious? Or is he playing with you?

Either way, he’s kind of fun.

You walk through the room with him. A handful of bodyguards subtly run interference on anyone who wants to talk to him. You notice he wears a leather and metal brace on his leg, but it doesn’t slow him down much.

The coat check is completely deserted. Anselm sends someone to go find the clerk, but like a lot of rich people you’ve met, he gets impatient. Finally, he just opens the door and invites you in.

“Do you have your ticket?” he asks.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll just take whatever coat is the most expensive,” you joke, walking down the long aisle, running your hand along the jackets.

You hear him laugh as he walks up behind you. You feel his hand slip over your lower back, then along the seam of your skirt, a little lower.

“I saw you the moment you walked in,” Anselm says, speaking low into your ear.

You turn your head slightly. His nose brushes over the curve of your ear. His hands glide around your waist and you feel his lips press against your skin, just at the bottom of your neck. It makes you shiver.

You reach up a hand and let your fingers tangle into his hair, encouraging him to continue. His tongue drags a line up before his mouth sucks open kisses gently along your skin.

“I probably shouldn’t be letting you do this. I don’t even know you. What kind of a name is Anselm?” you ask, hoping you’d heard him right.

“The kind you’re going to be screaming in under sixty seconds.”

You help him hike up the billowy skirt of your gown. He pulls down your underwear, letting it drop around your ankles, and finds you with his hand.

“Does that feel good?” he says as he teases you.

“Not really,” you say. “Finger me like you mean it.”

“Naughty girl.” He pushes two fingers into you, feeling your walls, pushing against them, rubbing the heel of his hand on your clit, his thick erection against you while you pant and whine, hands braced on the wall.

“Oh, fuck.” Your words bounce around the coat room.

“There you are,” he says, curling his fingers deeper into some previously undiscovered on-switch for your orgasm. “Right there. Now you’re going to come for me, yes?”

As if you could hold back.

“Anselm, Anselm, Anselm,” you say, louder and louder as your orgasm builds.

Your cunt grips his fingers as your nails dig into the wall. Mouth open, wailing his name, you come until you feel your legs go numb.

Anselm finally relents and your body relaxes.

You open your eyes and look down at the puddle of drool that’s leaked out of your mouth and onto the floor below your face.

“I’m okay,” you say, standing up straight again.

“I should say you are,” Anselm says dryly.

He uses a handkerchief to wipe his hand. He smirks as he shows you how wet you made the cuff of his shirt sleeve.

“Dinner?”

You shake your head, reaching for his zipper. “Not yet. That was amazing. I want-”

The door to the coat room opens. A red-faced clerk nods to both of you. Grateful she’s too polite to say that she heard you absolutely coming your brains out, you give her the ticket you remembered you had stuck down the front of your dress.

She gets your coat and you walk out into the cool night air with Anselm.

A black stretch limo is waiting and the driver opens the door.

“After you, my dear,” Anselm says.

As soon as the door closes, you’re on him like a second skin. You slide your leg over his lap, pressing a wet necklace of kisses over his skin.

“Now where were we?” you ask, nuzzling your face into his soft beard.

“You’re a greedy thing,” Anselm growls, pulling back his hands so you can unzip his pants easier while he takes off his bow tie and unbuttons the top buttons of his shirt. “It seems that I’m lucky you didn’t try to suck me off sometime during that large event.”

“No, this is a large event,” you say, wrapping your hands around him.

“That’s very-” he groans, “thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

You pull up your dress and straddle his lap. You pause, however, at the look on his face.

He looks just as enthusiastic as you, but his brow is slightly furrowed.

“What?” you ask.

“My dear, please don’t take this the wrong way, but it has happened to me before. Are you a sex worker? I just want to make sure before we start. Not that I wouldn’t pay you, I respect the profession very much. But I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of cash with me tonight. So we’d have to stop at an automated teller machine if it would be anything more than two grand.”

You cock your head at him. “You think I’m worth two thousand dollars?”

“Probably much more. Your accommodating, enthusiastic nature. How tight you were around my fingers,” Anselm smiles, cupping one of his hands along your jaw. “And you are very, very captivating.”

“Aw, thank you,” you say. You’re still hovering over him, one hand around his thick, hard cock. “Is it weird if I kiss you?”

Anselm’s hands rest around your waist. He tilts his head slightly.

“Oh, I’m not a prostitute, but I don’t have anything against it. Now that I think about it, maybe I should have just said yes. Who couldn’t use two grand?” you say thoughtfully.

“Your honesty is priceless to me. I promise that if you ever need anything, I will be more than happy to entertain requests.” Anselm licks his lips.

You sink down slightly, letting the head of his cock split you just enough to feel how easy it’s going to be for him to slide in the rest of the way.

You grip the back of his neck with one of your hands, trying to relax and take him all the way inside of you.

Anselm pushes you up. “Easy, my dear. Try again,” he says softly.

Your cunt pulses around his head before you lower down again, deeper this time. Every time you exhale, your moan fills the back of the limo.

“Almost there,” Anselm whispers.

He finds the zipper at the back of your gown and tugs it down, works the material off your chest so he can kiss your skin. His lips close around one of your breasts and he sucks hard enough to make you gasp, your body dropping down to take him completely.

Anselm’s tongue traces over your nipple, then the other one. “Very good. I love a woman who wastes no time getting what she wants.”

He helps you take your gown off, his eyes drawn to where you’re stretched around him. There’s already a damp patch on his pants from you.

You rock your hips in his lap, both of you groaning as you work his jacket off. You’ve never felt so full in your life. He’s so hot and thick, pushing the limits of your body already.

His thumb gently circles your clit and your body squeezes him. He breathes hard through his nose. You ride him slowly at first. With him constantly pressing and pushing on every sensitive spot you have, there’s nowhere to escape.

Anselm’s hips start to move with yours. You brace your hands on his shoulders, hooking the tops of your feet around his legs for leverage.

He licks into your open mouth, fucking up into you, pinching your clit between his fingers and you come with a loud scream, a wet gush of fluid inviting him to fuck you through your orgasm.

Your arms give out and Anselm holds your body, slowing down his pace into your shaking body. You lick his neck, suck on his earlobe.

“Did that feel good?” he asks.

You nod, kissing across his cheek and back to his mouth. He breathes harder, moves faster.

“May I?” he asks, his words shaky.

His hands dig into the skin and fat of your thighs as you ride him.

“Come in me.” You run your lips down his neck, nosing aside the collar of his shirt to bite the nape of his neck, then his shoulder.

“Harder,” he says.

You bite down harder, clenching around him as he pulls you down flush against him, his cock twitching inside of you, overfilling you with cum. He lays a hand on your stomach, over where you can feel the head of his cock pressing into you as he comes. He lets his hand drop down, to where his cum is leaking out around you, he plays with your wet clit and you shift.

“You want to come again. I can feel it. Go ahead, come for me,” Anselm says, working your clit faster.

Your cunt clamps down, working his cock and drawing out the last of him, sucking it deep inside of you as you both finish, out of breath.

Anselm withdraws his hand. It's wet from both of you. He gently massages your nipple idly with his fingers, then bends his head to lick it clean. You’re too tired to even moan.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

“Mmm,” you answer. “You?”

He smiles, enigmatic but obviously more clear-headed than you. “Absolutely. You’re still so tight, I don’t think the shape of you will ever come off my cock.”

Anselm runs his hand along the back of the seat, folding it down to reveal a compartment. He takes out a small towel and hands it to you, another for himself.

As you clean up and try to put your dress back on straight in the back of the limo, Anselm takes out a fresh pair of pants from the hidden cache.

“You’re prepared for everything, aren’t you?” you say, kneeling on the floor, back to him so he can zip up your gown.

“A guru once advised me to manifest the life I want. So, I prepare for sex everywhere.” He zips you up and kisses the back of your neck. “Would you still allow me to take you to dinner? Or now that you’ve had me, you’d like me to jog on?”

You laugh, sitting back on the seat. “Depends, I guess. Now that the whole sex-haze has cleared... did I hear you correctly back at the gala, you’re some kind of criminal? I don’t know if I really want to get involved in that. Not even for good sex.”

Anselm clicks his tongue at you. “That wasn’t merely good, my dear, that was exceptional. I should know. And rest assured, my professional activities aren’t anything unsavory. I got out of that sort of thing years ago. It’s all white collar these days.”

“Crime isn’t what it used to be, huh?” you say jokingly.

“Well, I still get to shoot someone from time to time,” he says, the edges of his mouth smiling from under his mustache.

You scrutinize him. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

“It’s called plausible deniability. My cousin, the lawyer, explained it to me before I shot him to death in my office.”

Anselm puts his arm around you, pulling you in closer. The soft hair of his beard brushes against your face.

“It would be pretty stupid of me to make you mad, then,” you say, running your hand over his, noticing that it’s puckered and scarred.

The man is a mystery.

“Yes, it would,” Anselm says. “I manifested you into my life, and I anticipate you staying for a very long time.”

“Manifested me how?” You look at him, touched, but puzzled.

“Weeks ago. I invited your company to buy a table at the gala. I suggested they put your department on the guest list.”

Your hand raises to stroke his hair, his beard. He smiles.

Anselm pulls you closer to him. “I had some business at your offices a while ago and you caught my eye. But a man in my position has to ensure a potential partner is able to stand up to scrutiny, able to withstand certain business practices.”

Your hand goes still against his beard. “You really do shoot people, don’t you?”

Anselm’s brown eyes sparkle at you, as if the whole thing is a joke, even though you realize now how serious he is.

Your mouth opens as your brain makes the connection. “My boss has been using crutches for four weeks. Said he shattered his leg playing golf with an important client.”

Anselm considers it. “Well, I do have a small golf course on my estate, but we were nowhere near it when I shot him. He’d made an unacceptable error and I needed to ensure it wouldn’t happen again, hypothetically.”

Anselm’s eyes are calm on yours, but you sense what he’s asking you without words.

It’s rare that you can actually see your life branching in two directions. In one moment, you can choose to walk down the path you’ve always known, or choose the stranger one, the more dangerous one. More interesting.

You consider your words carefully. “If any of that were true, I’d have to go to the cops. But if we’re just speaking hypothetically, I’d say that he probably deserved it. If I were betting on it, I’d say he’ll probably make the same mistake again. He’s an idiot.”

“He’s my third cousin.”

“Doesn’t make him any less useless.”

Anselm looks very pleased. A toothy smile before he kisses you on the mouth. “I knew it,” he says. “You and I are perfect for each other. But first, dinner.”

“Dinner,” you say, “and maybe you could manifest a little fooling around afterward?”

Anselm holds one of your hands in his. “Like I said, perfect.”

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[twwcs]

YOUR SOULMATE is a TRANSGENDER PERVERT on TUMBLR.COM

[twwcs]

no thoughts. my boobs big and heavy

[twwcs]

not taking names but someone needs to get all spooned up and fucked hard and raw from the side with a leg raised

[twwcs]

thinkin about getting pounded within an inch of my life and being so blissed out and then hearing the unmistakable sound of a condom being pulled off right before its previous wearer slams back into me . i yelp and start protest, but their hand over my mouth silences me “you said you wanted to get bred, did you Really think I’d leave the condom on?”

[twwcs]

I need to be bent over the bed, smacked on the ass, and fucked until there is nothing left in my head except for how good his cock feels

[twwcs]

He's a knight. Of course he has a praise kink and low self-esteem.

[twwcs]

I cut myself out because I don’t put my face here, but here’s me and Oscar Isaac! Can confirm he’s a darling! He worked through lunch to make sure everyone got their pictures ❤️

[twwcs]

Aaahh omg this is seriously adorable☹️🥺

Mislead

Nathan Batemanl x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals  •  Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

Summary: Nathan, surprisingly, wants to be your plus one.

Warnings: Fluff, Swearing, Teasing, Sexual innuendo, Established Relationship, References to marriage, typos, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1290

“You don’t have to come.” You say, leaning back against the sofa and turning your head so you can look into the kitchen. 

“You got a plus one, right?” Nathan calls back as he checks the oven. 

“Well, yeah…”

“You don’t want me to go?” His voice is even, matter-of-fact. But you know him by now, there’s a touch of hurt buried underneath. 

“That’s not it, I just didn’t think you’d, you know, be interested in a wedding?” You look back to your laptop screen, an old family friend had sent you an electronic save the date.

He pokes his head around the doorframe so he can see you. “I like weddings.”

You frown. “Nathan, that’s a fucking lie.” 

He shrugs, a hint of a smirk on his face. “I like weddings.” 

You gaup at him for a moment. “You do not.”

“What gave you that idea?” He steps into the room, folds his arms and leans against the wall. 

“Well,” you flounder for a moment, much to his amusement, and then just gesture at him. “You.” 

“Me?” He points at himself. 

“Yes, you.”

“I’m insulted.” He grins and you roll your eyes.

“You are not.”

“You seem to think you know all about me.” He says as he sits next to you, jostling you a fraction more than necessary. You give him a small, playful shove back. 

“I’m not busy then.” Nathan points at the invite on the screen. 

“You really want to come?” 

“Sure.” 

“Nathan-”

“Why do you think I’m lying to you?” 

You regard him for a long moment, trying to work out his angle. “I don’t know.” 

“I don’t lie to you.”

“You do.”

“I mislead, it’s not the same.”

“Fuck off.” You scoff, turning away from him.

He grins, revelling in being a little shit. “I don’t have to go with you if you don’t want me to, but, I mean weddings…” 

You know the next words out of his mouth are going to be bullshit, but you can’t help but ask the question. “Are what?” 

“Everyone’s gonna be hitting on you,” he shakes his head, mock dramatically. “I gotta go with you so I can fend them off.” 

You chuckle. “That’s what you’re worried about?” 

“Nah,” he kisses your shoulder before he rests his head on you. “You know I don’t care who you fuck.” 

“Nathan,” you give him another shove. 

“What?” He giggles. “I know no one else can fuck you as well as I can.” 

“Oh my god…”

“Just if you do, record a video for me and-”

You slap your hand over his mouth and he laughs harder. Gently, he takes hold of your wrist, moving you back a fraction so he can kiss your palm. 

“If you want me there,” he says sincerely, “I’d like to go with you.”

“You sure?” 

He nods. “Could be fun. Besides, I’ve got to put this whole ‘I don’t like weddings’ thing to bed.” 

You smile at him as he plays with your hand. “I didn’t mean to insult you, you just… don’t seem like the type.”

“I’m not marriage material?” He quirks an eyebrow up at you and you laugh. 

“Yeah, sure, I bet the pre-nup would be longer than my arm.” 

“No.”

“Yes.” You tease. 

“No. One sentence.” 

“Oh, I get it,” you give him a cheeky look, “it’ll say, ‘Nathan gets to keep everything, end of.’”

He snorts at your impression but shakes his head. “It would say, Nathan keeps all his shares in Blue Book, but you’d get half of any money those shares make, and half of everything else.”

You pause, a little shocked at how honest he seems. 

“I mean, and that’s only because I’m never giving up any of those shares. I’ve got 73%, more than the majority, split that in half, and there’s a chance that someone could try to take control. But,” he shrugs, “I know you’d never do that, or sell them to someone else to do that.” He pauses. “Maybe that isn’t needed.”

“Isn’t needed?”

“In the prenup. Maybe we don’t need one at all.”

“Nathan,” you pause, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to react to his blatant honesty. “What about your… erm, your art?” You gesture at the Pollock behind you, your brain trying to catch up with your racing thoughts.

“What about it?” 

“Won’t you want to keep it?”

“Assuming we’re getting divorced?” He grins, amused at your flusteredness. 

“We’re not married, we’re not even engaged-”

“I could change that right now.”

“Nathan-”

He nods. “You’re right, not very romantic with me here in my shorts and t-shirt.”

“That’s not what I mean.” 

“So you wouldn’t mind if I asked wearing this, just here, on the couch?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you as if he’s daring you to say no. 

“What I’m saying is-”

“The Pollock’s a fake anyway.”

“I- Wait, what?” You swallow, not knowing what else to say.

“This one,” he points to the wall, “It’s a fake. I own the real one, but it’s in an art gallery so people can see it.” He shrugs. “This one’s a replica. Which is even better in my opinion, look at it,” he gestures with his chin. “It’s impossible to tell, literally, the guy who did it is a master forger. You know how hard it is to replicate a Pollock? Fucking unreal.” 

He smiles at your surprised expression. 

“He nearly went to jail for fraud, but I pulled some strings. Paid some people off. He’s done all the art in here. Except for the one in your office.” 

The print of Cineraria by Van Gogh Nathan had given you for your birthday hung pride of place on the wall, he had gifted it to you before you even started dating. 

“That’s the original.” He says it so offhandedly you nearly don’t catch it.

“It’s the fucking what?” 

He looks calmly at you. “The original. You said you liked it.” 

“Nathan.” 

“You’re saying my name a lot today.” He grins and kisses your cheek. 

You struggle for words for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me it was the original?” 

“You never asked.”

“Na-”

“I thought you wouldn’t accept it.” He says softly, “I wanted you to keep it.” 

“Shouldn’t… shouldn’t it be in an art museum, like you said about…” Realisation dawns. “Don’t tell me-”

He smiles a cherish cat smile. “The fake’s in the museum? Well-”

You put your fingers over his lips. “I don’t want to know.” 

He chuckles and nods. 

You sigh. “How much is that painting worth?” 

He opens his mouth to speak and you stop him again. 

“Actually, I don’t want to know… It’s got insurance, right?”

Nathan nods. “And I know a guy that could repair any damage if something happened to it. But nothing’s gonna happen, so don’t worry about it.” 

You scoff, but smile and lean back when he puts his arm around your shoulders. “Easier said than done…”

He kisses the top of your head. “So, can I go to this wedding?” 

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t get them any priceless artwork as gifts and tell them it’s a print, alright?” 

“What if I tell them it’s the real thing?” 

“Oh my god…” You bury your head in your hands and he giggles. “I forget how fucking disgustingly rich you are.” 

“That’s why I know you don’t love me for my money,” he teases, and kisses your temple. “I’ll buy them a house or something as a wedding gift.”

You pull your hands back from your face to give him a look, “Nathan,” but he’s already grinning, having far too much fun winding you up. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Two houses.” You say. 

“Whatever you want.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[twwcs]

I’m freaking out with how good he looks!!!

[twwcs]

That Manchester Comic Con is happening atm! And oh my god, it’s fully giving ‘my version’ (aka the beard and hat) of Santiago 😭😭😭

source: IG

I really needed that today 😍😭

[twwcs]

SAME!