wolfies-writings

[wolfies-writings]

Collared <3

>>Warnings: idk chat I wrote this at 2 am, pet play obvi, dom!Enzo and sub!reader, mild degrading tones

>>Subspace: common word for the headspace a sub may fall into during a play session/sex/foreplay

~2030 words~

When Lorenzo stepped into the dorm, the view that welcomed him was shocking. You scrambled to pull your hood over your head, and more specifically up to hide your neck. “Love… what was that on your neck?” He asked, a smirk slowly creeping onto his face as he took a step closer, dropped his satchel, then another step.

“Nothing! It was nothing, Enz, just a choker necklace, that’s all,” you hurriedly, shuffling away nervously. You were mortified, and desperately didn’t want him to see what you’d been trying on. Of course, he’d seen enough already, and knew what you were trying to hide. His smirk was devilish already, and his approach quickened. Despite your stumbling away, he’d backed you against a wall easily.

“Oh? What was that silver latch and ring on it then? Didn’t look like your chokers, love… looked an awful lot like…” he tugged at the neckline of your top, revealing the hidden item to his view. “A pretty. Black. Collar. Around that pretty little neck of yours… what’s got my angel wearing a collar, hmmm?” he teased in that low, lilting voice of his. You looked away, burning in embarrassment. What you didn’t notice was the way his teasing smirk dropped as you refused to answer, and his usually warm brown eyes darkened.

“Answer me.” His words were punctuated by a tug at the leather around your neck; he must’ve grabbed it the split second before, when you were too shy to pay attention. Your eyes flicked up to meet his gaze, and you swallowed thickly at the sight. Between his tone and the expression he wore, you could tell he planned on getting his answer.

Now, the two of you had messed around with dominant and submissive play before, and you’d both rather enjoyed it. However, it was always planned, never anything exactly spontaneous. This time it caught you off guard, not expecting the dominant air in his voice and the mischievous glint in his eye. Not that you were complaining. It was always sinfully fun when he took control and got this air about him, the dark look in his eye making you shiver.

“I, uh… it’s..” you stammered quietly, trying to come up with any type of excuse he would believe. Your gaze fell away as you scrambled for something, anything, but another, harsher yank to the collar made you trail off..

“Did you forget how to use your words? I said answer me, puppy.” Your eyes snapped back up to his as your cheeks colored crimson. Hearing him say that made your chest flutter inside, and it was like your brain buffered for several long seconds. Enzo could clearly see the effect the simple word had on you, and his mouth curled into a smirk.

“I- wha.. H-how did you know??” you squeaked out, embarrassed that he’d pieced it all together somewhere along the way. His fingers hooked around the loop of your collar was insanely distracting; you kept glancing between that and his eyes. He raised his eyebrow and gave you an almost pitying look. Your stomach dipped, and a heat churned there, one that was always familiar with Enzo as your boyfriend.

“Oh sweetheart…” he drawled in a patronizing tone as he grabbed your chin to tilt your head up to face him. “The collar was a pretty damn good hint… not to mention how you tried to hide it from me. So this is how you get your kicks, then? Wearing a collar and pretending to be a good little puppy, eager for owner to come and train you?” He tsked at you, feigning disappointment. “Yet you never thought to tell me about this, even tried to hide it from me… not very good behavior, now is it, girl? Sounds like a bad dog to me. Maybe your owner needs to teach his pet some manners…” He suddenly yanked at your collar, pulling you flush against him.

You gulped at this his sudden flare up of dominance, surprised by how perfectly he leaned into the role. It was like he knew exactly how you liked it already. Then again, he was a kinky bastard- one of your favorite things about him. “Enzo, I-” you started, though unable to finish. You could feel the unique pet play subspace setting in, making you want to simply melt into whatever he did.

“Cat got your tongue, love?” You supplied him with a meek nod, which gave him a rush of satisfaction. “Well then… maybe I ought to teach you some tricks. Though you already know most of them, don’t you baby?.” He flashed a sharp grin before yanking down lightly on your collar. “Down, pet, on your knees. You know what to do.”

When you compliantly dropped, he kept a finger hooked into the collar and hummed like something was off. He looked around the room as if searching for something. “No leash? Guess I’m going to have to get creative…” he murmured, half to himself. His eyes finally landed down on his green and silver tie, hung loosely around his neck. “Ah, perfect…” He took it off and tied it to the metal loop, creating a makeshift leash.

A couple of testing tugs satisfied him, which left you breathless. Another harsher tug pulled your face close to the tent that was growing in his trousers. A small whimper left you before you started nuzzling at him obediently, hands sliding up his legs to his thighs, and mouthing softly over the bulge. Glancing up at him, you saw the way his lips parted as he watched you with hooded eyes. With the hand that wasn’t holding your leash, he carded through your hair. He nodded from above, encouraging you to go on at your pace. With your hands braced on his thighs, you closed your eyes and continued to softly mouth his bulge, enjoying the soft little breath of contentment it brought from him. You squeezed his lean thighs under your hands, feeling the silken fabric of his trousers.

You brought your hands up to undo his belt buckle, then to toy with his zipper. Taking your sweet time, your finger traced the line of the zipper over his erection. He looked almost painfully hard at this point, and the knowledge that this game had him just was worked up as you sent satisfaction through you. As you lingered, Enzo snapped out of his mild daze and raised an eyebrow, warning you not to be a tease. Heeding the nonverbal warning, you unfastened the button on his trousers, then delicately used your teeth to tug down the zipper.

You tugged down his pants slightly, just past the lower hem of his boxers. It was much, much more obvious just how hard he was now. “Mmm, someone’s pretty excited, Enzo… if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were enjoying this more than me,” you murmured softly. You waited til he had opened his mouth to speak to latch onto his hardness, eliciting a well-earned gasp from him. He wasn’t generally vocal so early on, so that was a victory for you.

“You little troublemaker….” he mumbled raspily, watching you play with him with a ravishing interest. The hand on your head forced you closer, slightly pressing more of your face into him. You mouthed him a little more aggressively, sucking slightly here, trailing your tongue up his clothed length there. If there was one thing you loved, it was pleasing your boyfriend. This was typically the case- you both always got off from making each other writhe. But tonight, patient as he usually was, he didn’t seem to have it tonight. Enzo yanked on your leash. “Don’t make me wait, sweetheart. You wanna be a good girl, yeah? Wanna be the good little puppy I know you can be?”

This pet subspace always got you wordless, even when just on your own. You complied quickly and quietly, merely letting out a soft whine. He grinned at your flustered little sound. His boxers were quickly tugged down, revealing exactly how much he shared your interest. You tentatively took his length into your hand, leaning forward and giving gentle kitten-like licks to his tip. The hiss that earned from above only encouraged you. His cock twitched in your grasp as you slowly trailed your flattened tongue along the bottom of his length, gazing up at him with innocent eyes as you did so. He was riveted, always loving to watch as you used your pretty little mouth to make him feel good. His eyes fluttered closed as you reached the base of his cock, mouthing him there. As you trailed your tongue back along him- lubing him up nicely- you returned to his tip to tease him some more. Taking him into your mouth, just a bit, you suckled at him, enjoying his every little reaction.

He gave a warning tug at your hair, reminding you not to tease. “Puppy… do I need to remind you who’s in fucking control here?” He hissed, his grip on your hair tightening enough to pull a whimper from you. He pulled on the leash and made you take more of his throbbing length in your mouth, a suppressed gasp almost choking you before he had the chance to. “There we go, pet just needs some positive reinforcement. Puppies like treats, don’t they? Go ahead, baby, you know you fucking love it,” he rasped lowly, sneering down at you as you whimpered around his cock. Taking a careful breath through your nose, you sunk him down into your mouth, fighting the urge to gag around him. Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as you took him full hilt, and he grinned devilishly. “Good girl, keep those pretty eyes on me. Fucking hell..” His head fell back for a moment of bliss before he looked down at you once more, his eyes hazy and dark.

You bobbed your head on him, feeling the way his length throbbed in your mouth with his pulse, each time hitting the back of your throat. You were sure it would be bruised there tomorrow if you looked. The urge to gag was overwhelming, but you were intent on taking him. You were a good girl, after all. His good girl. Like he’d always told you, you were perfectly capable of taking it. Good pets did as told. You worked him slowly towards the peak of intensity with sloppy, obscene sounds; your whimpers, your struggles for air, the way your mouth took what he had to give with wet squelches all drove him insane. He was ruling the pace now, roughly pulling on the makeshift leash and holding you by the hair. “That’s it, baby, god… gonna take me over the edge, sweetheart? You that greedy for your reward?” He hissed, a raw groan slipping through his teeth.

You simply moaned in response, the vibrations of the sound making him make another guttural noise. “Sweet fucking Salazar, come on, just like that…” His voice was strained with pleasure and coiled tension, oh so clearly on the verge of snapping. His guiding hands grew more frantic, more desperate as he fucked into your warm mouth, lost in chasing his high. With one last thrust and a raspy moan, he spilled into your throat, his hands making sure you kept him in your mouth and swallowed it all. “Good fucking girl, Jesus fucking Christ, baby. That’s a good puppy…” He drawled, his chest heaving as he finally let you off of him.

You let go with a wet pop, pulling back and panting. He released your hair and leash, bringing his hand to your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. His gaze softened slightly as he took in your flushed look, and his more gentle smile replaced the smirk. As you leaned into his touch, Enzo’s thumb brushed over your mouth, wiping away a stray trace of his release. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your bruising lips. “You did so good, baby,” he murmured softly, leaving you holding his hand to your cheek. “My good puppy…”

@belovedenzo @nottsangel

[wolfies-writings]

Just a Little Taste

Warnings: innuendo if you kinda squint, centered around biting, implied consent

Curtesy of Micah @musingsofahufflepuff Here's that Enzo drabble I promised :)

  Having one of the hottest guys as your boyfriend? Was never on your bingo card if you were being honest. Not that you were complaining. As you half-laid, propped up on your towel, you watched Enzo. He’d somehow convinced you to come to the beach, and so there you laid, your eyes following him as he strolled around. His camera hung from its strap around his neck while he walked around, finding things to photograph. Shirtless. The sun was good to him. Enzo had talked about wanting to explore some new hobbies, hence the camera you’d gotten him for his birthday one year. He’d gotten pretty good at it too, teaching himself about perspective and how to use lighting to his benefit. Unsurprisingly, his favorite subject tended to be you, his -in his words- stunning partner whom he may or may not be mildly obsessed with.

  But right now, the camera was the least of your concerns. Your attention was currently riveted to his figure. More specifically, his biceps. You couldn’t help but eye the way they flexed as he’d pick up the camera to photograph something, or the shadows and sunlight accentuating them as he moved. You have this inexplicable urge to sink your teeth into him, and not just metaphorically. Shaking it off, you lay back and close your eyes, trying to focus more on getting a good tan than the thoughts of biting your boyfriend’s muscular arms. 

  Eventually, he was satisfied with the plethora of photographs he’d taken. Enzo returned to where his own towel was stretched out on the sand next to yours, and set his camera back in its satchel. “Hey, love, enjoying the sunshine?” He drawled lazily in that deep voice of his. In the state you had already gotten yourself into, you were pretty sure you could’ve started drooling right then.

  “Like what you see, babe?” He asked with a lopsided grin. He turned onto his side and leaned his head on his hand. He knew exactly what had you so intrigued right then, and he knew exactly how to mess with you. “When you said you enjoyed the view at the seaside, this wasn’t what I thought you meant; though I’m not complaining.”

  You rolled your eyes at his playful call out. He wasn’t wrong, but his ego was big enough; he didn’t need the satisfaction of you admitting it aloud. “Oh hush, Enzo…” you commented, shaking your head as if he’d said something ridiculous. You closed your eyes and shifted on your beach towel to get more comfortable, dismissing the salacious thoughts you’d been having about your boyfriend. 

  For several minutes, it went quiet. You heard some shuffling, presumably Enzo settling on his own towel for a nap. You swore he was just like a puppy sometimes; he’d get so excited about something, running around playing- today with his camera- and then he’d all but collapse beside you for a nap. He especially enjoyed sleeping in the sun, just like now. As you just started to assume he’d fallen asleep already, you could hear him sitting up suddenly.

  “Babe. Babe, are you sleeping?” He gently shook your shoulder. After briefly considering pretending to be asleep simply to mess with him, you opened one eye and peered up at him. He now leaned over you, his windblown hair hanging messily over his forehead. He grinned when he saw you awake. “Oh, perfect, you are awake. I wanna take a nap, but you know how Berkshire skin burns easily. Could you put some sunscreen on me, please love?” A task you two typically did for each other, of course.

  “Sure, Enz, hand it here,” you dutifully responded. Sitting up, you took the tube he handed you and started with his back. He settled with a cheeky grin. He always acted like he was getting a full pampering session whenever he got you to do things like this, and it was one of your favorite of his habits. It was adorable really. You took your sweet time, relishing the feeling of his muscles under your hands, how they flexed under your touch. You were well acquainted with every dip and divot of his body by now, but it never got old. Leaning close without moving around to his front, you applied more sunscreen and slid your hands slowly over his neck and shoulders, massaging the cream into his skin more than necessary. It mutually benefitted you; you got to massage and feel up your hot boyfriend and he got the massage: it was a win-win. 

  As you made your way to his arms, you saw how his eyes were closed contently. Perfect opportunity to ogle his delicious biceps again. You rubbed the sunscreen slowly into one of his arms, spending a little extra time feeling up his muscles. You greatly appreciated the work he put in at the gym. You pressed gentle kisses to his shoulder, smiling as he hummed in acknowledgement. As you moved to his other side, on his upper arm, the kisses followed down a little, your lips landing on his bicep. A devious thought came back. Surely just a little taste wouldn’t hurt… he never minded when you got a little grabby. You suddenly bared your teeth and sunk them into the meat of his upper arm, less of a little nibble than you’d intended, but oh well. 

  His eyes shot open as his head whipped around at the feeling. “Babe! What on earth??” He winced slightly at the sensation, though he also laughed. Enzo never seemed to mind pain when it came from you. In fact, he seemed to like it far too much for his own good, but that was another conversation. “God, you greedy little thing, couldn’t wait for a taste til we got home?” All the while, you’d kept your bite on him firm- not too painful, but firm- stubbornly, like a dog unwilling to surrender their favorite chew toy. Besides, you both knew how well you could use your teeth when in more fitting circumstances, and he never complained then either.

[wolfies-writings]

Repair shop owner! Enzo

Lorenzo was your typical mechanic type: dusty, dirty, a bit crude, but he made sure his shop ran smoothly. He kept his guys (mostly) in line, and loved his tiny little office, filled to the brim of the most random shit. Ever an opportunist, he would swoop in and take over assisting the prettiest girls and most well off clients that came in, ensuring raving reviews- not to mention pretty little things to flirt with. But when his old mate Theo makes an equipment delivery with a new coworker of his in tow, Enzo decides he has to have her. She’s pretty, but seems like a tough nut to crack. With his baser instincts as well as his pride involved now, he’s convinced he can make her his. None of his workers are surprised when a lot more packages start getting delivered.

[wolfies-writings]

Doorman!Lorenzo Berkshire

Moving into a new apartment in a new city was one hell of an adventure, but alone? Not ideal. However, there does seem to be a perk to this place: Lorenzo Berkshire- he insists you call him Enzo- the doorman. Sitting at the desk every day with that gorgeous grin of his, he’s a total piece of eye candy. An absolute sweetheart, he’ll walk you to the elevator, talk to you after you get home from work, and gas you up every time you step out in a dress. What’s not to love about your friendly doorman?

[wolfies-writings]

Masterlist

Smut: ᯓ★, fluff: ᥫ᭡.

Slytherin Boys:

-Mattheodore:

Three’s company ᥫ᭡.

-Theodore Nott:

________

-Lorenzo Berkshire:

Doorman!Enzo au

Repair shop owner!Enzo au

-Mattheo Riddle:

________

[wolfies-writings]

Three’s company

Author’s notes: I’m going to be a lil bad at this for a while, I haven’t written in forever. Hopefully you guys like my little debut into writing for the Slytherin boys.

Warnings: none really, just fluff, mildddd innuendo from Mattheo briefly but nothing happens. Oh, also google translated Italian

1562 words

Theo was lounging in his boyfriend’s bed, leaned back against the headboard and idly reading a book. Mattheo was sketching in his journal, and given the amount of glancing between the book and Theo he was doing, the Italian was likely his subject. They both looked up when the door to their shared dorm opened, and a weary looking Hufflepuff in messy robes walked in.

“Amore nostra, our love you look tired…” Theo noted softly, closing his book and getting up from Mattheo’s side to come over to you.

You sighed, and were trying to get your stupid robes off. In your rush, it was a challenge, and only irritated you further. The sleeve caught, keeping you stuck as you fought to rid yourself of it. Just one thing after another today, endless frustrations, and this felt like yet another straw on a camel’s back. “This goddamn thing, swear to Merlin…” You muttered under your breath.

Theo tutted quietly in that soothing way of his. His hands came up and pushed the robe off your shoulders, bunching it up and tossing it to the side. He scooped up your hands in his own, squeezing them to hold you still for a few moments. Once satisfied, he gently grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close. You let your head fall forward and thump against his chest, inhaling his scent from his sweater. Some of the tension slowly began to ease in the comfort of his arms. “Where’ve you been, out later than usual like this?” He asked.

“Was late to class because I helped a lost new transfer, and naturally Snape refused to let me explain. Got detention and had to clean up my team’s quidditch gear. You wouldn’t believe how messy the Hufflepuff players are…” You sighed again and nuzzled closer into Theo’s chest. A scoff was heard from the bed where Mattheo still laid.

“Typical Snape, never cutting any of us a break. Maybe if he’d take the giant stick out of his as-” Mattheo started before Theo cut him off.

“Mattheo, hush, not what they need right now.” He turned back to you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Mattheo stood and also ambled over, loosely wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips found your skin as he nuzzled into your neck. You shivered as his lips and warm breath grazed your skin, leaning further into Theo.

“Matty, you know my neck’s sensitive…” You murmured with a giggle, halfway trying to squirm away from the sensations into Theo’s arms. Both he and Theodore loved to lavish attention on your neck, one of the several sensitive spots on you that were perfect for teasing. You squeaked in mild surprise as Mattheo’s teeth nipped gently at your skin where your neck met your shoulder. His devilish smirk was easily felt, pressed right up against your skin.

“Oh, but that’s why it’s one of my favorite spots to kiss you, baby. Love how responsive you always are for us…” He purred, soothing the nip of his teeth with another kiss, a little firmer than the last. Theo allowed you to hide your face in his chest, and he chuckled as he rested his chin on top of your head. His hands wandered under your shirt, not greedily, but his touch still also made you shiver. These two knew exactly how to press your buttons and play you like a fiddle to a tune of their choosing. It was definitely one of your favorite things about them, how well they knew you. You tilted your head slightly, allowing Mattheo more space to kiss, nip, and tease, which he happily took advantage of.

After lulling you into a “false” sense of security with gentle kisses, you gasped as Mattheo latched onto your neck and sucked a faint mark onto your skin. “Mattheo! It’s gonna show tomorrow, you sneaky bastard,” you chastised. He only chuckled, sounding all too pleased with himself.

“Mmm… kinda the point, babe. Gotta make sure everyone knows you’re ours. Can’t have someone thinkin’ they can snatch up our little ‘Puff, now can we?” He grinned against your skin, taking a deep breath to inhale your scent. Theo chuckled and shook his head, his hands still exploring underneath your shirt. They squeezed and massaged your soft curves as he watched the playful exchange and the mischief from your boyfriend. Theo hummed softly as your hands came up and fisted in the fabric of his sweater, holding him close.

Eventually, you tried to wriggle your way out of their arms. Not that you wanted to leave the comfort of their embraces, but you also needed a scorching shower after the day you’d had. “Matty, Teddy, you gotta let me go, ‘m just trying to go shower!” You giggled as they refused to let you out of their grasp.

Mattheo lit up, immediately dashing to the bathroom and starting the shower. When he popped back out, he was stripping his shirt off. “Why would you shower alone when we’re here? Saves water to go together, you know?” His grin said everything, and both you and Theo deadpanned at each other before shaking your heads at your boyfriend’s antics.

“Mattheo…” You said with slight reprimand. “I just want a shower, no shenanigans tonight.” He deflated a tad, but still insisted on joining you. “To pamper you,” he claimed.

You relented. Not one but both boys ended up joining you. As they stepped in, Theo complained lowly in his native tongue about how hot you ran your showers, a habit of his every time you shared one. Meanwhile, Mattheo, always eager to touch you in any way possible, dutifully lathered his hands with your shampoo and started massaging it into your scalp.

“Dio mio, come fai a non bruciare vivo? My god, how do you not burn alive?” Theo muttered as he inched his way under the water. You chuckled at his stubborn pout, and grabbed his soap. You washed his chest, shoulders, and neck as he acclimated to the temperature.

“Didn’t you literally grow up in Italy, amore? You’d think you would be used to a little heat by now,” you chuckled.

“‘A little heat’ is very different from being boiled alive like a… gamberetto, dammit, what’s the word in English? The small sea creature, pink and curled, with the little arms…”

Mattheo cackled, always finding it highly amusing whenever Theo forgot the English word for something a tad obscure. “Shrimp, babe, you’re thinking of shrimp. And the water isn’t that hot, either, you’re just being a pussy.” You turned around and lightly hit the shorter boy’s arm for teasing the other.

“Be nice, Matt. But he is right, Theo, you’re thinking of ‘shrimp’,” you said, turning back to rinse him off. Then you allowed Mattheo to tug you back under the water more, letting it wash the shampoo out of your hair. “Though the water really isn’t that hot either, he’s right about that too.” Theo scoffed in disagreement, but gave up the argument, knowing you two- his partners, his loves, his everything- were two of the most stubborn people alive. Lucky him, he thought with a slight smile.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say… now come here, bello beautiful, your turn.” Theo tugged Mattheo over to him and began washing his hair as well, his expression softening as he saw Mattheo give into the pampering. Usually he would grumble when you or Theo tried to pamper and love on him softly like this, but he had a weakness for when you played with his hair or massaged his scalp. You and the boys cleaned up and loved on each other, everything falling into a silent pattern you all knew well. This was generally how it went when one of you had a bad day and came back tired, the resulting exchanges sickeningly sweet pampering and soft words.

Finally, you all finished in the shower and dried off to a satisfactory degree. Mattheo tossed his and Theo’s books off the bed before collapsing into it. “You’d think the man was the one who had the bad day, the way he’s acting so drammatico, dramatic,” Theo murmured, his lips curled around his last cigarette for the day. You nodded in agreement, watching as your other boyfriend sighed a little dramatically, tucking himself under the covers. You crawled in next to him, sighing as well as the warmth enveloped you. One of the best feelings in the world was easing into bed after a hot shower, and to have your favorite people there to hold made it even more heavenly. Snuggling close into Mattheo’s chest, you hummed in contentment and nuzzled under his chin. His strong arms came and wrapped themselves around your frame, his hand running up and down your back lazily.

Theodore finished his cigarette after a couple minutes, admiring his two favorite people settle comfortably. He came to the bed and pulled back the blankets that Mattheo stubbornly clung to, worming his way into the bed behind you. He ran his hands through your hair gently, pressing a kiss to your head. You three held quiet, murmured conversation for a bit, talking about nothing of any importance. Eventually, responses came slower and more slurred, and everyone’s breathing calmed to synchronized rhythms as you all drifted off to sleep.

Tagging @dearmisshoney as per her request

If you’d like to be tagged as well, let me know! Thoughts and criticisms are greatly appreciated

[wolfies-writings]

A little drabble

Also no Grandest Game spoilers in the comments or reblogs please, I haven’t finished it yet

Warnings: none, just a simple interaction scenario that popped into my mind, mild fluff but nothing too much

Grayson said with his leveled steely gaze pinned on Rohan, “You are aware I still distrust you and your intentions with my sister, yes?”

Rohan looked up from his conversation with Savanah and cocked an eyebrow with a slight smirk. “Oh, so I’m the target now, I see. No longer plotting Mr. Slater’s death and trained your sights on me?” Savanah sighed as Grayson rolled his eyes.

“Tell me, how is it that I ended up with a brother like Jameson and then a potential future brother-in-law who is the English carbon copy of him? What deity did I so grievously offend?” Lyra, on his arm, patted his back soothingly. She’d seen first hand the drama he had to put up with and had some sympathy for him along with her amusement.

Jameson, sitting on a nearby love seat with his arm lovingly draped around Avery’s shoulder, burst out laughing at the comparison, clearly amused at the reaction he figured Rohan would have. Rohan simply narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you compare me to that masochistic twat,” he warned. Jameson sent him a scowl. “See? He doesn’t even deny it,” Rohan sneered with a smirk.

“Play nice, Rohan,” the serious blonde girl on his arm chided, with a soft warning smack to his chest. He looked to her and sighed softly in resignation.

“As you wish, love.”

“Ha, and you’re talking like I’m the only one who’s both sacred of and whipped for his girl,” Jameson mocked, never one to miss an opportunity to clap back at the Englishman.

Rohan rolled his eyes. “At least I’m not the one who gets turned on when his girl shows the slightest hint of assertiveness,” he drawled mockingly, earning a yank on the sliver chain around his neck from Savannah, diverting his attention back to her admonition.

“Rohan.” She simply said, her message clear. He sighed, slightly irritated by his witty comeback getting shut down. He lowered his eyes slightly.

“Sorry, darling.” He said quietly, catering to her orders. He was by no means a submissive, but people like Savannah were not ones you wanted to argue with. Jameson chuckled again, shooting an ‘oh really?’ look his way. Rohan scowled back but then trained his focus back on his girlfriend, wrapped an arm around her waist and keeping her warm body close to his. These families were going to be the death of him, he could already tell. But her presence made such an outcome much more pleasing; he could live with that.

[wolfies-writings]

Yours truly has been graced with a touch of inspiration so you lot will be getting a TIG drabble soonish

All the main ships from The Brothers Hawthorne and The Grandest Game will be fully established relationships fyi

[wolfies-writings]

Yours truly has been graced with a touch of inspiration so you lot will be getting a TIG drabble soonish

All the main ships from The Brothers Hawthorne and The Grandest Game will be fully established relationships fyi

[wolfies-writings]

to the overall TIG community and especially to my followers, a poll

Yes, ik we have a new love interest revealed for good ol Gray, but I’ve had this idea brewing since before that, so let’s explore it some, shall we?

[wolfies-writings]

Going on a tumblr break. Idk if I’ll be back anytime soon.

much love to all my friends. I have a lot of heavy, breaking shit going on rn, so I’m leaving tumblr, hopefully only temporarily. If you see me online, it’s not for interaction, so just assume I’m not. I can’t bear that rn… I’ll miss you all so much and I love you all. Thank you for making my time here delightful. Apologies to those who were waiting on writing requests. Will tag if I ever get any written. Goodbye lovelies🫶

[wolfies-writings]

Hawthornes and Vogue

Confrontations, Part Two: Nash

  “Interrogations, tape-“ Max’s dramatic intro was cut short when her phone tipped over as she attempted to set it up for filming. “Oh, for foxes’ sake…” she muttered as she righted it. “There we go. Interrogations, tape two.” The recording showed Nash sitting across a small, square table. He squinted from the bright light that Maxine had aimed at him, and he angled the brim of his cowboy hat against its glare.

  “So, are one of y’all gonna explain what all this is about?” He drawled, clearly amused. Avery chuckled as Max started. 

  “You the type to read magazines, Nash?” Max asked conversationally while leaning on the table slightly.

  “No. Why-“

  “I’m asking the questions here, cowboy.” Max cut him off. He replied with a small smirk and a cocked eyebrow, but he let her continue. “Not even… Vogue?” She turned her gaze on him challengingly. He met it with a staunch calmness. 

  A Hawthorne never revealed his inner thoughts or feelings about a situation in a game like this, not unless he saw benefit. Otherwise, his poker face was immaculate. Nash was no exception. He remained silent, unaffected.

  After a few moments of his and Max’s little stare off, Avery sighed and pulled out her own phone. She opened her photos and slid it to Nash. His poker face faltered almost imperceptibly. On the screen were multiple photos of the magazine he’d featured in.

  “We found your and your brothers’ special editions in Vogue,” she said, a small smile growing with her amusement. “That warrants a little story time, no?”

  He looked up from the evidence. “Alright, listen here. We’re gonna make a little deal, the three of us. My brothers and I thought we had gotten rid of all of these.” He glanced between the two girls, hands folded on the table. His posture was relaxed, but the look in his eye and the tone of his voice positively oozed wheelin and dealin. “So. I’m gonna be wanting each of these magazines back. Then maybe I’ll tell you the story behind ‘em. Then none of this is ever spoken of again. Understood?”

   The girls exchanged a look and snorted. “Unfortunately for you, Nash, we don’t even have yours anymore,” Avery replied.

   His expression immediately shifted, eyeing them with a highly suspicious look. “And where is it exactly?” He ventured.

   “I gave it to Libby.”

   “Lib has it?!?” His eyes nearly popped out of his head. “You have got to be kidding me.” When the girls only shared a mischievous glance, he tossed his head back and groaned in frustration. It wasn’t very often that a Hawthorne got played, but when they did, it was a sight to see.

Taglist: @hathorneheiress @helpimhopelesslyinlove

[wolfies-writings]

Hawthornes and Vogue, Confrontations

Part One

  “Interrogations, tape one.” Maxine said to her phone, which was set up and recording. You could hear a chuckle from Avery. The phone was aimed at a table and chair. In the chair was the youngest Hawthorne, Xander. 

  “Uh, interrogations? Tape one? My beautiful, brilliant, incredible, talented girlfriend… what’s going on here? I swear I didn’t eat your last snack. It just disappeared!” Xander rambled, a little lost and certainly confused about this most recent endeavor of Max’s.

  “Oh no, my BHFF,” Avery said, chuckling. She slid an edition of Vogue featuring him across the table to him. “We’re here to talk about this.” His eyes flicked between the girls and the magazine.

  “Uhh... I have a secret twin who's somehow as devastatingly handsome as I am?” Xander tried with a grin that was some cross between innocent and cheeky. “Heh, I kinda thought we burned them all…” he mumbled, glancing away. At least he had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed.

  “Burned?” The girls glanced at each other with a mix of amusement and mild concern.

  “Weeeelllll… you see, a while back, my darling brothers and I might have gotten in a bit of trouble… which could have, worst case scenario, created a PR disaster,” he tried to explain.

  “Trouble?” Avery asked.

  “Disaster?” Max questioned at the same time. “What are you talking about? And why would you burn them??”

  “Hey, hey, too many questions. Which!” He raised a finger. “I will not be answering, as my lawyer is not present. Besides, it isn’t just my story to tell-“ he stopped. His eyes narrowed mistrustfully. “Wait. That-those are your mischief faces. Why am I seeing your mischief faces?” 

  The girls smirked at each other behind the camera.

People who requested tagging: @hathorneheiress @helpimhopelesslyinlove

Feel free to ask to be tagged in the next bit!

[wolfies-writings]

Hawthornes and Vogue

Here’s the surprise I mentioned earlier, loves! I took inspiration from a comment chain about if this very scenario happened with the TIG characters, so I can’t take credit for the scenario. But I hope you enjoy!

  Avery was sitting at her desk in her office at Hawthorne House, reviewing reports from different sectors of the Hawthorne Foundation and the Hannah the Same Backwards or Forwards Foundation. Suddenly, her best friend, Maxine rushed in, looking particularly pleased with herself about something. She held something behind her back.

  “You will never guess in a million faxing years what I’ve found.” Max grinned deviously.

  Avery put her paperwork to the side. “What did you find?”She leaned to try to see what her best friend had. Max tossed a stack of four magazines on the desk with a dramatic flourish.

  “Ever read Vogue?” She asked with a smirk. Upon inspection, the top magazine was indeed an edition of Vogue. On the front was a picture of none other than Xander, clad in a messier version of the Country Heights uniform. Hair styled to a messy perfection, shirt cuffs unbuttoned, the works. Avery chuckled and looked up at Max. 

  “Is this real?” Avery thumbed through the first magazine. Among the other featured people and columns, there was an entire section full of pictures of Xander. Avery’s eyebrow was raised and her mouth hung open with a surprised smile. “I cannot believe this,” she chuckled. An entire feature in THE Vogue, all on Xander, and full of the most Vogue-like photos of him. An entire photo shoot was here.

  Max grabbed that magazine finally. “You know I’m keeping this bad boy.” Avery chuckled, then looked at the next one. Another Vogue. And on its cover was…

  “Nash?!?” Avery keeled over laughing in her office chair, and Max joined. The cover of this one boasted a typical “sexy cowboy” look on good old Nash. Cowboy hat, black(and somewhat sparkly) jeans with an undone belt buckle, and a flannel shirt, unbuttoned completely. They paged through this one laughing at each new photo. While all the brothers had always been photogenic, and while Nash was no exception, it was hilarious to see that their resident easygoing, brotherly cowboy had even agreed to such a thing. “Lib’s gonna adored this,” Avery said while wiping a tear from her eye from laughing so hard. 

   “There’s more. You’ll have a particular fondness for this next one,” Max said as she gently elbowed Avery. The third Vogue magazine showed a photo of Jameson on the front, clad in tight white pants, classy shoes, a silver chain, and a leather jacket hanging open, no shirt. A typical trait for Jamie, but eye catching nonetheless. Avery took a little more time to thumb through this one, both her and Max occasionally chuckling at how at home he seemed flaunting in front of the camera.

  “Crazy boy,” she muttered. Before putting g this one to the side to reveal the final magazine, she looked up at Max with a look that barely suppressed amusement. “If this next one is Grayson, I’m gonna lose my mind.” Max only stifled a smirk and a laugh before nodding for her to look. Avery put the magazine featuring Jameson to the side, revealing the subject of the final edition.

  The cover boasted a set of neutral colors and shades. A pure white upholstered chair of to the side, a cherrywood side table next to it, grey colors in the background. And in the center, the featured “distinguished person” of the special edition, clad in black shoes, pressed black dress pants and a classy matching belt and turtleneck… was Grayson Hawthorne himself. He looked more classy in this picture than most of his brothers’ photos had been, but he appeared just as comfortable showing off for a camera as Jameson had, just with more subtlety. A peek into the magazine’s pages showed that whoever had been in charge of the photoshoot and wardrobe had been quite insistent however.

  Among the distinguished photos of Grayson, there were also some that had less restraint and modesty. One had Grayson lounging over the aforementioned chair, eyes closed, head lolled back, in a different pair of dress pants, now brown, and an open suit jacket without its shirt. Other photos featured this outfit in other poses, showing him off. Knowing him, Grayson must’ve hated this part of the shoot, but you’d never notice by looking at the pictures. He might have disliked the affair, but anyone could tell that he absolutely knew the power he held through the lens and had no qualms with wielding it.

  The two girls had a high time thumbing through the photos, laughing at the fact that these even existed, as well as fawning a little over some of the ones of their own respective boyfriends. Libby later got the magazine that contained Nash’s photoshoot, which she gladly took as well.

Well, what did you think? Maybe a part two where they confront the boys about this? Let me know!

[wolfies-writings]

Bad Shellfish, final part

Sorry it’s taken me so long everyone, especially to the anon who requested it. I hope it’s been satisfactory. Enjoy!

  Soon, Nash came back with a bowl of his signature chicken noodle soup for me. Xander bounded into my room behind him with a bouquet of fresh flowers that looked suspiciously like he’d just cut them from Aunt Zara’s garden. Always trouble, these three. Mainly the younger two. I smiled and gratefully took the bowl handed to me. I hesitated to eat it due to my nausea, but the heat from the ceramic bowl and the smell wafting from the soup was comforting. The vase went on my nightstand, imperfectly lovely. It was personal, and that’s what meant a lot to me. 

  “Thank you all. I really appreciate it.” I told them, spending a few seconds looking into the eyes of each of them. I honestly didn’t know where I’d be without these three. I certainly wouldn’t be the person I was today, for better or worse. While the old man shaped us, we had made each other and ourselves the people we were. I knew it, and they did too. There was an unspoken understanding that passed between us, and I know that they felt my gratitude.

  The next few days, my brothers kept tending to me. They’d take turns checking on me, spending time with me to make sure I wasn’t lonely. Over those days, I spent more time with them than I had in quite a while, and I realized how much I’d missed it. Nash would take care of me in that mother hen way of his. Jameson would spend time with me, letting me show him my photos, talking to me of days gone by, and he even agreed to watch a documentary with me. Xander entertained me by dragging in endless inventions of his, and went on and on about ideas and plans he had for more. I found myself relishing every moment.

  One night, I was feeling a little bit better than the days before, but I was exhausted. I crawled into bed without much care. I was drifting off to sleep when the more conscious part of me registered my door opening. The person who walked in turned off my lamp and tucked me in. A hand ruffled my hair gently, and a kiss was placed on my head. Something I hadn’t felt in… heaven knows how long. 

  “Sleep well, baby brother,” Nash drawled quietly. He walked out and shut the door behind him. A sleepy smile crossed my face. I drifted off to sleep, and for the first time in a very long time, I dreamed. I dreamed of the past few days and my brothers’ care for me. I dreamed of days long gone, when we were all younger, like in the stories Jamie regaled. I dreamed that I was four years old again, with my big brother, who I admired more than anything, even more than the old man at the time, taking care of me when no one else would or could. 

[wolfies-writings]

Bad Shellfish, part 3? I think

It’s a short one, sorry folks. Please bear with me.

  “Gray? Symptoms?” I was abruptly snapped out of my trip down memory lane.

  “Uhh… aches, I’ve been tired all day, and, well… I believe you could deduce that nausea was one of them. I’m also positively freezing.” I recollected. I pulled my blankets around me a little tighter. “Can you light the fireplace, Nash?” 

  Nash gave me a sympathetic look and brushed a mop of my hair out of my eyes. He straightened and lit a fire for me. “What’ve you eaten in the last 24 hours, kiddo?” 

  Maybe it was because I was feeling so crappy, but my eyes threatened rain. He hasn’t called me that since I was maybe fifteen. I had felt like it was too childish to be called that. After all, Hawthornes were never really children, and I was the heir apparent. I insisted then that he stop calling me that. I never realized how much I’d missed it… I shook my head to clear it. “Um, I had coffee this morning, but I was still feeling off before that. I had seafood yesterday for a late lunch, and we all had the same dinner last night-“

  “That might have been the problem,” Nash interrupted as he walked back over to my bedside. He pulled the bell string for a servant to come.

  “What? Having a late lunch?” 

   He smiled down at me. “No, little brother. Seafood. What’d you order?”

  “Shrimp scampi and sushi…” He gave me a prompting look and waited. “Ohhh. Shellfish… you think that’s what this is? Stomach flu?”

  “Quite possibly. We can’t know for sure, but that’s my first guess.” The servant arrived and Nash started giving him things to get and do. The next thing I knew, Jameson was sitting with me while Nash went off somewhere I didn’t know. Another servant, probably dispatched by the first, came in with some chamomile tea for me, and Jameson set up a little tray for me on my bed. Today was one of the rare occasions that he held back the many snarky remarks that were surely knocking against each other in his brain. 

  He gave me a sympathetic smile, still full of trouble, but a little gentler and kinder. I returned my own smile, appreciative of his care. Jameson kept me entertained by recanting some of our childhood adventures. A couple times I even laughed. Sure, each laugh agitated my aches, but the warm feeling and connection with Jamie was more than worth it.

[wolfies-writings]

Bad Shellfish, part two

Here’s the second part, folks! Hope you enjoy! More to come!

End of last part-

  He knew something was up then. “Gray,” he warned. When I refused to respond, he hung up the phone. I rolled my eyes in spite of a forming headache. Knowing him, he was coming to find me. I huffed.

Part two-

  Before I could do anything about it, I had to rush back into the bathroom, despite there being so little left in my stomach. I almost collapsed back against the icy porcelain tub, feeling worse with every second. I don’t know how many minutes passed before I heard the sound of the door opening. My eyes fluttered open, though I didn’t recall closing them. 

  “Gray…” Nash murmured as he kneeled beside me. He pressed a hand to my forehead, presumably feeling for a fever. My face was hot after vomiting, and his hand felt blissfully cool. I groaned slightly and leaned into the touch. “Little brother…” he clucked like a mother hen, and with how terrible I was starting to feel, I didn’t mind for once. “Can you stand?”

  “Maybe…” I mumbled. Holding onto the hand and arm he offered me, I struggled to my feet. My head still swam, and I leaned on him as we walked out of the room. He patiently led me to my bedroom, my arm slung over his shoulder for more support. He got me sat on my bed and started rushing around, getting things like a puke bucket, tissues, and more. “Take off some of your clothes, Gray. You’re burning up and you can’t have all that right stuff on. Get in a robe or some pjs or something. I’m gonna be right back.” He ducked out of the room to go do god knows what. I was only too glad to get in something more comfortable at this point. By the time he’d returned, I was in my pjs, exhausted. 

  “So what happened? You were late to breakfast, and now this. How long have you been poorly?” He asked as he guided me into bed. 

  “This morning I guess. But I don’t even know what happened. I was fine yesterday.” I groaned with the muscle aches as I laid down.

  “What’s your symptoms?” He tucked me in. And I let him for a change. This was eerily similar to a memory I have from when I was very little. I couldn’t have been more than four, and it was the first time I remember being sick. I was miserable. And my mother was either tied up being praised during or shortly after her pregnancy with Xander. The old man had no hand in taking care of us when we were sick. But Nash was there. Nash was always there. He played with me and distracted me from how poorly I was feeling and read to me and everything. And he always tucked me in.

  “Gray? Symptoms?” I was abruptly snapped out of my trip down memory lane.