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the blame's on me
Marcus and Oliver get into a bit of a tiff around match schedules. The rest goes usually how their friends are used to â Wood sulks; Flint ropes in his long-suffering team. Read on AO3
#flintwood#marcus flint#oliver wood#hp#erinwrites#harry potter#arbitrary fck jkr particularly this week#flintwoodnet#but back after 4 years lmao#im rusty#hp fanfic
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the potential for chaos
For the anon who asked about Yule Ball Flintwood, this is a beginning of sorts for you. This didnât turn out the way I anticipated originally when you presented the concept, so I offer this as version 1.0 with something softer to follow.
pairing: Marcus Flint x Oliver Wood
premise: Marcus shows up to the Yule Ball solo. So does Oliver. Neither one is especially pleased about it, and the reasons why are personal.
wordcount: 2,194 words.
The Yule Ball. Welcome to the distinct scent of too much teenage desperation in one room.
The snide thought belonged to Marcus Flint, whose dress robes fit just fine, thanks very much, not that the same could be said of some of the people attending. Weasley the younger, for example, looked like a cat crawled onto the front of his robes, rolled around, and then obligingly threw up a lacy hairball before departing. Marcusâ were, shockingly, not green, because Slytherins were in fact capable of wearing colours that werenât the house colours. Instead, heâd gone for navy blue, and they were tailored to fit. For now, he was leaning with his right shoulder firmly parked against a nearby wall, drink in hand (liberally spiked, courtesy of Puceyâs far too innocent face which had successfully hidden very good Firewhiskey somewhere on his person), and settling into the buzz around him.
He was razor-edged, dark hair and sharp jawline identifying him in the shadows, gaze steady still despite the warm burn of the Firewhiskey, and the growing warmth of the room. The music was alright, he supposed. He could work with this. He could especially work without being forced to find a date he didnât like just to fit in, because no one dared give him crap about it. That left him with a sour thought of a very different kind heâd already decided not to dwell on. A lot of other people were on the dancefloor, but he was good right where he was, absorbing the potential for chaos and waiting for the lights to go just a little lower and darker. That was more his speed.
Unfortunately, someone else didnât seem to care what his speed was, when they came up behind him and spoke into his ear. âYou look bored, Flint. Looking for someone?â
Marcus didnât even turn his head, simply took a sip of his drink. âHardly. You evidently were, if you spotted me back here. Shouldnât you be with your date, Wood? Iâm sure you had a list of invites to choose from.â The words were cool and more than a little antagonistic, holding the pointed hint that heâd been fine by himself, and that Wood was welcome to leave him be now.
The other boy didnât so much as take the hint, instead spoke more quietly, that hint of Glasgow burr there and gravelly in his ear. âDidnât accept an invite, so no date. You?â
A little more to drink, but then he caught a hint of Firewhiskey that distinctly wasnât from him. âSo, youâve also been in a corner drinking from whatever enchanted hipflask you and your mates in Gryffindor came up with, then,â he observed dryly. âPlease to Merlin tell me at least that itâs not one with someoneâs initials on it for when they inevitably drop and lose it later, at least.â
There was a very nearly painful silence then, and Marcus snorted, soft but still audible. âIt figures.â It really, really did. âYou know, itâs good form to at least cast a charm to hide the initials, Wood. Iâm assuming it at least doesnât belong to you.â
âYou didnât answer my question.â
Marcus usually had to shut his eyes and count to ten before he bit the offending personâs head off and told them to mind their business at this stage. The Firewhiskey mellowed him out enough that it took away the edge to some degree, but it was still there.
âGood observation skills there, Wood,â he remarked, aware of other people potentially in earshot. âItâs almost as though itâs not really any of your business. Which it isnât. But since you apparently canât let it drop, I chose to attend solo. This is like a knock-off of all the same stuff that half of us deal with on holidays anyway.â The curse of the Sacred 28, old pureblood family gatherings and traditions and parties littered every holiday throughout the year. Inevitably, they all found ways of coping with the boredom after the age of fifteen, and usually that involved finding substances or decent company (preferably both) and vanishing from the scene entirely once it was deemed polite.
Wood moved in front of him then, there in the corner, solidly built shoulders blocking the rest of the room, mirroring the way Marcus leaned against the wall. He didnât have any choice but to look at him then, and could only be grateful that the warm breath into his ear had stopped. If it hadnât, he might have had to think too hard about how it made him feel, and he really didnât want to right now.
âSo you didnât come with anyone.â It seemed like Wood was trying to make a point, but Marcus couldnât tell what. It was frustrating, so rather than focus on that, he looked at the boy in front of him instead. Heâd been lanky when they were younger, a bit skinny and coltish, but Quidditch had bulked him out and he was solidly built now at seventeen. And then there was the choice of dress robes; apparently he wasnât the only one who made use of a tailor for once. That was a fine outline right there.
Realising he was admiring the view and that that wouldnât do given the reason why he was in a mood in the first place, Marcus exhaled a sigh. âObviously. What do you want, Wood?â
Wood seemed to realise he only had a finite amount of patience. That was a years overdue realisation as far as Marcus was concerned. âTo dance with you.â
That made Marcus stare for a few seconds. Seeming to register that he wasnât going to get a response unless he pushed, Oliver tilted his head at him. âOne dance, Marcus. Something slow. We can stay right here in the corner for all I care, since you seem to prefer lurking in the shadows.â Then brown eyes examined him far too closely, his lips curled up into a smile that held just a hint of smirk at the edges. âPresuming youâre not too caught up in posing and sulking, of course.â
Oliver was crowding him now, just a little, and Marcus wasnât entirely certain how he felt about it yet. His immediate response was no longer to punch the other boy in the face, that had been gone for a long while, so that was progress. âYou canât hold your Firewhiskey and youâre seriously misreading things, if thatâs the best offer you can give me,â he pointed out bluntly. âSo if you donât mind, Iâll continue minding my own business right where I am. Lurking in the shadows.â That was when he leaned back and away, and took another sip of his drink. No one could see them back here. That thought made his pulse race.
Oliver (Wood, his mind stubbornly reminded him, trying to hang onto it) wasnât necessarily going to just leave him alone, though, or so it appeared. âThen come out of here with me for a minute,â he said, voice quiet but still carrying through the space between them. âI want to talk to you about something.â
Marcus sighed exasperatedly, and drained what was left in the cup. Obligingly, it vanished the moment he set it down on a nearby table, and at this point, heâd given up arguing with Oliver. âFine. You get two minutes.â
Once they did get outside, though, Marcus hadnât quite registered just how much Oliver intended to make the most of those two minutes. He found himself rapidly dragged around a corner and pressed into an alcove hidden behind a statue that he hadnât even known was there. When he went to ask what the fuck, Oliver put a hand over his mouth. âShh, someone will hear.â
Beyond annoyed and now suspecting where this was going, neither of which he enjoyed, Marcus dragged Oliverâs hand off his mouth and hissed his next words. âWhat are you doing?â
Earnest brown eyes were fixed on him then, and this time, Marcus couldnât get away or give him the cold shoulder. âAre you seriously still mad that someone tried to ask me to this thing?â
Marcus gave him a truly evil glare then. âYou mean, am I pleased that someone else asked the person Iâm not allowed to walk down the corridor with? Iâm absolutely thrilled. Someone else walks up to you and asks right where I can hear; I kiss you in dark corners and Quidditch changing rooms for three months and get ignored when convenient.â The tone was flat, but the sarcasm wasnât.
He saw Oliver wince, and then, completely annoyed and altogether done with the conversation, Marcus went to shoulder past him. Instead, he found himself pushed back into the stone, found himself being kissed, and he wasnât letting Oliver think that was the last word on it. He wasnât about to be lulled into compliance. Rather than lean into it, instead, he nipped the otherâs bottom lip sharply, just enough to make him feel it, a kiss like a warning, before he reached up and sunk his fingers into his hair.
If he couldnât have the evening, he was going to make sure Oliver went back with bruised, swollen lips, hair a mess, and every possible hallmark to show that heâd vanished with someone. Let everyone wonder who.
That it changed when Oliver seemed to yield, to surrender to being kissed rather than one doing the kissing didnât escape Marcus either. It wasnât until he could feel him trembling that Marcus released him, leaving him looking faintly dizzy where he stood. He smoothed out his robes then, slow and insouciant, enough to make Oliver watch the trail of his hands. âIâm not going to take whatever scraps you decide to throw me and be happy thatâs all I get,â he said, words short, making sure they landed home. This was probably one of the worst sides of him. âYou donât act like it, so you donât get to call me yours. Because Iâm not.â Wasnât that just the biggest lie heâd ever told, but it was supposed to be, because he was doing it purely to be mean and he knew it.
He lifted his thumb to the corner of his mouth then ran it along to the middle of his own lower lip, as though he could taste Oliver there. He could, Firewhiskey and everything that had become so familiar since they first crashed into trying to understand what this was. The reason he really did it, though, was to be a little bit cruel, to watch Oliverâs pupils dilate some more, to see him want to close the distance again, and then to deny him. Or at least, thatâs the intention, right up until Oliver shakes his head. âMerlin help me youâre impossible sometimes,â was the set of words bitten out. âI was trying to apologise. To tell you that I only wanted to go with you, but I also wanted to protect this because itâs ours and people are incredibly nosy. Iâm not ashamed of what weâre doing. You might not be mine, but I want you to be.â
Those were a set of words that Marcus badly wanted to be true, and it was enough to stop him cold, to make him rein in the sulking (if he was honest about what heâd been doing, that was it) and register them. The attempts to deflect hard that his feelings had actually been hurt had all ultimately proven to be unsuccessful, and he knew better than to use kissing as a weapon, it too often backfired and this was very much a case in point.
As though Oliver sensed the weakness somehow, damn him for it, the next time he was being touched was much gentler. âWe could dance right here, if you wanted.â The words were breathed between them. That was when Marcus realised that they could still hear the music from the hall.
He made a decision. âNah,â he said, not hesitating to turn down the suggestion. âCome on. Letâs go back inside.â He gave Oliver a pointed look then, and threw down the gauntlet. âTogether.â It was a ceasefire, or the closest that theyâd get, because they still needed to talk about the actual feelings involved at some point.
There was no phasing a Gryffindor with that kind of challenge, though, so Oliver didnât even bat an eyelid. Show them anything like a bet you canât and they immediately decided that not only could they, but screw you who says I canât. The only reply Marcus got was a hand in his. It turned out he did want to kiss Oliver softly then, so it still took a few minutes longer for them to get back to the hall. When they did, the night sky that illuminated the ceiling had darkened to hold a spill of stars, and the lights had gone down to something far lower and barely there.
Oliver got his one dance. What he also got was a truth in his ear. âIâm only yours if youâre mine. Non-negotiable. What about it?â
The night wasnât over yet.
#the potential for chaos#yule ball#ol writes things#flintwood#flintwoodnet#Marcus x Oliver#marcus flint#oliver wood
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still mad about peru?
pairing: marcus flint/oliver wood
summary:Â an angel and a demon walk into a garden, and the rest is literally ancient history
note: this is fluff and humour with a teeny bit of angst if u squint but pls read it anyways UwU
excerpt:Â
"I didn't force her to eat the apple."
It's a weak argument, pathetic, really, but it's enough for Oliver Wood to look at Marcus incredulously, his mouth snapping open and closed in an attempt to say something, anything.
"All I did was encourage her a bit." Marcus attempts again, and Oliver's frustrated shrieks are muffled by his own wings, his fists clenched and his feathers quivering.
"Do you know how much trouble she's going to be in?" Oliver finally snaps, looking heavenward for strength. Marcus snickers.
"Eve's a big girl, she can handle it." Marcus studies his own fingernails idly, his own dark wings folded and hidden, preening under the eyes of Oliver Wood.
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read more on ao3
#hp#harry potter#flintwood#marcus flint x oliver wood#oliver wood x marcus flint#slytherdornet#slytherdor#hprarepairnet#hprarepair#hpcreation#hpao3feed#flintwoodnet#my writing#sadie18#oliivverwood#text
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @flintwoodandco !! <3 I love youu and I hope youâre doing good! Have some Flintwood on the house :)))
#fanart#flintwood#flintwoodnet#oliver wood#marcus flint#hp#harry potter#harry potter fanart#love these boiss :')))#happy birthday indigooooooo#i hope you like itttt
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Thereâs a new Flint-Wood in town, and this one accomplished something that his star older siblings canât put on their resume.
Ian Flint-Wood, Chaser for the Wigtown Wanderers and younger brother of current Ballycastle Beater Terry Flint-Wood and Tutshill Tornados Keeper Landon Flint-Wood, led the Wanderers to the biggest upset this quidditch season.
Itâs only been a few months since Gryffindor Chaser/team Captain Ian Flint-Wood graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but he already has his eyes on the next prize: his first season in the British and Irish Quidditch League.
In his first Interview with Seeker Weekly correspondent Demelza Robbins
âEveryone wants to win the League Cup, but in my rookie season, I would love to earn a starting position that can give me the opportunity to be Rookie of the Year,â says Ian. And heâs no stranger to achieving high goals. One of the first of this yearâs draft pick for the League.
#flintwood#flintwood next gen#ian flint-wood#gryffindor quidditch team#professional quidditch team#wigtown wanderers#seeker weekly#demelza robins#flintwoodnet#quidditchleaguenet#hp next generation
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time and tide may change (but darling we are forever) - Chapter 7
Previous - Next
Chapter Summary: Nothing like a few injuries to bring people together
Words: 1443
A/N: welp back on my bullshit
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AO3
or
Marcus is very rarely around the house.
Ben hadnât noticed at first because of his active avoidance, but now, he realizes he only sees Marcus every few days at most. Finally, he strikes up the courage to ask someone where Marcus has gone off to and they try to explain it as best they can. He finds out Marcus is a double agent, working for the Dark Lord as well as the Order. Ben doesnât understand how anyone could trust him like that and says as much.
âYou told us we should,â is all Kingsley Shacklebolt responds with and raises his eyebrows at Ben.
By the time Kingley is done explaining everything, Ben is overwhelmed and wonders how Oliver got wound up in all of this in the first place. At any rate, he thinks he understands why Marcus is gone and doesnât question it again. After all, heâd hate to admit that he found Marcusâ actions brave and admirable.
Ben worries though. Worries about everyoneâs safety, if there will be nights when Marcus may not come back or if any of the Order might not for that matter. He listens for the telltale cracks and pops in the late night, rushing to the door as people bustle in. More often than not, itâs just news about the wizarding world, the impending war, a boy named Harry, but injuries are not an uncommon occurrence either. Ben doesnât know how Molly works her magic so well, but heâs thankful that she hasnât had to deal with anything too serious.
This particular night is foreboding as Ben managed to overhear the meeting from earlier that a life-or-death mission was to happen. Molly picked up immediately that Ben knew once everyone had left, doing her best to reassure him. The pit was already growing in his stomach and he had waited in his room in order not to stress out Molly anymore.
A harsh crack rips through the night and Ben doesnât even hesitate, sprinting down to the first floor. He stops himself on the last steps, seeing Molly already waiting in the living room.
âAre they back?â Ben asks, despite already knowing the answer. He grips onto the railing, the worst already running through his mind. It had been a big night for Marcus, at least thatâs what others had said. All Ben hopes is that Marcus is alive.
When the door flies open, Benâs stomach drops at the sight. Marcusâs face is covered with blood and he can barely support himself as heâs carried over to the couch by members of the Order followed by Arthur.
âMarcus,â Ben breathes out and rushes over to where the man has been laid. âWhat happened?â
âAmbush,â Arthur shakes his head. âMarcus tried to warn us but it all happened too quickly.â
Swallowing, Ben crouches down and finds himself running his hand through Marcusâs hair. The man almost looks peaceful if it wasnât for the blood.
âHeâs unconscious. As for his injuries...â
Arthur pauses as Ben stares at him with widening eyes.
âNo, no, theyâll heal. Our magic can handle that. I just canât say how long the recovery will take,â Arthur quickly corrects himself.
Both Ben and Arthur let out a sigh of relief just as Molly comes bursting into the room again.
âOut of the way,â Molly pushes through before anything else can be said. She tends to Marcusâ wounds, having to shoo Ben out of the way every so often because of him trying to hold onto Marcusâ hand.
Ben is wrought with emotion, despite the small part of hostility he still holds towards Marcus. Itâs as if another part of him has taken over and all he wants is Marcus to be okay.
The wounds are wrapped up quickly and Ben is moved out of the way again as Marcus is brought up to his room. Ben trails behind, trying to keep an eye on Marcus through the few blocking bodies in his way.
When Marcus is laid down on his bed, Ben pulls over a chair and sits by Marcusâ side. A few people filter in and out of the room to check on Marcus, but once heâs alone, itâs only then that Ben cups Marcusâ face in one of his hands. Looking down at the man, Ben canât help the feeling of wanting to hold him close. Instead, he lets his hand trail from Marcusâ face down to his chest where he can feel his heartbeat.
Ben swallows down the lump forming in his throat and simply stares at Marcus. This is where heâs meant to be, he thinks.
~
Molly had said Marcusâs recovery would take a few days, but Ben couldnât help checking on the man every moment he had. Heâs not sure what heâs expecting as the fourth day rolls by, lingering at Marcusâs bedside yet again. Benâs only thankful that everyone in the house is at the very least humoring him.
As he sits in his chair, Ben concentrates on Marcusâ uncharacteristic quiet. Asleep, there is a softness to the man that Ben simply hadnât noticed before. He wonders if this is the same face Oliver gazed upon in early mornings and his body becomes numb. He wants this. He wants Marcus.
Ben lets his eyes trail down from Marcusâ face to the rest of his body, stopping at the hands, laid perfectly next to his side. There is a comfort Ben finds in them and his fingers twitch in hesitation. Lifting his hand, Ben reaches for Marcusâs own and then stops himself. He feels the turmoil in his mind, the one that feels he should still hate Marcus and the other that wants nothing more to embrace him fully.
Ben curses and takes to leaning back in the chair next to Marcusâ bed in attempt to straighten out his thoughts. He needs to make a decision, he canât keep changing his mind every time something emotional happens.
Heâs scared though. If Marcus is to be his, he wants to be accepted as Ben, not as who he used to be. Oliver might never come back and Ben fears he will be tossed aside when everyone realizes this. He runs a hand through his hair and exhales heavily. Then again, they wouldâve gotten rid of him already if they truly did not care.
Movement catches his eye and Ben scoots back, eyeing Marcus as the man starts to move, his eyes slowly opening. Ben waits as Marcus collects himself and holds his breath when Marcus turns his head in his direction. Itâs a stalemate of whoâll look away first before Marcus opens his mouth.
âWhat...happened?â Marcus asks, his voice hoarse and weak.
âAmbush. You were knocked off your broom,â Ben replies as he grabs a cup of water and helps Marcus lift his head to take a drink.
Marcus grimaces but a small portion of his strength seems to come back as he swallows and he attempts to sit up. Ben immediately goes to help him, trying to ignore Marcusâ curious gaze.
âHow long have I been out?â
âJust a few days,â Ben attempts to say in a casual tone, but the tension has risen in the room and he feels stifled.
âHave you been with me the entire time?â
Ben hates how Marcus seems to ask the exact question he hopes to not answer. With a few glances out the windows, Ben half-heartedly shakes his head and is unable to stop his response of, âYes.â
Glancing down at his hands still on Marcus, Ben pulls away to leave, but Marcus grabbing his arm stops him. Ben doesnât want to fight, so he stands, waiting for Marcus to take the first move.
âWhy?â
âI needed to make sure youâd be okay, that youâdââ Ben automatically answers and then clamps his mouth shut, embarrassed that he let his emotions slip.
Marcusâ hand squeezes his arm and Ben finally turns to him. âI am. Thank you for staying with me.â
Ben tries to hide the sigh that leaves his body, but Marcus has already noticed, giving Ben a small smile. âWhen Iâm better, Iâll take you flying, alright?â
Flying. Benâs heart soars at this and he can barely contain his excitement. He had forgotten until now but flying the remembrance of flying had filled so many of his sleepless nights before all of this. It was the only thing that felt real in both worlds.
Benâs pulled from his haze by Marcusâ small laugh and he blushes. Itâs wonderful to have Marcus back. Itâs as if any stress Ben had from earlier has vanished and all that matters is Marcus.
#flintwood#marcus flint#oliver wood#flintwoodnet#flintwoodandco's cashback crossover#indigo writes shit#i'm dying squirtle;
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flintwood â step out into the wild / there's a beautiful storm in your eyes / we're perfectly intertwined / and if it's quite alright / you could be my way of life //
happy (belated) birthday, dear erin @mxrcusflint! âĄ
#flintwood#flintwoodnet#slytherdornet#hprarepairnet#hpedit#i made a thing#mg#*hpedit#mxrcusflint#sorry this is v late aaahhh#i want to make a lot of things#but only managed to finish this one in the end rip :"#hbd erin!! wish you all the best <3#and hope you had a good one <3
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oliver wood â the most courageous act is still to think for yourself. aloud.
happy birthday to my dear @wylanvâ (20/07)
#hp#hpedit#my edits#hp edit#oliver wood#wylanv#hpminorcharnet#mentorpsd#hpquidditchnet#harrypotternetwork#dadefensenet#lightningeranet#purebloodnet#saltnetwork#flintwoodnet#hogwartshousesnet#hogwartsgirlgang#slytheringirlsgang#charlieweasleynetwork#mxrcusflint#userscourgify#userrowle#flintwoodandco#vexedbuckbeak#cruciotus#userarden#userjilys#usermeghan#flntwood
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@flintwoods event: summer challenge - marcus flint & oliver wood @hpminorcharnet event: non-canon relationships - marcus flint & oliver wood @thehpshipsnet event: gtktm - zelle - marcus flint & oliver wood @slytherdornet & @hprarepairnet event: summer vacation - marcus flint & oliver wood
marcus was the first to pull away, and oliver jutted his lip out to pout as soon as he did so. âdo you mean that?â marcus asked, âdo you really think iâm better than you?â oliver rolled his eyes and snorted. then he replied, âyou wish, flint.â before marcus could protest, oliverâs lips were pressed against his once again. (source)
#flintwoodnet#slytherdornet#hprarepairnet#thehpshipsnet#hpminorcharnet#hpedit#mine#hp#flintwood#userscourgify#mxrcusflint#ff-sunset-oasis#provocative-envy#marcus x oliver#oliver x marcus#marcus flint#oliver wood#marcus#oliver
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Flintwood
So I found this new ship so donât hate me for all of my Flintwood posts because they are going to keep coming đ there will still be other pairings mixed in but Flintwood is amazing
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objects in mirror may be closer than they appear
Oliver squinted against the glare of the setting sun. Flintâs shadow stretched far on the grass â heâd grown even taller since the end of the school year â and although Oliver seethed at his counterpart getting the best of him yet again, he felt his face heat at the slip-up of familiarity. âSo what?â Oliver said. Flint shrugged, slinging his broom over a shoulder. âDunno. You should call me Marc from now on. All my friends do.â âWeâre not friends, Flint.â Oliver said, confused and at a loss as to what they were talking about anymore. âOf course not,â Flint laughed â what was amusing, Oliver couldnât tell â and began to walk back to the camp grounds. âBut good competition respects good competition. Right, Oliver?â
Read Chapter 1 on AO3
#flintwood#marcus flint#oliver wood#hp#hp fanfic#hp fanfiction#erinwrites#when i said i was dropping fic#i meant it#flintwoodnet
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no safe kingdom, part i
For the anon who asked about battlefield Flintwood without Marcus being a Death Eater. This is a beginning of sorts for you, as promised.
pairing: Marcus Flint x Oliver Wood
premise: A meditation on trajectory and impact, on the battlefield and off it.
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies. âEdna St. Vincent Millay
For Oliver, life is all about shapes, formations, angles. Itâs how his mind naturally works. How to calculate the space between where a Quaffle will land and his outstretched fingertips, or the end of his broom, or even his fists when he punches it out of the air. His thoughts capture trajectory and impact as they happen. He knows these things instinctively, a rhythm that at first was trained and then became something so natural that it lives in the way he moves.
He analyses other things in this way too, like how the formation of Chasers should fall exactly like a flock of birds, one leading in front while two stay behind, able to weave and dart and dive towards an end-point. Thereâs something lovely about watching anyone in that position fly, even when itâs coming towards him.
Maybe he just thinks that because that has so often come to signify a challenging, defiant, sometimes outright mean smirk and a gleaming pair of dark eyes on his. Whatever (intense, sometimes ending in fist-fights) understanding he and Flint had had at school, it hinged on the fact that it was difficult to choose who was more obsessed with Quidditch between the pair of them.
The Gryffindor team would have said Oliver, biased and possibly too used to suffering through his practice regime, but Oliver noticed a long time ago how the Slytherin team moves to respond at the merest lift of an eyebrow from Flint. Itâs subtler than Oliverâs raised voice and high-energy motivation, but the ability to call the shots is there in the risky moves that skirt the edge of being fouls. Itâs there in how Marcus almost always gets away with it because he knows the rulebook back to front.
On a day where itâs not him on the receiving end, Oliver privately admires it.
On a day when he is, though, it ignites him like nothing else into fire, into competition. This thing between them is smoke and embers and underlying threat and, buried deep, a promise unacknowledged.
This was their childhood, right up until they left school, and nothing happened.
Neither of them knew it then.
There is no time for fond memories of easier times in the present moment because the next time that they lock eyes is across the same Quidditch pitch that theyâd spent hours at.
Itâs not a pitch any longer. Instead, itâs a battlefield, smoking from being set alight, a ruin.
Oliver had thought he and Flint would be on opposite sides. But thereâs no black robe, nothing to indicate whose side heâs on apart from his own.
Oliver sees the way Flint swallows hard, the way his jaw tightens as he registers Oliverâs surprise, but then the word he mouths is clear, a command to duck.
For the first time, Oliver doesnât run angles or trajectories or the power of command, he hits the ground.
The spell that comes searing hot, streaking violet and violent over his head, hits the ground several feet away instead of going through him and adds another curl of smoke. Flintâs running and Oliver never knew he was that fast on foot, his broad-shouldered frame carrying enough muscle that speed seemed impossible. Seconds later, theyâre both on their feet, side by side, and they both target the source of the spells being fired. A handful of Death Eaters have found shelter behind the crumbling remains of one of the stands, and they both dive for the nearest protection, a huge piece of fallen rubble, firing spells back for cover.
They donât have long.
Oliverâs voice is rough from the smoke, eyes watering when he speaks. âAre you sure about this, Flint?â
He feels Flint glance at him, as though he knows what Oliver is really asking.
âNo, but Iâm going to do it anyway. Never did intend to get a Mark on my arm, so might as well go out with a bang.â He could hear the dry note, almost feel the grin that isnât really a smile, more like a warning signal to anyone who comes near the pair of them. âTaking a leaf out of the Gryffindor playbook, Wood. You?â
âFiguring out the best way to bend the rules of physics.â Oliverâs gaze flickers to where another of the stands is precariously attached, and thatâs when all of the shapes and formations heâs ever arranged coalesce down to a single point. He nearly winces at what heâs about to suggest, but sentiment wonât keep them alive. âThink we can hit that?â
Flintâs grin turns wolfish. Oliver can feel it, even when he hasnât turned his head. Itâs knowledge long-acquired that he didnât realise he even possessed. âLetâs find out.â
When they raise their wands, side by side, Oliver takes a second to breathe, and on the exhale, their spells release. The stand comes down and shatters over the Death Eatersâ heads, and they run back to the castle when they hear screams. Screams that they soon learn mean death, and loss, and terror.
Itâs the first fight theyâre shoulder to shoulder for that night. It wonât be the last.
Their childhood fades rapidly into the sky, curls upwards with the embers, and vanishes.
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speak now (or forever hold your peace): chapter 1
pairings: marcus flint/oliver wood, graham montague/daphne greengrass, terence higgs/adrian pucey, katie bell/alicia spinnet, ginny weasley/luna lovegood (minor), draco malfoy/harry potter (minor)
summary:Â oliver wood's doing pretty well as a wedding planner. new york is good to him. life is good to him. life, more importantly, is simple.
after an unexpected client, oliver's simple life goes to shit when he's working alongside the famous, heartless hotshot lawyer marcus flint, the best man- who's also his former nemesis from university and all-round asshole. the only twist is that he's not an asshole anymore.
that throws oliver for a loop.
note: this is a very self indulgent wedding planner!oliver x divorce attorney!marcus and im Sorry I Disappeared
excerpt:
Graham and Daphne walk into his office hand in hand, looking excited, if not a bit nervous. Behind them is a petite woman with dark hair and a face very similar to Daphne's, and a tall, dark, cleanly dressed-
Oh.
Oliver knew this man.
He should've predicted that Marcus Flint would be Graham Montague's best man.
Marcus Flint looked as much as the surly, grouchy man that Oliver had known in university, this time with an expensive watch and a sharply tailored suit, looking all the big and intimidating lawyer was supposed to be. His face was sharper, his teeth still crooked, but he'd cleaned up. He cleaned up well.
Oliver doesn't flinch. Nor does Marcus.
link to ao3
#hp#harry potter#my writing#sadie18#oliivverwood#flintwood#marcus flint x oliver wood#flintwoodnet#slytherdornet#hprarepairnet#hp creations#drarry#kalicia#piggs#hucey#flintwood fic#text#ao3feed#hpao3feed#hpnet
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Flintwood! Who wouldâve thought?Â
did an updated version of a fanart I did way back when I started with digital art
Imma tag you guys because this is for you @flintwoodandco @mxrcusflint (happy late birthday again im sorry im a bad friend) @lepetitcomte @poppypomfrey  i canât remember all of you but <3 you guys know who you are <3Â
#flintwood#flintwoodnet#fanart#hp fanart#oliver wood#marcus flint#digital art#harry potter#hp#AHFJASGKFA i haven't drawn them in so long#but they're helping me through my art block yessss#ahhhh my sonsss
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Hello everyone!
Our challenge for September will be all about our favorite rare-pairs and their relationships after the second wizarding war! You can write or create any content having to do with your favorite pairings! Just make sure to create content that sparks your creative interest and fits the challenge theme!
This challenge is being run by us at the @slytherdornet and the @hprarepairnetâ, but it is open to anyone that would like to participate. There are a few things you need to keep in mind if you would like to be involved:
These edits can be made for any Slytherin x Gryffindor pairing or any pairing considered rare across the HP fandom.
If you make an edit of a rare-pair that is not between a Slytherin x Gryffindor, only the @hprarepairnet will reblog the edit. The @slytherdornet will only reblog content having to do with Slytherin x Gryffindor pairings.
Make sure to use the appropriate challenge tags and network tags if you want us to see your work for the challenge! Use the general tags #hprarepairnet and #slytherdornet, but also use the challenge specific tags #slytherdornetchallenge and #hprarepairnetchallenge!
Also make sure to specify in the caption of your post that this is for the @hprarepairnetâ and @slytherdornetâ after the war challenge!
And last but not least, the content you make for these pairings can be graphics, moodboards, aesthetics, one-shots, fanfics, headcanons, etc.
From both nets, we hope you choose to participate! It will be a blast. We canât wait to share our content with you all September long. If you have any questions, you can send an ask to either of the networks!
#slytherdornet#hprarepairnet#hprarepairnetchallenge#slytherdornetchallenge#hpeditsnet#thehpshipsnet#hogwartsgirlgang#ginnydefensenet#dadefensenet#lightningeranet#hpminorcharnet#flintwoodnet#quidditchleaguenet
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time and tide may change (but darling we are forever) - Chapter 4
Previous - Next
Chapter Summary: Benâs curiosity grows
Words: 882
A/N: sorry for the delay in posting, motivation has gone off to war
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AO3
or
Ben wants to see him again.
Heâs never before had such an impact with a stranger, but Marcus lingers in his mind. Even more than that, he wants to feel the broad shoulders under his hands while those grey eyes stare him down into practically nothing. Itâs such a strong pull that Ben wonders if maybe he and Marcus once knew each other in a past life.
Once at the supermarket, Ben jumps at every sound in hopes that itâs Marcus, only to end up drudging through night after night.
When a week has passed, Benâs given up on ever seeing Marcus again. It was probably a fluke that they met in the first place and he scolds himself for thinking beyond that. He checks the aisles in a mundane manner, glancing down the last one before double-taking. He blinks, hoping his mind isnât playing a trick as he stares at the figure down at the end.
It couldnât possibly be him, but then again Ben can tell those dark features from anywhere. He almost jogs over to Marcus, then deciding on a slower approach as he holds back a grin. Marcus hasnât seemed to notice yet and Ben edges into his line of vision.
âBack so soon?â
Marcus jumps, his body stiffening before he lets out a small breath. âGod, how are you so good at that?â
Ben shakes his head in confusion. âGood at what? Sneaking up on you for the first time?â
âErm, yeah. That,â Marcus responds while taking sudden interest in the box of rice in front of him.
This is all amusing to Ben and he bites his lip to avoid grinning like an idiot. âWhat can I say? Raw natural talent.â
Marcus lets out a loud laugh before covering his mouth to hide the ones that follow. âThatâs a new one,â he says once all his laughing is finished and mumbles something that Ben barely catches, but he hears something about his âegoâ.
Ben raises his eyebrow and crosses his arms. âAnd whatâs that supposed to mean?â
âUh,â Marcusâs face starts to turn red. âNothing. Nothing at all. Thanks for the chat.â and with that, he grabs the box of rice, practically sprinting away before Ben can do anything.
Ben canât deny that all of Marcusâ actions are suspicious, gnawing at the back of his mind. He wonders Marcus knows him, if maybe heâs part of an elaborate plan and soon he'll be swept away from his repetition. Itâs something to ask for next time, but for now Ben passes the night off as odd actions from an odd man and nothing more.
~
âYou know, we really have to stop meeting like this, â Ben grins as Marcusâ face turns scarlet.
True to whatever unspoken promise they had, Marcus is back at the supermarket, taken to the frozen aisles this time. Ben had to stop himself from sprinting over to the man, surprised he managed to sneak up on him again.
âWhat can I say?â Marcus finally responds. âI get to satisfy my cravings...in more ways than one.â
Ben feels his knees weaken at Marcusâ wink, cursing that Marcus is able to flirt back so easily. He casually leans against one of the frozen doors, ignoring the iciness seeping through his uniform.
âWhat are you doing around three this morning?â Ben attempts to ask, though he can feel his voice shaking just a bit.
Heâs never been this upfront with another person like this before, but with Marcus, it feels so right.
âUh...sorry. I wonât be in town,â Marcus hastily replies. Ben senses a hint of regret in Marcusâ voice and prods on.
âNot in town?â Ben chuckles a little. Three oâclock is only an hour away and yet Marcus plans on going somewhere out of the city. It seems ridiculous to be traveling at such a time.
âYeah. Friend. Meeting.â
If he couldnât tell before, itâs obvious to Ben now that Marcus is lying. It stings a little that Marcus doesnât just say what he means, but Ben knows heâs been guilty of such actions too.
âAll right,â Ben sighs and pushes himself off the door. âWell, if you want to spend time together, just let me know. Iâm always here.â
He makes eye contact with Marcus and almost convinces himself that Marcus looks a bit misty-eyed. He blames it on the early morning hour, giving Marcus a small wave before heading to another part of the store.
âWait,â Marcus calls out.
Ben turns back a little too quickly for his liking, his hopes rising tenfold.
âI like you, Ben. I really do. I just...I think Iâm still trying to get over someone else. When itâs the right time, Iâll come find you, I promise.â
With that, itâs Marcusâ turn to leave before Ben can say anything. The last words echo in Benâs mind as heâs hit with another cursed memory. A sparsely decorated kitchen flashes in front of his eyes and heâs staring down at two teacups, one with a splash of milk. Strong hands fall upon his shoulders, Marcusâ voice whispering,
âIâll come find you, I promise.â
Ben tries to focus his sight, but his body shakes and he sees the ground rushing at him before heâs plunged into darkness.
#flintwood#oliver wood#marcus flint#flintwoodnet#flintwoodandco's cashback crossover#indigo writes shit#someone help i'm procrastinating so much when it comes to making hp content#to all the networks i'm in;;;;i apologize otz
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