wild eyed

i go by ol. she/her. chaotic bi. slytherin. infj. scorpio. coffee. playlists. fic.

[truelahey]

Just so we’re clear: this blog does not support JKR or her transphobic and disrespectful tweets/thoughts. The wizarding world and the Potter fandom are for all people, as is the real world. Trans folks and everyone under the queer umbrella are valid, you exist, and I see you and respect you. JKR is not the be-all-end-all of the wizarding universe. You belong in this fandom more than she does. 

[quidditchfest]

Quidditch Fest Art

Title: Push and Pull Artist: ??? Ship: Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood Prompt #: 54 Rating: Teen Medium: Digital Art Warnings: n/a

Content Tags: Snogging, UST, no shirts, rivals, post-Hogwarts, Quidditch training

Summary: After a long day of training at boot camp (hosted by the British and Irish Quidditch League), two reserves finally resolve some unfinished business in a dark locker room. They're still rivals, but they could be something more...

See it on AO3

[flintwoodandco]

Sun Shower

Summary: Marcus’ and Oliver’s first date doesn’t go quite as planned but that’s okay

Rating: T

Genre: Post Battle of Hogwarts, Developing Relationship, Light Angst, Affection

Words: 820

A/N: for @inimitablebiscuit!! who had asked for a fluffy prompt but some angst still got in there in the end oops ‘^_^

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AO3

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Keep reading

[mxrcusflint]

chaos on the slytherin quidditch team account

[flintwoodandco]

Sun Shower

Summary: Marcus’ and Oliver’s first date doesn’t go quite as planned but that’s okay

Rating: T

Genre: Post Battle of Hogwarts, Developing Relationship, Light Angst, Affection

Words: 820

A/N: for @inimitablebiscuit!! who had asked for a fluffy prompt but some angst still got in there in the end oops ‘^_^

-

AO3

or

Keep reading

[historical-fictioneer]

“Ollie, you were always the best of us… and of me”

(Tap for better resolution on mobile)

[flintwoodandco]

Dyslexic/learning disabled markus? 🥰

The library is quiet. Too quiet.

There's always been a jab in passing or some rough comment, but today, Marcus is silent as a stone.

Oliver didn't expect much when Marcus was assigned as his partner for their Transfiguration project, but right now Oliver is, dare he say it, worried.

Not that Oliver's been checking, but Marcus has not flipped the book page for several minutes now. His eyebrows are furrowed, as if he's concentrating, but his eyes barely move.

"Alright there?" Oliver stills his quill, glances up from his parchment.

Marcus just grunts in response and Oliver lets out a small sigh. He doesn't care. Really, he doesn't.

"What are you reading about?"

At this, Marcus tenses. It's subtle, but after analyzing Marcus all these years, Oliver picks it up with ease.

"Something about dingoes," Marcus mumbles before shooting a hasty, "Why do you care?"

Now that isn't right. Even though it was just a glance, Oliver knows there's different animal listed on the page Marcus is reading. A thought strikes Oliver's mind, a memory of a childhood friend and he tests the waters.

" '...and thus, dogs fall into this category of Transfiguration,' " Oliver cranes his head as he reads the text.

Marcus hasn't moved an inch and his eyes remain downcast. Something too similar to sympathy strikes Oliver's heart and he starts slow, gentle.

"Marcus, I think you might be...well, muggles call it dyslexia. The letters get all jumbled, sometimes writing something down is difficult..."

Oliver is no expert by any means, but he remembers well how his friend navigated through their dyslexia.

There is a glare shot his way and Oliver is quick to explain himself. "You're not dumb. It's not your fault. Sometimes the mind is just...," Oliver makes a motion with his hand and second by second, Marcus' expression changes.

One to loss, confusion. His fists tighten and his breaths shorten.

"You mean, I'm not a failure?" Marcus says just above a whisper.

"Far from it," Oliver shakes his head. "I know you're smart, Marcus. No one could make me run for my money like you do."

Where all this is coming from, Oliver doesn't know. It would be so easy for him to leave Marcus to his own devices, to make him pay for all their years of hostility.

But, that isn't who Oliver wants to be. Right now, Marcus is another student overlooked with assumptions thrust upon him. It wouldn’t do right to let Marcus’ struggles continue.

“Here, let’s try this,” Oliver takes out his wand and taps on the page.

The font shifts, words bounce around and Oliver can’t help the excitement he feels when Marcus’ eyes open wide, a new understanding growing in that intense stare.

Marcus mumbles to himself, but Oliver catches just enough, picks up how much Marcus has been suffering. 

Then, Marcus clears his throat and Oliver stands at the ready.

“Thank you.”

Two words Oliver never thought he’d hear from Marcus. It sends his mind in a flurry and all Oliver can do is nod.

“I...,” Marcus starts and stops before taking a heavy breath. “Perhaps we should start over? I mean, I like our rivalry but maybe if it’s not so...”

Anticipation rises in Oliver’s chest and he can’t help blurt out, “I’ve been looking for someone to discuss Puddlemere’s latest game with.”

There is just a hint of a smile from Marcus and Oliver bites his lip, the corners of his mouth curling up just so.

Perhaps being paired up with Marcus won’t be so bad after all.

[mxrcusflint]

white lies

canon au | 1136 words

Fred and George had always poked fun at Oliver’s lack of romantic life — too focused on quidditch as his first love, they’d announce dramatically, with the girls giggling behind their hands as Oliver did his part of being exasperated. They didn’t know the half of it and Oliver was perfectly happy keeping it that way. It was easier when the circle he was operating in was far from Gryffindor sphere of influence.

He’d never quite been able to handle not getting exactly what he wanted. Call it precociousness, being stubborn, the effects of being raised an only child with a single mother who fed his obsessive personality — Oliver didn’t see much wrong with going about any available way to get to his end goal.

And if it was a tad shy of being moral, well.

Continue on AO3

[oliverwvvd]

A shout out into Tumblr: I’m primarily a Flintwood writer on this blog, but I’ve been known to write a lot of other ships previously. Who do you ship that you’d like to see more of? My askbox is open if you’re not comfortable answering here and would prefer to go on anon.

(Inspired by looking at @hprarepairfest and the list of prompts, to be honest.)

[oliverwvvd]

Yule ball anon~

That was amazing lol I really like the dynamic where oliver is the one who has to be brave and marcus is perfectly willing to be out and proud. Thank you so much for the words and I hope you're feeling better!

Thank you so much, anon, I'm so happy you enjoyed it, honestly. I love playing with their dynamic and it turned out your prompt was ideal for seeing how it moves back and forth between them.

Feeling much better, thank you so much. Had a horrid round of Covid, followed by the very nasty side-effect of my mouth flaring up with ulcers and sores for nearly five days after I was clear of the actual virus. Still not back to full energy by any means, but getting there, and grateful to be back writing. Hope you're doing well wherever you are and that life is treating you kindly.

[oliverwvvd]

the potential for chaos

For the anon who asked about Yule Ball Flintwood, this is a beginning of sorts for you. This didn’t 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. Marcus’ were, shockingly, not green, because Slytherins were in fact capable of wearing colours that weren’t the house colours. Instead, he’d 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 Pucey’s 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 didn’t 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 he’d 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 didn’t seem to care what his speed was, when they came up behind him and spoke into his ear. “You look bored, Flint. Looking for someone?”

Marcus didn’t even turn his head, simply took a sip of his drink. “Hardly. You evidently were, if you spotted me back here. Shouldn’t you be with your date, Wood? I’m sure you had a list of invites to choose from.” The words were cool and more than a little antagonistic, holding the pointed hint that he’d been fine by himself, and that Wood was welcome to leave him be now.

The other boy didn’t so much as take the hint, instead spoke more quietly, that hint of Glasgow burr there and gravelly in his ear. “Didn’t accept an invite, so no date. You?”

A little more to drink, but then he caught a hint of Firewhiskey that distinctly wasn’t from him. “So, you’ve also been in a corner drinking from whatever enchanted hipflask you and your mates in Gryffindor came up with, then,” he observed dryly. “Please to Merlin tell me at least that it’s not one with someone’s initials on it for when they inevitably drop and lose it later, at least.”

There was a very nearly painful silence then, and Marcus snorted, soft but still audible. “It figures.” It really, really did. “You know, it’s good form to at least cast a charm to hide the initials, Wood. I’m assuming it at least doesn’t belong to you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Marcus usually had to shut his eyes and count to ten before he bit the offending person’s 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.

“Good observation skills there, Wood,” he remarked, aware of other people potentially in earshot. “It’s almost as though it’s not really any of your business. Which it isn’t. But since you apparently can’t 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.” 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 didn’t 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 hadn’t, he might have had to think too hard about how it made him feel, and he really didn’t want to right now.

“So you didn’t come with anyone.” It seemed like Wood was trying to make a point, but Marcus couldn’t tell what. It was frustrating, so rather than focus on that, he looked at the boy in front of him instead. He’d 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 wasn’t 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 wouldn’t do given the reason why he was in a mood in the first place, Marcus exhaled a sigh. “Obviously. What do you want, Wood?”

Wood seemed to realise he only had a finite amount of patience. That was a years overdue realisation as far as Marcus was concerned. “To dance with you.”

That made Marcus stare for a few seconds. Seeming to register that he wasn’t going to get a response unless he pushed, Oliver tilted his head at him. “One 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.” 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. “Presuming you’re not too caught up in posing and sulking, of course.”

Oliver was crowding him now, just a little, and Marcus wasn’t 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. “You can’t hold your Firewhiskey and you’re seriously misreading things, if that’s the best offer you can give me,” he pointed out bluntly. “So if you don’t mind, I’ll continue minding my own business right where I am. Lurking in the shadows.” 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) wasn’t necessarily going to just leave him alone, though, or so it appeared. “Then come out of here with me for a minute,” he said, voice quiet but still carrying through the space between them. “I want to talk to you about something.”

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, he’d given up arguing with Oliver. “Fine. You get two minutes.”

Once they did get outside, though, Marcus hadn’t 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 hadn’t even known was there. When he went to ask what the fuck, Oliver put a hand over his mouth. “Shh, someone will hear.”

Beyond annoyed and now suspecting where this was going, neither of which he enjoyed, Marcus dragged Oliver’s hand off his mouth and hissed his next words. “What are you doing?”

Earnest brown eyes were fixed on him then, and this time, Marcus couldn’t get away or give him the cold shoulder. “Are you seriously still mad that someone tried to ask me to this thing?”

Marcus gave him a truly evil glare then. “You mean, am I pleased that someone else asked the person I’m not allowed to walk down the corridor with? I’m 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.” The tone was flat, but the sarcasm wasn’t.

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 wasn’t letting Oliver think that was the last word on it. He wasn’t about to be lulled into compliance. Rather than lean into it, instead, he nipped the other’s 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 couldn’t 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 he’d 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 didn’t escape Marcus either. It wasn’t 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. “I’m not going to take whatever scraps you decide to throw me and be happy that’s all I get,” he said, words short, making sure they landed home. This was probably one of the worst sides of him. “You don’t act like it, so you don’t get to call me yours. Because I’m not.” Wasn’t that just the biggest lie he’d 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 Oliver’s pupils dilate some more, to see him want to close the distance again, and then to deny him. Or at least, that’s the intention, right up until Oliver shakes his head. “Merlin help me you’re impossible sometimes,” was the set of words bitten out. “I was trying to apologise. To tell you that I only wanted to go with you, but I also wanted to protect this because it’s ours and people are incredibly nosy. I’m not ashamed of what we’re doing. You might not be mine, but I want you to be.”

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 he’d 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. “We could dance right here, if you wanted.” 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. “Nah,” he said, not hesitating to turn down the suggestion. “Come on. Let’s go back inside.” He gave Oliver a pointed look then, and threw down the gauntlet. “Together.” It was a ceasefire, or the closest that they’d 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 didn’t even bat an eyelid. Show them anything like a bet you can’t and they immediately decided that not only could they, but screw you who says I can’t. 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. “I’m only yours if you’re mine. Non-negotiable. What about it?”

The night wasn’t over yet.

[oliverwvvd]

Fell off the face of Tumblr a little bit again due to being very unwell for more than two weeks. Not an excuse, just an explanation.

Yule Ball anon, I haven’t forgotten you. I will have something for you by the end of this week, with my apologies for the delay.

Hope everyone else is doing well in these oft-challenging times. Sending all the sun and the stars, whichever you like better.

[mxrcusflint]

"This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

[mxrcusflint]

cliché we're partnered in potions during the amortentia class and are trying to avoid the elephant in the room ft. flintwood

+ bonus thoughts

[historical-fictioneer]

Flintwood Comic WIP

[oliverwvvd]

Yule ball anon. I am on board for ANYTHING I just think marcus and oliver in dress robes and dancing would be adorable

Hello Yule Ball anon! Do you have a song for me, perhaps? I'd be interested to know what you'd imagine them dancing to (I don't care if they'd never dance to Muggle music realistically, it sets the mood).

[oliverwvvd]

What if the yule ball was every 3 years instead of just the one special occasion?

This begs for something disgracefully romantic. Is that your jam, anon and others out there, or are you more into what-might-have-been turned into simmering attraction at a wholly inappropriate moment years down the line?

Either way, the brain is turning.