#threads. ﹙ ft. marcus flint ﹚

[hopcflowered]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: "hows my hair?" 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: tbd !! 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: closed for marcus flint ( @hoggleswart )

"m-marcus flint? like the marcus flint? of the falmuoth falcons?" basil squeezes her hand as the pair of them stare in awe at the quidditch player - both were keen fans of the sport and though not necessarily a follower of the falcons, she was a fan nonetheless. looking at moira, you wouldn't know about the quidditch match memorabilia that decorates her home, the books on a game she would never dare play herself littering the bookshelves. their question lingered in the back of her mind as she had an inner squeal to herself, basil most definitely doing the same, before clearing her throat and gesturing to the player's appearance. "your hair? it's fine, perfect even. a little windswept, but who doesn't like a bit of adventure in their look, yes?"

[hcldmybroom]

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: falmouth players' house, garden !! 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: closed for marcus flint - @hoggleswart !! 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: i mean seriously, what do they expect, you know?

"maybe they want you to be a decent human being for once, marcus?" leaning back in her chair, the keeper lifts the bottle of cider to her lips as she eyes the other player, a brow lifting. she shakes her head and turns to watch the other players pass a quaffle between one-another above them, dark eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses borrowed from her younger sister - a little oversized and certainly not minnie's style. "they want you to show a little compassion, you know? a smile here, a sympathetic i understand and a little affection. even that's not too hard for you."

[mxrcusflint]

interlude

pairing: flintwood ft. hucey setting: soulmate thread au, set in the same universe as tied and true a/n: toying with the idea of writing the hucey aftermath but we’ll see where motivation takes me lmAO - for now, some fluff and plot™

The Floo sounds just as Marcus is getting comfortable, Oliver curled up tight under his chin. A low grumble from his boyfriend keeps Marcus from ignoring the calls of his name issuing in from the living room. He moves Oliver off to the side, a quiet sigh issuing from his disturbed bed partner before Oliver turns over onto his other side, already drifting off deeper into sleep. Marcus looks back, eternally pleased with the red string that stretches lazily between them.

Terence’s head is in the center of a green ring of fire - Marcus almost makes a comment on how fitting it is that he looks like he’s in Hell, but the panicked look on Higgs’ face makes him come to a standstill in the doorway.

“Terence,” Marcus gets through, before Higgs starts babbling.

“You wanna know what just happened to me at the bar? Fucking hell, Flint - of all people, I swear to god, I thought I’d lost it, thought when I’d left for France-”

“Would you quiet it down?” Marcus hisses, moving closer and shushing Terence with a wave of his hand. “Oliver’s sleeping.”

Terence’s lips curl, and Marcus glares at him until Higgs stands down. No doubt, it only worked because he has something else clearly pressing on his mind.

“If you’re only here to gossip-”

“Fuck off, Flint,” Terence sneers, running a hand through his uncharacteristically messy hair, “No, you daft bastard, I ran into Pucey at the bar. Adrian Pucey. My soulmate, remember?”

Marcus looks at him, coolly unamused. “Seeing as I’m the one who still talks to him on a regular basis, yes.”

“Yes, well.”

Silence falls between them and while Terence looks increasingly aggravated, Marcus doesn’t have the patience for Higgs, who he knows had ran off to practically every other place in Europe just to avoid talking to Adrian. Adrian, who he knows is still patiently waiting and who Marcus thinks deserves a better partner than the Fates have given him. Perhaps it’s his settled domestic life talking, but Marcus isn’t about to play mediator - or matchmaker, for that matter.

“So what?” Marcus asks, settling down on the couch with a sigh, “You talk to him?”

“Unfortunately.” Terence gripes.

Marcus crosses his arms. “You’re still a bastard, Higgs.”

“He approached me and - you didn’t tell me he got attractive.” Terence’s voice takes on an accusatory tone and Marcus rolls his eyes.

“If you’re thinking of getting with your soulmate purely because he got tall and handsome, I’ll personally see to it that you don’t get anywhere near him.” Marcus warns, because it’s honestly shallow, and an incredibly Terence thing to do - to run until there’s something worth going after.

Terence raises a well-groomed eyebrow, mouth tight. “You’re a killjoy, Flint.”

“You don’t - fuck, Higgs, you don’t fuck around with your fucking soulmate.”

“Didn’t you?” Terence shoots back, and Marcus clenches his jaw, reminded very starkly of the messy beginning of his and Oliver’s relationship. It’s not something he’s ever been proud of, which Higgs knows quite clearly.

“It’s because of that that I’m telling you to step off, Higgs,” Marcus says before standing and indicating that perhaps Terence should take his pretty head and his messed up morals out of his fireplace, “Adrian’s a good kid. Don’t make it worse than it already is.”

Terence casts him another exasperated look, before sniffing reproachfully. “Should’ve known better than to come to you with this. Fine - I won’t. You can go back to your cozy little love nest now.”

And with another scoff, Terence Higgs whisks away just as suddenly as he’d appeared.

Marcus sighs again, weary of his longest friend’s antics, but whether or not Higgs ever gets his head straightened out isn’t up to him. He turns off the remaining lamp with a wave of his wand, then heads back to where Oliver’s still curled up into a ball amidst the covers.

When he gets back into bed, Oliver turns and latches a leg over his hip. Marcus bites back a laugh at Oliver’s sleepy face - they both have early mornings, but Quidditch wears Oliver down much, much more than sitting in the office does for Marcus. He’s been losing a bit of muscle tone and makes a mental note to get back on those routine workouts with Oliver when he has the time.

“Thought you were asleep.” Marcus runs his fingers in Oliver’s hair soothingly as Oliver stretches out the kinks and tight muscles in his body.

“You weren’t here to spoon,” Oliver says stubbornly, aiming a light kick at Marcus’ shins when Marcus snickers. Oliver’s a touchy creature, which Marcus never complains about, but it does mean he’s fairly set in his routines before bed. 

“Who was that?” Oliver yawns, pressing his face against Marcus’ arm until he’s once again nestled within an embrace. “Fucking loud…”

“Terence,” Marcus says, shifting his pillow until it’s comfortable, “Says he met Adrian at the bar tonight.”

“They need to get that shit sorted out.”

“At least you don’t have to listen to both of them,” Marcus grumbles, knowing for sure that he’s going to receive an owl from Adrian in the next few days, asking if he’s free for coffee or a meal. He’ll have to fill up his quota of providing monthly emotional support and Marcus is unsure if he’s going to be able to do that with all the paperwork waiting for him in the office.

“No,” Oliver chuckles, and his voice is so laced with sleep that Marcus kisses him on the forehead, pulling the covers further up, “But I do have to listen to you.”

“Sucks,” Marcus laughs, “Sleep, then, go on.”

Oliver tucks himself back under Marcus’ chin, soft hair tickling his skin, but the warm weight of Oliver’s head against his chest is a comforting presence. The red of their soulmate thread winds slowly between their arms, magic singing with content.

He crosses his fingers for Terence and Adrian, even just for his own sake - there’s only so much heartbreak and drama Marcus can help with. He barely got through his own when he was seventeen, thank you very much.

[hcldmybroom]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓: " you're just as fucked up as i am. you're just better at lying to yourself. " 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: falmouth falcons training pitch. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed for marcus flint III ( @hoggleswart )

fingers flex at her side, the march towards the changing rooms having stopped mid-step as a deep breath is pulled in through flaring nostrils - like a moth to a flame, she always had something to say about marcus. to marcus. his words aren't untrue and perhaps that is why her chest aches, why her stomach twists and turns and why her mind shows her memories long forgotten of a vulnerability lost. that day she revealed her past, her childhood, to him had been the day that minette thought they had turned a corner. they trusted eachother - perhaps even loved. it was thrown back in her face, of course, and the overwhelming sickness she felt in her stomach from knowing that marcus knew her most vulnerable self took over.

" serpent bâtard . . . " the words are whispered as she looks over her shoulder at her ex, taking in his features - perhaps a beat too long - after the long absence of seeing him. she had last seen him at that sham of a wedding, ridiculous. clicking her tongue, the french keeper spins to face her teammate. " what do you want from me, marcus ? to fall to my knees and scream to the heavens about my past ? would that make you feel better ? "

[hcldmybroom]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: ❝what’s the point in decorating your house for just one night?❞ ( marcus flint / @hoggleswart ) 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: minette's home, exterior - halloween day.

"because some of us like having fun?" minette looks down at marcus with an incredulous face as if he had just asked the dumbest question ever, which to minette it pretty much was. scoffing, the keeper turns her focus back to the faux spiders she was attaching to the side of her home, the stone wall already coated in a lining of spider webs made from braided cotton and rope - thank you mum. "now, are you just gonna stand there and gawk or actually help me? that acromantula isn't gonna pose itself, y'know?" arms gesture down to the large spider perched next to her neglected flowerbeds, legs all crooked from years of storage in her mother's attic. "this is my first halloween on majoribanks, okay? i want to make a good impression, marcus."

[hcldmybroom]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓: have you come to laugh at me in my miserable state? 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: level 7, department of magical games and sports 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed for marcus flint ( @hoggleswart )

"as much as i would love that, no." manicured fingers trace the intricate designs carved into the pillars of the ministry, each department more and more artistically moulded. minette had wanted to seek chaos tonight, cause a few raised eyebrows and judgments cast upon the heroes they excluded - and yet they kept finding themselves hesitating at every turn. "come on, flint." finally moving closer, the keeper carefully drops themselves to seat beside marcus, bare back against the cool wood of the office behind them and knees drawn to their chest. "whats up? fianceé abandon you? not enough good booze?"

[hcldmybroom]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: i know we’re not officially talking , but i need help with my tie. 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: the falmouth falcons player house, lounge !! 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: closed for marcus flint ( @hoggleswart )

knuckles crack as fingers flex, notebook forgotten on the coffee table as she looks up to her teammate - perhaps a little help wouldn't hurt, right? huffing, minette swings her legs from the couch and jumps up, moving until she stood before him. "you are useless sometimes." muttering under her breath, the keeper swats away his hands and begins to meticulously tie his tie. the only reason she had come over to the house was to talk over formations with the others and study in a less chaotic environment than her own cluttered home - not to mention, she missed the house. curiosity got the best of her. "why're you all dressed up? do you have another interview?"

[hcldmybroom]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: i’m sorry,  i was an asshole,  i was drunk.  i’m at a loss. 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: the burren quidditch locker room, pre game !! 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: closed for marcus flint ( @hoggleswart )

here we go again. minette wasn't really sure why she had come to the locker room, why she had abandoned the freedom of the grounds for the suffocation of a familiar building. not to mention a familiar face. his apology pulls at her heart, as it always does, urging her to forgive every transgression. every heartbreak. but then she is reminded of the vulnerability she showed him, the truth she spilled to him, and the pain he caused her. stepping closer, hands mindlessly rise to straighten out his uniform, pulling here and flattening there. her eyes fixed on the creases of the fabric. "i didn't come here to revisit that. i never want to revisit that, flint." palms rest against his chest before dropping to her sides as she steps back, "i just wanted to say good luck."

[hcldmybroom]

minette's bloodstream thrums with the dance of alcohol in their system, a mixture of cider and fire whiskey giving her some of the BEST dance moves. definitely. having not made any bets on the charity game, the quidditch player was free to be both a sore winner and loser in the throngs of fans now partying for the sake of it. who doesn't love a good party? hands had reached out and they had grabbed anyone, anyone whom was close to them to join their dance. why did it have to be him? marcus flint. an old flame with wounds still too sore to ignore - it was enough to work with them, never mind this. the brightness in minette's features flicker, dropping for a split second before smirking. there was no way marcus was ruining the night. "you wish i was on my knees for you, marcus? how sweet." a laugh spills from their lips, shaking their head. two can play at that game.

they’re  weaving  their  way  through  the  crowd,  drink  raised  high  above  head  to  prevent  spillage  while  spare  hand  unceremoniously  shoves  a  dancing  body  aside  to  make  room.  marcus  is  every  bit  a  nightmare  tonight,  thriving  off  the  adrenaline  that  comes  from  a  win  even  if  they  in  particular  didn’t  do  a  whole  lot  to  earn  it.  sore  losers  are  hard  enough,  but  sore  winners?      —      there’s  never  been  one  quite  like  flint.  eyes  stay  focused  on  target,  full  of  intent  to  reach  a  nearby  drinks  booth,  when  somebody  grabs    &    distracts  them  entirely  from  initial  direction.  the  smirk  that  stretches  out  on  features  when  he  realises  who  is  positively  wicked,  more  than  happy  to  change  course  if  it  meant  prodding  at  old  wounds  with  former  flame.      ＂    you  never  could  keep  your  hands  off  me,  merrythought.      ＂      and  it  doesn’t  matter  that  minette  no  doubt  reached  without  looking.  marcus  still  intends  to  milk  this  for  everything  they  can  because  that’s  just  who  they  are.      ＂    then  again,  i  did  always  say  you’d  come  crawling  back  in  the  end.    ＂

[hopcflowered]

bully for her that the player before her couldn't see the dedicated wall in their lounge back home, pennants and signed photos - an article or two with smiling faces and mid-game plays - lest they think her a super fan. there's an almost giddiness to her smile as she watches the mundane interaction between her son and marcus, knowing full well this one small conversation will keep basil entertained for weeks on end and their poor neighbour would not hear the end of it. "oh, most definitely!" she chimes in as basil seems to glow with this chance meeting, the young boy bounding on the balls of his feet as chest puffs out - six and a half, do you hear that mum? she was sure his thoughts were spilling with pride and moira calms with the thought that a little bit shouldn't effect his ego too much. "he practices most weekends, don't you, bug?" though the training broom they have kept away in their shed is one borrowed from their elderly neighbour, battered and bruised with a little wiggle in it's back. bas nods along and begins to list off a bunch of maneuverers he has read about, voice spilling past lips at record pace.

moira  is  working  wonders  for  their  ego.    —    not  that  it  ever  needed  much  of  a  boost  to  begin  with.  marcus  never  fails  to  hold  themself  with  a  confidence  that  seemed  almost  effortless.  it’s  false  at  times;  a  facade  that’s  been  perfected  since  younger  years,  shielding  them  from  the  insecurities  parents  forced  upon  them,  but  no  one  would  ever  know.  sometimes  even  they  struggle  to  remember.  perform  an  act  long  enough    &    it  becomes  reality.  ＂  the  prophet  should  be  so  lucky.  ＂  delivery  is  teasing  over  arrogant.  he  knows  how  to  play  to  a  crowd,  introducing  just  the  right  amount  of  charm.  his  agent  insisted  upon  it.  ＂  six?  i  don’t  believe  it.  you’re  at  least  six  and  a  half.  you’ve  got  the  height.  ＂  knees  stay  bent  for  the  time  being,  remaining  at  basil’s  height  while  gaze  shifts  from  child  to  parent,  offering  both  their  attention.  even  dares  to  applause  when  the  younger  leaps  upward,  showing  off  skills.  ＂  impressive.  i  better  warn  our  current  keeper  they’ve  got  some  tough  competition  coming  up.  you’re  gonna  put  them  out  of  a  job  with  moves  like  that.  ＂

[hcldmybroom]

"careful, flint. some would say that's flirting, and if i remember correctly . . . you're engaged." almost mocking them, minette purrs the term of commitment with a sly smile creeping along her lips - although some small part of her hurts at the insinuation, the bigger part of her is simply having fun. shaking her head, a small laugh proceeds to slip from between her lips as embarrassment colours her cheeks, a momentary lapse in thoughts for locked away memories offering an excuse to swat a hand in his direction, "stop redirecting, marcus. unless you're gonna repeat history, keep those thoughts to yourself and focus." watching one of their teammates lose the quaffle to another illicts a huff from the keeper, muttering about how easy it was to keep it held before returning to her lecturing of her ex, focus turning to them as she shifts in her seat to face them. "did you hear yourself there, former captain. if you stop being an asshole, you might be actual captain again." she winks. "just a thought."

"    i  think  you  meant  irresistible.    "    they  dare  to  lean  in  a  little  closer,  voice  lowering  to  all  but  purr  that  last  word.  oh,  he’s  sure  minette  knew  exactly  what  she  meant,  but  marcus  wouldn’t  be  marcus  if  they  didn’t  purposely  push  buttons.  anything  to  get  a  reaction.  arrogant  smirk  barely  even  falters  when  she  insults  him,  though  eyes  do  roll  and  body  falls  back  into  seat  with  a  quiet  huff.    "    i  don’t  seem  to  remember  past  you  ever  having  this  big  an  issue  with  my  tongue  before.    "    it’s  easy  to  poke    &    prod,  and  tease.  better  that  than  acknowledge  the  fact  there’s  truth  in  her  words.  he  might  scoff,  but  he  knows;  the  team  needs  more  from  him.    "    fine.  no  more  suspensions.    "    the  promise  is  made  as  if  it’s  some  big  sacrifice,  a  true  inconvenience.  one  they  surely  both  know  won’t  be  kept.  at  least  they’re  trying  though  and  marcus  clearly  expects  praise  for  that,  expectant  gaze  staying  on  ex  -  girlfriend.    "    i’m  still  going  to  tell  them  when  they’re  playing  like  shit  though.  it’s  my  right  as  former  captain.    "    a  position  he  only  lost  because  of  the  very  same  attitude  she’s  trying  to  steer  him  away  from.

[hopcflowered]

quidditch had been one of the few loves of her childhood which had carried on into her adult life, as well as spilling over into her son's interests. so, to meet one of the most infamous players? amazing. "this is the highlight of our day." her words are whispered, a mental note slipping freely from her tongue as she smiles sheepishly. though more of a holyhead harpies fan now, a few years back she was once a devoted falmouth falcons fan. "it definitely has that windswept and suave look about it, you'd certainly be on the front cover of the prophet with such a look," and she meant it. basil nodded along and tried to fluff his own hair to match marcus', looking into the same window the quidditch player had looked into to see if they match before grinning at marcus. my name is basil, i'm six. her son speaks confidently with a slight whistle to his words as he shows off his missing front tooth - lost in the garden after a fall. "oh, definitely a keeper. he has the reflexes of a tiger, right bas?" in that moment basil nods and jumps, pretending to catch the invisible quaffle.

＂  the  marcus  flint.  i  like  how  that  sounds.  ＂  it  isn’t  hard  to  get  on  marcus’  good  side.  as  rough  around  the  edges  as  they  are,  just  a  brush  of  the  ego  was  enough  to  keep  them  at  a  pleasantly  low  simmer.  for  all  their  hidden  smarts  &  larger  than  life  attitude,  they  are  (  usually  )  a  simple  creature,  craving  simple  pleasures,  such  as  acknowledgement  or  praise.  fingers  fluff  hair,  taking  in  their  reflection  in  a  store  window  one  last  time  before  turning  to  give  them  their  full  attention.  anything  for  a  fan.  ＂  adventure  is  exactly  the  look  i  was  going  for.  ＂  windswept  often  came  with  the  career.  he  knew  it  worked  for  him.  moving  forward,  knees  bend  to  dip  downward,  lowering  themself  to  basil’s  level.  ＂  it  doesn’t  look  anywhere  near  as  cool  as  yours  though.  who’s  this?  ＂  gaze  drifts  up,  next  question  aimed  at  both  parties  rather  than  just  the  boy.  ＂  the  falmouth  falcon’s  future  keeper?  ＂

[hcldmybroom]

"you are insufferable, marcus flint." minette leans back in her chair as a bemused chuckle passes her lips, head shaking. whilst in the past she had seen them as insufferable as a devil, so big-headed that the team feared their teammate would lose balance the moment they were seated on their broom; now it was hard to see this selfish and self-centered front as nothing but just that. a front. they had gotten close once, she had poured her heart open, revealed the truth of her childhood, her parents, the fire. she had seen vulnerability in marcus then, she was sure she had reached that soft centre - then they went and fucked it all up. head tilts as she looks at marcus, a knowing look crossing soft features. "there's being honest and there's being a prick, its a big difference . . . you need to keep that tongue of yours in check, marcus, can't be dealing with any more suspensions." at least not this season.

"    then  they  should  consider  lowering  their  expectations  to  something  a  little  more  realistic.    ⸻    they’ve  met  me.  they  know  who  they’re  dealing  with.    "    see,  that’s  always  been  the  biggest  hurdle  when  it  came  to  marcus;    it  isn’t  that  they’re  blind  to  their  own  behaviour.  they  are,  in  fact,  surprisingly  very  self  -  aware.  they  just  didn’t  see  any  real  reason  to  change,  especially  when  it  only  ever  sounded  like  something  meant  to  benefit  others  rather  than  himself.  compassion  is  for  the  weak,  that’s  what  their  father  used  to  tell  them  over  the  breakfast  table.  it’s  a  lesson  that  was  drilled  into  him  from  birth  and  few  people  have  ever  managed  to  convince  him  otherwise.  minette  came  close,  once.  look  how  that  turned  out  for  them  both.  gaze  finally  tears  away  from  their  other  teammates    &    friends,  fighting  back  an  eyeroll  as  attention  turns  to  her  specifically  instead.    "    maybe  it  isn’t  too  hard,  but  it  is  a  waste  of  my  fuckin’  time.  being  nice  doesn’t  win  us  matches.  if  i’m  mean  to  them,  it’s  because  they’re  playing  like  losers  and  somebody  needs  to  be  the  one  to  tell  them.    "