fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme) wrote2016-11-23 07:27 am
fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme) wrote2016-11-23 07:27 am
Entry tags:
Prompt Post #1
ROUND 1
FUCK IT WE'LL FIGURE OUT SPECIFICS LATER
Important links:
You can check for fill updates at our tumblr page
You can upload your stories on AO3 anonymously here
You can alert us that you've filled a prompt here
You can talk about anything here
minifill: "on belonging" (fem!Grindelwald/fem!Graves, possessiveness)
(Anonymous) 2016-12-23 01:42 am (UTC)(link)___
She always thought the worst of it was the uncertainty.
Grindelwald would come to see her, and she would never know what to expect. It could be torture or tenderness. It might be a beating, or the cruciatus curse, or any of the hundred gentler cruelties she saw fit to inflict. Or it might be a hot bath, or the first full meal in a week, or a familiar flannel robe to cover herself.
(This last is its own cruelty. It no longer smells like the cedar wood of her wardrobe, but something sweet and floral. Honeysuckle instead of spice. It is another way to mark and claim her.)
Graves thought the worst of it was the uncertainty, until Grindelwald stopped coming altogether.
Then, of course, she tried all of the escape methods that had already failed her. It might be a test, or a game. Grindelwald liked those. Her methods fail again, and she tries again. One definition of insanity is applying the same methods and expecting a different result. Graves knows she might have long since passed beyond reason. But then again: some magic grows weaker when the caster is dead. Grindelwald had been so adamant about her fondness of Graves that she assumes her captor must be dead. Though perhaps that was only another game. A longer one.
Her strength wanes. Graves resigns herself to death as best she can. She doesn't want to die, and she especially doesn't want to die like this. Alone, unmissed, unmourned. She would have preferred to die in the line of duty. A quicker, cleaner death. But there's nothing much she can do about it. She measures the length of the stone box that holds her by her strides, and then by how long it takes her to crawl from one end to the other. Eventually she cannot move at all.
She has passed into delirium when she hears Grindelwald's voice again. She thinks it must be a nightmare, or else she's falling into hell.
"Oh, my dear, sweet girl." Cool, smooth hands touch her face. She can't even force herself to turn away like she used to. "You've waited so long for me. Just like your namesake, Penelope. So patient." No one else calls her Penelope. It's Director Graves, or Miss Graves, or just Graves. No one else still calls her a girl, either. She hasn't been a girl for decades. She is a woman. Except to Grindelwald, to whom she is actually less than that. A plaything.
"They think you're dead." This taunt is new. It used to be none of them know the difference. "I was full of veritaserum. They could have made me tell them where you were. But they all assumed I had killed you. They didn't ask. Gerhild Grindelwald is a butcher, they think. I don't take prisoners." Graves feels Grindelwald's lips against her forehead. Cool and smooth, like her hands. "They don't know what you are to me."
And what am I to you? Graves might say, if she could will herself to speak. She knows she wouldn't like the answer. There are no words left in her, though. She is hollow, withered to a husk.
That isn't how Grindelwald wants her, though. She is a plaything, but not a doll. She is bathed and dressed and restored with incantations and potions until she can speak and stand again. (She isn't in the stone box. She could cry with relief, except that it also means Grindelwald wants to use her for something. One of the more delicate forms of torture; the easiest way to make her beg.)
"No one is coming for you," Grindelwald says. Her voice is soft and sweet as she forces Graves to her knees. Another small wound that cuts to the quick: Graves is grateful for the carpet on which she kneels. An unfamiliar carpet on an unfamiliar floor. Grindelwald has at least abandoned Graves' family home as her base of operations, which is an illogical relief. Illogical because that means now Graves has no idea where they are. It might be any bedroom. They might be in a hotel. They might be in someone else's family home, with the newly-dead residents piled together in a root cellar like firewood.
"No one is ever going to come for you but me," Grindelwald says through gritted teeth, not long after. Graves wonders, drily, if her captor intended the double entendre or if it happened by chance.
They live together like that for days. The cruelty and kindness blend together until it's hard to distinguish them. Grindelwald bathes her, but slides a hand (still smooth, still cool, as though she's marble instead of flesh) under the water to pull at her nipple or part the lips of her cunt. Or, instead, she'll push Graves under the surface of the water and hold her there until her vision starts to gray at the edges. Grindelwald offers her food on the condition that Graves eats from her hand. (This is a deal Graves is inclined to take. She knows starvation now. She would do almost anything to avoid repeating the experience.)
"You're weak," Grindelwald says, but she sounds appreciative. She scratches her fingernails across Graves' scalp. "You used to be so stubborn, but I've made you weak." Graves always kept her hair short, but now it's growing longer. Long enough for Grindelwald to hold onto or to use to drag her across the floor. "Althea made me weak, too, and I loved her for it. Though I didn't need as much convincing as you did."
Graves has nothing to say to this. She says less than she used to.
"I think about going back to her, sometimes," Grindelwald says. She hums low in her throat, considering. "If I let you go, would you come back to me?"
Graves has cried before, in Grindelwald's care. From pain, or from humiliation, or from fear. She cries now and doesn't know why.
Re: minifill: "on belonging" (fem!Grindelwald/fem!Graves, possessiveness)
(Anonymous) 2016-12-23 02:09 am (UTC)(link)Re: minifill: "on belonging" (fem!Grindelwald/fem!Graves, possessiveness)
(Anonymous) 2016-12-23 02:19 am (UTC)(link)Re: minifill: "on belonging" (fem!Grindelwald/fem!Graves, possessiveness)
(Anonymous) 2016-12-23 02:25 am (UTC)(link)You can almost feel Graves breaking at the realization that they all think she's dead.
You are the best, I was so worried I wouldn't see the wonder of female Grindelwald but it has happened and it is beautiful. I always long for female villains who are feared for their power abd cruelty but also give you a sexual fear too without it being the focus of the character. Also imagining Grindelwald as Gwendolyn Christie should be mandatory in its hotness, *fans self and fans vagina*
Re: minifill: "on belonging" (fem!Grindelwald/fem!Graves, possessiveness)
(Anonymous) 2016-12-23 02:28 am (UTC)(link)Re: minifill: "on belonging" (fem!Grindelwald/fem!Graves, possessiveness)
(Anonymous) 2016-12-23 04:48 am (UTC)(link)Re: minifill: "on belonging" (fem!Grindelwald/fem!Graves, possessiveness)
(Anonymous) 2016-12-23 04:50 am (UTC)(link)Re: minifill: "on belonging" (fem!Grindelwald/fem!Graves, possessiveness)
(Anonymous) 2017-01-10 07:50 am (UTC)(link)Outstanding job <3