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fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme) wrote2016-11-23 07:27 am
fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme) wrote2016-11-23 07:27 am
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Prompt Post #1
ROUND 1
FUCK IT WE'LL FIGURE OUT SPECIFICS LATER
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FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 5/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-01-12 04:52 pm (UTC)(link)________________
Graves was honestly surprised that it took Grindelwald a whole week to drag Credence down to his basement prison again, hissing ridiculous accusations about Graves trying to thwart his plans. He knew that Grindelwald could be patient – the man was a wanted terrorist with an eye towards dynastic world domination; he clearly understood the value of the long game – but he also knew that Grindelwald preferred not to wait if he didn’t have to. Waiting the requisite nine months it took to incubate his general was likely all the patience Grindelwald had for this particular project.
He couldn’t say that he was sorry it hadn’t taken. A child – his child – would be another hostage for Grindelwald to use against him, and one far more effective than poor Credence. Graves didn’t want to see Credence hurt because he wasn’t, no matter what so many of his senior Aurors thought, a complete asshole. If Grindelwald tried to hurt his child … Well. Graves would probably do whatever Grindelwald wanted, just to make sure that never happened. And then he’d tear the bastard’s throat out, the first chance he got.
He was a little sorry about what the lack of conception meant for Credence.
“Hello, Credence,” he said.
Credence darted a nervous look at him. “Hello, Mr. Graves,” he said, politely.
Graves had rather a lot of time over the last week to think about what he’d say to Credence, if he ever saw him again. I’m sorry and I understand if you want to press charges had been his initial thoughts, although those were also things he’d hoped to say after he was free. He wanted to offer to pay for Credence to see a Healer who was also a fully trained Legilmens, someone who could help the boy process what he’d been through, not to mention the Barebone woman’s awful rhetoric. It wouldn’t make up for what he’d done, but it was the only reparation he could think of that might actually help.
“I’m sorry,” he said, because he was, and he didn’t need to be a free man to say it.
Credence looked puzzled. “For what, sir?”
“Everything,” said Graves. “For what Grindelwald wants me to do to you.”
He wasn’t quite brave enough to say: For being the tool Grindelwald used to assault you.
“Oh,” said Credence, still looking confused. “It’s alright.”
“Merlin’s beard,” said Grindelwald. “You don’t need to woo him, Percival.”
For the span of a single heartbeat, Graves was almost grateful to the genocidal maniac for ruining the awkward moment with an even more awkward moment.
“There is something terribly wrong with you,” he said. “If you think that was wooing.”
“You insisted on feeding him, and now you’re making awkward small talk as a detour to getting him into bed. It’s a poor attempt at wooing, to be sure, but the behavior is the same.” Grindelwald shook his head. “You Americans really have no idea how to behave amongst civilized people.”
“This from the man holding me prisoner,” said Graves.
“Hostage taking is perfectly civilized behavior,” Grindelwald said.
Graves wanted to point out that Grindelwald hadn’t exactly followed any code of conduct where the treatment of prisoners of war was concerned, what with the starvation and sleep deprivation and torture. But Grindelwald was clearly in one of his manic phases; he’d fixated on the idea of Graves’ child being his general, and pushing him too far would only result in an extended torture session. Graves could endure that, but Grindelwald had two potential targets at his mercy now, and he couldn’t risk Grindelwald choosing Credence for something he’d done.
“If you’re quite done insulting my romantic prowess, a bit of privacy would be nice,” he said, leashing his anger and shoving it down.
“Just make sure you bed him,” Grindelwald reminded him. “You won’t like what I’ll do if you don’t.”
“Of that,” Graves told him, “I have no doubt.”
He waited until Grindelwald had gone all the way up the stairs again and said, “I’m sorry for all of that, too. Talking about you like you’re not here is rude. It seemed … safer. To keep him focused on me.”
Credence’s confused expression had gone a little strained around the edges; he was clearly overwhelmed by something and couldn’t articulate it.
Shit. Graves had wanted to reassure the kid, not shell shock him.
“Hey,” he said, resting a hand on the back of Credence’s head. “Look at me. You’re okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe with me, okay? You’re gonna be fine. My word as a Graves, you’ll be fine.” The words slipped out, easy and unthinking. He’d said it a hundred thousand times before, to terrified witnesses and junior Aurors and MACUSA staffers to whom the name Graves meant safety.
Graves had grown up with the knowledge that there should always be a Graves in MACUSA; that was just the way it had always been, going all the way back through the generations to Gondolphus Graves himself. The Graves name meant protection; a shield, between wizarding America and anyone who wanted to do them harm.
It meant none of that to Credence. As far as Credence was concerned, the name Graves was probably synonymous with liar, since that was what Grindelwald had done. Credence had no reason to believe in him.
Credence took a shaky breath, and then another. “I don’t understand,” he said, voice small. His shoulders were up around his ears, so tense that Graves’ own muscles ached in sympathy.
Graves rubbed between his shoulders, trying to offer sympathy. Credence made a tiny noise of pain and went still, like he expected Graves to hurt him.
“What don’t you understand?” Graves asked, in lieu of tearing at Credence’s clothes and checking him for injury. He stopped trying to rub the boy’s shoulders, wary of causing him harm.
“Why are you – why do you talk to me like I matter?” Credence asked, visibly bracing himself for a blow.
Graves was in no way qualified to answer that question. This was why he’d wanted to pay for Credence to see a Healer who was also a Legilmens, because they could answer questions like that without making things worse. Graves was good with traumatized witnesses because he had to be, in order to get his job done. He knew what to say to the junior Aurors and MACUSA staffers because he’d been where they were, and all he had to tell them was the things his mentors told him, or the things he wished his mentors had told him.
He had no idea how to talk to people when it mattered.
“Because you do,” he said. This was a wholly inadequate answer, if Credence’s frustrated expression was anything to judge by. “I told you before: you’re a person, regardless of magical ability. That means you deserve to be treated as a person, with dignity and respect.” Not everyone felt the same. It was easy to disregard the No-Maj’s as somehow lesser, just because they couldn’t do magic. (Because their lack of magic made them less, in the eyes of wizards like Grindelwald. As far as Graves was a concerned, that was all the more reason to treat the No-Maj’s with respect. He hadn’t been quite so open-minded about the No-Maj’s before, but spite was a powerful motivator.)
“I’m not worth your respect,” Credence said. He sounded matter-of-fact about it, which was horrible on more levels than Graves had the words to describe. “Mr. Grindelwald says I can’t use whatever magical ability I have, so I’ll never – I’ll never be like you. I can’t be useful to you, except as your whore. I don’t have a trade. I’m no use to you. There’s no point in being nice to me.”
“I’m not nice,” Graves protested, and kicked himself for being twelve kinds of an idiot a second later. That was not the part he ought to be focusing on. “You don’t need to have a trade to be useful, or worthy of respect. And you’re not my whore. You’re …” He didn’t want to say that Credence was a victim, even though that was what he was. It seemed unkind, to label him so harshly. (And maybe, the cold, rational part of him that was starting to sound like Grindelwald said, you don’t want to use that label because you don’t want him to think of himself as your victim. Graves ignored that particularly mental voice. It was an asshole.)
“You’re a young man with a kind heart,” he said. “You’ve not had many advantages so far, but you haven’t let it make you small-minded or mean. Everything the world ever told you about magic should make you afraid, but here you are.”
“I’m here because I was stupid,” Credence protested. “I wanted to believe Mr. Grindelwald when he said I was special. I’m not … I’m not brave, or anything like that.”
Graves didn’t know what to say to that. Most junior Aurors had too much ego rather than too little. He’d never met anyone who genuinely believed they deserved all the awful shit that happened to them, much less someone who’d clearly been told so repeatedly. Credence seemed to have internalized it as a fact of life.
“Want to know something?” he asked. “That’s why I’m here, too. I was stupid. I’d had a bit to drink, the night Grindelwald caught me. Well. More than a bit. Like I said, stupid.” He sighed. “Maybe we can be stupid together.”
“I’d like that,” Credence said, so quietly Graves almost didn’t catch it.
“Me too,” said Graves. He was somewhat surprised to find that he meant it.
Credence pressed a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. He pulled back, red as a tomato and looking mortified by his own daring.
“I’m glad it’s you,” he said, turning impossibly redder. “Rather than Mr. Grindelwald.”
“Me too,” Graves said, because the thought of what Grindelwald would have done in his place made him want to punch something. Grindelwald considered himself too civilized for rape; he preferred mental, physical and occasionally emotional torture to the sexual variety. At least where Graves was concerned; Graves was fairly certain that wouldn’t hold true whenever Grindelwald got his hands on the second most powerful wizard in the world.
Grindelwald would’ve taken Credence’s already abysmal sense of self-worth and ground it into nothing. He’d have made Credence believe that birthing an army of fanatics was the only way he could be useful; the only way he had any value at all.
Credence was better off with him. He knew that, even if what Grindelwald wanted turned his stomach.
“You deserve better than either of us, though,” he said. “How’s your back?”
“Fine,” Credence said, too quickly. “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
Graves snorted. “My junior Aurors like telling me they’re fine, too. Usually while trying to pretend that getting flung into walls or having half a building dropped on them has absolutely nothing to do with their concussions, no sir, why do you ask?” He let his voice fall into Norton’s earnest Midwestern accent towards the end, because Norton courted head trauma like he thought he was a beater for the Fitchburg Finches. “I never believe them, either. Come on. Get your jacket and your shirt off and let me take a look. I’m no Bluebird, but I can probably fix whatever’s wrong.”
“Bluebird?” Credence repeated, obediently stripping off his jacket and starting on his shirt buttons.
“Aelinor Bluebird,” clarified Graves. “She’s the strongest mediwitch in the country. Lovely woman. Also, completely terrifying.” Anyone stupid enough to get themselves hurt so badly the Bluebird took a personal interest in their case was going to wake up to her scowling face, just before she proceeded to verbally eviscerate them for being too stupid to live. It was the sort of thing that made a man reconsider his life choices.
Graves was probably the only person stupid enough to wake up to the Bluebird and Seraphina scowling down at him. It was not an experience he wanted to repeat. Ever.
He fell silent when Credence unbuttoned his union suit and shoved it off his shoulders. The boy’s back was littered with welts, some still red and raw. All of them were under a week old.
Fury rose up, thick enough to choke on. “What happened?”
“Ma didn’t like me being out all night. She was worried.”
Worried was not the word Graves would have used. He rested his right hand against Credence’s spine and focused on healing the damage.
Goldstein said the awful Second Salem woman beat her children. She’d yelled it at him, actually. “She beats those kids of hers, sir! It’s not right! Someone should do something!”
“Let the No-Maj’s deal with the No-Maj’s,” he’d told her. That was MACUSA’s official policy, and Graves had never had reason to find fault in it before. Now, it seemed more like negligence.
It was different now, looking at the damage that had been wrought. If Graves got his hands on a Time Turner, he’d use it to go back to that moment and punch his past self in the mouth for being a sanctimonious prick. Seraphina might actually authorize the use of one, just for that. She approved of anything that kept his ego in check.
Tituba’s bones. How did he make this right?
He hated being powerless, and not just in the sense of being cut off from the magic that was his birthright. He couldn’t keep Credence safe, captive as he was. He couldn’t even stop Grindelwald from dragging the boy back to his awful, monstrous mother. He was stuck in a cage where the only thing he could do was offer Credence brief moments of pleasure, rather than pain.
Fuck.
“Mr. Graves?” Credence asked. He turned so he could look at Graves, and whatever he saw made him hunch his shoulders and shrink in on himself.
“Don’t,” snapped Graves.
Credence flinched.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath and wrangled his temper back under control. “You don’t need to be afraid of me. Not now, or ever. I promise. I will never, ever hurt you.”
He reached for the bottle of desiderata. It wasn’t exactly a calming draught, but it was all he had. He’d hidden it, last time, against the eventuality of being put to stud again. He didn’t trust Grindelwald’s veneer of civilized behavior enough to believe that he wouldn’t make Credence fellate Graves into an erection. Not when Grindelwald had threatened him with that very thing.
“Let me be good to you,” he said, hating himself. “Let me make you feel good.”
Credence unhunched just a little. “Yes, Mr. Graves.”
Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 5/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-01-12 07:37 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 5/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-01-13 03:31 pm (UTC)(link)