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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 9/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-01-19 06:51 pm (UTC)(link)Credence wasn’t sure who would win, in a confrontation between Ma and Mr. Grindelwald – probably Mr. Grindelwald, who had magic where Ma only had righteous fury – but he didn’t want to put that to the test. He stuck close to the church and wherever Ma’s ministry took her, and he didn’t try to sneak away to meet Mr. Grindelwald. He thought he caught a glimpse of Mr. Grindelwald pretending to be Mr. Graves, once or twice, but he was careful to avoid Mr. Grindelwald’s gaze.
Mr. Grindelwald expected his presence to act as a summons. Credence wanted to obey, he did, but he was more afraid of what Ma might do than what Mr. Grindelwald would. He knew what Ma would do.
He managed to slip away to the alley two weeks later. Mr. Grindelwald was practically seething with impatience, and it looked ugly on Mr. Graves’ handsome face.
“I don’t,” he hissed, “like being kept waiting.”
“I’m sorry,” Credence whispered. “Ma was watching me. I couldn’t get away.”
Mr. Grindelwald struck him across the face, a heavy backhand that split Credence’s lip. Credence cringed back, raising his arms to shield his face in anticipation of being hit again.
“Stop sniveling,” Mr. Grindelwald snapped, raising his wand. “Diagnoskien.”
Credence flinched away from Mr. Grindelwald’s magic. He braced himself for the next hit, but Mr. Grindelwald started smiling.
That looked wrong too. He didn’t smile like Mr. Graves did, like a wolf baring his teeth. He smiled the way rich men did, when the world had rearranged itself to suit their whims. Like he expected nothing but total satisfaction.
Mr. Grindelwald grabbed Credence’s arm and used magic to drag him to the house where Mr. Graves was. The sense of disorientation was worse this time, bile rising up uncontrollably. If there had been anything in his stomach to throw up, Credence would have emptied his belly, but there wasn’t.
“It seems congratulations are in order,” Mr. Grindelwald purred. He shoved Credence through the magical barrier. “You’re going to be a father, Percival.”
Mr. Graves looked rather more battered than he had, the last two times Credence saw him. Credence wondered if Mr. Grindelwald had hurt him because Credence hadn’t obeyed. His voice, when he spoke, was low and raspy, like he’d been screaming.
“What, no gigglewater and cigars? I believe that’s customary for this sort of announcement.”
“What an excellent idea,” Mr. Grindelwald said, his good cheer undaunted by Mr. Graves’ sarcasm. “I believe that’s exactly how I’ll celebrate.”
“You could let Credence celebrate with dinner,” Mr. Graves pointed out.
Mr. Grindelwald frowned at him. “What is this preoccupation you’ve got with feeding him? It’s very odd.”
“I am well known for my tendency to be a mother hen,” Mr. Graves deadpanned.
“Actually, I think that honor goes to Collins,” Mr. Grindelwald said, all silky menace. “Shall I send him your regards?”
Mr. Graves growled, low in his throat, but he stopped trying to bait Mr. Grindelwald. “The healthier the carrier, the healthier the child. It’s in your best interests long term to feed Credence up a little.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Mr. Grindelwald said, like it didn’t matter to him at all. He waved his hand and two bowls of soup and bread appeared in Mr. Graves’ cell. “For your cooperation,” he said, when Mr. Graves gave the second bowl a suspicious look. “If the child fails to thrive, it won’t be you I’ll hurt,” he said, heading back up the stairs. “Don’t try and call my bluff on this, Percival. It won’t end well for your team.”
Mr. Graves clenched his hands into fists. “You bastard,” he hissed.
“Collins has a wife, doesn’t he? Sweet little thing. It would be such a shame if anything happened to dear Dorothy. I believe they’re also trying for their first child. That would be fortuitous, wouldn’t it? My general will need trusted lieutenants, and who better than the offspring of the ones his father trusted?”
“You’ve made your point,” Mr. Graves snarled.
Mr. Grindelwald’s only answer was to shut the basement door, mocking laughter trailing clearly behind him.
Mr. Graves growled. For a second, Credence thought he might hit something, but then Mr. Graves took a deep breath and relaxed his fists.
“Hello, Credence,” he said kindly, like they were old friends meeting one another in the park. “How are you?”
Credence stared at him. How did he even begin to answer that question? He was with child. He was a man, and he was with child, and if Ma found out she’d beat it out of him and if she did that Credence wouldn’t be able to bear the loss. He couldn’t.
Black spots darted across his vision. Credence realized he couldn’t breathe. He kept gasping for air and it wasn’t helping.
“Fuck,” said Mr. Graves, reaching out to cup Credence’s face in one hand. “It’s okay. You’re okay, I’ve got you. Just breathe with me, darling, alright? In and out, nice and slow, there’s a love. I’ve got you.” He kept up a soothing stream of nonsense until Credence’s breathing slowed into humiliated regularity.
“Sorry,” Credence said, resisting the urge to press his hot face against the curve of Mr. Graves’ shoulder and hide. “I’m fine. Just – stupid. I’m sorry.”
“You’re not stupid,” Mr. Graves said sharply. “Anyone would be overwhelmed, in your position. It was a stupid question, anyhow.” He pulled back, rubbing his thumb over Credence’s lip. “Did Grindelwald do this?” he asked.
“He didn’t like that I kept him waiting,” Credence explained. “I couldn’t get away from Ma. She was watching.”
“Ah,” said Mr. Graves, healing his lip with another caress. “Let me see your back, please?”
“It’s nothing,” Credence said.
“Please,” Mr. Graves said again, managing to make the word sound like right now. Mr. Graves could probably rival Ma, when it came to righteous conviction. He had the right voice for it, like thunder and the wrath of God.
Disobeying Ma when she sounded like that never ended well. He didn’t think Mr. Graves would hit him, but Credence wasn’t willing to risk it. He shed his jacket and shirt and the top part of his union suit and turned so Mr. Graves could see the after effects of Ma’s wrath.
Mr. Graves growled, low in his throat. But his hands were gentle when he brushed them over Credence’s skin, and Credence moaned at how good it felt, to be pain-free for the first time in two weeks.
“Better?” Mr. Graves asked, stepping away. He bent down to fetch one of the bowls of soup Mr. Grindelwald had left them. He tsked in irritation. “Stingy bastard. Still, it’s better than nothing.” He pressed the bowl into Credence’s hands. “Drink up.”
It was more of the rich, meaty soup from last time. There were potatoes and carrots in it, as well as real beef. Soup with real beef in it seemed like an impossible luxury to Credence.
Maybe wizards ate better than ordinary folk.
And maybe wizards ate with their hands, because there was no spoon.
Mr. Graves huffed a short bark of laughter when he saw Credence checking for one. “I’m not to be trusted with utensils,” he said. “I have an alarming tendency to try to use them as weapons.”
Credence wasn’t certain how much damage one person could do to another with a soup spoon, but he thought Mr. Graves might be able to do quite a bit.
He said grace over his soup and picked the vegetables out with his fingers, licking them clean in between bites and savoring the chunks of beef.
“Is this from the Waldorf-Astoria?” he asked. Mr. Graves had mentioned that the chef there was a wizard. Maybe that explained why wizarding food was so good. Maybe the food was magical too.
“My larder,” said Mr. Graves. “Soup is quick and easy. I usually keep a pot on. The cauldron of plenty charm isn’t hard.”
“It’s good,” Credence said, wondering what a cauldron of plenty charm was. If it was anything like what it sounded like, it was a miracle. It reminded Credence of the story of the loaves and the fishes, but that was surely blasphemy. Christ had worked a miracle to feed the multitude. Keeping a stew pot going was nothing compared to that.
He didn’t let himself wonder how many people Ma’s ministry could feed, if she’d had a charm like that. They could have offered the orphans real food, rather than soup that was practically water.
Ma would likely see anything produced by such a charm as the devil’s communion. She’d never have permitted its use.
Mr. Graves tipped half the contents of his bowl into Credence’s, once Credence was done. “You need it more than I do,” he said, when Credence would’ve protested. “Eating for two, and all that.”
“I couldn’t,” Credence demurred.
“Of course you can,” said Mr. Graves.
Credence looked down at his bowl. He ought to say no. He knew that. But he was hungry, and the soup was so good.
“Please,” said Mr. Graves. “This is the only way I have to provide for you. Let me do this much, at least.”
It was a man’s duty to provide for his wife and children. Credence wasn’t Mr. Graves’ wife, but he was bearing Mr. Graves’ child, so it probably worked out to the same thing in the end.
And besides, the small, shameful part of himself reasoned, he liked that Mr. Graves wanted to look after him. It made him feel special and loved.
That was clearly a stupid thought. Mr. Graves was only worried about his future child. Their child.
If Mr. Graves wanted to put their child first, Credence could hardly do any different. He dipped his fingers back into the soup bowl and ate a chunk of potato.
Something in Mr. Graves relaxed at the sight, the tension bleeding out of him. He waited until Credence had a second bite of carrot before he began to eat, savoring each bite like it was manna from heaven.
“May I?” Mr. Graves asked, once the soup was gone and the last dregs of it had been mopped up with bread and consumed. He gestured towards Credence’s belly, where their child grew.
Credence thought about having Mr. Graves’ hands on his bare skin again and shivered. “Yes, please,” he said.
Mr. Graves pressed his right hand against Credence’s belly, spreading his fingers apart like a protective shield. Credence shied away from the feeling of unexpected magic.
“Sorry,” Mr. Graves said immediately, letting his hand fall away. “I was just saying hello.”
“It’s alright,” Credence told him. He took Mr. Graves’ hand and put it back on his belly where it belonged. “I was … you startled me, that’s all.”
He still flinched at the unfamiliar brush of Mr. Graves’ magic, because being touched with magic took some getting used to. He liked the feel of Mr. Graves’ magic better than Mr. Grindelwald’s. Mr. Grindelwald’s magic was sharp and cold, much like the man himself. Mr. Graves’ magic was warm and a little bit rough – kind of like Mr. Graves, Credence thought. Except Mr. Graves’ rough edges would never be used to hurt; they were there to protect.
Credence wasn’t sure why he was so certain of that. The realization rattled him; he didn’t know what to do with someone who wouldn’t hurt him. It was a little frightening, because he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such care. What if he did something wrong and Mr. Graves turned on him? He didn’t think that Mr. Graves would, but he also didn’t know why he was so certain of that and thinking about that made the dark spots well up again.
Credence took in a shaky breath and made himself stop thinking about it. Mr. Graves was nothing like Ma, but everyone with power was basically the same. Everything would be fine, as long as they were happy.
Credence had no idea how to make Mr. Graves happy, but he knew where to start. He pressed forward, bracing himself on Mr. Graves’ broad shoulders, and kissed him.
Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 9/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-01-19 07:48 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 9/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-01-19 09:55 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 9/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-01-20 12:20 pm (UTC)(link)