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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 18b/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-02-08 11:33 pm (UTC)(link)“Crucio,” he hissed.
“Stop,” Credence begged, his voice breaking. “Please.” He crawled out of bed to kneel next to Percival, still looking faintly green and absolutely miserable.
It was possible Graves had not thought this plan through. He hadn’t meant to upset Credence further.
“You are beginning to test my patience, Percival,” Grindelwald hissed. “I thought I’d broken you of this months ago.”
“You didn’t exactly leave me with any way to summon room service, now did you?” Graves said, levering himself into a sitting position with Credence’s help.
“Room service,” snarled Grindelwald.
Well, someone wasn’t a morning person.
“Credence has morning sickness,” Graves informed him. “He needs ginger tea, and dry toast. And an anti-nausea potion, although I can’t recall which ones are safe for pregnant wizards. You should be pleased, it means your general is healthy.”
Grindelwald continued to stare at him in outrage. Graves suspected he was talking himself into an extended torture session at some point in the future. He really hadn’t missed those.
“Light snacks would also be helpful,” Graves continued. “Apples and bananas and carrots and the like. Fresh lemons, too. Cold porridge is better than warm, and it definitely needs honey in it.”
Credence pressed his face against Graves’ back. “Please stop talking about food,” he moaned.
“Warmer clothes and bedding would be helpful, too,” Graves said.
“Is there anything else?” Grindelwald asked, too outraged to be menacing. He sounded more sarcastic than anything else, which Graves found entertaining. “A key to your cell, perhaps? Hot baths? Maybe a new book to read?”
“I wouldn’t say no to any of those things, if they were on offer,” Graves said cheerfully. “But I’ll settle for things Credence can eat.”
Credence made a faint noise of protest. “I don’t want to eat anything ever again,” he muttered, low enough that only Graves heard him.
“You’ve gone out of your mind,” Grindelwald said. “It’s not unexpected, although this particular madness is … unprecedented.”
“That’s a bit insulting, coming from you,” Graves said.
“And insulting my sanity is not likely to get you what you want,” Grindelwald retorted.
Graves sighed. “Valid point. Old habits, and all that. Sorry.”
Grindelwald stared at him, clearly off-kilter. “You’re sorry.”
“For insulting your sanity just now,” Graves clarified. “Not any of the other times. Seeing as I do want something from you at the moment.”
Grindelwald looked like he was still having doubts about Graves’ sanity.
“Look, I’m trying to be helpful here,” Graves said, a bit impatiently. “You want your general to be healthy? I want the same thing for my son. And out of the two of us, who has nieces and nephews and who has no family to speak of? Trust me when I say that I know what I’m talking about.”
“You do seem bizarrely knowledgeable,” Grindelwald conceded. “But what makes you think that dragging me out of bed at an ungodly hour and summoning me like room service was ever going to result in me giving you what you wanted?”
“Because it’s not for me,” Graves pointed out. “It’s for Credence, and your general.”
Grindelwald narrowed his eyes. “It kills you to refer to him as such, doesn’t it?” he asked, all silken menace. “My general. And not your son.”
Fucking hell. Grindelwald was the sort of predator who liked to play with his food. And he said Graves was a savage.
“Yes,” Graves snarled, levering himself to his feet. He helped Credence back into bed when Credence flailed, off-kilter at the loss of support. “Yes, it fucking kills me that my son is your general. I didn’t believe in your bullshit prophecy and now here we are, with two innocent lives on the line. So forgive me for wanting to do whatever it takes to keep those lives safe for as long as I can.”
Grindelwald liked that Graves was angry. He liked that Graves was frustrated and a little despairing; Graves could see it.
Graves could work with that.
“I want Credence to be healthy enough to deliver your general safely,” he said, angry and pleading. “And that means he needs foods he can keep down and more of it than you’ve been giving us. Look at him – it’s been a month of regular meals and he’s still skin and bones. If he doesn’t put on more weight, he’ll die birthing your general and that – Fuck.” He didn’t say that he wouldn’t be able to bear it. He didn’t think he needed to.
“Why, Percival,” Grindelwald purred, the way he always did when he thought he’d gotten what he wanted out of Graves. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and gotten attached.”
“It’d be a waste of resources, if nothing else,” Graves said, averting his gaze. “If our bloodlines are good enough to produce one general, why not another? An heir and a spare, isn’t that what your lot calls it?”
“Don’t pretend you Americans aren’t just as determined to preserve your bloodlines,” Grindelwald scoffed. “And fine. I take your point. It seems a simple enough request. But Percival?”
“Yes?” Graves asked, wary.
“Beg,” Grindelwald commanded, the way he would a dog.
Fucking sadist.
“Please,” Graves said, going to his knees. “Please, make sure Credence and the child get enough to eat. Please, make sure that they’ll both be healthy enough to survive delivery – I beg of you, Grindelwald. Show mercy. They’re innocents. Please.” He looked up at Grindelwald. “I’m begging you on my knees, please show Credence and your general that you can be kind to those you consider your own. If my son is your general, then he’s yours, and as his carrier, Credence is too. You have a responsibility to them both. Please, please, be kind.”
“Oh, very well,” Grindelwald said, with false magnanimity. He waved his hand and cold porridge and fresh fruits appeared from Graves’ larder. “Since you asked so nicely.”
“Thank you,” Graves said, and meant it.
“Percival?” Grindelwald asked, pausing on the way back up the stairs.
“What?” Graves asked.
“The next time you want something from me, do try a little humility first. I think you’ll find it works better than sarcasm.”
“I thought you enjoyed our little tête-à-tête’s,” said Graves.
“Ne spirare,” said Grindelwald.
The last time Grindelwald had done this, he’d let Graves choke until he passed out. Graves hadn’t enjoyed the experience. He didn’t particularly care for it this time, either, not the least of which because Credence went more than a little hysterical when Graves started turning blue.
“Finite incantatem,” Grindelwald said.
“Fuck,” Graves said, when he could breathe again. He pushed himself upright again, still breathing hard. “In the future,” he said, voice raspy, “I’d take it as a kindness if you’d hold these little corrective behavioral sessions out of Credence’s sight. It upsets him.”
Grindelwald smirked, amused. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, and stomped back up the stairs.
“Tell me you didn’t mean it,” Credence said. He still looked a little hysterical, but he had the sense to wait until the door closed behind Grindelwald to say anything. He fisted his hands in Graves’ shirt. “Tell me you don’t really think I’m Mr. Grindelwald’s, Percival, please. I don’t want to be Mr. Grindelwald’s.”
“Of course not,” Graves said, catching hold of Credence’s hands with his own. He pressed a desperate, claiming kiss against Credence’s mouth. “You’re not his, you’re mine. You’ll never be his, not while I have breath in my body to stop him.” He pressed kisses to Credence’s tearstained cheeks, his nose, his chin, and then back to his mouth again. “Mine, you hear me? For as long as you want me, you’re mine and I’m yours. I just had to tell him what he wanted to hear to get you better food.”
“I don’t care about better food, as long as I have you,” Credence said, a little mulish.
“I do,” Graves said firmly. “I’m sorry I sprang that on you. I should’ve told you what my plan was. But you needed the right things to eat, for you and our son to be healthy.” He kissed Credence again. “I don’t know how you put up with me,” he said. “I keep making mistakes and upsetting you.”
Credence shoved him away and sat down hard on the cot. “I don’t care if you upset me!” he snapped. “I don’t need you to protect me from my feelings, Percival. I’m your partner, remember?”
“Of course,” Graves said, a little bewildered by the show of temper. He liked it, and everything it meant, but he didn’t understand what he’d done to set it off.
He’d thought Credence’s personality was too even-keel to have the sort of mood swings Dindrane had. Evidently he was very wrong about that.
“Then try treating me like one! I’m with child, not a child, and it would be nice if you treated me that way!”
“Alright,” Graves said cautiously. “Is there anything in particular you’d like me to do?”
Credence poked him in the chest. “Stop trying to shield me from Mr. Grindelwald at your own expense. He won’t hurt me. Not while I’m carrying his general.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Graves muttered.
“I’m an investment, you said so yourself. Either I have value to him because of our son or I don’t, but I don’t want you getting hurt for my sake.”
“That seems … reasonable,” said Graves, who was starting to think he’d made a grave misstep somewhere along the way. He did not, in fact, think this was reasonable at all, but he knew better than to say so.
“And you could try leaning on me, every once in awhile,” Credence said, with tremulous daring. “I wanted to comfort you, for Norton, the way you did for me with Modesty, and you pushed me away. That’s not what partners do, is it?”
Well, fuck, Graves thought. “No,” he said. “No, it isn’t.”
That was the crux of it, he thought. He wanted Credence to have choices, once they were both free. That was why he kept trying to explain how the wizarding world worked, and teach Credence the spells he’d need to control his magic. It seemed Credence wanted those choices too, and he didn’t want them as charity. He didn’t understand that Graves would’ve given him anything, so long as it would make him happy, and that it wouldn’t be charity because Graves was so fucking in love with him that it hurt.
He’d only just gotten permission to kiss Credence, though. Now was hardly an appropriate time for confessions of love.
“I’m sorry,” he said, as plainly and honestly as he could. His team would have been amazed. Graves rarely apologized, except when he was exceptionally in the wrong. Oh, he atoned for lashing out, generally with lavish gifts, but he hated actually saying the words. He’d used them and meant them more with Credence than he had with anyone else alive, save Dindrane and maybe Seraphina. “I’m an overprotective ass sometimes. It’s instinct, which doesn’t make it any better, and certainly doesn’t excuse it, but –”
“It’s who you are,” Credence said. “I know that, Percival. All I’m asking is for you to see me for who I am.”
“I see you,” Graves told him. “You’re magnificent.”
Credence huffed a laugh. The adrenaline crash obviously made him a little peaky, because he went pale and bolted for the water closet again. “Maybe Mr. Grindelwald is right,” he said. “If you think this –” he flapped a hand, indicating his sweaty pale face and the toilet “– is magnificent, you’re out of your mind.”
Graves stared at him. Was that a joke? By Excalibur, it was. Merlin and Morgana and all of Arthur’s knights, he loved watching Credence’s confidence unfold, and the man he’d become once he was free. It really was magnificent.
“Anyone who can keep up with Theseus Scamander is a little crazy by necessity,” he allowed. “But only a truly insane man would see you as anything less than magnificent, Credence.”
Credence snorted, and regretted it a second later, if the face he made was any indicator. Graves fetched him some ginger tea – in an actual teacup, wonder of wonders – and went to go hover like a proper expectant father.
Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 18b/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-02-09 12:11 am (UTC)(link)Now, as for endgame - I definitely want to see after they escape, regardless of if its a sequel or not! And I want Credence meeting all the aurors! And the Bluebird! (Greedy!anon is greedy)
Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 18b/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-02-10 11:30 pm (UTC)(link)I like the way you think, Anon. I maaaay have started a thing where Credence meets Graves' team, but so far it has yet to resolve itself into anything coherent.
Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 18b/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-02-09 03:09 am (UTC)(link)Also I would adore more of anything at all in this universe.
Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 18b/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-02-10 11:38 pm (UTC)(link)... Now I'm kind of wondering what a proper first date would look like for the two of them. And whether or not Graves' team would attempt to stalk them on it.
Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 18b/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-02-11 12:46 am (UTC)(link)Just Desserts (1/2) - Nothing Shall Be Impossible Side Story
(Anonymous) 2017-02-13 04:45 am (UTC)(link)___________________________
Graves felt a prickle of unease between his shoulders as soon as he stepped inside the Luminaria, one hand resting gently in the small of Credence’s back. It was probably nothing, he thought. He was just feeling paranoid and overprotective about being out in public.
He should’ve just rented out the whole restaurant, he thought. It would only be marginally more expensive than what he’d paid Bellamy to cook one of everything on the menu, and to arrange for dealing with the leftovers. He’d intended to, but then Bellamy had bitched at him about his profit margins and the loss of reputation at cancelling so many reservations, and Graves had relented. Bellamy belonged to the Bluebird, and Graves was already on her shit list. The last thing he wanted to do was piss her off even more.
There were too many people in the restaurant – too many potential threats. This was a terrible idea.
The maître d’ escorted them to a large table that could have easily fit sixteen, rather than one that would fit two. Graves helped Credence into his seat and took the chair next to him, letting his gaze drift around the room.
“Percival,” Credence said. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?” Graves asked innocently. Credence had made his feelings about being fussed over pretty clear, but this wasn’t fussing – Graves was keeping a promise.
“Oh, God, you did,” Credence said. He put his face in his hands, shoulders shaking faintly.
Behind him, a witch at a nearby table gave Graves a faintly appalled look It was possible she was genuinely concerned that he’d upset his very pregnant dinner companion, but Graves’ luck had been shit lately. She was probably a reporter for the New York Ghost.
If she was, Graves would track her down and force feed her tomorrows edition and her reporter’s notebook.
When Credence lifted his head again, it was obvious his shoulders were shaking because he was laughing. “I can’t believe you,” Credence said, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “Percival. You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m a man of my word,” Graves told him, with mock-wounded dignity.
“You’re –” Credence broke off, his eyes going big and round as a veritable parade of waiters marched towards their table carrying trays laden with gorgeously plated dishes.
Halfway across the room, one of the other waiters was staring, too, his expression almost a match for Credence’s. Graves only noticed because the waiter was so distracted he overpoured a glass of water, spilling it onto the wizard he was serving.
“I’m so sorry!” he yelped, fluttering around the wizard with a napkin.
Graves narrowed his eyes, suspicious. The prickle of unease turned into a discordant warning jangle. Bellamy’s staff were trained professionals. They didn’t stay staff if they weren’t. That was a rookie mistake.
Another reporter, he wondered. No. Most reporters wouldn’t bother trying to infiltrate the waitstaff to break a story. It was too much work, with too much likely to go wrong. A real reporter would just bribe the actual waitstaff.
So if he wasn’t a waiter and he wasn’t a reporter, what was he? One of Grindelwald’s followers? If he was Grindelwald’s, who was his target – Graves or Credence?
Credence cleared his throat, drawing Graves’ attention back to him. He looked at the food-covered table. He met Graves’ gaze, and then looked back at the table, plainly incredulous.
“I told you I was going to order one of everything on the menu,” Graves reminded him, since some sort of token protest needed to be made.
“Yes, yes you did,” Credence agreed. “So I could try it all and find out what I liked.”
“You should probably start with the soups, before they get cold,” Graves advised. He wondered why Bellamy hadn’t staggered the courses and decided this was probably Bellamy’s way of saying Graves was an idiot.
Looking at the food covered table and the restaurant full of staring eyes, Graves found it hard to disagree with him.
“Which one’s your favorite?”
“That one,” Graves said, pointing to the broccoli cheddar soup.
Credence obligingly took a sip. He considered his mouthful and passed the bowl to Graves a second later.
“Percival?” Credence asked, after he’d tried and passed on the lobster bisque, the beef stew and the minestrone, which was Credence’s way of saying that he didn’t approve of the waste of food.
Graves’ place setting was starting to get a little crowded. He discretely signaled one of the waiters to come and clear it and got the clumsy one instead.
Graves readied a stunning spell, just in case, but the clumsy waiter managed to clear the soup away without incident.
“Yes, darling?” he asked, once the waiter was out of spell range.
“Will you come with me on my next appointment with the Bluebird?”
“Of course,” Graves said, a little baffled. He always went with Credence to his appointments. Credence knew that, so why was he asking?
“Good,” said Credence. “I think she needs to check you for brain damage.”
The witch who was probably a reporter made a tiny noise that was almost certainly laughter.
“She gave me a clean bill of health,” Graves protested.
Credence took a savage bite of balsamic glazed carrot and said, “Damage to the patellar ligaments and the tibialis anterior of the left leg. Healed hairline fractures present on the posterior side of right ribs one through seven, right scapula, right humerus –”
Credence could, would and had recited the entire list of Graves’ injuries to get Graves to do what he wanted. Credence, Graves thought darkly, had taken his lessons about not fighting fair a little too much to heart. (Graves was so fucking proud of him.)
Still. A man didn’t like to have his own tactics used against him. Graves grabbed the nearest appetizer and shoved it into Credence’s mouth, stemming the flow of injuries. The New York Ghost did not need to know the extent of what he’d endured at Grindelwald’s hands. Graves didn't need or want their pity.
“Fine,” Graves conceded. “She said I was an idiot and threatened to skin me for a rug if I injured myself during recovery.”
Credence licked his lips, satisfied as a cat with cream. He had another bite of the carrots and said, “A check-up would be good for you, anyway.”
“As you wish,” Graves sighed.
Credence’s smile was a small, satisfied thing. Graves wanted to lean over and find out how it tasted, but his instincts said now was not the time to demonstrate any sort of vulnerability.
“What happens to the rest of the food?” Credence asked, once a few more plates had been sampled and sent away. He kept hold of the carrots and the roast chicken on its bed of mushroom and leek risotto, curling his fingers protectively around the plate.
“I thought we’d take your favorites home,” Graves said. “The rest will be donated to No-Maj soup kitchens.”
“No-Maj?” Credence asked.
Graves shrugged. “I thought if more of the reputable soup kitchens had adequate supplies and funding, people like Mary Lou won’t gain quite so many followers.”
“Um,” said Credence, looking torn. He stuffed a massive bite of chicken into his mouth while his ears slowly reddened.
Graves stared at him, more than a little concerned. Credence was still chewing with evident pleasure, but he was also getting steadily redder. He caught Credence’s wrist before he could devour and equally massive portion of risotto. “Careful, lovely. If you choke on Chef Bellamy’s food, he’ll have a heart attack and the Bluebird will turn me inside out before she turns me into a rug.”
“Um,” Credence said again, squirming a little.
It hit Graves, suddenly, that he knew exactly what that little fidget meant. It meant Credence wanted Graves to stop whatever it was he was doing and make love to him.
“Oh,” Graves said. “Would you like me to get the check?”
“Yes,” Credence said, looking mortified by his own enthusiasm.
“Give me a moment to deal with Bellamy,” Graves said. And because he was still feeling overprotective and paranoid, he put a shield around Credence. No one would be able to touch him while Graves was gone.
“Percival?” Credence asked sharply. He knew the feel of Graves’ magic almost better than he knew his own, and he was sensitive enough to it to feel the shield like it was a physical object.
“Indulge me?” Graves asked, looking at Credence through his lashes. He didn’t want to worry Credence. Credence didn’t need to be worried, not after everything he’d already been through. Better he thought Graves overprotective than fret over a nonexistent threat.
Credence smiled. “Of course.”
Just Desserts (2/2) - Nothing Shall Be Impossible Side Story
(Anonymous) 2017-02-13 04:47 am (UTC)(link)“I will pay double,” Graves said, cutting Bellamy off mid-tirade.
The entire kitchen held its breath.
Bellamy’s dark expression got a little darker. “Try again,” he said.
Graves narrowed his eyes. Bellamy’s only loves were books, the Bluebird and puttering around in his kitchen. Double should have been good enough.
“Double and I’ll owe you a favor.”
“You owe me for this anyway.”
“No, I’m paying you for this. Double, in fact. The favor is currency you can’t get anywhere else and you know it.”
“What makes you think I’ll ever need to cash in that favor, Director?” Bellamy shot back.
“You can’t think of a single favor a scion of the Graves line could do for you?” Graves retorted. “You lack imagination, Chef Bellamy.”
Very quiet horrified gasps went all around the kitchen. “Merlin have mercy,” someone muttered, and was immediately shushed.
“Double, a favor, and a copy of Gondulphus Graves’ journal,” Bellamy said.
“What the hell do you want with that?”
“I like history,” said Bellamy.
“Done,” Graves said. He exited the kitchen and headed back towards Credence, every instinct he had screaming danger danger danger at the sight of the clumsy waiter standing next to the wizard he’d spilled water on earlier. They seemed to be arguing about something.
Worse yet, the witch who was probably a reporter was making a beeline for them. There was something strangely familiar about the way she moved, brisk and purposeful. The familiarity of it set him on edge, because that was the way an Auror moved, and he didn’t know that woman.
Were they all Grindelwald's followers?
He readied a wordless incarcerous and paused, because the wizard at the table batted the air next to the clumsy waiter like a demented cat and Merlin’s balls what the fuck was his team doing here?
He was absolutely not going to make a scene in front of wizarding New York’s elite and Credence, who was more important than all of them put together. He wasn’t.
Credence frowned at him with faint concern, one hand resting on the swell of his belly. The desire was gone now, replaced with worry. Everything okay? He mouthed.
Fine, Graves mouthed back, fury rising up until it eclipsed everything else. Damn it, this was supposed to be a date. A real date, like they’d dreamed of while they were stuck in that fucking cell and his team had no right to gate crash his personal life.
“Have the three of you completely lost your fucking minds,” he snarled, anger making the words roll through the restaurant like thunder.
“Oh no,” said the clumsy waiter. That was Collins, then.
“Sir,” the witch said stoically. Hello, Summersea.
“Boss,” said the wizard who resembled a demented cat. Hughes. And, Graves suspected, the ringleader.
“We’re so, so sorry sir,” said Collins.
“We were worried about you,” said Hughes.
“Don’t even,” said Graves, pointing a finger at her. He scowled at Summersea. “What about you? Anything to say?”
“I,” Summersea said very clearly, “did not want to be here.”
“Tattletale,” muttered Hughes.
“Then what the fuck are you doing here? I thought you had better sense than this, John!”
Summersea turned a flat, disgruntled look on Hughes. “Win dosed my coffee with polyjuice.”
“And then made a persuasive case for why you should go along with her crazy,” Graves finished for him, because he knew his teams MO’s. Hughes’ crazy was very persuasive. Even he found it hard to resist sometimes.
He folded his arms across his chest. “Give me one good reason not to fire the lot of you.”
“Percival?” Credence asked, slowly approaching them. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing I can’t fix in the morning,” Graves said darkly.
“Who are these people? Why are you yelling at them?”
“Hughes. Collins. Summersea.” Graves pointed at each of them in turn. “At least you left Goldstein out of it.”
“Your team?” Credence asked. He frowned. “Why do you – are you using polyjuice?” he asked. “Like Mr. Grindelwald.”
“Yes, yes they are,” said Graves.
“I hate polyjuice,” Credence said.
“It’s not my favorite, either,” Graves agreed.
“Are you spying on us?” Credence demanded, looking torn between outrage and hurt. “You are! Alex, how could you? I thought we were friends!” He pointed at Collins accusingly. “I am going to firecall your wife the instant I am home, Alexander Collins.”
“Oh, no,” said Collins. “Credence, I am so, so sorry.”
Well, Graves thought, that was one way of handling it. Dorothy was going to be furious as soon as she heard from Credence, and then Dorothy would call Angelica. Dorothy and Angelica weren’t as close as Credence and Dorothy were, but they still shared the same bond. Angelica wasn’t going to be pleased either.
Collins and Summersea would both be sleeping on the couch tonight.
Judging from the way they both turned accusing looks on Hughes, they knew it, too.
Hughes had no significant other to tattle to. But she did have six brothers, all of whom would be disappointed in just how badly she’d fucked up and wouldn’t be shy about expressing it, either. Graves suspected one or more of them would be getting firecalls of their own tonight or tomorrow, depending on how badly the marital disagreement went.
“We will discuss exactly how badly the three of you fucked and how you gave yourselves away tomorrow,” Graves said firmly. “If you are very, very lucky and Credence persuades me to be merciful, this will not go in your records as an abuse of department resources and a betrayal of my trust.”
“I am not,” Credence said, spitting the words out like knives, “in a merciful mood.”
Graves pressed a kiss to Credence’s temples. “I know, love,” he said. “Let’s go home.”
“I had plans for you,” Credence grumbled, stalking towards the door like a wampus cat on the hunt. “I wanted to go home and make love to you and now I need to talk to Dorothy about what a complete idiot she married.”
“I know,” Graves said sympathetically. “But the plus side is, she’s the only one you need to talk to in order to make all three of them suffer.”
Credence frowned at him. “I’m not following your logic,” he said flatly.
“Dorothy will talk to Angelica Summersea, who won’t be happy with her husband either. Collins and Summersea will spend the next few nights on the couch, which will put them in a vengeful enough mood to contact Hughes’ brothers. Hughes has a lot of brothers.”
“Six of them, you said.”
“Hm. Yes. Five older, one younger. The oldest ones pretty much raised her. And let me tell you, no one does disappointed quite like Ezra Hughes does. Not even Dorothy. And Miles Hughes could write a book on reading someone the riot act – they’d have to censor three quarters of it for profanity, but what’s left would still be terrifying and righteous. The two of them will make sure Win understands how badly she fucked up, and Morgana have mercy if they decide to get the other four involved.”
“Oh,” said Credence, looking the tiniest bit mollified. “I’m still mad,” he warned.
“So am I,” Graves said. “But I would much rather enjoy the knowledge that everyone who needs their ass kicked is going to get their just desserts and make love to you than stew over the fact that my team is terrifyingly invested in my love life.”
Credence grinned at him, all fey, savage delight and anticipation. “Good plan,” he said. “And thank you.”
“For what?” Graves asked. “Taking you on the worst date in the world?”
“For introducing me to Dorothy,” Credence said. “I like having a support network.”
Re: Just Desserts (2/2) - Nothing Shall Be Impossible Side Story
(Anonymous) 2017-02-13 11:44 am (UTC)(link)Re: Just Desserts (2/2) - Nothing Shall Be Impossible Side Story
(Anonymous) 2017-02-15 11:22 pm (UTC)(link)Tina's on his team too, but Hughes opted not to drag Tina into her crazy, on the grounds that a) Tina is kind of not subtle sometimes and b) getting the rookie in trouble tends to make Graves shout at you. A lot. And at impressive volume, too.
I'm glad you liked it! Thanks for reading. =)
Re: Just Desserts (2/2) - Nothing Shall Be Impossible Side Story
(Anonymous) 2017-02-14 07:15 am (UTC)(link)Love,
-AaaaanonYRT
Re: Just Desserts (2/2) - Nothing Shall Be Impossible Side Story
(Anonymous) 2017-02-15 11:28 pm (UTC)(link)Graves' paranoia is definitely dialed up to eleven, and is going to stay that way for a really long time. (Credence, at some point, is going to threaten him with a Healer-Legilimens, or possibly just dinner with Queenie Goldstein and Graves is totally going to deserve it.) But really, spying on the Head of Magical Security was a terrible idea and they reaaaaally should have known better.
Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 18b/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-02-09 04:52 am (UTC)(link)2. Credence made a joke!!!! I can't wait for him to fully embrace the stealth sarcasm, he's going to be *so good* at it.
3. I would happily trade a kidney for post-rescue domestic hijinks, you do charming & domestic so so well I'm just [heart eyes emoji x10]. I also have no big preference for sequel vs continuation (sorry I know that is super helpful >>)... maybe a halfway-sequel that's a collection of scenes?
(4. Is Norton dead for sure :( we haven't seen a body! TV rules say don't accept a death unless there is a body and that body is buried or cremated or otherwise irrevocably dead!)
(-T!A who wrote a way longer comment than intended oh no)
Re: FILL: "Nothing Shall Be Impossible" Part 18b/? - Grindelwald + Graves/Credence Breeding Program
(Anonymous) 2017-02-10 11:43 pm (UTC)(link)I super enjoy Credence learning to use his words and stand up for himself! Not as much as Graves is, though.
Halfway-sequel sounds like a good idea to me! We'll see what happens.
You know, up until you asked that, I was kind of convinced that Norton was very dead. But there's a certain poetic irony in Grindelwald telling Graves that Norton is dead just to fuck with him. Argh, decisions are hard.