#gravebone au

Gradence Titanic AU

Credence is the the young wealthy son about to head to America with his family and on board he meets the handsome Irish Artist Graves.

- He was a lighthouse keeper and I was a Prince from another world. We were never meant to meet, but our love saved our worlds. -

Gravebone Aquaman AU!

Finish the story with me, I am looking for a Percival Graves to write a lenghty, detailed roleplay!

'Lover, where do you live? In the skies, in the clouds, in the ocean? I learned a lesson 'bout bad ideas, we're really out in the middle of it now' 

The Gravebone/Gradence Tidelands AU

Credence Barebone in place of Calliope McTeer, who spent 10 years behind bars and comes home to sleepy Orphelin Bay to find out he's a Tidelander- half-human, half-siren.

Percival Graves in place of Dylan Sauge, justice bringer and loyal protector of the Tidelander queen, yet who can't seem to stay away from infamous youngest McTeer.

~~~~~~~

[pretty sure links are back and working so we’re all back to normal *phew* though the tags still hate them]

Pussycat, Pussycat

Rating: Explicit Chapter: 7 of 8 (c. 30k words in total) Tags: Catboys/Human Hybrids, AU - no Grindelwald or Mary Lou, Master/pet, Humour, Graves Is Honestly So Fucked, Happy!Credence, Porn With Plot, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love

Fic Summary: Three months ago, Percival Graves was surprised to receive delivery of one (1) pet catboy after winning him in a raffle. Now Credence has decided Percival is his Owner, leaving Percival no option but to play along and without a clue what he should do next. All he knows is Credence has nowhere else to go. And also that he has the biggest dick Percival’s ever seen…

Chapter Summary: Back home again and Percival has more than one confession to make to Credence…

*

They took another taxi home.

Credence had grumbled about having to dress again--a rebellion which was a sure sign he was overtired--so Percival allowed him to take off his hat and coat off in the cab. A certain devil-may-care attitude had befallen his own self--probably a sign that Percival was overtired too. But what did it matter what the taxi driver thought? Who cared if they saw Credence’s ears or tail and realised what he was? Or what Percival was?

He was an Owner, that’s what he was.

Percival spent a little time practicing that in his mind. I am an Owner. This is my pet, Credence. Yes, he is beautiful, isn’t he? Touch him and I’ll snap your spine in two. That sort of thing. It was surprisingly satisfying and he found he was feeling quite good about himself.

Credence, however, was restless. It was dark in the back of the cab and the lights outside blurred past as they moved with unlikely speed through the streets. Percival got flashes of his face--he was drooping with tiredness but too distracted by the busyness outside to settle.

Percival reached for his hand and squeezed it. Credence turned to him and tugged at the neck of his sweater.

“Can I take these off too?” he asked.

“Wait until we get home,” Percival said.

Credence let go of the sweater and blinked owlishly around the cab. Percival saw the driver catch a glimpse of him in the mirror. He stared only for a second before he turned back to the wheel.

“Can I sit here?” Credence asked, pointing at Percival’s lap.

Usually, Percival would’ve said no. But tonight was different. Tonight he felt different, about Credence and about himself as well.

And Credence was in dire need of a nap.

“Yes, okay,” he said, and lifted his arm to admit him.

There wasn’t a lot of space on the backseat and, after some fidgeting around, Credence decided the best thing to do was to curl up with his back to the front seats and lay his head on Percival’s thigh. Percival’s hand went automatically to the back of his neck; he slowly massaged the soothing spot there, just under his collar. It didn’t take long for Credence to relax into something like sleep.

“Hey you back there!” the driver piped up. His face in the mirror was red, his hands gesturing angrily. “No funny business in my cab!”

Inside, mild irritation at the man’s stupidity warred with protectiveness. Percival glared fiercely and leaned closer to the driver.

“He’s sleeping,” he said in a harsh whisper. “What’s funny about that? Just keep your voice down and your eyes on the road. You’d better not wake him--especially if you want a tip.”

The driver huffed, cast a suspicious glance at Credence’s still form, but didn’t make another peep. Not even to say thank you at the end of the ride, when Percival handed him a whole dragot and told him to keep the change. 

read chapter on ao3 | read from the beginning

Fic is complete and will update every Sunday.

Huge thanks to @pangaeastarseed and @soz for letting me play in their ‘verse, which began life with @pangaeastarseed ‘s magnificent NSFW art(available in a wonderful art book here) and the fic “…Kitten” written by them both, which this fic is inspired by/a remix of.

AND ALSO featuring artwork by @theseavoices - cute kitty Credence animation here and NSFW illustration here XD

Credence doesn’t dare let go of him again. Even though he’s burning with fever and his skin is clammy with sweat, Credence still wants to run his hands over the black feathers inked into the other boy’s back. He wants to touch every inch of him, map every mole and freckle.

Credence pulls Percival back against his chest so he can lean against him, while Credence unscrews the taps. Percival tips his head back over Credence’s shoulder and looks into his face.

“You’re nice,” he says and closes his eyes. “But you’re strange. How can you want me when I look like something that’s died but doesn’t know it yet?”

Credence almost drops him. “W-what?”

“I can always tell,” he says tiredly. “I don’t mind. I’m used to it, but I’m usually not this disgusting. Did you like the other… the other one? Is that it?”

Credence bites the inside of his cheek as he wets the towel and rings it out. When he glances at Percival, he has one eye open and is studying him with it knowingly.

“Oh,” he says. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Don’t get mad at me. It isn’t my fault.”

“What isn’t your fault?"

“Whatever you’re mad about." He pushes Credence away from him and stumbles forward catching himself on the sink. He bends at the waist, doubles himself over so he can dunk his head directly into the basin.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a bath?” Credence says. He places the wet towel on Percival’s back and starts to wipe away the sweat and grime.

Percival pulls his head out of the basin splashing water on the floor. “Might pass out and drown in it,” he says. He looks up into the mirror. “Ugh.”

“I could watch you - not like that,” he quickly adds as Percival raises an eyebrow. He turns to look at Credence over his shoulder through dripping wet hair. “I mean I could make sure you don’t fall or drown or -”

here is a story for @emthrys and @angst-wizard, as well as for all of you who enjoy period au and piano playing. fluff, love confessions and regency era are waiting for you ahead. best read with this beautiful nocturne in the background

also on AO3

Young Credence Barebone is about to begin undressing for sleep when he hears it. A sweet gentle sound of a piano forte. It’s immensely soft, and although he can only hear the forte of the piece, he knows that if he were to go downstairs and investigate, music will sound as sweet as he imagines with all its dolce and leggiero.

Unable to resist, young Barebone leaves his room and follows the sound of the instrument.

The estate is vast and in the few days he’s been staying there by Mr. and Mrs. Kowalski’s invitation, he still can’t find his way around easily. There are bedrooms, and walkway halls, and studies, and a spacious library with endless shelves of books. All the rooms are of an exquisite taste in decoration, comfortable and appealing. Yet no piano forte is to be found in them, nor any mysterious musician with fingers that run the keys with particular delicacy and skill.

As Credence walks through the halls, he contemplates on who the musician might be. The two sisters, Mrs. Kowalski and Miss Goldstein are accomplished talented ladies who are most certainly skilled in the matters of music. But it is a widespread knowledge that Miss Goldstein prefers a harp while Mrs. Kowalski sings.

Mr. Kowalski possesses no music talent, nor does his close friend Mr. Scamander. It leaves out a solemn and reserved Mr. Graves who Credence simply can’t imagine being a pianist. He has never expressed passion and has always been a calm man of a formal tone, almost strict. And much to Credence’s dismay it is a set of these inexpressive qualities which drew his attention towards the man in the first place. Not only has he expressed genuine, though taciturn, concern for his well-being during their brief encounters, not only has he graced Credence with a dance at the assembly but a month ago, he has become an object of Credence’s infatuation ever since.

Every following meeting is a step towards the inevitable.

AU where Credence wants to go camping after the events of the movie, but Graves is not very enthusiastic about it.