http://aibashi.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] aibashi.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] planetarylight2017-01-27 04:10 pm

and i feel love is dead (i am loving angels instead) ; a credence barebone fanfiction

Title: and i feel love is dead (i am loving angels instead)
Pairings: none, credence centric
Rating: G
Words: 1633
Prompt 1/20: introduction
Summary: “What is an Angel?” Queenie asked sweetly, her eyes growing as she looked over the shoulder of his dark blue dress, smiling with curiosity.
Disclaimer: work of fiction, original story and universe belongs to the one and only jk rowling
no profit gained out of this
Comments: i haven't written in forever and i thought it would be a good idea to give it a chance, i love credence, he deserves all the good things in the world and i can't imagine someone sweeter than queenie goldstein to provide that.
i like to fantasize with these two in the next movies, with credence growing hair and queenie's cocoa ♡

this was inspired by queenie's “what is a niffler?” question and the fact she's the embodiment of an ANGEL ;3;

first part of a serie of 20 one-word drabbles: 1. introduction
just a small sneak peak into credence's new life living with the goldstein sisters and his relationship with queenie
and this is obviously NOT A DRABBLE because apparently i don't know how to stop myself fml

any comment and constructive criticism is highly welcomed ;3;
♡♡♡




Credence didn't really remember much, spirals of panic and anxiety, and a pain so deep he felt it in his bones, wanting to tear him a part. A lot of dark fog and fear, but nothing else until he found himself wrapped in a blanket in the middle of a rainy day surrounded by he assumed it was a group of witches and wizards. Because wizards and witches and magic, were more than real, probably one of the little things his mother had been right about; probably the only thing his Ma was right about.

Days had moved way too fast after that for Credence to register everything that had been going on, too many changes in such a little spare of time, too much new information, and too many questions that remain unanswered. Credence was too afraid of asking, anyway.

He guessed he got the basics of the whole story: He was an Obscurus, a friendly British guy with shy mannerisms explained to him one day. A parasitic force, something that often took over magical children when they were forced to repress their magic. Credence didn't understand, though, because he was no longer a child, and he hardly believed he was magical. But Newt (“Ah, please, call me Newt, Credence, no need to such formalities.”), simply smiled at him with his head tilted and shiny eyes, telling him that he was some kind of miracle. Credence blushed, but he didn't think his doubts were really answered after all.

Then, who he thought it was Mister Graves was, in fact, a dark wizard from Europe as Newt had explained to him as well, because magicians could use magic to pass as each other, he assumed. The real Mister Graves, the one who took Credence out to eat once, to a place which smelled like dark coffee and deep fried bacon; was still nowhere to be found, even if Miss Tina was looking for him with another group of Aurors. Credence wasn't sure what an Auror was but he had assumed they were something similar to the police. Miss Tina promised him they would find him, and Credence's thoughts often drifted to Mister Graves' safety.

Because it was easier to separate the bad memories and the fear Mister Graves gave to him, the coaxing and the bad words, when it wasn't the real Mister Graves. The real Mister Graves who still called him boy and came to check on him, who would give him cups of warm dark coffee to drink, and sneak candy bars into the battered pockets of his jacket, for Modesty and him to eat when Ma or Chastity weren't looking. This was the Mister Graves Credence thought about.

All of this left Credence in Miss Tina's apartment, in the company of his sister, Queenie. Because Miss Tina told him he was under their “temporary custody” until things cleared out. Credence didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but Miss Queenie explained him that he was just going to live with them for a while, that she took a few days off in her job (which wasn't that important because she only made cups of coffee, she explained to him with a giggle) and that their guest room was big enough for him for the time he needed.

It was easy to live with the two sisters, Miss Tina left early to her job, and that left Credence alone with Miss Queenie for the rest of the day until she returned, around supper. There were habits difficult to break for him, wicked schedules and unconscious reactions. He still woke up too early even if he had not to, like his body reminded him that the meetings on Wednesday were still at 6:15 and the Tuesdays at 7:45. Even if he didn't need to sleep on the floor any more, instead he was sleeping on a mattress so soft he didn't think he was worthy. He would flinch at the smallest of the unknown noises, and he wouldn't do things unless he was told to. It even took a few days to look into Miss Queenie's eyes, even if she was, by far, one of the selfless and kindest people Credence had encountered.

In fact, if the blonde wouldn't have introduced herself as Miss Tina's sister the first time they met, Credence wouldn't have believed they were related. It wasn't like Miss Tina wasn't nice, she was, she was the first one to care and to worry about Credence in a really long time. But there's something about Miss Queenie that was completely different.

She smiled like she had heard a hilarious joke the rest of the world had missed, and she always had a nice word to say, she always called him sweetie, or honey or sweetheart; in such an endearing way that Credence wondered if that was how mothers were supposed to call their children, and she always smelled sweet, like something Credence couldn't recognise because the church was a grey place, and the only distinctive smells he could vivid remember were the sour scent of his mother's perfume, mixed with her sweat, and the smell of his own blood.

She used magic for cooking, and Credence always looked around in pure astonishment when she saw her flicking her wand effortlessly, the ingredients of the food she was preparing floating around her in perfect harmony. Miss Queenie always looked happy, and pretty, but there was something in the way she looked when she made hot chocolate and pastries that Credence thought it wasn't magical, but godly and ethereal, she looked like an angel.

Like right then, when he was sitting down at their kitchen's table with a steaming cup of hot chocolate between his hands, looking up at her while she babbled about her sister and Newt, with flour, butter and sugar floating harmoniously all over her head, before landing into a bowl, mixing themselves together.

“What is an Angel?” Queenie asked sweetly, her eyes growing as she looked over the shoulder of his dark blue dress, smiling with curiosity. There was another thing that made Miss Queenie different from her sister, she always asked questions about what she didn't know, and she could read minds. Credence learned both of this things the very first day he had moved in.

Miss Queenie had promised not to peek into his mind too much, but she also said that she couldn't really help it, that he wasn't shielded and it was too easy to read his mind. When she said that, her usual glistening eyes got clouded with a hint of sadness and Credence wished he was a wizard too, so he was able to read her mind as well, and know the source of that sadness and what she was thinking about.

But right then, his eyes just widened, looking at her like she had discovered the worst of his secrets, and he felt exposed and shy, she was still looking at him expectantly, the food still being prepared behind them, unaware of Credence internal turmoil.

He didn't even know how to explain what an Angel was. Angels were associated with intelligence, pureness and beauty, but also with kindness and benevolence. They could be protectors and messengers. Ma forbid any kind of “distraction” to enter the church, and when Credence wasn't busy with services, pamphlets and beatings, anything else he could do was read the Bible and learn about other Christian knowledge.

In the images he had seen of Angels, they always had blonde curly hair and understanding smiles, they were helping others, and they had unmarred and fair skin. Queenie, looking at him with expectation shinning in her eyes and a dimple adorning her cheek, was the closest thing to an Angel that Credence had ever seen in his life.

He opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by the melodious sound of Queenie's giggles, who had turned around, and moved to sit down in front of him, cupping her own chin with both of her hands. “Oh, sweetie!” She exclaimed, like she was absolutely delighted by something and Credence just waited because he couldn't possibly imagine what it could be. Like that fact she was probably, surely, reading his mind again was forgotten for a minute.

“If those things are true, then you're definitely an Angel too!” She said, smiling faintly. “I know nothing about No-Maj's things!” She continued, even if Miss Queenie was always so curious about everything, and he tried to answer to all her questions, even if a lot of them were weird. “But you're so kind and nice, Credence, so now you're an Angel for me too.”

Credence was speechless at her words, looking up at her through his lashes, almost feeling his hair brushing the ends of his eyebrows. Now that his Ma didn't keep his hair short, it was starting to outgrow the bowl haircut. He really didn't know what to say, and he felt overwhelmed by a warm feeling that he didn't feel often. He wasn't definitely used to people being nice to him, but Angel was something he never expected to be called. All his Ma called him was wicked names and hurtful slurs, but Miss Queenie who was kind and nurturing, was calling him the nicest of the compliments instead.

She was silent for a few seconds too, and her eyes clouded with that hint of sadness for a fleeting moment, before she shook her head again. “Now, do you want another cocoa?” The blonde asked, getting up again, her short curls bouncing as she did so, in a cascade of shinning gold, and Credence nodded to the sound of her laugh.

It was Miss Queenie the one who was definitely an Angel.