Categories > Movies > X-Men: The Movie
A/N: So I know I should be focusing on updating my other half finished stories, but this idea has been eating away at me since I saw the sub scene in XMFC. It's a shame how few Erik/Shaw stories there are, there's a bunch of potential, twisted yes, but potential nonetheless. Honestly I was listening to the song Scared by Three Days Grace and it got me thinking about How You Remind Me by Nickelback (because that's the way my mind works XD) I still think Scared is an excellent song that captures the Erik/Shaw dynamic, I may have to write that later. Anyway I got this idea to write a fic that ended with the line Shaw has on the yacht when Erik first tries to kill him, I thought it was fitting, so I crafted the rest of the story around that one line.
Warning: let's just say there's a special place in Hell for writer's like me (this fic has got the works! Non-con, underage, slash, torture, self-hate, mental pain...Shaw he's a warning in himself)
Note: Translations at bottom of fic. Also, I do not speak German or French, so I used Google Translate…if there is anyone who does speak either language and they find something wrong with my translations please pm me so I can fix them, thanks!
Reviews = LOVE
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How You Remind Me
Eins.
Erik panics, the warning Herr Doktor gave echoes in his head. 'You don't move the coin pull the trigger, understand?'
Hands stretched out in front of him, Erik grunts as he strains to move the coin perched on Herr Doktor's desk. His fingers are trembling, filled with tension as he desperately calls out to the metal.
He can hear his mom behind him; calm as ever.
"Alles ist gut."
He doubles his effort to move the coin. Mama's life hangs in the balance and he can't let anything happen to her.
Zwei.
The gun cocks and Erik gasps pushing even harder on the coin.
He has to move the coin. He needs to move the coin. He can't move the coin.
His mother's voice is still there, a soothing background reminder. There's a slight waver but she is still firmly repeating "Alles ist gut."
Erik groans in frustration at the stubborn coin. He can feel his blood pulsing in his temples, his face burning red from overexertion, sweat dripping down his forehead, as his eyes glare at that gottverdammte coin.
Drei.
"Alles ist-"
The sound of the gun being fired is deafening. Erik's arms fall, heavy and useless, to his side as he lets out a shuddering breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
There's a thump behind him that he half registers as the sound of Mama smacking the ground, cold and lifeless, a bullet lodged in her skull just like Schmidt had promised.
He feels his hands tremble as he looks up to Schmidt, the bastard is smiling behind that desk, gun still poised in hand.
Erik feels something snap inside at the sight of that mocking smile. A scream rips itself from his throat and Erik sees red.
All the while Schmidt laughs excitedly exclaiming "wunderbar!"
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Hooks dig into Erik's cheeks, roughly pulling his mouth open to resemble a strained overly clownish smile. His jaw hurts from being held in place, but if he even tries to relax the hooks dig harder into the sensitive flesh, so he keeps his mouth opened doing his best to ignore how his cheek muscles begin to cramp.
He's lying across an operating table, held down by leather straps. The strap across his middle is pulled tight giving him little room to wiggle. His arms and legs are bound together insuring that he can't break free. The clasps binding his wrists to the table are far too tight; the tips of his fingers feel cold, tingling numbly from lack of blood.
Bright fluorescent lights shine directly in his eyes causing him to blink rapidly. He desperately wants to avert his gaze, but any movement of his head causes a sharp pain from the hooks pulling at his skin.
The whole room is white, blinding almost. The sharp smell of disinfectant assaults Erik's nose and he tries to push down the swell of fear that's begun rising from the pit of his stomach.
It should be comforting to be out of such squalid conditions and be somewhere clean for a change. It's not. The strong scent of disinfectant is a sharp reminder of the horrors that have occurred in the room, the acts that have been cleaned up and attempted to be masked with bleach and ammonia.
A door opens and Erik struggles against the straps. He doesn't want to be cleaned from existence. But he's special isn't he? Herr Doktor is always telling him how he's the future. He can't die here, can he?
Erik struggles shifting against the leather binding him as best he can.
"Jetzt, jetzt Erik; Machen Sie nicht diese härter als es sein muss."
Erik stills immediately at the sound of Herr Doktor's voice filling the room. He isn't going to die, not here.
"Das ist besser." And now Herr Doktor is standing over the table in Erik's line of sight.
Erik pales.
Herr Doktor is wearing an apron over white scrubs. In his hands he holds a metal clamp of some sort. He looks down at Erik with a mild look of curiosity marred by the creepy smile forming on his lips.
As Herr Doktor draws nearer Erik starts to struggle once more. The fear is back, stronger than ever, causing Erik to tremble as he tries shifting away.
Erik suddenly realizes with a sense of dread what Herr Doktor's smile means. He isn't special, least not in the way that he's safe. No, he's Herr Doktor's plaything, an experiment, his lab rat.
Herr Doktor is leaning over him now, tears sting Erik's eyes and he squeezes them shut. He's vaguely aware of the metal clamp breeching his mouth before he blacks out.
He wishes Herr Doktor had actually killed him.
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The room is cold and void of metal. It's dark and damp, the only light coming from the barred window in the top left corner of the wall opposite the wooden door leading into this godforsaken room.
There's a bed along one wall and Erik guesses he should feel lucky to have it, but he still refuses to use it. It was given to him by Herr Doktor, and by now Erik has come to realize that nothing Herr Doktor does comes without a price, so he refuses the bed and sticks to the ground.
Erik sits in the corner furthest from the door, his eyes look over the scrap of paper Herr Doktor had presented him with earlier.
'Rein ne chétives terre cultivar que I'homme, De toutes les choses de repiration et mouvement.'
The words are foreign, abstract, but Erik knows in his gut that they are somehow important. Herr Doktor had given him the paper for a reason, for what he didn't know, but he's certain he'll find out soon enough.
'Rein ne chétives terre cultivar que I'homme'
Erik's left hand settles on the outside of one of his pant pockets, lightly stroking the rough fabric. He can feel the weight of the coin lying inside, pressed against his thigh.
It feels heavy, not in a sense of weight, but presence. He wants to throw the coin across the room, rid himself of guilt, but he doesn't deserve that easy of a way out. It burns against his skin, a searing feeling of shame and failure pressed flush against his thigh, but he refuses to remove the coin.
The pain is nice, it's a sharp reminder of what he failed to do, what he couldn't stop.
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His knees are red from kneeling atop carpet. The muscles in his thighs are protesting vehemently from being in a crouching position for so long. Fingers twitching he fists the material of Herr Doktor's pants.
Erik groans at the feel of his hair being yanked, and regrets the action immediately when he has to fight back the need to gag as Herr Doktor bucks into his mouth.
Erik's only half aware of Herr Doktor's mumbling comments on his mouth; he's more focused on trying not to choke when Herr Doktor thrusts in roughly once more.
The hand in his hair tightens and Herr Doktor thrusts become erratic. He hears a sputtering gasp and then a stream of white is flowing past his lips.
He starts to cough, wants nothing more than to spit out Herr Doktor's seed, but the hand in his hair is holding him in place so he can either swallow or choke.
Against his better judgment he swallows. He's weak.
Herr Doktor pulls out and finally relinquishes his hold on Erik's hair. Dragging a hand across Erik's cheek he wipes away a streak of cum from the boy's lips.
Thumb running along Erik's bottom lip Herr Doktor utters "perfekt."
Erik suppresses the urge to shudder; he knows Herr Doktor will only feed off that action. Instead he closes his eyes and thinks of Mama.
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The pain is almost too much for Erik; he feels like he's being ripped in two.
He bites his bottom lip as tears spring to his eyes. He refuses to sob; he won't show that much weakness.
The pain is a dull throb now, but the tears are running down his cheeks already. Hot tracks of tears spilling down silently, the only outward evidence that he's nearly broken.
Turning his head to the side Erik tries to escape the unwavering gaze of Herr Doktor.
A hand firmly grips his chin turning his head back into place.
"Nein, Sie schauen mich an."
Erik looks up at Herr Doktor, eyes wide unsure of what to say.
The nails dig into his cheek and Herr Doktor gruffly asks "verstanden?"
Erik nods his head yes furiously.
"Gut."
Herr Doktor's hand leaves Erik's jaw only to snake between them. Bracing himself with his left hand he slides his right hand downward, wrapping his fingers around Erik. Tightening his grip he gave an experimental tug delighting in the sound of Erik's breath hitching from underneath him.
Erik's bit his bottom lip harder trying to suppress a moan at the feel of Herr Doktor gripping his sensitive cock.
He hated himself in that moment. Hated how his body reacted to Herr Doktor's touch. Hated how he wanted this to continue. Hated how his hips were eagerly bucking into Herr Doktor's hand on their own accord.
A smug smile graces over Herr Doktor's lips "gefällt Ihnen diese, nicht wahr," he asks tauntingly. He knows the answer but he revels in hearing Erik admit it aloud.
Erik remains quiet, but when Herr Doktor thrust in particularly forcefully he can't stop the shuddering gasp that leaves his mouth.
The smile only grows wider and Erik hates himself even more right then.
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Erik sits in a hotel room clad in only a robe. His gaze is locked on the wall across from the bed; a picture of Herr Doktor stares back at him.
It's been 16 years since he's last seen Herr Doktor. The bastard had the sense to flee before the Americans came to liberate the internment camps.
The coin weaves through Erik's fingers. He used to hat this coin; viewed it as a failure. Now he sees it as his ticket to revenge.
This coin had started everything, and now it was going to finish the job.
With a flick of his wrist he sends the coin across the room towards the picture of Herr Doktor. The coin embeds in the wall, right in line with Herr Doktor's forehead.
'All in due time.'
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Erik is crouching in the shadows of the Caspartina. He can hear talking from around the corner. Herr Doktor's voice is prominent, but he's not alone. There are two others in the mix, one decidedly female and the other male.
Drawing out a knife Erik grips the handle tightly letting out a breath as he prepares to emerge from the shadows.
In a few moments he will have Herr Doktor and finally, his revenge.
Stalking out from the shadows knife in hand Erik makes his appearance known.
"Herr Doktor."
The group of people jumps to their feet immediately, shocked by his arrival. A blonde girl dressed in all white stands to the left, on the right is a Spanish man in a dapper grey suit, and in the center, Herr Doktor.
He smiles catching sight of Erik "ah, kleine Erik Lensherr." He's beaming, completely oblivious to what awaits him.
The blonde's eyes narrow and she replies evenly "he's here to kill you."
'How could she possibly know that?'
Erik doesn't have much time to dwell on how this woman knows what he's here for when suddenly an intense pain fills his mind. A choked sound of pain emanates from Erik's lips as he drops the knife grabbing for his head with both hands before falling to his knees. Hands' clutching at his temples, utterly useless, Erik is left to groan in agony as the pain intensifies.
It's like a splitting headache only worse; his mind feels as if it might actually fracture. Eyes bleary Erik can only dig his fingers into his skull, trying to claw at sanity, while he's assaulted with images.
Memories he realizes. He sees Herr Doktor, grinning down at him maniacally, can see Mama, screaming as she's ripped away from him, can see that dreaded metal clamp, as it looms closer to his face, and all the while Edith Piaf's voice echoes in his mind eerily singing La Vie En Rose.
Erik looks up at Herr Doktor through glassed eyes grimacing at the pain.
Herr Doktor looks surprised at the sudden turn of events. He shakes his head looking down at Erik. "Welche Art der Begrüßung ist dass," he pauses to smile at Erik's state before continuing "nach all den Jahren?"
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Translations:
1. One
2. All is good
3. Two
4. Three
5. Goddamn
6. Wonderful
7. Now, now Erik; don't make this harder than it has to be
8. That's better
9. (French) Nothing feebler does Earth nurture than man, of all things breathing and moving (Homer's Iliad)
10. Nothing feebler does Earth nurture than man
11. Perfect
12. No, you will look at me
13. Understood?
14. Good
15. You like this don't you?
16. Ah Little Erik Lensherr
17. What kind of greeting is that
18. After all these years?
Warning: let's just say there's a special place in Hell for writer's like me (this fic has got the works! Non-con, underage, slash, torture, self-hate, mental pain...Shaw he's a warning in himself)
Note: Translations at bottom of fic. Also, I do not speak German or French, so I used Google Translate…if there is anyone who does speak either language and they find something wrong with my translations please pm me so I can fix them, thanks!
Reviews = LOVE
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How You Remind Me
Eins.
Erik panics, the warning Herr Doktor gave echoes in his head. 'You don't move the coin pull the trigger, understand?'
Hands stretched out in front of him, Erik grunts as he strains to move the coin perched on Herr Doktor's desk. His fingers are trembling, filled with tension as he desperately calls out to the metal.
He can hear his mom behind him; calm as ever.
"Alles ist gut."
He doubles his effort to move the coin. Mama's life hangs in the balance and he can't let anything happen to her.
Zwei.
The gun cocks and Erik gasps pushing even harder on the coin.
He has to move the coin. He needs to move the coin. He can't move the coin.
His mother's voice is still there, a soothing background reminder. There's a slight waver but she is still firmly repeating "Alles ist gut."
Erik groans in frustration at the stubborn coin. He can feel his blood pulsing in his temples, his face burning red from overexertion, sweat dripping down his forehead, as his eyes glare at that gottverdammte coin.
Drei.
"Alles ist-"
The sound of the gun being fired is deafening. Erik's arms fall, heavy and useless, to his side as he lets out a shuddering breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
There's a thump behind him that he half registers as the sound of Mama smacking the ground, cold and lifeless, a bullet lodged in her skull just like Schmidt had promised.
He feels his hands tremble as he looks up to Schmidt, the bastard is smiling behind that desk, gun still poised in hand.
Erik feels something snap inside at the sight of that mocking smile. A scream rips itself from his throat and Erik sees red.
All the while Schmidt laughs excitedly exclaiming "wunderbar!"
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Hooks dig into Erik's cheeks, roughly pulling his mouth open to resemble a strained overly clownish smile. His jaw hurts from being held in place, but if he even tries to relax the hooks dig harder into the sensitive flesh, so he keeps his mouth opened doing his best to ignore how his cheek muscles begin to cramp.
He's lying across an operating table, held down by leather straps. The strap across his middle is pulled tight giving him little room to wiggle. His arms and legs are bound together insuring that he can't break free. The clasps binding his wrists to the table are far too tight; the tips of his fingers feel cold, tingling numbly from lack of blood.
Bright fluorescent lights shine directly in his eyes causing him to blink rapidly. He desperately wants to avert his gaze, but any movement of his head causes a sharp pain from the hooks pulling at his skin.
The whole room is white, blinding almost. The sharp smell of disinfectant assaults Erik's nose and he tries to push down the swell of fear that's begun rising from the pit of his stomach.
It should be comforting to be out of such squalid conditions and be somewhere clean for a change. It's not. The strong scent of disinfectant is a sharp reminder of the horrors that have occurred in the room, the acts that have been cleaned up and attempted to be masked with bleach and ammonia.
A door opens and Erik struggles against the straps. He doesn't want to be cleaned from existence. But he's special isn't he? Herr Doktor is always telling him how he's the future. He can't die here, can he?
Erik struggles shifting against the leather binding him as best he can.
"Jetzt, jetzt Erik; Machen Sie nicht diese härter als es sein muss."
Erik stills immediately at the sound of Herr Doktor's voice filling the room. He isn't going to die, not here.
"Das ist besser." And now Herr Doktor is standing over the table in Erik's line of sight.
Erik pales.
Herr Doktor is wearing an apron over white scrubs. In his hands he holds a metal clamp of some sort. He looks down at Erik with a mild look of curiosity marred by the creepy smile forming on his lips.
As Herr Doktor draws nearer Erik starts to struggle once more. The fear is back, stronger than ever, causing Erik to tremble as he tries shifting away.
Erik suddenly realizes with a sense of dread what Herr Doktor's smile means. He isn't special, least not in the way that he's safe. No, he's Herr Doktor's plaything, an experiment, his lab rat.
Herr Doktor is leaning over him now, tears sting Erik's eyes and he squeezes them shut. He's vaguely aware of the metal clamp breeching his mouth before he blacks out.
He wishes Herr Doktor had actually killed him.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The room is cold and void of metal. It's dark and damp, the only light coming from the barred window in the top left corner of the wall opposite the wooden door leading into this godforsaken room.
There's a bed along one wall and Erik guesses he should feel lucky to have it, but he still refuses to use it. It was given to him by Herr Doktor, and by now Erik has come to realize that nothing Herr Doktor does comes without a price, so he refuses the bed and sticks to the ground.
Erik sits in the corner furthest from the door, his eyes look over the scrap of paper Herr Doktor had presented him with earlier.
'Rein ne chétives terre cultivar que I'homme, De toutes les choses de repiration et mouvement.'
The words are foreign, abstract, but Erik knows in his gut that they are somehow important. Herr Doktor had given him the paper for a reason, for what he didn't know, but he's certain he'll find out soon enough.
'Rein ne chétives terre cultivar que I'homme'
Erik's left hand settles on the outside of one of his pant pockets, lightly stroking the rough fabric. He can feel the weight of the coin lying inside, pressed against his thigh.
It feels heavy, not in a sense of weight, but presence. He wants to throw the coin across the room, rid himself of guilt, but he doesn't deserve that easy of a way out. It burns against his skin, a searing feeling of shame and failure pressed flush against his thigh, but he refuses to remove the coin.
The pain is nice, it's a sharp reminder of what he failed to do, what he couldn't stop.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His knees are red from kneeling atop carpet. The muscles in his thighs are protesting vehemently from being in a crouching position for so long. Fingers twitching he fists the material of Herr Doktor's pants.
Erik groans at the feel of his hair being yanked, and regrets the action immediately when he has to fight back the need to gag as Herr Doktor bucks into his mouth.
Erik's only half aware of Herr Doktor's mumbling comments on his mouth; he's more focused on trying not to choke when Herr Doktor thrusts in roughly once more.
The hand in his hair tightens and Herr Doktor thrusts become erratic. He hears a sputtering gasp and then a stream of white is flowing past his lips.
He starts to cough, wants nothing more than to spit out Herr Doktor's seed, but the hand in his hair is holding him in place so he can either swallow or choke.
Against his better judgment he swallows. He's weak.
Herr Doktor pulls out and finally relinquishes his hold on Erik's hair. Dragging a hand across Erik's cheek he wipes away a streak of cum from the boy's lips.
Thumb running along Erik's bottom lip Herr Doktor utters "perfekt."
Erik suppresses the urge to shudder; he knows Herr Doktor will only feed off that action. Instead he closes his eyes and thinks of Mama.
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The pain is almost too much for Erik; he feels like he's being ripped in two.
He bites his bottom lip as tears spring to his eyes. He refuses to sob; he won't show that much weakness.
The pain is a dull throb now, but the tears are running down his cheeks already. Hot tracks of tears spilling down silently, the only outward evidence that he's nearly broken.
Turning his head to the side Erik tries to escape the unwavering gaze of Herr Doktor.
A hand firmly grips his chin turning his head back into place.
"Nein, Sie schauen mich an."
Erik looks up at Herr Doktor, eyes wide unsure of what to say.
The nails dig into his cheek and Herr Doktor gruffly asks "verstanden?"
Erik nods his head yes furiously.
"Gut."
Herr Doktor's hand leaves Erik's jaw only to snake between them. Bracing himself with his left hand he slides his right hand downward, wrapping his fingers around Erik. Tightening his grip he gave an experimental tug delighting in the sound of Erik's breath hitching from underneath him.
Erik's bit his bottom lip harder trying to suppress a moan at the feel of Herr Doktor gripping his sensitive cock.
He hated himself in that moment. Hated how his body reacted to Herr Doktor's touch. Hated how he wanted this to continue. Hated how his hips were eagerly bucking into Herr Doktor's hand on their own accord.
A smug smile graces over Herr Doktor's lips "gefällt Ihnen diese, nicht wahr," he asks tauntingly. He knows the answer but he revels in hearing Erik admit it aloud.
Erik remains quiet, but when Herr Doktor thrust in particularly forcefully he can't stop the shuddering gasp that leaves his mouth.
The smile only grows wider and Erik hates himself even more right then.
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Erik sits in a hotel room clad in only a robe. His gaze is locked on the wall across from the bed; a picture of Herr Doktor stares back at him.
It's been 16 years since he's last seen Herr Doktor. The bastard had the sense to flee before the Americans came to liberate the internment camps.
The coin weaves through Erik's fingers. He used to hat this coin; viewed it as a failure. Now he sees it as his ticket to revenge.
This coin had started everything, and now it was going to finish the job.
With a flick of his wrist he sends the coin across the room towards the picture of Herr Doktor. The coin embeds in the wall, right in line with Herr Doktor's forehead.
'All in due time.'
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Erik is crouching in the shadows of the Caspartina. He can hear talking from around the corner. Herr Doktor's voice is prominent, but he's not alone. There are two others in the mix, one decidedly female and the other male.
Drawing out a knife Erik grips the handle tightly letting out a breath as he prepares to emerge from the shadows.
In a few moments he will have Herr Doktor and finally, his revenge.
Stalking out from the shadows knife in hand Erik makes his appearance known.
"Herr Doktor."
The group of people jumps to their feet immediately, shocked by his arrival. A blonde girl dressed in all white stands to the left, on the right is a Spanish man in a dapper grey suit, and in the center, Herr Doktor.
He smiles catching sight of Erik "ah, kleine Erik Lensherr." He's beaming, completely oblivious to what awaits him.
The blonde's eyes narrow and she replies evenly "he's here to kill you."
'How could she possibly know that?'
Erik doesn't have much time to dwell on how this woman knows what he's here for when suddenly an intense pain fills his mind. A choked sound of pain emanates from Erik's lips as he drops the knife grabbing for his head with both hands before falling to his knees. Hands' clutching at his temples, utterly useless, Erik is left to groan in agony as the pain intensifies.
It's like a splitting headache only worse; his mind feels as if it might actually fracture. Eyes bleary Erik can only dig his fingers into his skull, trying to claw at sanity, while he's assaulted with images.
Memories he realizes. He sees Herr Doktor, grinning down at him maniacally, can see Mama, screaming as she's ripped away from him, can see that dreaded metal clamp, as it looms closer to his face, and all the while Edith Piaf's voice echoes in his mind eerily singing La Vie En Rose.
Erik looks up at Herr Doktor through glassed eyes grimacing at the pain.
Herr Doktor looks surprised at the sudden turn of events. He shakes his head looking down at Erik. "Welche Art der Begrüßung ist dass," he pauses to smile at Erik's state before continuing "nach all den Jahren?"
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Translations:
1. One
2. All is good
3. Two
4. Three
5. Goddamn
6. Wonderful
7. Now, now Erik; don't make this harder than it has to be
8. That's better
9. (French) Nothing feebler does Earth nurture than man, of all things breathing and moving (Homer's Iliad)
10. Nothing feebler does Earth nurture than man
11. Perfect
12. No, you will look at me
13. Understood?
14. Good
15. You like this don't you?
16. Ah Little Erik Lensherr
17. What kind of greeting is that
18. After all these years?
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