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a_qTitle: First Move and Last Move; Or the True Account of the Fall of Sebastian Shaw
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Characters: Azazel, Emma Frost
Kink: exhibitionism, plushie kink
Word count: ~1400
Notes: Magneto may claim that he was the one who killed Shaw, but he wasn't the one who made him fall.
Magneto liked to claim that he was the man who caused the fall of Sebastian Shaw. I don't correct him, for he is right in a way, but there are facts and circumstances that Magneto doesn't know. Magneto was the one who took his life, but he wasn't the one who caused Shaw to fall. That title goes to a little stuffed rabbit, and the one, sorry instance, where Shaw saw the true thing at the wrong time.
But let me start from the beginning, or something close to it.
I had worked with Shaw for two months before I met his most important lieutenants. See, Shaw appreciated me for my swordsmanship and teleportation, but that didn't mean he trusted me from the get go. In truth, Shaw didn't trust anyone beyond his inner circle. So, when I finally met them both, I took that as a vote of confidence.
First, I met Janos. We were stationed at the sea. We looked each other over, then there was a quick show of powers on both sides, you know how these things usually go. A few missions together, and we had a solid, if not silent, friendship. I like Janos, we work well together.
Two weeks after that and we were in New York, staying at the penthouse suite of five-star hotel when Emma Frost walked in to my life. Shaw introduced her like she was the queen of England, and I couldn't turn my eyes away. I have stood at the edge of the deepest vortex of Hell, and never have I felt such pull of power and glory as I felt when I looked in the cold depths of Emma's eyes. And she stared right back at me, calm and unafraid.
Her eyes were such a draw, that it took me awhile to pay attention to the rest of her. Emma started to go through the diamond heist we were planning at the time, and both Shaw and Janos listened her intently. I, in other hand, found myself staring at her cleavage. A normal male reaction I suppose, but I wasn't staring at that particular spot because it held any sexual draw to me, but because there was a small stuffed rabbit stuck to her brassiere.
At first I had no idea what it was. I've been around for thousand years in this plane, so I do understand the concept of fashion, and at first, I thought maybe this was part of that.
You see, the rabbit was carefully arranged in her brassiere. The head rested against her, how would I put it...voluptuous curve, the front paw stretched around the left strap, one leg hanging leisurely over the mid-drift of the garment.
It seemed to me as if the rabbit had merely hopped on her chest, and laid down there, like a man sprawling on a luxurious sofa. Because this deliberate and careful positioning, I thought that the object might be a piece of jewelry, but then again, the rabbit lacked all the other indicators of jewelry. It didn't glitter, it held no clear value and it wasn't that aesthetic.
Emma kept talking and I kept staring at the little rabbit in her brassiere, and it felt like its black glass eyes stared right back at me. Then I considered other possibilities. There was no stench of magic around the rabbit and the plush fabric, pale color and little bow had no powerful markings. It was too small for a weapon, and too large for a mishap; I knew that a rabbit stuck in a brassiere wouldn't go unnoticed from a woman like Emma Frost.
Which led me to think that the rabbit was there, because Emma wanted it to be there. As this thought occurred to me, those deep blue eyes turned to my direction, and once again I felt the exhilarating vertigo, the need to let go and destroy myself in her name in glorious agony.
So there I was, smack middle of her radar, and her whole attention was suddenly on me. Then Emma just smiled at me, soft and kind, you know, the kind of smile a mother gives to her children before she drowns them into a bathtub. She stepped toward me, and for a moment her shape blurred in my eyes. A blink, and her shape sharpened again and she stood in front me but she also stood in front of Shaw and Janos. It was an impressive trick. Emma stared at me, while Shaw and Janos kept staring at the place they thought she stood talking to them.
She asked if her skill affected me at all, and I had to admit that it didn't seem to work on me. It was a mind trick, and I could see right through it. The same went with the rabbit, and she was not pleased at all that I could see the toy in her brassiere. I wanted to ask her why she had it, but she was suddenly very upset and threatened to rip my balls off with her diamond nails if I ever spoke one word about the rabbit to anyone.
I had no idea who she thought I would tell about the toy. I had no use for such knowledge, and I didn't understand why she thought I would care this way or that. And I admire her, and her beautifully colorful threats. So I agreed.
We found our balance, like I had found my balance with Janos. I kept my eyes off of her fake reality, and she helped me in ways I don't want to get into now. She is a good ally to have, that's all I'm going to say.
But just because I didn't speak about the rabbit, didn't mean that I stopped observing its presence. The rabbit was with her everywhere. Most often it was in her brassiere, but sometimes it was in a pocket, or purse or just flung over her arm like she didn't even realize it was there. I didn't look at the toy too long, for she always knew if I did so and then she would turn her cold eyes at me and smile that same smile, dripping death and sweetness. I don't think I've ever seen anything as beautiful as that smile in this world, in all the time I have spent here.
Yes, the death of Sebastian Shaw, I'm getting to it. The thing is, he managed to surprise Emma with the helmet. And let me tell you, surprising a telepath is the worst possible idea. They don't know how to deal with that, they just don't.
Shaw put that helmet on and the first thing he saw was that little rabbit tucked in Emma's cleavage, all floppy eared and beady eyed. And Shaw, being the lunatic that he was, plucked the rabbit from her chest, laughed, and threw the rabbit on the floor.
I wasn't there, I stared at the submarines control board at the time, so I can't tell you what they said to each other. But I know for certain that Shaw touched the rabbit and at that moment, he became the dead man walking.
Because I saw Emma's eyes when he walked out that room, and I smelled the fury rising from her skin as we pulled the ladder down for her. That climb was the only time I didn't see the rabbit with her. It was in the other room, thrown in the corner, a little lump of pale pink fur.
I slipped in later and picked it up, and I carried the rabbit to her, as gently as it was a true, breathing being. In the darkness, under the weight of the iceberg, she whispered me, telling me about her shame, her nakedness in Shaw's eyes, how that feeling could only be washed away with blood.
That night, the death of Sebastian Shaw burned through her mind, and fell into mine.
I couldn't give her Shaw's head, and that is my shame, but I could step aside and let it happen. I don't understand the real technique, but what Emma told me, she planted something inside the mind of other telepath, when they met in Russia. A suggestion, or incentive, something that slanted his moral compass a fraction at the right moment, so Erik could do what he did, claiming the victory to his name.
The victory wasn't his. It belonged to Emma and her little silent companion, whom she still holds close, but better hidden from all eyes but mine. I see it, because Emma allows me to see it.
I am in her inner circle, and I am the only one there.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Characters: Azazel, Emma Frost
Kink: exhibitionism, plushie kink
Word count: ~1400
Notes: Magneto may claim that he was the one who killed Shaw, but he wasn't the one who made him fall.
Magneto liked to claim that he was the man who caused the fall of Sebastian Shaw. I don't correct him, for he is right in a way, but there are facts and circumstances that Magneto doesn't know. Magneto was the one who took his life, but he wasn't the one who caused Shaw to fall. That title goes to a little stuffed rabbit, and the one, sorry instance, where Shaw saw the true thing at the wrong time.
But let me start from the beginning, or something close to it.
I had worked with Shaw for two months before I met his most important lieutenants. See, Shaw appreciated me for my swordsmanship and teleportation, but that didn't mean he trusted me from the get go. In truth, Shaw didn't trust anyone beyond his inner circle. So, when I finally met them both, I took that as a vote of confidence.
First, I met Janos. We were stationed at the sea. We looked each other over, then there was a quick show of powers on both sides, you know how these things usually go. A few missions together, and we had a solid, if not silent, friendship. I like Janos, we work well together.
Two weeks after that and we were in New York, staying at the penthouse suite of five-star hotel when Emma Frost walked in to my life. Shaw introduced her like she was the queen of England, and I couldn't turn my eyes away. I have stood at the edge of the deepest vortex of Hell, and never have I felt such pull of power and glory as I felt when I looked in the cold depths of Emma's eyes. And she stared right back at me, calm and unafraid.
Her eyes were such a draw, that it took me awhile to pay attention to the rest of her. Emma started to go through the diamond heist we were planning at the time, and both Shaw and Janos listened her intently. I, in other hand, found myself staring at her cleavage. A normal male reaction I suppose, but I wasn't staring at that particular spot because it held any sexual draw to me, but because there was a small stuffed rabbit stuck to her brassiere.
At first I had no idea what it was. I've been around for thousand years in this plane, so I do understand the concept of fashion, and at first, I thought maybe this was part of that.
You see, the rabbit was carefully arranged in her brassiere. The head rested against her, how would I put it...voluptuous curve, the front paw stretched around the left strap, one leg hanging leisurely over the mid-drift of the garment.
It seemed to me as if the rabbit had merely hopped on her chest, and laid down there, like a man sprawling on a luxurious sofa. Because this deliberate and careful positioning, I thought that the object might be a piece of jewelry, but then again, the rabbit lacked all the other indicators of jewelry. It didn't glitter, it held no clear value and it wasn't that aesthetic.
Emma kept talking and I kept staring at the little rabbit in her brassiere, and it felt like its black glass eyes stared right back at me. Then I considered other possibilities. There was no stench of magic around the rabbit and the plush fabric, pale color and little bow had no powerful markings. It was too small for a weapon, and too large for a mishap; I knew that a rabbit stuck in a brassiere wouldn't go unnoticed from a woman like Emma Frost.
Which led me to think that the rabbit was there, because Emma wanted it to be there. As this thought occurred to me, those deep blue eyes turned to my direction, and once again I felt the exhilarating vertigo, the need to let go and destroy myself in her name in glorious agony.
So there I was, smack middle of her radar, and her whole attention was suddenly on me. Then Emma just smiled at me, soft and kind, you know, the kind of smile a mother gives to her children before she drowns them into a bathtub. She stepped toward me, and for a moment her shape blurred in my eyes. A blink, and her shape sharpened again and she stood in front me but she also stood in front of Shaw and Janos. It was an impressive trick. Emma stared at me, while Shaw and Janos kept staring at the place they thought she stood talking to them.
She asked if her skill affected me at all, and I had to admit that it didn't seem to work on me. It was a mind trick, and I could see right through it. The same went with the rabbit, and she was not pleased at all that I could see the toy in her brassiere. I wanted to ask her why she had it, but she was suddenly very upset and threatened to rip my balls off with her diamond nails if I ever spoke one word about the rabbit to anyone.
I had no idea who she thought I would tell about the toy. I had no use for such knowledge, and I didn't understand why she thought I would care this way or that. And I admire her, and her beautifully colorful threats. So I agreed.
We found our balance, like I had found my balance with Janos. I kept my eyes off of her fake reality, and she helped me in ways I don't want to get into now. She is a good ally to have, that's all I'm going to say.
But just because I didn't speak about the rabbit, didn't mean that I stopped observing its presence. The rabbit was with her everywhere. Most often it was in her brassiere, but sometimes it was in a pocket, or purse or just flung over her arm like she didn't even realize it was there. I didn't look at the toy too long, for she always knew if I did so and then she would turn her cold eyes at me and smile that same smile, dripping death and sweetness. I don't think I've ever seen anything as beautiful as that smile in this world, in all the time I have spent here.
Yes, the death of Sebastian Shaw, I'm getting to it. The thing is, he managed to surprise Emma with the helmet. And let me tell you, surprising a telepath is the worst possible idea. They don't know how to deal with that, they just don't.
Shaw put that helmet on and the first thing he saw was that little rabbit tucked in Emma's cleavage, all floppy eared and beady eyed. And Shaw, being the lunatic that he was, plucked the rabbit from her chest, laughed, and threw the rabbit on the floor.
I wasn't there, I stared at the submarines control board at the time, so I can't tell you what they said to each other. But I know for certain that Shaw touched the rabbit and at that moment, he became the dead man walking.
Because I saw Emma's eyes when he walked out that room, and I smelled the fury rising from her skin as we pulled the ladder down for her. That climb was the only time I didn't see the rabbit with her. It was in the other room, thrown in the corner, a little lump of pale pink fur.
I slipped in later and picked it up, and I carried the rabbit to her, as gently as it was a true, breathing being. In the darkness, under the weight of the iceberg, she whispered me, telling me about her shame, her nakedness in Shaw's eyes, how that feeling could only be washed away with blood.
That night, the death of Sebastian Shaw burned through her mind, and fell into mine.
I couldn't give her Shaw's head, and that is my shame, but I could step aside and let it happen. I don't understand the real technique, but what Emma told me, she planted something inside the mind of other telepath, when they met in Russia. A suggestion, or incentive, something that slanted his moral compass a fraction at the right moment, so Erik could do what he did, claiming the victory to his name.
The victory wasn't his. It belonged to Emma and her little silent companion, whom she still holds close, but better hidden from all eyes but mine. I see it, because Emma allows me to see it.
I am in her inner circle, and I am the only one there.