Alan Rickman Character One Shots

The Brand (🕵️‍♂️ NSFW)

Warning!!! Descriptions of strong violence!

You looked at your naked body in the mirror, staring at the many scars that laid over your body. Your eyes drifted to the brand that was burned into your skin, five years ago. You touched the mark hesitantly and traced the initial.

It was an M. That was something so simple but also very complex. It was right over the sweet spot that was under your collarbone.

You heard the front door open and then slam. You quickly put your hair up and stood at the bathroom door, leaning on the doorframe.

Michel stormed into the bedroom and stopped when he looked at you. "Evening Chéri." His eyes slowly dragged along your body and he placed his jacket on the bed.

You glanced to the clock and then back at him, "It's pretty late..."

Michel walked to the record player and put on Once Upon A Dream. "Tell me. How long have you been waiting on me?"

You tilted your head and softly caressed your stomach. Michel walked over to you and grabbed your hip, waltzing across the house with you. "Too long." You whispered.

Gandering into his hazel eyes. Michel smirked, "Just as I like you..." he kissed you softly and trailed down your neck, going a bit fast. You ran your hands through his brown hair and removed his glasses. Once Michel's lips connected with the brand you were taken back.

~Five Years Ago~

Your chest heaved as you tried to seem as calm as possible. A black tie was wrapped around your head, covering your eyes.

You felt a cold hand travel up your neck and grip your chin, it roughly turned you to face the right. The hands were big in size, it was almost like he'd dipped them in ice water.

"You're attracted to me." You said boldly.

There was a slight breath hitch, the hand quickly left your face and there was no clicking from shoes. The man didn't move, you could feel his stare. You heard a light chuckle and the shoes walk away.

The only reason you'd come to your conclusion was because you were paying close attention to the man's body language. You were being held hostage and interrogated. The man assumed you were bending your patients minds. Like you would try and harm children in such a way.

They needed to make their own personal opinions, form their own way of life.

You just wanted to ball up and cry, but you couldn't, you couldn't let him know that he'd won.

"I don't know what you mean." He responded in the deafening silence.

"The room is quiet enough. I can hear your breath, feel your heart beat in your hand if I concentrate enough. Your heart beat and breath both speed when you're around me. I make you nervous and you try your best to hide it." You guessed where he was standing and turned your head. You heard a light step back, you had him.

"I'm not wrong. I'm a psychiatrist god dammit." You spat.

"You're a criminal." He walked to you closely and you could feel his breath and the heat exchange from your faces.

You tilted your chin up slightly, your cheek brushing against his chin, you knew where he was now. "You have no evidence... you know you've lost... you've all lost. I won't back down because I don't deserve this."

The man grabbed your neck and pushed you down, the chair hit the ground and you gasped for air, the force almost knocking the air out of you. "You've been on trial for five days. Just admit it. You're guilty." He growled, he was getting fed up with you and it was evident.