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zillanewt · 6 years

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Merc With A Trashmouth

Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four

summary: Despite growing up in Derry together, the two boys went down two very different paths. Richie is the world’s most notorious mercenary and assassin, while Eddie is none other than New York’s sweetheart - the literal poster boy for bringing justice to baddies without unaliving them. This is the self-indulgent spideypool!reddie au that literally nobody asked for.

pairing: reddie

words: 2.3K

warnings: general lewdness, non-graphic violence, the loss of a limb.

A/N: holy shit so i didnt expect this to get such a positive response like it did???? im just going to say that since this is a spideypool au, im literally not going to skimp out on any of the deadpool stuff, including the scarring and the angst. oh yeah and i was worried about this being too out of character and just becoming literally spiderman and deadpool, rather than richie and eddie, but since their dynamic is the exact same, i think it blends quite nicely. the dialog between them is the easiest thing to write in this fic. Please message me if you would like to be added to the taglist!

For some stupid fucking reason, Richie must’ve expected finding Eddie to be a lot easier than it actually was, which was completely unrealistic because there must be at least two million people in Queens alone. It wasn’t like the file actually helped any. There was an address scribbled inside it, but it had to be an old one because when Richie went, all he found was a delightful old Thai lady. Much to his dismay, Eddie could be literally anywhere in New York, and Richie had no clue where to start.

All he really wanted to do was crawl back to his shitty bar in Canada and pretend he had never even heard Eddie’s name in first place.

Seriously, he’s been around to literally every pharmacy and Starbucks (he knows that boy must drink pumpkin spice lattes) in Queens, and there are still no leads, just dirty looks due to the suit. At least, he left his guns in the hotel room. He learned on a job a couple years ago that NYPD does not fucking play around.

Every single day he’s still there, the lack of action causes cells in Richie’s brain to shrivel, and he just wants to fucking scream, because god dammit..he needs to shoot something. He has been in New York for a total of 5 days, and that’s a lot of days to go without unaliving somebody. All he needs to do is find Eddie, make sure nobody’s done anything stupid, and go the fuck back home, so he can continue playing with Bea and Arthur.

Perhaps, he wasn’t meant to find Eddie, in all honesty. The guy is probably married with a kid or two, doing god knows what American dream job. Richie can tell from personal experience that when Derry memories flood back into your life, it’s like watching a grotesque monster infecting and suffocating anything good you currently have. Derry kids so rarely had the chance of happiness, so who was Richie to waltz into Eddie and rub his excess Derry angst all over Eddie’s perfect life.

But, would any of the Losers grant Richie the same kindness if the roles were reversed and he lived a happy life?

Yes....actually.

Damn his friends for being thoughtful and ethical!

Rationally, he should just give up his search and look for the nearest seedy titty bar to crawl into, while he still has his dignity and Eddie has his.

But, Richie always kinda sucked at being rational.

Most people had their heads to be reasonable over their hearts and dicks, but Richie’s head was just as irrational as the latter two.

Richie giggled to himself on a full subway car, earning the glare of a very scary looking Puerto Rican woman. “You said head,” he mumbled to himself, still immaturely sputtering out laughs.

Like the dumbass he was, Richie decided the best course of action would be to track Spider-Man rather than Eddie. Spider-Man was broadcasted all the time. At any given time, there was a camera ready to film that cute little bubble butt every time a baddie caused some big explosion or killed some people.

If Eddie was Spider-Man, then Richie just had to find Spidey and let him know there’s a hit out on his secret identity. Then, he could finally get the fuck out of New York City!

***********

Six days later, Richie began to realize his plan wasn’t as genius as he expected it to be. Mass destruction doesn’t just happen every day in New York, surprisingly. That wasn’t to say Spider-Man wasn’t active on the streets every day. It just wasn’t exactly news. Crime happens. Spider-Man stops it. Yawn.

He supposes he’d just have to find out what route Spider-Man takes his patrol on because there was no way he was blowing anything up to attract the guy. The feds were already on his ass because he “assassinated over 150 American citizens.” Pffft. Like he didn’t kill anybody who didn’t deserve it. His victims were always drug lords, pedophiles, and other scumbag criminals because he still had a moral code (thank you very much!).

It shouldn’t take this fucking long to find one guy. He’s an assassin for fuck's sake!

He began to question locals about Spider-Man sightings, though most of them just talked about the footage they’ve seen on the news.

It wasn’t until he came across a Deli owner in Queens that he found an actual lead, completely by accident. Truthfully, he just wanted a roast beef sandwich. He wasn’t looking for anything.

“Man, how hard is it to find Spider-Man in this town?” Richie said conversationally, leaning against the counter while the owner sliced the meat.

The mustachioed man looked him over cautiously, then spoke in a gruff voice. “I thought all youse masked freaks knew each other or something. Are you tellin’ me there’s not a giant bat signal shining out each of your assholes so youse can locate each other?”

For the first time since he came to New York, Richie busted out laughing so hard that he was hunched over and slightly crying.

Thank god for vulgar Deli owners!

As the man finished making the sandwich and rung it up at the register, he still kept a judgemental eye on Richie. When he finally determined Richie wasn’t a threat, he chose to continue speaking.

“Spider-Man comes swinging over this street right here every night,” he gestured out the window. “We appreciate having him in the neighborhood. Stopped my niece from getting mugged. He seems like a good kid...whoever he is.”

Immediately, Richie reached across the counter and grabbed the man’s face with both hands. Before the man could cold-cock him, Richie placed a chaste kiss through his mask the man’s mouth.

“You have just made my decade, buddy,” Richie shouted, throwing a 20 on the counter and snatching up his sandwich. “Keep the change!”

As he ran out the door, he exclaimed to himself, “I can finally get out of this godforsaken city and go home to my sweet, sweet Canada.”

*********

He camped out on the roof of one of the apartment buildings, after convincing an old blind woman to let him in the building because “his son locked him out.” All he had to do now was wait for Spidey.

He was like one of those animals that preyed on spiders.

Lizards??

At least, he thinks lizards eat spiders.

From this day forward, Richie Tozier a.k.a Deadpool a.k.a Trashmouth a.k.a the Sexiest Man Alive was now officially a lizard.

What a day.

At about one in the morning, Richie, sure enough, spotted Spider-Man in all his spandex glory swinging towards him. Before the little fucker could pass over him and get away, Richie stood up and shouted “Spidey!” at the top of his lungs.

Sure enough, Spider-Man noticed the antihero, standing in all his red and black, weapon yielding glory. But, he wasn’t as thrilled to see Richie as he thought the hero might be. Because, Richie is a gay dumbass, he didn’t consider the fact Spider-Man did everything by the books and was a goody-two-shoes, while Richie had been suspected of over 150 murder charges in the United States alone. So it shouldn’t have been a shock when Spider-Man immediately webbed him to the roof before landing.

“Oh wow. This is kinky,” Richie purred, wiggling underneath the webbing.

“Shut up, Deadpool!” Eddie shouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you doing in my city?”

This definitely wasn’t the time to say anything to agitate the arachnid, but Richie once traded in his self-control for a pretty radical shirt.

He blew a raspberry, then opened his mouth, “like this is your city.”

Everything about this situation annoyed Eddie. It was supposed to be an easy, pleasant patrol with maybe some carjackers, not Deadpool! The man wiggling around on the roof seemed almost bored already with the conversation going on, and he insulted Eddie outright.

Eddie crouched next to Deadpool, prepared to cock him in the jaw for that comment. “Excuse me?”

The merc turned his head to look Eddie in the eye as best as he could with the masks on. “You heard me, Spidey. This isn’t your city. Derry is. Am I correct?”

For a split second, Eddie flinched away from the antihero as if he had been burned, then the shock was immediately replaced with indignation and rage. How dare anybody mention Derry’s existence in his presence! Doesn’t this guy understand how hard he worked to claw his way out of that hellhole?!

Richie sees the anger outlined on Eddie’s mask, the way his jaw and fist clenches, yet he’s completely defenseless. He’s sure he could take whatever beating Eddie could give him, but he sure wouldn’t enjoy it (despite what some people in Hong Kong might tell you).

“I was gonna be nice and leave you webbed to the roof for a couple hours,” Eddie strained through gritted teeth. “But, I guess I’ll just deliver you to the feds mysel-”

“Your name is Eddie Kaspbrak,” Richie interrupted, maintaining utter calmness and seriousness. “Your mom’s name is Sonia Kaspbrak. Your dad died of cancer when you were 5. Your first kiss was with Bill Denbrough during a game of spin the bottle when you were 14. You love the color pink, even though your mother would never let you wear it because it was ‘a color for queers.’ Oh yeah! And, your childhood best friend was Richie Tozier, who you promised to marry as an adult when you were 8.”

Though neither noticed, they both swallowed thickly at the last part. All the tension and anger flooded from Eddie’s body and was replaced by confusion with every word.

“Who are you?” Eddie whispered softly, sitting near Richie’s body.

“Uh-uh, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie scolded, “let me out of your web, and we’ll talk. I’m not going to be privy to your dungeon porn hour.”

The other man looked skeptical, as expected, but he knew he could easily overpower Deadpool if he tried anything, Carefully, he began ripping away his webbings and releasing Richie. All the while, Richie quietly observed him. It seemed as if Eddie’s heart was going to beat out of his chest.

When Richie was finally free, Eddie stared at him expectantly.

“Richie,” the merc muttered under his breath, brushing excess web away from his suit.

“What?” Eddie demanded.

“Richie,” he repeated louder, looking Eddie straight in the face. “My name is Richie Tozier.”

Eddie scoffed and stood up. “Bye, Deadpool.”

As Richie watched Eddie prepare to swing away from the roof and ruin his weeks of hard work, he decided the only appropriate course of action would be to appeal to Spidey’s sense of goodness. A few feet away from him, there was a ventilation system with Big Sharp Blades.

Perfect!

Quickly, he got up and strolled over to the system, sticking his right arm completely. He let out some fake screams, along with actual real grunts of pain. Though he knew the fucker would grow back, losing an arm was literally always going to be painful no matter what. As predicted, the hero turned around at the sound of the screams and immediately ran over.

“Deadpool! What the fuck!”

“Look, Eddie! I’m Georgie,” Richie giggled, which broke out into maniacal laughter. It soon died down, then he deadpanned, “oh yeah. Wrong universe. You won’t get that joke.”

Richie was mentally patting himself on the back for yet another genius idea, as Eddie picked him up and slung him over his shoulders, piggyback style. Wow, this boy was strong. Richie would have to store that knowledge in the wank bank.

“Are you a fucking lunatic?!” Eddie demanded as he began swinging through the air.

A little delirious giggle from the blood loss escaped Richie. “Crazy’s my middle name,” he paused. “Wait. No, it’s actually not. It’s Michael. But, Crazy seems more rad.”

Loudly, Eddie groaned, mourning the loss of his nice easy night on patrol.

“I am so dumping you at a hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Richie said firmly.

“Where the fuck else am I supposed to take you?” the other snapped.

“Your apartment.”

Richie could practically feel the eye roll. “You know this was a lot of effort to get into my pants, but I’m not going to sleep with you while you’re bleeding everywhere.”

“So, you’d sleep with me if I wasn’t bleeding everywhere?”

Suddenly, the spot where Richie’s chest was resting on Eddie’s shoulders felt slightly warmer, and if Richie didn’t know any better, he’d say the man was blushing.

“Shut up, asshole! Give me one good reason why I should take you to my apartment.”

Dramatically, Richie cleared his throat, “because my arm will grow back, first of all.” Eddie turned his head slightly to see a small tiny hand poking out of what was a bloody open wound not five minutes ago. It gave a tiny little wave at him. Every thought he ever had about Deadpool being attractive shriveled in literally five seconds as he grimaced underneath his mask at the little hand.

“Second of all, I gave you literally every reason to believe I’m Richie Tozier, yet you still won’t listen to me! Do I have to start whipping out the cringy middle school memories to get you to believe me or what? Because I personally remember the “Eddie’s Booty Jams” mixtape. The ‘80s definitely weren’t as cool as everyone made them out to be.”

It was quiet for a long time, just the sounds of New York below them.

“If I take you to my apartment, will you shut up?” Eddie sighed, no longer willing to fight this crazy situation.

“Gladly, baby boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie honestly debated dropping him from this height.

“God, I hate you,” Eddie muttered. “And for your information, I would literally never sleep with you now that I’ve seen your weird baby hand.”

“So, I had a chance before!?”

Eddie groaned, not for the last time.

taglist: @eds2fannypacks, @welctothelosersclub, @its-stranger-than-you-think, @reddiietoship, @richietoaster, @hickey-richie, @dandeliontozier, @kaspbrck, @yalocalemo, @hearteyes-m

#reddie #merc with a trashmouth #my fics

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ninetyfivepercentdantomasik · 7 years

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Great Series: My Hero Academia

Characters of Note:

Tsuyu Asui, aka Sue, aka “Froppy”

Katsuki Bakugo, aka Kacchan, aka “King/Lord Explosion Murder”

Toshinori Yagi, aka “All Might”

Chizome Akaguro, aka “Hero Killer Stain”

Here’s a series that’s going places. And you’re going to underestimate it. Trust me. How do I know? I sure as hell underestimated it. I saw the covers, then read a chapter and then dismissed it completely. Every so-called “Quirk” seemed either useless or just boring. From that brief glance the series came off as generic, bland, corny, cheesy, and ultimately unimpressive. Boy do I feel foolish.

From the very first chapter this series proved itself a cut above the rest; offering a clear sense of direction & purpose, interesting character development, excellent action, and a timeless and well-executed moral about being a hero. Definitely one of the strongest pilots I’ve read. Shame that couldn’t have been the chapter I first found of it so I could have given this series the attention it deserved a year ago. The chapter I actually read was in the first volume, but lacked the momentum and background established in the chapters before it, making it come off as very weak.

(It was the Quirk-Enhanced Standard Fitness Exam)

We live in an age of superheroes. Movies, television, books, clothing, amusement parks, video games; they’re friggin’ everywhere. Where do we trace this New Age of Heroes back to? 5 years ago for The Avengers? 10 years to Iron Man and The Dark Knight? 18 years to X-Men and Spiderman? 20+ years ago to the Batman and Superman Animated Series? Hell, this is just my timeline for my age, it keeps going for others. I guess the point that needs to be made is superheroes haven’t just been popular recently, this has been going on for decades. New heroes, new stories, new genres, new breakthroughs; so much has been explored and continues to be explored. How does a series stand out in an ocean of similar products all vying for reader attention? Quality.

So many hero stories put the cart before the horse; the superpowers before the heroes. We judge heroes by how powerful they are, paying much less attention to the person behind the power. What makes each of the characters below great is not their Quirks, but their character. Yes, that sounds redundant. Bear with me.

A fantastic model for not judging a book by its cover, Tsuyu Asui comes off as a trivial, even silly character. Her Quirk is “Frog Girl”; akin to Spiderman, The Lizard, or Squirrel Girl. She can do basically whatever a frog can. Stick to surfaces, stretch out her tongue, leap great distances, move quickly underwater, and regurgitate her stomach. Sounds comical, menial, and in one case unnecessarily gross. Keep laughing, she’s one of the top students in her class and more likely than many to go pro as a hero. She’s level-headed, quick to react, perceptive, and takes initiative. This applies to everything from sudden disasters in real time to smacking perverted classmates in the classroom. Split-second decision making and the ability to flexibly adapt to every situation that presents itself, no matter how unexpected, has revealed her to be a young heroine of great promise. What’s more, being constantly underestimated and disregarded by friend & foe alike provides her with a never-ending supply of openings to act. That adorable froggy face is the last one you’d expect to kick your ass or get the better of you. You see a comic relief hero, a fun idea but not a character you’d ever take seriously without a more standard ability like super strength. The reality of hero situations is that there’s much more to it than power vs power. Outside influences, environmental factors, tactical oversights, motive or lack thereof, state of mind, power scale; any one of these factors can be the difference between victory and defeat. Only the foolish try to settle everything with overwhelming power.

....Which brings us to our next hero, Katsuki Bakugo, better known as Kacchan. A great take on the antihero rival, Kacchan is one of the most explosive personalities you’ll ever meet, to good effect. He starts out as a bully with a particularly powerful and intimidating Quirk (quite fittingly, “Explosions”), but by the end of the pilot had already begun transforming into the conflicting and unstable young man we know and love. Kacchan shoulders the responsibilities of the Rival, the Genius, the Antihero, the Rebel, and the Angry Comic Relief; all in one package. The result is a hot-headed teenager who gets on a lot of people’s nerves with his confidence and attitude, but earns his title of “genius”. His solution to almost everything is battle; same time, he actually has a good head for resolving all of his problems this way. As a student he performs well, albeit with a cocky attitude towards everyone else, and as a hero he can think up new strategies and inventive uses of his Quirk on the fly. No matter what test or challenge they throw at him, he acts decisively and without hesitation. To be honest, he’s found very few challenges that cannot be resolved with some variation on a handful of exploding pain, but he’s definitely someone who belongs in the superhero industry. Even so, his powers are only an extension of his natural combat ability, which allows him to outthink and outmaneuver almost every foe, and turns his exploding blows into a strong argument for the opponent to stay down and accept the loss. His biggest weakness, not surprisingly, is his temper, which has only three settings:

1. Casual Death Threats

2. Focused Anger

3. DIE!!!!

Kacchan is so used to winning and beating anyone who opposes him that he reacts very poorly to people that continue getting up. He disregards strategy and goes straight for the kill, or overkill. And if he gets fooled or cheated by any opponent, he becomes absolutely livid. Which is also hilarious. Gotta love a guy who threatens to set you on fire if you don’t move.

Then there’s the Big Guy. The Symbol of Peace in our time, the #1 Hero in the world, All Might. A big part of my staying away from this series was this guy. He just looks so goofy and unbearably cheesy, a big, smiling mix-up of Thor, Superman, and Captain Falcon. God he seems so stupid. FOOL! What instantly won me over in this series was actually meeting All Might in the pilot. When his facade fades away and you see the man underneath the blustering model of super-manliness, something immediately clicked. From the model of almighty (oh.... that’s where the name comes from), he becomes the epitome of weakness. This guy probably couldn’t take Billy Bat in a schoolyard fight. The truth behind All Might is that he’s barely hanging on. A debilitating wound from an enemy 5 years prior to the series nearly destroyed his respiratory system and necessitated his stomach being removed. Every day he can hold his hero form a little less, every time he pushes himself he shortens his life, and soon he may not be able to transform at all. It’s feeling the weight of how far an injury can take you that really adds depth to All Might. In his normal form, he’s practically a skeleton, prone to coughing up blood every time he laughs or opens his mouth. We judge most heroes by the battles at the peak of their strength, but All Might’s greatest battle is just surviving with his gaunt, emaciated body. It’s devastating to think that someone so iconic of power and durability, with nothing else besides them, could die on a hospital bed a shriveled-up thing. We don’t want Superman to die of cancer, we want him to die in battle giving his all against the greatest foe of his superhero career. Preferably a god or something.

Last but not least we have the Hero Killer Stain. Imagine Slade Wilson with more conviction but less stability. Before he was caught, Stain had murdered 17 heroes and seriously injured dozens more. His Quirk allows him to temporarily paralyze anyone once he’s tasted their blood. A Quirk that only has tactical application if you can get in close, wound your opponent, and lick them. What’s that mean for Stain? Means he’s a tough-ass motherf***er. Since his Quirk can only be used as an endgame, he’s taking on all these professional heroes with nothing but skill and stamina. The guy is a blur of blades and unpredictable movements, setting up multiple attacks with every move he makes while dodging and avoiding his enemies attacks. Unlike others, there’s no hint that he plans out his attacks beforehand, no studying or researching his targets, no strategy besides find ‘em, cut ‘em, and kill ‘em. If such a frightening level of combat skill weren’t enough, his dedication and resolve have shaken many heroes and even villains. Stain was a former hero who dropped out after perceiving what he saw as a perversion of true heroism. Heroes in it for attention, status, wealth, or glory; heroes in it for themselves, not for doing good. He preached this for some time, then decided words alone weren’t enough. Thus began his purge. If anything could be more terrifying for a hero than dying to a crazy villain, it would be dying to a crazy villain who sees you more clearly than you see yourself. That’s the last stone in the temple of Stain, that conviction that lets him clearly see some for heroes worth respecting and others for posers only deserving death. Seeing him escape custody to kill a monster and save a teenage hero who helped bring him down, then stand, broken ribs, punctured lung, burned head, and broken weapons, against pros and amateur heroes alike, ready to take them all on. Seeing him refuse to go down except to a true hero. As his moniker applies, Stain has left a mark on heroes and villains everywhere.

#great series #great characters #my hero academia #all might #tsuyu #froppy #bakugo #kacchan #stain #hero killer #superheroes #die

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knifeshoeoreofight · 7 years

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:D about you doing prompts, too! Hmm. Consider this - maybe the injury and illness curse isn't the curse of Consol/PPG. Maybe it all started with Mario (cancer, debilitating back problems, heart problems). What do Sid and Geno do when they start to look away from the present to the past?

@stumblingoverchaos, here you go. Sorry this took so long!

“I’m sorry, what?”

Sid stares at Mario, wondering if 1. Mario’s lost his mind, or 2. If Sid’s lost his. Sid looks over at Geno, mostly to check if he heard the same thing Sid just heard. Geno’s eyebrows are trying to meet his hairline so there’s a good possibility.

“Like in TV show with Sam and Dean and car?” Geno says, and Mario puts his head in his hands.

***Sid doesn’t know quite what he was expecting a crossroads demon to look like, but it sure wasn’t this. But it makes sense, somehow, for a quiet street corner in Sewickley to be haunted? Possessed? By a demon with a conservative 1960s beehive and a pastel skirt suit that looks like something Jackie Kennedy would have worn. She’s checking her manicured nails with the air of someone who has all the time in the world but doesn’t necessarily feel like spending it on them.

“Um, so, I’m Sidney Crosby? And this—”

“I know who you are, “ she says, finally looking up at Sid and Geno. Her eyes are cold. “And I know why you’re here.”

“Ok, well, in that case. What can we do to lift the curse?” Sid asks her. Her eyes narrow.

“Mario knew the stakes when he made a deal with me. And I’ve kept up my end of things. He won two Cups, survived cancer, and saved the franchise. And now you have two Cups as well. It’s not my fault you’ve decided you can’t deal with the fallout.”

“Fallout?” Sid says, and he feels anger rise up in his throat, hot and bitter. “Fallout?” He thinks of Tanger, out for the season and sad behind the eyes. Of Hagelin, of Murr, of all the others out injured. He thinks of his own past injuries. Months spent dizzy and puking with post-concussion syndrome. He can’t trust himself to say anything more. Luckily, Geno speaks for him.

“Deal always have cost?” Geno says, mildly, as if he isn’t affected at all. Where he’s getting the presence of mind, Sid has no idea.

“Of course,” the demon says. “If they didn’t, every human on earth would be crawling all over us and we’d never get any peace.”

“Deal paid for by now, right?” Geno continues, in the same mild tone. “How to finish? Break?”

The demon’s eyes narrow even further. “You don’t beak deals with things like me.”

Geno’s expression goes dark. “Sid’s concussion, your fault?” he grinds out, and his voice crackles with ice. “Might happen again?”

She sneers at him. “Not directly my fault. The deal was for success. Not my fault the luck’s a little…dangerous. Things have a cost.”

“How,” Geno spits out. “How to break?” The demon considers him, for a long moment. And then smiles. It makes Sid’s skin crawl.

“Sacrifice,” she says. “Great sacrifice. What would you be willing to give, Evgeni Vladimirovich Malkin? For the health and wellbeing of your team?” Her oily gaze slides over to rest on Sid. “For your…captain. It’ll have to be something interesting. I’ve no use for the kind of trivial things you mortals usually treasure. I don’t want your money, for example. It has to be something truly precious. What is it you love most in life, Evgeni Vladimirovich Malkin?” She paces forward, into Geno’s space, but he doesn’t move. Sid lurches forward to, he doesn’t know quite what. Protect Geno? But Geno throws a hand back and shoves at Sid’s chest, warning him off. “Is is hockey, Evgeni?” the demon continues, staring at Geno like she’s seeing into his soul. She probably is. “Is it your country? Your family? Or no, is it having one of your own someday? Or— “ She pauses, eyes widening like she’s just seen something fascinating in Geno’s face. And then she starts to laugh.

Sid tries to move forward again but she flicks a finger at him and he suddenly can’t lift his feet. Geno whips around and his eyes are crazed.

“Don’t you fucking touch him, you fucking-” Sid is shocked to realize that Geno’s shouting in Russian, and that Sid can understand him.

“Ahhh,” the demon purrs. “There it is.” Geno looks at her blankly, chest heaving. She continues. “That’s what you love most. Your captain. Your Sid. Oh, it’s too good!” And she laughs again, and it’s the worst noise Sid’s ever heard. Her face doesn’t look like a perfectly made up housewife’s anymore, it’s melting, warping. “Pining, for years, oh, you stupid creature! How wonderful! That’s what I’ll take from you! But should it only be your love for him, or maybe every memory you have of his very existence?”

Sid’s heart feels like it’s going to slam its way through his ribcage. Geno loves him. Geno loves him back. Sid hasn’t been the only one, all this time— He lurches forward, one foot tearing free of whatever hold the demon has on it. The demon has Geno by the shoulders, is pushing him down onto his knees, one suddenly too thin, too gnarled hand pulling on his hair so his head is yanked back and his neck is laid bare and exposed. Sid sees it tremble as Geno swallows, distantly notes Geno has tears running down his face but that he’s looking at the demon with a face set like stone. He’s about to—

Sid feels something build in his core, something hot, and burning, and it feels like the place where he gets the strength to keep going in the last seconds of a playoff game, when the very air he gasps into his lungs feels like acid. The feeling builds, and builds, and floods him, and suddenly a thought surfaces.

He could step forward.

He could. It would be easy. And so he does. He steps forward towards Geno, and something like a shockwave rolls off of Sid, making the air shimmer and roar in his ears.

The demon is gaping at him, horrified, clawlike fingers still clutching Geno’s hair. Geno’s limp in her grasp. Sid isn’t sure if he’s unconscious, but he feels a dark certainty that if it’s anything worse than that, he’s going to obliterate her. He steps forward again, and it feels like his steps anchor him in the earth beneath his feet. There’s a humming in the air, all around him, and part of him somehow knows it’s life, the life of Geno and of the people in the houses around them and the trees and the animals and the birds high overhead. Sid can feel all of it, an expanse like a web of light.

When he speaks to her, his own voice is terrible and alien in his ears. “Let him go. If you do anything to him, I’m going to end you. There won’t be anything left.”

She lets Geno fall, and she cowers and gibbers, clawed hands clutching at the air in supplication.

“No one told me, no one told me that you were nephilim,” she keens. “Please, please— I beg you—”

Sid could kill her, he realizes, with a kind of wonder. Just like before, when he knew he could break her hold and step forward. This too, would be so easy. And knowing that doesn’t make him feel like doing it. He can see her, well, not life force exactly, but he can see whatever she’s made of, twisted, and shriveling. He feels a distant sort of pity.

“You’re finished,” he tells her. “Any curse, or deal, or sway you ever held over me or mine. It’s done with.”

“Yes, yes, I swear it!” she wails.

“Alright,” Sid answers, and the ground around them shakes. “Then, go. And you aren’t ever coming back.”

With a final shriek she fades from view. For couple of heartbeats longer, Sid can still feel the thrum of life around him, can feel Geno’s heartbeat pulse through Sid’s body, resonate inside his bones.

And then, like night falling in the space of a breath, everything goes dark.

***

When Sid swims back to consciousness, Geno’s kneeling over him, frantic, tear tracks still staining his cheeks.

“G,” Sid says, and can’t think of what else to say. Geno loves him, the demon was going to take it away from him, and then—

Sid feels like something important happened. He instinctively knows the deal has been destroyed, that the demon is gone. But the details dissipate like mist when he tries to remember how, exactly, it came to pass. He groans, and pulls himself to a sitting position. He feels like he’s just been through the worst bag skate of his life. Geno’s hands dart over him in concern, checking him for injury. Sid catches them between his own, brings them to his mouth, kisses them.

“Me too,” he tells Geno. “Me too.” Geno makes a broken kind of sound and pulls Sid to him, burying his face in Sid’s hair, clutching at him like he never wants to let go. Sid sighs, and lets himself collapse into Geno. Geno’s heart pounds under Sid’s ear, and for a moment, he thinks he remembers— but then, the faint sense memory evaporates.

“I love you too, G,” Sid clarifies, just to make sure he knows. Geno grips him tighter in response, presses hard kisses into his hair and along his temple. Sid sighs at the touch, and raises a hand to cup Geno’s jaw. “Let’s go home, okay?” Geno nods, eyes soft, and happy. And they go.

#dana writes a thing #stumblingoverchaos #sidgeno #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #hockey rpf

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