9 Works by ricochetdean
Listing Works
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“You’re overestimating my company, angel. This is— I mean—” A laugh tumbled out of him as he spun around, high and painfully strained. “This is the last page, isn’t it? The very last spot of color in all of existence. We walk out those doors, and it’s over. This is all there is. All there’s going to be, ever again.”
“You say that like it’s some kind of punishment. Something you loathe,” Aziraphale demanded, brows pinching. “But isn’t this what you wanted, Crowley? You and me, running away to the end of the universe somewhere?”
Crowley hesitated, chest seizing as he said, ever so carefully, “I’m not talking about what I want. I’m talking about you.”
Or, Aziraphale and Crowley use their love for humanity to rewrite the Book of Life, and everyone, including them, earns their happy ending.
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“Alright, team. Rally up. Stop jerking each other off,” Robert said, staring up at the ceiling.
Visi snorted. “I think the only circle jerk going on right now is between you and Herm, dude.”
“Zip up, boys!” Prism exclaimed, nearly hysterical with it, and Robert sat there with a spinning head as the group devolved into yet another fit of laughter, this one even more undignified than the first.
Anxiety clawed at the walls of Robert’s throat. Discomfort bloomed in his stomach. This was… bad. Terrible, even. Had the jokes always been this direct? Did everyone but Robert already know about this?
Or, Robert learns that Waterboy has obvious favoritism towards him, and because he's so distracted by the concept, Robert doesn't even realize that he's being courted.
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Stand Within the Flood by ricochetdean
Fandoms: Deadpool - All Media Types, Deadpool (Movieverse), Wolverine (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), Marvel Cinematic Universe
22 Jul 2025
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“I’m trying to help, peanut,” Wade finally said. He turned to look at Logan, hands held out between them. “That’s all I wanna do—”
“I don’t want your fucking help,” Logan swiped at him, blind and unthinking, claws fully extended, and he watched from somewhere very far away as Wade jerked his hand back with a teeth bitten curse. “You don’t get to tell me if, or when, or how I move on— you move the fuck on. Stop pushing your shit on me!”
The entrance gate was older than Logan remembered. Rusted from time he hadn’t known. And the sign, familiar and welcoming, simple yet kind, stood out in chipped, gold lettering against a stone pillar crawling with ivy: Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.
This place had been nothing but rubble the last time Logan saw it. Burnt down to living embers. And now, he laid on the edge of a reserve, just yards away, marveling at a world still standing.
Or, in an attempt to help Logan start his much needed healing journey, Wade stages an intervention to get Logan acquainted with his universe's version of the X-Men. And Logan struggles to put his own past behind him.
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Unearth by ricochetdean
Fandoms: Deadpool - All Media Types, Deadpool (Movieverse), Wolverine (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), Marvel Cinematic Universe
12 Sep 2024
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Unearth
/ən-ˈərth/ verb: discover (something hidden, lost, or kept secret) by investigation or searching.Because what this was, whatever the fuck it was— clumsy, awkward, unfamiliar— was more than Logan had been allowed to have in months, years, fucking ages. Wade had dragged him from the natural and the agonizing into something just as terrifying.
Normalcy.
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“I just… wanted to do good. Create the Heaven I’d been told to love, the one I thought was real from the moment I honed a halo. But I haven’t resided in Heaven for over six thousand years and it’s— it’s so— I can’t believe I’ve forgotten how—”
“Lonely it is?” Crowley met the angel’s eyes head on, holding himself there for the very first time since Aziraphale’s arrival.
Aziraphale could hardly breathe beneath the weight of it, the rush of honest attention, and all those years of yearning poured fast to the floodgates. Pounded impatiently at the lock bounded doors. This was the feeling he’d missed. The one he’d wished on and dreamed about and written sonnets over.
This was everything.
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This time, Dean didn't bother with a greeting. Once his eyes were open and his limbs were upright, he ignored the tightness in his chest to ask, "That dickbag Uriel know you're here?"
Castiel didn't say a word as Dean got out of bed and threw on his jacket. He just hovered like he always did, perched and waiting, and Dean made a face at him as he fixed his collar and went to fetch his boots by the door.
"No, and I would suggest you keep this between us," Cas said carefully.
Dean laughed. "Yeah, I bet you do."
Or, when Castiel raises Dean from Hell, his handprint bestows them with an accidental bond, and what starts as a decision to help Dean through his Hell nightmares, becomes an attachment neither of them is willing to break.
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And finally, Dean thought about Cas.
What it would all mean to have Cas in his entirety, in every way imaginable. To have him sleep caressed and sun-kissed beneath early morning sheets, the weight of his fingers tracing Dean’s palm down peaceful corridors, his scent cloaked in Dean’s very bones. To have his warmth as comfort and his hands as a guide that slid over Dean’s skin with familiarity. No more tentativeness, no more skimming the edges and tracing the seams of their story.
Peace. He wanted peace. But with Cas back from the Empty with his memories shredded, and Jack nowhere to be seen, what would peace even look like? And, after everything, was it something Dean deserved?
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With Sam nearly healed up from the bad after effects of the failed third trial, Dean takes off to Colorado to find Cas— now human and utterly hopeless of ever returning back to Heaven, and bring him back to the bunker where he belongs. Permanently.
Or, Sam never has to get possessed by Gadreel after failing to close the gates of Hell, therefore Dean makes a move on human Cas like he would have smh.
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“I, along with the rest of Heaven have no aversion towards homosexuality. God intended for there to be all forms of love.”
Dean hadn’t meant for this conversation to get personal. Hell, he hadn’t meant for this conversation period, but Cas’s words brushed a part of him that reached out in response, ached for more. Dean huffed out a laugh to hide the fact that he suddenly felt like he was choking, throat tight, eyes glassy.
God, what a seventeen year old Dean Winchester would have given to have an angel sit him down and tell him that what he was feeling, who he was, wasn’t a sin after all.