#You could put that shit under one of those cartoon box and stick traps and I would fall for it

[artistmitchy]

I don't know shit about this series; I just think he's neat.

[bambigoose]

Prank Gone Wrong

Martin Jones was a dead man. There is no way around it. You are going to kill him. In the days leading up to Halloween he and Dilly began their usual prank war, maybe a little childish but certainly entertaining. You had almost peed your pants watching Brenden attempting to lace up his skates while the laces were cut. Dilly’s revenge, princess stickers and glitter, all over Joner’s helmet was truly the gift that kept on giving. However in the dark of all Hallows Eve, the scrawny evil little mastermind wrapped your car in ceran wrap instead of Brenden’s. You’re already running late this morning and Dilly stumbled his way out to morning practice about an hour ago. Next week this wouldn’t have been a problem was all that was running through your mind, the clocks roll back, there’d have been sunlight when your boyfriend left. This whole thing would have disappeared before you even had a chance to see it. Brenden knew how important you’re meeting this morning was. Hell the most forgetful fricken man in the universe left a good luck postit on the coffee maker this morning.

Pulling out your phone and opening the Bozo group chat you proceeded to let those two idiots know your feelings.

MARTIN FUCKING JONES I AM GOING TO STRANGLE YOU IN YOUR SLEEP! MY CAR?!?!!? REALLY?!?!?! Dilly you’re going to need a new best friend if I don’t make it to the meeting on time. HONESTLY MARTIN HOW MANY DAMN LAYERS DID YOU PUT AROUND MY CAR! I’VE BEEN TEARING THEM OFF FOR THE PAST 20 MINUTES!

Knowing the boys would be on the ice for the next hour or so you, finished pulling of the wrap and flew down the highway praying the State Patrolmen were not in your area.

..........

Practice wrapped up late today for the Sharks and Dilly was finishing his shower later than expected. After the rough start to the season, coach had been particularly brutal and Brenden felt like his legs may collapse out from underneath him like a newborn giraffe. Attempting to preserve his dignity, he stiffened his legs and shuffled across the room as quickly as possible for his locker.

“Seriously dude, nothing after that epic prank this morning. I thought it was ingenious.” Martin Jones calls out from his stall.

Eyebrows scrunching while lines form across his forward Dilly responds. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Joners’s face went white as a ghost, well that description might not be accurate enough, he turned as white as the arctic tundra before panic became visible on his face. “Oh Shit.” Digging through his locker Martin looked like the Tasmanian devil cartoon he was so frantic. “I’m in trouble.”

Burns couldn’t resist stating the obvious, “She’s going to kill you.”

............

Exiting the corporate office; you took a deep breath of the fresh air. The office dead stick air finally clearing from your senses it felt like you could finally relax your shoulders that had been clenched since seven this morning. Never before had you been so thankful for traffic, the board was as trapped as you were this morning and delayed the meeting another hour, five minutes to spare you were set up and gave the presentation of your life. Your plan for company growth was accepted and the raise you’d been hoping for was finally yours.

The click of your doors unlocking echoed through the parking garage. Ninety percent of the office emptied out two hours ago at five. Choosing instead to wait the extra two hours you were ahead of schedule for tomorrow and able avoid sitting in an hour of traffic. The added bonus of making Dilly and Joner sweat it out was a plus to being able to leave early this Friday due to the extra time. Stepping up into your SUV you began your drive home. The SUV a new addition to your life after your previous love, a 2003 Ford Focus finally gave out on you. That little shit box had nothing left to give and didn’t owe you a cent but caving under Brenden’s pressure to select an all-wheel drive SUV might have been one of the better decisions you’ve made lately. The added comfort of all the space obviously had nothing to do with his nudging.

Fifteen minutes later you turned into your driveway, passing Joner’s and Brenden’s the prime spot five feet from the doorway was left open for you. ‘Let the ass kissing begin’ ran through your mind. About three hours after your meeting finished you could see the humor in the prank but that absolutely does not mean you were not going to make them sweat it out, the only reply either have received from multiple text messages was a standard. I’m staying late, see you around 730.

Glancing out of the corner of your eye, the two morons scattered from behind the curtain they were glancing out of, like children attempting to hide from their mother. Opening the door, the smell of garlic bread hit your sinuses, clearly they were really attempting to suck up with your favorite meal cooking. You figured in between the two of them it had to be semi edible.

Hearing shuffling off to the side you turned to confront the daring soul sent to confront you first. “Hi y/n/n you look very beautiful today.” Martin squeaked out, is your boyfriend really so afraid of you he’d rather sacrifice his best friend?

“I know. It’s amazing that my air held up so well this morning. Lots of exercise I wasn’t planning on.” You quipped back quickly watching Joner gulp.

“Babe! How was your day? How was the meeting? You got the raise right; they’d be idiots to give it to someone else!” Dilly exclaimed entering into the hallway from behind you, bravely placing an arm around your shoulders.

Instinctively your demeanor began to turn; Dilly has this way of making all the problems disappear as soon as you’re wrapped up in him. Nothing can touch you with him around. Jokingly you respond, “You weren’t aware you were dating a miracle worker. Somehow this morning was salvaged.” Elated shouts ran out of both of them. Dilly wrapping you up into a celebratory kiss second before Jones crashes into both of you in the most complicated group hug you’ve ever seen. Laughing harder the jab couldn’t be resisted, “Still pretty pissed about the car though boys.”

“We made your favorite dinner!”

“There’s flowers on the table!”

Jumbles out of both of them at the same time.

“Let’s eat.” You started heading toward the breakfast nook in the kitchen, knowing those boys will never use the dining room unless their parents were visiting. Falling into your typical place between them a habit intended to keep them from picking off each other’s plates and arguing about it. Both of them learned long ago not to mess with your garlic bread and you didn’t really mind if they picked at anything else.  Taking a bite you, swallowed hard immediately. “All those in favor of Joner buying dinner to make up for this morning head towards the front door.” The mad dash to the door was something straight out of a cartoon. The food end up in the trash later on, you weren’t all that worried about it. God knows the dog will take a bit of it and make for something else just like all of you. You supposed it’s the thought that counts right? Just from now on you’ll be encouraging the thought to not involve food unless someone else is cooking it.

[winsister91]

Crash Trickster Racing

Summary: The angelic master of mischief interrupts a game night that’s getting steamy…

Characters: Dean x Reader, Gabriel

Word Count: 1649

Warning: Language, implied smut, fluff? Is this what is known as crack? IDK

A/N: I can join in my own challenge right? lolol Out of all the things I’ve written, I think this takes the crown as the dumbest. Have I seriously just done a kinda sorta SPN CTR crossover? I should be shot. Pretty niche market here I guess, apologies to all you youngsters/non-gamers who probably have no idea what Crash Team Racing is. 

My Masterlist!

~ Dean and forever tags are open! ~

Dean taglist predominantly from @spnfanficpond . Let me know if want to be added/removed!

“Dean Winchester,” you laugh in triumph, “You suck!”

You throw the Playstation controller to the floor, doing a ridiculous victory dance. The result now was 12-1, in your favour. The only reason he won that one race in Crash Team Racing was because he started it without you while you went to grab a drink.

“You are inhumanely good at this stupid game,” Dean sulks, throwing his own controller down and folding his arms, “If it was a real race, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Whatever,” you shrug, sticking your tongue out and shaking your butt in a tease as you turn, “Victory beer!”

You skip to the kitchen, grinning like a child. As you go to open the fridge, Dean’s hand forces it closed again. He swiftly takes you in his arms, picking you up onto the counter and biting down your neck. You giggle as tingles wash over you, throwing your head back to grant him access.

“Distract me all you want,” you gasp as he moves around to the other side of your neck, “You still suck at Crash.”

“Maybe,” he growls, taking you to a higher place with a deep kiss on your collarbone, “But I know what I am good at.”

“Thank god you do,” you exhale before his lips forcefully clash into yours, instantly allowing his hungry tongue to do battle with your own.

He lifts you onto his hips, you wrap your legs around him and the tongue battle continues. You rake your hands through his hair, your core fluttering with excitement when those beautiful olive eyes of his pierce lustfully into yours. He carries you through the room and into the corridor leading to his bedroom. You giggle, pulling your t-shirt up and over your head on the way. He hums at the sight of you, kicking his door open and bringing you inside.

“What the fuck?” he stops and freezes. The sounds of numerous engines rumbling come to your ears and confused isn’t even the word. You look around, this was most definitely not Dean’s room. It was…outside? Pixelated?

“Okaay?” you jump down from his hips, looking around. You’re at the start line of a race track in a blocky cartoon world? It looks like the Coco Park track…it is Coco Park. Perfect in every detail. There’s a flash of white light and suddenly you’re in a racing kart. You immediately try to pull yourself out, but some invisible force is holding you there.

“Dean what’s going on!?” your shriek.

Dean is in the kart next to you, also struggling for freedom, he curses under his breath. “God dammit Gabriel where are you!?” he shouts viciously.

“Oh no…” you groan, rolling your eyes.

“Now is that any way to greet a buddy?” that familiar chirpy voice comes. Gabriel melts into view, laying on the flat rectangular texture of grass at the side of the road, “I’ve always thought you two were such a cute couple, but man it gets monotonous. A playful argument, sex, self-deprecation, sex, get drunk, sex. The result is always the same!”

You and Dean share a worried glance.

“You’ve been watching us?” Dean shakes his head in disbelief.

“Ew!” you shout.

“Who needs soap opera’s when the Winchesters exist? But its rapidly declining into a porno” he chuckles, snapping his fingers and appearing in a third kart between you both, “Now come on, this is fun! She says he sucks at Crash, he says he could win a real race, let’s combine the two!” “Could I have some dignity please first!?” you cross your arms, remembering you are topless, only a bra and pants on show.

The angel tuts and with a wave of his hand, your t-shirt appears back on you, “It’s game time,” he grins eagerly.

The unforgettable sound of the air horn count down echoes in the air, you can see the in game lights hovering above you. You get your game face on, thinking, Fine! Whatever! I’m gonna kick your asses.

The last siren blares and your foot is pressed firmly down on the gas pedal. The kart shoots forward, much faster than you expected. You squeal in terror as you crash into one of the item crates, the blocky shards of wood flying over you. This moment makes you realise the game’s hud is in your eyesight, like it’s imprinted on your iris. You see your lap time ticking away in the top corner of your sight, and a mini map of the track in a bottom corner. This is insane, and awesome. A box in the top centre of your vision is flicking through pictures of the in-game weapons, stopping on the missile. You grin mischievously before worry hits you. You can’t use a freaking missile! You’ll kill them!

While your mind had wandered, you realise you’re making a bee line for a red bottle, left on the track by Gabriel. You jerk on the wheel hard to try and avoid it, but it’s too late. You crash into it, sending the kart into a spin and you scream hysterically. Your vision becomes blurry and your car a stuttering slow mess as it clumsily bobs along with a black rain cloud following and raining on to you.

“Shit!” you shout in frustration, bashing at the gas pedal, but it’s fruitless while the bottle’s effect is in play.

“Oh yea, feel free to use the weapons!” Gabriel’s voice echoes omnipotently in the air, “They’ll not really hurt you!”

The cloud vanishes and you shoot forward again. Now you’re determined.

You can hear Dean laughing and clearly enjoying the ride, turning back to you and mocking while you try to catch up. You ignore him, focusing on the damned archangel further ahead. You spot a huge red button in the middle of the steering wheel, the angel in your line of sight and you slam it. The missile blasts out of the front of your kart and your grin returns. You watch in glee as it soars away into the distance. Then your face drops as the explosive turns and hones in on Dean.

“Uh oh,” you mumble, remembering these things are designed to aim at the person directly in front of you in the standings.

The rocket explodes into Dean’s car sending him flying in the air in a cartoonish fashion. You hear him cursing you as you speed past.

“Bitch!!!!”

“Sorry not sorry!” you squeak sheepishly.

With Dean now falling far behind, it’s a full on battle for first place between you and Gabriel. Damn, he’s good. You question as to whether he’s tweaked things, being in control over this world he’s created after all. His car is way faster than yours. You can barely keep up using all the tricks in the book, grinding around corners and hitting your boost in a specific timing. Hiding TNT boxes behind the item crates for when another lap comes around. You fire numerous cannons at him, but he frequently swerves away or conveniently has a shield every time one does hit.

“Oh come on!!!” you scream, gamer rage coursing through you as he dodges another one of your traps, “This is bullshit!!!”

You hear another familiar noise and you sit wide eyed. Oh no. It’s an electrical noise, sounding like waves, you turn and see what you dread. A huge intimidating blue ball of electricity flying through the air, its aim to hit everyone in its path. You can see Dean with an evil grin behind it, clearly the culprit as it’s an item only granted to those in last place. There’s no outrunning it, you have no shield in your possession. You brace yourself.

You squeal as it passes over you and your car is flung into the air. Holding on for dear life, you breathe a sigh of relief after spinning in the air and finally landing back on the ground, dazed. Gabriel falls victim to it too, a wail coming from his kart in front of you.

You can hear Dean laughing as he speeds past you both, crossing the finish line and becoming enveloped in a flood of confetti.

“Well done you,” you grumble as you and Gabriel cross the line with glum faces. You were so pissed at coming last.

“I think it’s safe to say I am the ultimate champ at this now?” Dean pokes his tongue out, folding his arms smugly.

“Bite me,” you hiss, “You got lucky with the stupid OP weapon.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, blowing you a kiss in a mock fashion which makes you wanna go over there and part kill him, part ravage him.

“Oh, guys come on now!” Gabriel raises his hand in disbelief, “The sexual tension in the air is just…so obvious plot wise!”

“The winner of your god damn race…” Dean starts calmly before ordering, “says, put us back in our god damn room right now!”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, “Fine, this isn’t the last you’ll hear from me,” with a snap of his fingers, you’re back at the bunker, sat on the floor of the bedroom. Gabriel is nowhere in sight.

“Rematch!” you squeal, jumping to your feet and marching for the door.

“Now just wait,” Dean chuckles, stepping in front of you and pulling you into a tight embrace, “…where were we first?”

In a moment of de ja vu, you find yourself being hoisted back onto Dean’s hips, violently pulling off your t-shirt.

“Really?” Gabriel groans, sat in a place unknown watching a huge TV screen where he watches people’s lives for entertainment, “There’s more sex here than in Game of Thrones…” He tuts, changing the channel with a fistful of popcorn.

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