Why does everyone headcanon angus as being this innocent pure little angel who thinks heck is a bad word? He’s a sassy sarcastic little shit who has cursed in canon and aspires to be like taako and he’s great those things are not mutually exclusive but for real like he may be ten and desperate for thb’s approval but fuck he’ll shoot a fire crab in the god damn face and call the boys on their horse shit give him the credit he fucking deserves
Pairing: Yoongi x reader Genre: hybrid!au, fluff (is it even there? who knows), smut (later later), Words: 3.1k+ Warnings: none?? a surprising lack of tears in this one Notes: We get to know a bit more about dear sweet Yoongi in this next sad installment. What a time to be alive. I forgot to mention when I first posted this that this is for those anons that requested a hybrid!Yoongi !!! Here you go babies 💖
After your grandmother passed she left everything to you. Her house, her fortune, and apparently… her cat? The grumpy male hybrid you encounter at her house is anything but the tame housecat you’d expected to find. Fulfilling your grandmother’s last request to look after him becomes a lot harder when he seems to be avoiding you, and your dissatisfied relatives start stirring up trouble.
The apartment looked strangely daunting with nothing in it. Where everything once had its place, there is now nothing: the coffee table - a moving-in gift from your mother - had been sold, alongside the couch and the bed, the fridge sold, and all your groceries that had once sat inside lined up on the kitchen counter. Even your dying house plant had been thrown away that very morning, despite your long-time love for the greenery. The entire place felt as though it had been gutted, hollowed out. This was your home for nine years. Now, you stood in a place you no longer recognised.
You sighed. On the counter, partially hidden beneath the insuperable mountain of groceries, your phone lit up with a series of new text messages. Since you’d called three months earlier to announce to your family that you’d be returning home, your mother hadn’t left you alone on the subject. You knew she only wanted to help, but endless phone calls and text messages offering you ideas of what to do with your leftover furniture and belongings were erring on the edge of annoying.
Still, no matter how lonesome the apartment felt, you couldn’t get over the idea of returning home. In a few weeks, someone new would find themselves settled between these walls, and you would be at home, telling tales of your adventures to all those you hadn’t seen in however-many-years.
Excitement bubbled and rose. You could almost forget about the dismissal of your house plant and the loss of your small, albeit comfortable, English home.
With one final scan over the place, you placed your suitcases by the door. Most of your heftier possessions had already been shipped back to America, where they would sit in the spare room of your parents’ house until you found a decent place to live. Tomorrow, when you flew out, you’d take with you only your clothes and bare necessities. Tonight would be a night slept on a borrowed air mattress.
you said “new fahc origin story” and I have shit due but y'know what:
geoff and jack bickering with each other as they’re lifting the body bag from the trunk of jack’s shitty honda civic bc “god damn it geoff pistol whip the man don’t fucking shoot him you’re lucky we got most of his shit before he came home” and then there’s a mysterious dark figure across the way and they shine their flashlight on it and lo and behold;
“gav you fucker there’s blood on my car now why’d you hit him!?”
“he was on a bike Michael, he had it coming-“
but they notice g&j and so they’re just kind. makin eye contact. not movin. both holdin body bags. it’s p awkward.
then in the silence a motorbike putters over and the shortest fucking guy on his phone carrying something heavy over his shoulder comes stumblin down and he’s saying something like "matt, dude, chill, i’m taking care of it now, i’m fine, it was just some fucker in an alley he ruined my bike,” but when he notices the others he just drops the body over his shoulder on the ground with the wettest, grossest thwap and he says, very weakly, “i’m gonna call you back” and hangs up.
three way standoff right. gav coughs once. sirens far off in the distance wail. none of them are even armed, geoff left his gun in the car and everyone else is too poor at that point to keep up with ammo. silence stretches.
suddenly it’s broken by the sound of wheels on tarmac, squeakily approaching the awkward standoff. it’s ryan. in a paper mask, cause he couldn’t afford a different one yet. he’s trudging along leisurely, whistling, pushing a wheelbarrow with three people in it what the fuck.
he notices the situation. stops. puts down the wheelbarrow. one beat, two, three;
“want some help with those?” he asks.
they then bond over how fucking gross it is to chop up bodies on a too small tarp on the riverside. jeremy’s house is closest, so they go there, wash up, get drunk, fuck a little, and then the next morning they all call in a few favours and they’ve got a fucking crew.
Summary: The reader gets kidnapped and Dean has to babysit her until the ransom is paid.
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 1,768
A/N: This is for @whispersandwhiskerburn’s
We’ve Got A Fic For That Challenge.
“I’m no hero. I’m just a bad guy who gets paid to fuck up worse guys.” - Deadpool
Well, today definitely didn’t go as planned. You were going to rise and shine, tackle a bunch of boring errands and then grade a shit ton of English papers. Yet here you are being held fucking hostage, you’re clueless as to who these bottom feeders are and what they expect from you. All you know is that one minute you’re piling groceries into your black Honda Civic and the next someone is yanking a bag down over your head.
You have no concept of time but you’ve been tied up in this dingy, windowless room for hours on end. Or at least it feels that way. Your throat is beyond dry, your stomach keeps grumbling and your hands are numb from the tight handcuffs cutting into your wrists.
An overly sweaty man with greasy slicked back hair keeps gracing you with his presence, the vile smell of his breath makes you instantly nauseous with each visit. Instead of the usual quick in and out appearance, the loser nibbles his bottom lip while his eyes scan over your body.
greasy looking guy who smells like pure shit keeps
eyeing you from across . It’s grossing you out and makes you wanna shower for five fucking hours straight.
The greasy guy makes a phone call then g you by the arms and drags you down the hall.
He barges into a room that looks like a studio apartment. It has a queen sized bed, two leather couches, a refrigerator and a hot, scruffy looking dude that looks like a model.
“The boss needs me to take care of something. Watch her until I get back. You can hurt her if she gets out of line. Not the face though.” He says looking at the model.
“What the hell do you want me for? I’m a nobody.” You spit out.
“Shut up, bitch.” The greasy one growls. “Or I’ll do it for you.”
“How about you both shut the fuck up? You’re giving me a headache.” The model barks loudly.
He sighs then goes back to cleaning his gun.
The greasy one scoffs and mutters as he walks out of the door.
This is just great.
“Can I get a drink of water?” You ask trying to sound pathetic.
He looks up at you and then back down at his gun.
You’re about to say something else when you hear a knock on the door.
It opens and you see a tall guy with brown shaggy hair come in.
“Babysitting?” He chuckles.
The model mumbles something and then takes a drink of his beer.
“Can I have a drink? I’m really thirsty.” You say sadly.
The tall one looks ready to answer but he gets cut off.
“No! You’re not getting anything.”
“Dean, come on…”
“What the fuck, man?!” He yells jumping up.
“Don’t use my fucking name in front of her!”
“Oh, relax. She knows nothing else about you. You’re fine.” The tall one assures him.
“Dumb ass.” Dean grumbles under his breath.
“How much longer do I have to sit here? I’m hungry.” He mumbles.
“Nothing happened yet. Order take out.” The tall one suggests before leaving.
“What’s happening?” You ask Dean.
“I’m ordering a pizza. You eat pizza?” He answers in response.
“It’s kind of hard to eat handcuffed.” You snap.
“You’ll figure it out.” He says making the call.
You sigh loudly and stare at the wall.
“Can I at least get these off? They hurt.” You pout holding out your cuffed hands.
“Sure. Want a fucking slice of pie too?” Dean deadpans.
“Well, you’re just a fucking joy aren’t you.” You huff out.
“Do you think it’s smart to piss off the guy with the gun?” He says staring you down.
“Oh, please. It’s takes a lot more than a pretty boy with a gun to scare me.” You say with an attitude.
“Wow. For a chick that teaches at Harvard, you’re not that bright.”
Your eyes widen in surprise.
“How do you know I’m a professor?” You ask wearily.
“I’m the lucky one who had to tail you for the last couple of weeks.” Dean says in a bored tone.
“Wait…you followed me around for two weeks?” You say feeling creeped out.
“Yup. It was really thrilling too.” He laughs at you.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was someone’s fucking entertainment.” You say annoyed.
Dean rolls his eyes and mutters something about you being dramatic.
“Are you from around here?” You ask quietly.
“Don’t worry about it.” He replies looking at his phone.
“You’ve been stalking me for two weeks. I thought we were closer than that.” You sigh pretending to have hurt feelings.
The model picks up his gun and points it at you.
“If you keep asking me things, I’ll shoot you in the god damn knee.” He growls.
“Do it.” You challenge him.
“What?” Dean says clearly caught off guard.
“I’m not gonna shut up. I ramble when I’m nervous. So either deal with it or shoot me. It’s up to you.”
“Fine.” He cocks the gun then points it at your knee and it makes your stomach drop.
“You psychopath! You’re really gonna shoot me?!” You gasp.
“Oh, sweetheart. I may be a lot of things but I’m no psychopath.” He says with a smug grin.
“Oh, my mistake. You think you’re a hero when in reality you’re a fucking villain.”
“I’m no hero. I’m just a bad guy who gets paid to fuck up worse guys.”
“Yeah…that’s called a criminal.”
“You know nothing about me so shut it.” He growls.
“You realize people are looking for me. My boyfriend’s a cop.” You say with a bitch face.
“Do you forget who you’re talking to? I know you don’t have a boyfriend. It’s my job to know that crap before we kidnap someone. Especially if there’s a cop in your life…which there isn’t. But nice try.”
You roll your eyes and get aggravated that he knows all this about you.
“Fine. I may not have a cop boyfriend but I am dating someone so shut up.”
“Oh…you mean that dork who rides his cute little bicycle to work?” Dean snickers.
“Yeah he’s not your type, princess.”
“Excuse me? You’re wrong about that, princess.”
Dean shakes his head and gives you an arrogant smile.
“Then what’s my type? If you’re such a fucking expert.” You growl.
“I’m more your type.” He says nonchalantly.
“Oh, that’s funny. Yeah…totally love dating criminals.” You reply sarcastically.
“If we met at a bar and you had no clue what I do for a living…you’d be all fucking over me. And you know it.”
Your mouth drops open and you instantly get pissed off.
Party because of his arrogance and partly because he’s right.
“I guess we’ll never know.”
“We’ve got nothing put time.” Dean says looking at the clock and then at you.
“You wish.” You scoff.
“I guess we’ll never know.” Dean mocks you.
You roll your eyes and sigh dramatically.
“Can’t you take my handcuffs off? You have a gun. It’s not like I can do anything.” You say sounding tired.
Dean rubs the back of his neck and he looks ready to give in when his phone buzzes.
He looks at it then groans and throws it on to the couch next to him.
“Your ransom is taking longer than expected. It was supposed to be a quick in and out situation.” He says crossing his arms.
“Who’s paying it? I don’t know anyone with a lot of money.”
“My…what?” You say shocked.
You haven’t seen your father since you were three years old. This doesn’t make any sense.
“I don’t even know him! I was little when he left me and my mom.”
“Doesn’t matter. He keeps tabs on you and we keep tabs on him. So here you are.”
“Well, that’s just fucking wonderful!”
“I figured he was just a douche bag who ran off to have another family and a damn dog. Not be involved with all this bullshit.” You seethe.
Dean starts laughing and cocks his head at you.
“He’s one of the biggest drug traffickers in the country, sweetheart.”
This can’t be happening.
You’re starting to feel a little dizzy and almost claustrophobic with these god damn handcuffs on.
“Hey man.” The greasy guy says walking into the room.
“We need proof of life.”
Dean nods then watches as the greasy fuck holds up his phone and films you for twenty five seconds.
“I’ll text you when it’s done. Then I’ll be back to finish her.“
"What?!” You now feeling like you’re gonna throw up.
“Alright.” Dean grumbles looking bored.
“Until we meet again, honey.” The greasy guy says wiggling his eyebrows.
Before he’s even out the door, you burst into tears.
“Omg. Please don’t kill me.” You barely get out.
“Shhh. Sweetheart, no one’s going to hurt you.” Dean whispers walking over to you.
Before you can even comprehend what’s happening, he’s taking off your handcuffs.
“Just hang on a little longer, ok?” He says looking concerned.
“What?” You say still bawling and completely confused.
Dean walks over to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water then hands it to you. He then walks over to the table and takes his gun before walking back in your direction.
“Please don’t.” You beg trying to move away.
“You’re safe, Y/N. I’m gonna get you out of here, alright?”
“Fuck. I really shouldn’t be telling you this yet. Or taken off your damn cuffs.” He says to himself.
“I’m an FBI agent. My name’s Dean Winchester. I’ve been undercover working for a bad guy named Crowley for the last eight months. So please just try and relax, ok?”
"What?!” You say jumping up from the couch.
“Thanks for filling me in, asshole!”
Dean sighs and drags his hand down his face.
“Keep your voice down.” He says dangerously calm.
“Can I leave?”
“Not until my unit comes in and tells me everything went smoothly.”
This is such a fucked up day. You’re never leaving your house ever again.
“Wait…is it true about my dad?”
“Yup. That’s the whole point of me being here. We’ve been trying to arrest your dad for years, he’s a slippery fucker. And while we’re at it, take down Crowley and the scum that work for him. ”
“You could’ve been a little nicer, ya know.” You say with your arms crossed.
“Couldn’t take any chances. I didn’t want my cover blown.” He admits looking a little guilty.
“Sorry. I know I was a dick.”
“I guess I’ll let it slide. Since you’re saving my life and all.” You smirk.
Dean laughs for the first time and it makes you feel a little better.
“Are you really dating that lame guy with the bicycle?” He asks curiously.
“Um, I guess. It’s not serious though.”
“Good. Cause I wanna take you out.” He says with a charming smile.
“Ok…since I owe you and everything.” You giggle.
“Yeah…you definitely owe me.” Dean licks his lips.
“Code blue!” Without another word, you rush towards the voice, entering a room with a young father on the bed. “His heart stopped.”
Suddenly you’re yelling out demands, none of them working. That’s when you grab the paddles, “Charge to 200,” you pause. “Clear!”
“We’ve got a pulse!” The nurses clap, letting out sighs of relief.
You step out from the room, smiling at the nurses, “Page me if anything comes up.”
“Nice one McCall,” Alex Karev said with a smirk. “Wanna celebrate the win?”
“Wanna spend the working the pit?” The smirk on his face drops, and he turns away, clearing his throat. “That’s what I thought.”
“Hey Y/N,” Meredith greeted, George at her side.
“Meredith, George, something I could help you with?”
“We were wondering if we could be on the Jefferson case?” George pleaded, a hopeful look on his face.
“I already promised Stevens,” you give them sympathetic looks. “But I do have a Jane Doe who’s missing part of her body,” you offer. “I have to do a skin transplant over the damaged areas.”
“We’ll take it,” Meredith grins.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile,” you note. “You’re usually all dark and twisty.”
“I’m trying not to be,” she shrugs.
You raise yours brows with a small smile, “Oh really? How’s that going?”
“Dr. McCall,” a nurse stepped forward. “There’s someone by the name of Stiles waiting for you the lobby? Said it’s an emergency.”
Your eyes widen, “Thank you. Excuse me,” you rush past them, rushing down the stairs. A worried look on your face as you thought of the absolute worst: Scott was hurt or dead, someone lost an eye, you’d never your little brother again. “Stiles!”
The dark haired boy looks over, and waves you to hurry. “Good to see you doc.”
“What’s wrong? Where’s Scott? Is he okay?”
“Uh,” he rubs the back of his head. “Define okay.”
“Right,” he stammers, “Come on.” Stiles grabs ahold of your arm, pulling you along, nearly tripping on himself as he pulled you to a room. Bursting in, your eyes widen at the sight of your brother, covered in blood, not healing.
“What happened?” You rush forward, shoving an IV into his arm, quickly starting on anything to help. “Why isn’t he healing?”
“We aren’t sure,” Derek answers. “Can you help him?”
“He’s my brother, I’m gonna help him,” you shoot back. “God damn it, Scott you really know how to scare the crap out of someone.”
“Sorry,” he mutters weakly. “I love you,” he smiles softly. “My big badass sister,” he says.
You’re eyes were watering, “Stop talking like that. You’re making it sound like you’re gonna die, and I’m not letting that happen.” You slip on a pair of gloves, reaching for the scalpel. “Hold him down, cover his mouth, no one needs to hear him screaming.” Liam took hold of his legs, Malia stuffed a shirt in Scott’s mouth, taking his right arm while Derek grabbed the left.
“Stiles,” you call. “Get out.”
“What? Why?” He watches as you lift the scalpel, and cut through your brother’s chest. Stiles hits the ground only a second later.
“Told him to go,” you mutter.
“Look who’s awake,” you smile softly as Scott’s eyes open. “You really scared me today.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he says taking your hand in his.
“I’m proud of you, you know that? Saving Beacon Hills, but Scott,” you sigh and look down with watery eyes. “I need you to just chill out for a little while,” you pleaded. “I almost lost you today, all because you couldn’t heal yourself. I don’t want to lose my little brother,” you lean forward and cup his face in your hands. “I’ve spent my entire life protecting you, and now you’re protecting everyone.” You smile and rub your thumbs over his cheeks, “I’ve got the best little brother in the world. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep him for as long as possible.”
“I can’t just leave all those people to get hurt,” he mumbles.
“I know,” you nod sadly. “But I need you to be careful, because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you and I don’t ever want to find out. Okay? Don’t let me find out what that feels like, I’ll die if something ever happened to you.”
Scott leans forward, groaning a bit a the pain, and wraps his arms tightly around you. Your shoulder dampens as he begins to cry. “I’m scared,” he admits. “I don’t know what I’m doing, and everyone’s counting on me.”
“You’ll figure this out,” you rub his back soothingly. “I know you will, you were born to help people, Scott. My little brother, is a hero,” you smile proudly through your tears. “And I know he’s gonna do the right thing, even if it takes a little while.”
“I miss you,” he says after a minute of silence. “The house isn’t the same without you there, why’d you have to work so far away?”
You pull away a bit to see his face, eyebrows furrowed, “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I thought I was holding you back,” Scott says. “You’re so happy here, and I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“Hey, I’m still your sister,” you point a finger. “No matter what, you come first, not my job or anything else.” Scott buries his face into your neck. “We’re gonna figure this out, together, okay? I’ll see if they have any openings back in Beacon Hills, or anywhere nearby. You should’ve said something, you know I’d drop everything for you.”
“Can you stay with me?” He pleads into your neck.
“I can’t,” you sigh sadly. “I have a surgery in a little, and I have to prep. It won’t take too long, just removing a kidney, I should be back soon. I’ll send the others in, okay?”
You cup Scott’s face, and kiss his forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll be back by the time you wake up.”