**The London experience continues … with a little help from Bad Company and the Dark Lord. I just love writing jealous Robert. :-) No smut (yet), apologies in advance lol!**
The stuffiness in the room brought a sheen to her skin, and Michelle reached for the menu, discreetly fanning herself. The paper was thick and rich, the woven fibers embossed with lines of gold. She hadn’t expected a dinner so formal and knew it was only a matter of time before it fell to pieces. She covertly canvassed the table, sizing up the eclectic group around it. Bonzo and Cole were already at it, regaling their corner with lewd jokes and raucous laughs. Jimmy was somewhat insulated by his bevy of maidens, but Michelle could feel his gaze on her, as it had been since they’d taken their seats. Strange. The thought receded as a line of waiters approached, presenting each diner with a delicate china bowl filled to the brim with mussels. They moved in concert, a fluid display. Very well trained. I wonder if they know it’s all lost on most of these heathens. She glanced at her server, a coy smile lighting up his handsome green eyes. Yep. They do.
The men vanished as quickly as they’d come, leaving everyone with their new treasure. Michelle sensed Robert’s amusement as he prodded the shellfish, exchanging a look with Bonzo. Trouble was afoot.
Warnings: None I think, (Message me if you find any!)
Tagging: @liqhthouse (Message me if you would like to be tagged!)
A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out Angels! let me know what my Little Angels think!
Over the next three months you continued to have dinner with your
father at the same little Chinese diner. Your brothers had noticed
you disappearing more than once without reason, but then Cas would
swoop in with a half baked answer that he had cooked up in his head
on the fly and save your ass from being found out. Each time you came
back fro visiting your father, you had the biggest smile on your
face, and you seemed… Happy. That was something the boys and Cas
hadn’t seen for a while. That was the main reason Cas kept covering
for you, because seeing that look on your face made it all worth it,
but it was getting hard to keep them in the dark, and they were
starting to wonder themselves just why you were always so happy when
you came back. Dean thought you had a one night stand. Sam thought
you had a boyfriend. Each time Cas heard their theories of what was
making you glow like that, he simply sighed and rolled his eyes. Oh,
if only they knew.
Which brings you to where you were now. Leaning against the hood of
your truck enjoying the smell of the Kansas wildflowers, as the wind
carries their scent to threw the air. Cas has asked you to talk while
your brothers were out of the bunker, and you had a pretty good idea
on what he wanted to talk about.
The tell-tale flutter of wings signals his arrival.
A sigh leaves your lips as you cross your arms over your chest.
“I know why you’re here Cas. And I have to say; I’ve thought about
it, but I’m not sure.” He stares at you, forming an answer in his
“I know this is difficult for you, but it’s getting hard to cover
for you. The Winchester’s are starting to notice, they are asking
questions…” he pauses, thinking over what he’s about to say next,
“… And I think they have a right to know.”
You heave a heavy sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. Deep
down you knew he was right, you knew that you would one day have to
let them in on your little secret, you were just hoping it would be
later rather than sooner. You honestly have no idea how they would
react, you just hope they they are happy for you. You rub a hand over your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“Fine, I’ll tell them tomorrow. I’m gonna head to bed, I’m gonna
need a good night’s sleep if I’m possibly go through hell again in
Dawn’s light comes all to soon for your liking, grumbling as you
trudge out of bed and into the kitchen to make yourself a bowl of
Soon following after your lead of getting out of bed, is Sam. His
hair fluffed up from sleep, he comes stumbling in from the hallway,
his eyes still fogged up with sleep, his slippers scuffing on the
floor. He opens the fridge, grabs the fresh carton of eggs, and
starts heating up the frying pan to make scrambled eggs for him and
You finish off your bowl of cereal, deciding it might be best to do
this on a nearly empty stomach, and grab the bag of coffee beans from
the top left cupboard to start the pot of coffee that would be mostly
drunk by Dean, the amount of caffeine that man needed to properly
function was astounding.
The last to come mopping in is Dean, still in his bathrobe, with his
eyes half closed, as he staggers over to the cupboard where you keep
all the mugs, and grabs a large coffee cup. To then blindly reach for
the pot of scalding hot coffee, this always made you cringe in fear
for his safety, how he hadn’t burned his hand of yet, you’ll never
Sam puts down to plates of eggs on the table, he goes to make a third
for you, but your shake your head at him, telling him you’re not that
hungry. Mornings like this is what make being a Hunter all worth it.
Your heart clenches at the thought of all this being destroyed
because of their reaction to you meeting your father. You stare at
them for a few minutes, considering your options, and trying to work
up the courage to actually tell them. You’ve been silent for quite
sometime, and your brothers sure as Hell have noticed. They give each
other a sidewards glance, as you play with your hands, while opening
and closing your mouth like someone was taking the words away from
your lips. A weighted sigh leaves your lips, your shoulders sagging
in defeat. You don’t know how to tell them. Dean seems to have had
enough of your dilly-daddling.
“Alright, come on, spit it out already,” You glance up at him in
surprise. He gives you an exasperated look, rolling his eyes at you.
“Oh, come on, something is obviously eating you up, so tell us
“Well, as you have probably realized, I’ve been leaving the bunker
more often as of late,” A knowing look passes between Sam and Dean.
Your eyebrows knit up in confusion, but you continue anyway.
“I have been doing this because-”
“You got a boyfriend!”
“You got a booty call!” Is shouted at the same time. Causing you
to choke on the breath you had taken. Sputtering, and coughing, you
shake your hand in front of your face, signaling that, no. They are
not even close. Recovering for your little fit, you continue from
where you left off.
“No, I don’t have a boyfriend, or booty call. I actually, now this
might come as quite a shock, but please keep in mind that I wouldn’t
have done this if it didn’t mean anything to me, I-I met my father.”
They clearing are expecting this, the furrowed brows, and the
signature Winchester smirk is no where in sight. You expected you
heart to be pounding in your ears, but for once, it is strangely
quite, it might have even stopped completely. They seem to be
processing this new, and uncalled for information. They seem more
surprised than anything, after all, you always said you didn’t care
who your father was. But then they thought back to the girl who had
died in your arms a few months ago. How your eyes seemed different
after that hunt, they had so many unanswered questions in them, how
you were sort of distance for a few days after that. Then how you
weren’t on that trip to Starling City, and when you came back, how
your eyes had been put back together from the pieces of broken glass
that they were, how they shined with a new found hope for the world.
And how the smile on your face seemed like it would never go away. He
made you happy. That’s all they needed to know about your father. As
long as he made you happy.
Sam is the first to speak after that. You let out the breath you had
been holding for so long you thought your lungs were going to burst.
“So, what’s he like?” They seem to be accepting this news with
caution, but their curious eyes tell you they have a lot of questions
for you. And your ready to answer them.
“He’s great. He’s a detective at the S.C.P.D. He’s got two other
daughters, Laurel and Sara, I’m actually his oldest now,” Dean’s
eyebrows perk up at the mention of your sisters, “And, no, Dean.
You can’t hit on my sisters, that’s just plain weird.” He gives you
a betrayed look, as Sam glares at him accusingly, which makes you
burst out laughing. This wasn’t so bad after all. “And, I would
like for you to meet him the next time I go to Starling City.”
It’s about two weeks later the next time you head to Starling, this
time in the Impala. Quentin had suggested you have dinner at his
apartment, instead of the little China Town diner. When you told him
about you wanting to meet your brothers, he was ecstatic, if not a
little nervous. But, still he wanted to meet the boys you spoke so
highly of. Told hi stories of how you had grown up, living on the
road and seeing sights you could only dream of. The late nights, when
Bobby would let you stay up past your bed tie to watch the stars and
catch fireflies in old mason jars. The hot afternoons of playing tag
in the open fields outside of his house. And how you taught the boys
to skip stones on the little stream that ran through the little strip
of woods in his backyard that seemed like a rain forest to your little
Your mind is racing through a checklist that you needed to make sure
the boys followed. Your back story, what you did for a living,
absolutely, under no circumstances, do you bring up the hunting life,
or your shins will have Hell to pay if you messed this dinner up!
Before knocking on his door you turn around looking the boys over,
and make needless changes and fix ups to their clothes and hair. You
were more nervous than they were! Sam seems to notice just how bad
your nerves are, while your fixing his hair and they start shaking.
He slowly removes your hands from his hair, holding the in his own to
make you calm down.
“Don’t worry (Y/N), this dinner will be wonderful. We’ll all get
along great, he’ll love us, and we’ll love him, because it’s
important to our little sister. Isn’t that right Dean?” He gives
Dean a hard glare, telling him to agree with him, and no funny
Dean lays a hand on your shoulder.
“Of course, Sammy.”
The door swings open without warning, your father standing there with
a large smile on his face, and oven mitts on his hands.
“I thought I heard voices!” A smile breaks out on your face, as
you move to hug your father.
“Dad,” You wrap your arms around him, before letting go to
introduce him to your brothers, but still keeping an arm around his
waist, and does he. “dad, this is Sam,” You say pointing to your
taller brother, “and this is Dean.”
Gesturing to your oldest brother. Quentin takes off one of his oven
mitts and moves to shake their hands.
“It really is nice to meet you, (Y/N) Has told me so much about
you, I feel as though I already know you!” Your brother’s smile at
him, Sam seems fine with him, although Dean seems a bit skeptic of
him. There are a few awkward moments of standing out in the hallway
assessing each other.
“Well, uh, what are we doing just standing out here, dinner’s hot
out of the oven, and the cherry pie is cooling!” Your father tries
to diffuse the tension in the atmosphere. Dean’s eyes light up at the
mention of his favorite thing in the world other than the Impala.
“Pie, you say?” You knew Dean had been won over by your father.
“Yep, grandma Lance’s recipe.”
“Well, let’s hope (Y/N/N) didn’t inherit her cooking skills from
you, or else I’ll be scared the building will burn down.”
You’ve been wondering who your father is since you were a little girl
and your mother was slaughtered by demons. You never really cared
though, you always figured he either didn’t know about you, or he was
dead, or he just didn’t want you which was fine. But after a recent hunt
with your adoptive brothers you begin to wonder who really is your
Demons, Blood, Dead Mother, Murder, Gore, Fighting, Discovery of Birth
Father, Death, Talk of Death, Sorrow, Supernatural Themes, Vigilante
Mentions, Reader will eventually become a member of Team Arrow! (I think
that’s it, message me if you find anymore!)
A/N: Here’s the second part of my new series! Let me know what my Little Angels think!
Tagging: @liqhthouse (If you would like to be tagged, just hit me up with an ask!)
Once in Starling City
you quickly find a motel that is relatively close to the address and
get settled in. Now, for the difficult part, trying to come up with a
way to introduce yourself. Tell him when you first meet him? Maybe.
At the end of the night? Nah. Casually slip it into the conversation?
Possibly. How would you phrase it? Bluntly? Sure, shows that you’re
serious. Sighing, you flop down onto the creaky bed that was sure to
make your back hurt. You would just have to cross that bridge when
you got to it, if you ever got over the butterflies in your stomach,
if you didn’t care, then why were you so nervous about what he would
think of you?
You rummage through
your duffel bag, searching for a nice enough looking out fit. Gotta
dress to impress, you pulled out a nice white shirt that flared out
at the bottom, and had black lace along the neckline, and a pair of
black leggings, with a nice pair of black heels to go with it. You
smooth out your shirt, a nervous tick of yours making it’s
appearance. Giving yourself an inner pep talk, you grab your bag and
head out the door. You plug the address into your GPS, and take deep
breaths all the way there.
As you ride the
elevator up your hands begin to sweat, and your heart starts beating
faster. When you reach his door and raise your hand to knock, you
freeze. Every option of what could go wrong is running through your
mind, and you have to take a step back and shake your head, before
deciding to bite the bullet, and quickly knock before you loose your
nerve. A muffled “Just a minute!” Can be heard somewhere on the
other side of the door, and your breathing begins to speed up. You
hear the door handle turning and steel yourself, a nice looking man
answers the door, around his mid to late forties, a reseeding hair
line, a friendly smile, and kind brown eyes. He holds himself with an
air of authority, he probably has something to do with the military, or the police, you think to yourself.
“Can I help you?”
His voice is gruff, but still sounds like something the could hold so
many kind words in it. You stare at him for a second, before shaking
your head and coming out of your trance.
“Uh, yes. Are you
Quentin Lance?” You voice is shaking a little, and you can tell
you’ve put him on edge a bit. He looks you up and down, almost as if
assessing of whether or not you’re a threat.
“I am,” You let
out a sigh, you had found him. Now, to tell him gracefully.
“I know you don’t
know me, but I have been trying to think up a better way of saying
this all day and I haven’t found one, so I’m just going to come out
and say it. My name is (Y/N) Winchester My mother is (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N),
and I believe around 26 years ago you knew her. So, long story short,
I’m your daughter.” Comes rushing out of your mouth. He stares
blankly at you for a minute, taking all the information in, while you
wait with baited breath.
“Why don’t we talk
about this over dinner, dear?” You let out a breath of relief, he
seems to be taking this rather well.
wonderful, all I had on the drive here was terrible fast food,” You
both let out a breathy laugh, that sounds remarkably similar. Maybe
this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
He takes you to a
little diner in China Town, while waiting for your food, you both
agree to start asking questions. You let him ask you first, saying
that he’s the one who just got a daughter he didn’t know about. But
he insists that you ask him, he said
waiting your whole life to know who your father is, I’ve been waiting
20 minutes, so go on, ask me anything.”
What do you do for a living?” You ask, taking a sip of your tea.
“I’m a detective
for the Starling City Police Department.” Ah, so you had been right
about that. “You?”
“Oh, I’m a
freelance mechanic, I travel all over America with my brothers.”
You tell him while taking another sip of your tea.
asks with a raise of is eyebrows. You nod your head.
adopted, I have two big brothers, Dean’s the oldest, and Sam’s the
“Ah, uh, if you
don’t mind me asking, what happened to (Y/M/N)?” You stare down
into your mug of tea, averting your gaze from his.
“She, uh, she was
murdered when I was 6.” His shocked expression is enough to tell
you he wasn’t expecting that.
“It’s fine,” You cut him off “I’ve had 20 years of people saying sorry to me, I don’t need anymore,” He nods his head, something tells you he can relate to having people apologize about things that had nothing to do with them. “But, if you don’t mind, I do have a few questions about her..” He gives you a half smile, his eyes have wisps of pain swirling in them, but there are somethings you just need to know.
“Shoot,” You stare into your cup of tea, the steam billowing into your face.
“W-What was she
like?” This question is one that has often plagued your mind, Sam
and Dean ad john to tell them what their mother was like, how she
used to tuck them into bed, and sing ‘Hey, Jude’ to them when they
had dreams about the monsters that they would one day hunt. How she
would cook a large Sunday breakfast for the whole family, and how she
used to let Dean crack the eggs when ever she made brownies. They had
at least some clue of what their mother was like, where as you only
have what you remember. Which wasn’t much, a few bits and pieces of
the scattered memories of a child, a snowman with a pink hat, and
raspberries for eyes. A warm loving embrace followed by a visit from
the tickle monster. But there was one that was always the most
prominent, it was a memory, but also a dream. You’re standing in a
shooting range, holding a gun that far to big for your tiny hands,
but much to small in your mothers. Your mother comes up behind you,
straightening your arms, and pulling your feet apart. She steps back
examining your stance, she seems satisfied because she motions for
you to go ahead. You take a deep breath, focusing on the target,
picturing in your mind that the hanging target is a monster trying to
hurt your mother, you hesitate another moment before taking the shot,
you hit the target square in the chest. You turn toward your mother a
large grin on your face, she smiles down at you, clapping a hand on
your back as a squeal leaves her lips. You can see the way her eyes
are crinkled at the corners because her smile is so big.
wonderful kiddo! Now, lets go get some ice-cream!” You can barely
contain your giggle of join, then a week later, you saw the same eyes
that had been so sparkling, filled with fear, as she told you to go
hide in a cabinet, You couldn’t believe that they were the same eyes
that once shined with hope, were now wide open in terror, a foggy
look in them, as a scream that was silenced hung from her lips.
The huff that leaves
your father’s lips brings you back to reality. A small smile is
placed on his lips, as he concentrates on his mug of tea, a look in
his eyes that says he is remembering someone’s smile, and you have to
hope it’s hers.
“She was something
else, a real spitfire,” He looks up at you with a certain fondness,
“She didn’t take anyone’s shit, and it seems you’ve inherited that
trait,” a smile forms on your face, you always wondered just how
much you were like your mother. Turns out you had a lot more
wonderment in your life than you had thought.
“She was the kind
of person to take chances, the kind of person you meet and you
instantly trust them with your life. Those people can be dangerous,
and Lord knows she was.” His tone becomes serious for a second, the
smile washed from his features, before it’s comes back again in full
force when he shakes is head to clear it of those dark thoughts.
“But, she was also the type of person who you can stay up past 2 AM
talking to on the phone even though you have work in the morning and
know you’re going to regret not getting any sleep but you keep
talking to anyways cause everything that comes out of their mouth
makes your chest hurt with joy. She was the type of person who loved
terrible, and I mean terrible puns, I swear she once laughed for five
straight minutes when we were making dinner, and I was grating cheese
and said 'I know it’s cheesy, but I feel grate’ I kid you not, she
By this time you
were hunched over laughing, and as was he. Your food came soon after
that, you spent the rest of the night talking about anything and
everything, from where you grew up, what his childhood was like, and
funny stories about your mother, and by the end of it all you’re
setting up another time to meet him in a month, and you couldn’t be
As you’re getting up
to leave a news story regarding the Starling City vigilante comes on
the TV that was suspended high in a corner of the diner, the Arrow,
you had learned he was called from your father. Apparently, his now
second oldest daughter Laurel, is trying to take him down. You had
lost your breath when you learned you had sisters, his voice cracks a
little when he says Sara’s name, and you have a feeling she’s the
reason he’s heard so many apologies in his life. You hug him when you
reach the street, and part ways. But, little did you know you had
caught the attention of the Oliver Queen A.K.A The Arrow, as he saw
you walking to your truck when you left the little china town
restaurant where he had spotted Detective Lance hugging a strange
women. And he was going to find out just who you were, and if you
were a threat to his city, or his family.
A/N 2: Do you want this story to have a pairing? if you do let me know which person you want the reader to be paired with by dropping an ask in my inbox!