#cutie1365

The door flew open beside you. You turned to see Sherlock standing in the doorway.

“You alright?” He asked, before his eyes landed on your wound.

“I’m fine.” You said through gritted teeth, but he didn’t believe you.

He raised a brow and moved to grab the suture kit from behind the mirror. He knelt down in front of you to examine your incision. He worked silently, gently pulling out the ripped sutures and reclosing the bottom of the wound. He rebandaged it and rose to stand before you, his hands placed gently on your bare waist.

“Better?” He asked, and you nodded.

“Thanks.” You whispered.

You were still angry, but that didn’t mean you needed to take it out on him. Sherlock had done nothing wrong.

He grabbed his dressing gown from the hook on the door and wrapped it around your shoulders as you slipped your arms into the holes. He was being gentle with you.

He was more quiet than usual, most likely still trying to process exactly what he saw tonight.

“Lets go to bed, you’ve had a long day.” Sherlock takes your hand and pulls you from the bathroom to his bedroom.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands in your lap.

“I’m sorry I’ve been...I just.” You sighed and shook your head, trying to find the right words, ‘a bitch’ seemed fitting.

Sherlock stood before you and took your hands in his.

“I know.” He nodded, understanding. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“I know you,” You shook your head, “You never would have believed me until you saw it with your own eyes.”

“But I should have trusted you anyway.” He said, bringing his lips down to yours.

Gently his fingers made their way into your hair as his other arm wrapped around your waist. He lifted you off the bed slightly, pushing you back until you were flat on the bed. His body hovered over yours, your lips still connected.

His lips moved down your body, first to your neck, then to your breasts as he ripped off your bra in one swift motion. A gasp escaped your lips.

“Sherlock” You breathed out heavily, a mix between a moan and a gasp. You hadn’t seen this side of him before. He only smirked in response as his mouth connected with your breast once more. You felt his teeth drag across your nipple.

He pulled the dressing gown off of you, and you’re left in just your underwear as he slips off his own shirt and pants.

He pulls your legs apart and quickly disposes of your panties as he crawls back on top of you.

His lips connected with yours once more as he lines up and thrusts into you, hard. His mouth muffles your scream of surprise as your hands fly to his back, your nails grasping onto him to steady yourself against his brutal pace.

One of his hands moves around your throat, the pressure slowly increasing.

“Sher-” You groan, wrapping your hand around his wrist to tell him that it was too tight, but that doesn’t stop him.

Instead, his other hand comes to wrap around your neck as well, by this point you can hardly breathe. Your eyes begin to water.

“Sher-” Is all you’re able to choke out, and although your lips move you’re not certain you even made a sound. Both of your hands wrapped around his wrists in an unsuccessful attempt to pull him off as he continues to thrust into you.

He lifted his head and his eyes met yours.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck a hunter,” He smirked.

What? You thought, furrowing your brows as your mouth couldn’t form the word.

Though your vision was beginning to go fuzzy, you knew what you saw. And it was enough to nearly stop your heart.

You blinked a few times, to make sure you weren’t dreaming or imagining things. But you were certain, the moment those words fell from Sherlock’s mouth... his eyes went pitch black.

His hands flew off your throat as a scream ripped through your body. One final smirk was all you saw as the demon left Sherlock’s body, disappearing into the night.

You scooted backwards until your back hit the cold wood of the headboard. Sherlock lay before you unconscious as you pulled the sheet over you, shaking, and trying desperately to steady your erratic breathing.

The door burst open as your brothers barged into the room, yelling your name with their weapons raised.

“What happened?” Sam asked, lowering his gun. He saw that you were shaking in fear, genuine fear. He knew that it took a lot to get you to that point.

“He was here, he” Tears streamed down your cheeks as your breath became more unsteady. You felt so violated.

You were frozen, unmoving, your mouth hanging open, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“The demon that escaped?” Dean asked with his brows furrowed, confused.

“Did he possess Sherlock?” Sam asked as you nodded, still crying and trying to control your breathing.

He took in the image before him - you tangled up in the sheets, Sherlock covered and unconscious, the clothes scattered around the floor- and immediately understood what must have happened. His eyes went wide.

“Y/N...” He muttered softly.

Dean moved to kneel beside you on the bed, cradling your head and looking for any injuries.

“Is he ok?” You asked quietly as your eyes met. He looked up to Sam, motioning for him to check.

“He’s unconscious. He may be weak for a few days. It’s a lot for a vessel to take, especially if he fought back.” Sam explained, but you could barely hear him over the ringing in your ears.

“Come on Y/N, you can stay with us tonight.” Dean said, the brothers looked at each other in understanding of what just happened to their little sister.

That was cold, even for a demon.

Dean handed you the dressing gown from the floor, and the boys turned for a second to let you change. They didn’t want to leave you alone. You wrapped the robe around yourself and tied the belt, wincing as it hit your wound.

You were still in shock as the boys led you from the room and down the stairs.

You sat on Dean’s bed, silently. He could now see the finger sized bruises beginning to form around your neck. The brothers shared a look and exited the room to talk.

“What do we do?” Sam whispered from outside the doorway.

“We kill the son of a bitch.” Dean growled.

“I know, but what do we do right now?” Sam asked, glancing back at you through the open door.

Dean thought for a minute before answering.

“Go get John, he can make sure Sherlock is ok, then he can come check out Y/N.” Dean instructed and Sam went off to do as he was told.

Dean returned to your side, but you stayed silent. You were still processing what had happened, and how you of all people didn’t know. This was supposed to be the man you love, and you couldn’t tell that he had been possessed.

A few minutes later John appeared in the doorway, he stopped and his eyes went wide at the sight of you. He approached the bed and knelt down next to you. He brushed your hair back gently to expose the deep purple bruising around your neck.

You winced as he dragged his fingers across your bruises, he whispered an apology as he made sure that your trachea wasn’t crushed.

He instructed you to breathe in a few times as he listened to your lungs and nodded to the boys to tell them you were ok.

“I just want to make sure you haven’t ripped any sutures, ok Y/N?” He asked, and you nodded before realizing you weren’t wearing any undergarments.

“I’m- I don’t have on any-” You began to speak, your voice coming out hoarse but Sam held up some sweatpants to you as he understood what you were trying to say.

You slipped them on as the boys turned around.

You laid back on the bed and lifted the dressing gown to expose your bandages. They were bright red, but you couldn’t feel any pain. You could hardly feel anything, everything was numb.

John peeled back the gauze as he examined the stitches.

“They haven’t burst, but they are bleeding a little. I’ll redress them, then give you something for the pain. You need to rest.” John instructed as you nodded.

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“Y/N!” Sherlock screamed in the middle of the night.

The boys shot up, both glancing at you before hopping out of bed. You didn’t even stir, still passed out from the pain medication John had given you.

“Stay with her.” Dean instructs Sam as he rushes up the stairs.

He finds John doing the same thing as they both run into Sherlock’s room.

They find Sherlock, struggling to stand up, still wrapped in the sheet. John pushes him back down onto the bed so he doesn’t fall and crack his head open.

“Where is she?” He asks frantically.

“She’s downstairs. I gave her something to help her sleep.” John explained calmly, hoping his demeanor would calm Sherlock as well.

Suddenly Sherlock was hit with water that Dean splashed on him, and he let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t react.

“What was that?” Sherlock asked, looking down to the water dripping down his chest.

“Holy water, just making sure.” Dean nodded, this wasn’t the demon, this was really Sherlock he was talking to.

“Is she alright? I tried to stop him- I tried but I couldn’t.” Sherlock tried to explain to John, he was still trying to comprehend what had happened. A day ago he didn’t even believe in the supernatural, now he’d gotten a first hand encounter. And it sure wasn’t pleasant. He got a glimpse into your world, into your past, and he understood why you left it and why you kept it a secret.

“Physically she’s ok.” John nodded, but that didn’t reassure Sherlock.

“God.” He dropped his head into his hand.

“This wasn’t your fault,” Dean spoke up, surprising both of them. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

“I shouldn’t have let it happen, but it was like I had no control over my own body.” Sherlock argued.

“You were possessed, that’s usually how it works. We’re gonna find him, and we’re gonna fucking kill him. We can’t undo what’s done, but we can send the bastard straight back to hell.” Dean explained, and Sherlock made a mental note to never get on his bad side... or yours for that matter.

“Sherlock, you need to rest. You’re weak and you’ll need your energy.” John handed Sherlock a glass of water and a mild sedative.

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The next morning you woke up craving Sherlock. You needed to see him, to talk to him, to make sure he’s alright.

You made your way up the staircase and found him sitting in his chair.

“Y/N” Sherlock almost gasped as he saw you, he rose quickly from his chair.

The moment you saw him tears began to stream down your cheeks, your feet moved completely on their own as you ran and jumped into Sherlock’s open arms.

“I’m so sorry,” Sherlock cried, holding you.

“Are you alright?” You asked him, looking into his eyes. This was your life, you were used to it, you’d been to hell and back, but he’d never experienced anything like this and you wanted to make sure he was as well as he could be.

“Am I alright? Y/N your neck.” He gasped, this was his first time seeing it. His memories were spotty from the night before, but he didn’t realize it was this bad. It was a miracle that you were even alive.

“It wasn’t you Sherlock, you didn’t do this.” You reassured him.

“Still.” He shook his head, pulling you closer. His hand moved to cradle your head as you buried it into his chest.

Sam and Dean observed from the kitchen with wide eyes. They’ve never seen you like this with anyone before. To be so worried about Sherlock after all you’d been through last night, to care so selflessly about someone else... for you that meant only one thing. You love Sherlock, clear as day. You’d do anything for him or die trying, and all they could do is pray it doesn’t come to that.

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“Well to be fair, I’m usually quite preoccupied,” he winked, causing you to groan.

“God, they were right about you.” You shook your head, maintaining a slight playful tone.

“What do you mean?” Tom asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“I’ve heard the whispers about you. You have quite the reputation.” You remembered the girls you’d overheard last night at the party.

“So I've been told.” He smirked.

“You’d think you were famous or something, the way they fawn over you.” You rolled your eyes.

“Well you had your fair share of male attention last night.” Tom leaned forward, remembering the pang of jealousy he felt when he saw you dancing with someone else, it was strange for him, that hadn’t happened before. He didn’t usually care. Then again he’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted you. You’d been the first one to ever turn him down or call him out, it was refreshing.

“I'm nothing special.” You shook your head.

“Something tells me that’s not true.” Tom said.

“Why do you stay at the hotel?” You asked, changing the subject, “Why not just buy or rent a house on the island. I mean if you come here that often.”

“My parents like the hotel, I don't know.” He brushed it off, he hadn’t ever questioned it.

“And you don’t?” You pried.

“I don’t know, it’s just a hotel, I've stayed at a thousand of them.” He shrugged.

“There’s something different about this place though.” You spoke, mostly to yourself.

“Oh yeah? And what would that be?” Tom asked, curiously.

“I'm not sure yet.” You glanced through the window, across the city and to the hotel up on the hill facing the water.

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When you got back to the hotel, you were surprised that you weren’t completely repulsed by Tom’s company. This was so out of character for you. It was as if there was something in the water here, it just made you step out of your comfort zone and take a chance you never would have.

You were walking into the lobby as Tom began to ask you something, but was cut off by a yelp and cries coming from the courtyard. The two of you rushed into the courtyard to see a young girl, maybe 5 or 6, sitting on the floor crying. You ran to her side and saw that her knee was bleeding, she must have fallen and scraped it.

“Go get some ice.” You instructed Tom, pointing without looking at him, keeping your focus on the girl.

“Hi sweetie, my name is Y/N. What happened?” You spoke softly, trying to calm her, but she wouldn’t stop crying.

“Can you tell me your name?” Still no response. You tried to think of some way to calm her, and the only thing that popped in your head was the lullaby your grandmother and mother used to sing to you.

Chiquitita, tell me what’s wrong,

You’re enchained by your own sorrow.

In your eyes, there is no hope for tomorrow.

How I hate to see you like this,

There is no way you can deny it.

I can see that you’re oh so sad, so quiet.

You stroked her hair comfortingly as her tears slowly began to subside, being replaced by erratic breaths.

Chiquitita, tell me the truth,

I’m a shoulder you can cry on.

Your best friend, I’m the one you must rely on.

You were always sure of yourself.

Now I see you’ve broken a feather.

I hope we can patch it up together.

Her breaths had begun to stabilize after her hysterics and she seemed to be more relaxed, likely forgetting momentarily about her injury.

You were unaware that Tom had returned early and stood frozen for a minute in the doorway behind you. Seeing you this way sparked something more in him, a curiosity, something he definitely hadn’t felt with women more. He wanted to know you, not just sleep with you. When you had stopped singing he returned to your side, handing you some ice wrapped in a washcloth.

“See it’s going to be ok. Right?” You smile at the girl, holding the ice against her knee. She nodded slowly.

The three of you sat in silence for a moment before a voice behind you caused you to suddenly stand up and whip around.

“Where did you learn that song?” The old woman from yesterday asked you, there was an odd tone in her voice, almost accusingly.

“My- my grandmother used to sing it to my mom, and us when we were little.” You stood, whipping the dirt from your hands slowly. Why were you struck with a pang of guilt, like you’d done something wrong?

Something changed in the eyes of the woman standing across from you, yet you weren’t aware of what. They widened slightly, almost as if in realization. Whatever it was she let it drop and quickly moved towards the young girl.

“I’ll get her to her parents, thank you both for helping her.” She left quickly and mysteriously, leaving you frozen with furrowed brows.

“Who was that?” You asked Tom slowly.

“I think she’s the owner of this place. I’ve been coming here for years and hardly ever seen her, she keeps to herself most of the time. Kind of a recluse.” Tom explained, you only nodded. Something about her made you think, something just felt off or different or something you couldn’t even explain.

Tom noticed the change in your demeanor and didn’t press, he just walked you back to your room, knowing you wanted to be alone right now.

When you entered your room, you saw that both of your parents were asleep, likely still jet lagged and adjusting to the time difference. You grabbed a book from your suitcase and decided to sit on the balcony.

No matter how hard you tried to focus on your book, your mind kept circling back to your grandmother. It was as if you couldn’t get her out of your head.

Grandma Tanya had passed away 3 years ago when you’d left for your first year at college in London. You never got to say goodbye, but for some reason you felt a part of her here. The memories of the lullabies she’d sing you when you were young, and the owner’s fascination today with the song.

You had barely touched your book, and the sun was beginning to set, so you decided what you needed was a quiet walk on the beach to clear your head. You grabbed a sweater for the breeze as you passed your parents sleeping figures and headed out onto the beach.

The sun had just set as you made your way up the beach and back, turning to see a familiar figure in the moonlight. You nearly jumped, placing a hand over your heart.

“Tom.” You spoke, surprised to see him here.

“I thought I’d be able to find you here.” He smiled sweetly.

“I didn’t know you were looking for me.” You shrugged.

“Come on.” He extended his hand for you to take it, you didn’t move and raised a brow instead.

“Where are we going?” You asked curiously, you knew nothing was open anymore and most people had likely gone out to the clubs or off to bed, leaving the hotel empty.

“On an adventure.” He smirked, repeating your words to him from the airport.

You placed your hand into his, trying to hide the smile on your lips, and let him pull you off into the night.

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The night before judging, the team had you look over it once more, and you wouldn’t have changed anything. They asked thoughtful questions and seemed happy with your answers. It was such a different energy than the first team, you were actually able to talk to them and listen, and they listened to you and respected you.

Harley was walking you out back to your hotel on the outskirts of campus. It wasn’t that far, and you knew the area, but you enjoyed the company.

“Have you thought about applying for the Stark Internship Program?” You asked him.

“Of course, we’re all applying.” He nodded.

“That’s great, I think you’d be a perfect candidate. You’re a good team player, but I can tell that the design was mainly your idea. You seem to have experience beyond your years.” You said.

“You’re one to talk.” Harley smirked, causing you to laugh, and also dodging your question.

“I know, I know, but seriously.” You smiled, hoping he’d explain.

“When I was younger a... friend gave me some pointers and set me up with a lab.” He chose his words carefully.

“That’s some friend.” You raised a brow, but kept your tone playful.

“He was a character for sure. He once gave me this tiny rocket, called it a piñata for a cricket.” He smiled at the memory, but you’d recognize that sarcastic turn of phrase anywhere.

“You didn’t happen to grow up in Rose Hill, Tennessee did you?” You asked suspiciously.

“Sure did.” He answered casually.

“So you’re the wonder boy.” You smirked, knowing exactly who he was.

“He mentioned me?” He raised a brow, and stopped for a moment.

“Years ago. Something about a... potato launcher?” You tried to remember, and laughed at the thought of the man standing in front of you pointing a potato gun at your father.

“Wow.” He laughed, confirming your guess.

“You know, we’ll be announcing the first cut for the program next week and interview signups. Why don’t you come up to New York? I’m sure he’d love to see you again, now that you’re all grown up.” You motioned to his tall frame.

“I’ve never been to New York before.” He shrugged.

“You’re kidding, I’ll have to show you around.” You smiled, you realized you’d reached your hotel, and thanked Harley for walking you.

The next morning was the final day of the competition, and the day all the judges submitted their scores. Naturally, you weren’t allowed to score the team you mentored, to be fair. As you were scoring your first team's work, you saw the boy who disrespected you giving you a dirty look, like he thought you’d score them low for his outburst, to get back at them. You’d actually given them one of the higher scores, as they’d improved upon every error you saw and mentioned.

At the end of the afternoon it was announced that Harley’s team had won, and you were proud. Really they didn’t need much help, but you still felt happy for them, they deserved it.

That evening Harley joined you on the jet back upstate. You wanted to surprise your father, and you could give him a tour of the compound. He’d be a great addition to the team, and he was already familiar with your father. Of course formally, you’d make him go through all the steps for the internship, but he practically had a guaranteed spot.

As you got off the jet, still in your business attire from the competition, F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed you that your father was in the lab.

Harley followed you, trying to keep up as he admired everything you’d passed in the compound on the way to the lab. Through the window you saw your father with his back facing you, tinkering with the prototype you left him for Rhodey’s leg braces. You slipped into the room quietly.

“Dad, I’ve got a little surprise for you.” You announced yourself.

“I’m not ready to be a grandfather, young lady.” He quipped, causing you to roll your eyes as he turned around. Harley stepped to your side and your father raised a brow. He clearly recognized him, but couldn’t place him.

“How do I know you?” Tony asks, squinting his eyes as he examines him.

“We’re connected?” Harley shrugs with a smile, clearly that must have been some sort of inside joke since Tony immediately lit up, remembering him, and hugging him.

They were catching up as you were moving around the lab, showing him the nanotechnology he was so interested in.

You were laughing at something Harley had said, placing your hand on his arm gently as you heard the door to the lab open.

The three of you whipped around.

“Peter?” You asked, confused.

“Sorry, Happy told me to come pick up... my work.” He covered, clearly not wanting to mention the suit in front of a stranger. You hadn’t seen him since that morning he left your apartment, you weren’t prepared to see him today.

And he wasn’t prepared to see you so close with another man as he came into the lab. He looked older, and you were both dressed up, but he didn’t know from what. Peter had needed an update on the suit, and taking your advice had gone through Happy. A pang of jealousy rushed through him, he remembered your words, you needed time, to see if it’s worth the risk. Maybe you’d decided it wasn’t.

“Here ya go kid, all ready to go.” Tony handed him the case, he clearly wasn’t going to tell you that Peter was dropping by or that he’d mended his suit.

“Are you one of the interns?” Harley asked, oblivious to any of the tension in the room.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, Peter.” He shook Harley’s hand with a closed lip smile.

“Harley.” He smiled back.

“Nice to meet you, I’m sure you guys are busy, I’ll get out of your way. Thanks Mr. Stark.” Peter nodded, lifting the case slightly as he turned to exit the lab.

Tony had noticed how your face had dropped into a sad smile for a moment, and as Harley quickly turned back to you, you put your smile back on like a mask. Tony realized that you weren’t over Peter, and after all this time, you might never be.

After showing Harley around the compound with dad, the two of you drove into the city for dinner. You had a few tricks up your sleeve. You knew where you could go to ensure that the paparazzi saw you, with someone that wasn’t Thomas. Maybe the opportunity you needed to naturally distance yourself from him without causing suspicion was to bring someone else into the mix.

And the papers the next day proved your plan could work. “Trouble in Paradise? Stark Spotted Uptown with Strapping New Beau”. Your plan was coming along splendidly, but you knew there were more factors coming into play now. Since you were working with the FBI, they’d told you to sit tight with Thomas until they could find a safe out for you, and that’s exactly what you had provided them with. Once you received confirmation from them that this was a good opportunity to act and distance yourself, you set up another one of your planned outings with Thomas.

You’d gotten what you wanted out of him, he’s no longer of use to you. You knew he had been ‘cheating’ on you anyway. You had the pictures to prove it, him in a club with another girl, and in a dark restaurant, and outside his house. You were just waiting for the right time to use them. After Harley had to go back to MIT for classes, you’d set up a lunch with Thomas. Although he didn’t know that the paparazzi had already been tipped off to your location and anonymously sent the pictures.

You’d reserved a table outside to give them the perfect opportunity to overhear what was about to go down. You began by asking Thomas about the other girl, and he only laughed.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You spoke loudly so the undercover paparazzi two tables over could hear you and quote you, running your fingers through your hair and dipping your head to look as if maybe you were crying, knowing they’d snap a shot.

“It’s over Thomas.” You stood, slapping some cash on the table and walking off.

“Wait-” he tried to grab your arm, no doubt resulting in another great shot for the tabloids. While he knew the relationship was fake, he knew that you leaving would interfere with his father’s plan, you were a crucial factor.

“This was a mistake.” You shook your head, and pulled your arm from his hand.

As you exited the restaurant, Thomas was furious, his father was going to kill him, the election was in three days. A tank in the polls this close could ruin everything!

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“You had one job! One stupid girl! And you couldn’t even do that!” The mayor yelled at his son. Slapping the newspapers onto the table before him. Various headlines exposing his escapades and tell-alls by the young models he’d been courting. He and Stark were finished, and it had ruined everything his father had been planning. The one on top mocked how the mayor had lost reelection by only a thousand votes.

“I’m sorry!” Thomas tried to defend himself.

“You’re useless, you’re never going to make it in this business. Do you know what they’ll do to us now that I’m no longer mayor?” His father scolded him. He worried that without his government connection the other mafia Families would no longer find him useful, and they’d push them out.

“I do know something...” Thomas spoke quietly, unsure if he should share. This caused his father to stop for a moment and raise a brow, but his phone rang, shifting his attention.

“What?” He answered the phone, rudely.

“Deals off.” Thomas recognized the voice of Toomes on the other side.

“What?” His father asked once more, this time his tone was pure anger.

“You can’t even hold the mayor’s seat, you’re not holding up your side of the bargain. We needed you as a segway to the other Families, and to protect what we’re doing here from the law. You don’t have that power now, you’re no longer of use to us. Deals off.” Toomes ended the call, your father threw the phone down with a crack as it shattered. His eyes traveled back to his son, hoping he had something good, a saving grace.

“Go on.” His tone changed.

“I- I think there might have been some truth to those Spider-Man rumors. I wasn’t over that night. And after they came out she was very quick to rekindle for appearances sake.” Thomas explained his theory.

“That could work... that could be our bargaining chip to Toomes. We give him Stark, he cuts us back in. He just lost the support of the Families, he’ll be desperate. The fucking Spider has already fucked with his business once. Stark was already a liability with his plans, and if Spider-Man catches wind of what they’re planning he’ll try to stop it,” He smiled sinisterly, rubbing his hands together in thought.

“Two birds one stone.” The mayor smiled, dark thoughts swirling through his mind.

“What are you going to do to her?” Thomas asked hesitantly, yes he was mad at you, but that didn’t mean he wanted you to get hurt.

“What has to be done.” His father smirked, and Thomas didn’t like what that could mean.

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