Hello it's me! I hope you're having a great day! May i request a Albert Moriarty (Moriarty the patriot) x reader , they don't know each but reader is an assassin & Albert walks in during her mission?
I apologize if this is too much, make sure to stay hydrated (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)
Hello:3 I am so excited to write this cause?!! WAAA I hope you are satisfied!!
Anyway, the reader is an assassin who doesn't work for anyone, and takes up commissions and stuff so yeah!!
masterlist!!
cw: killing and blood, nothing graphic tho. Use of (Name) NOT (Y/N), mentions of suicide as a form of escapism to save your life, not proofread
wc: 1110 (prolly the longest i wrote on my tumblr, oof)
𝔸𝕝𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕥 𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕪 𝕩 𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
The night stretched on in eerie silence, the usual hum of life swallowed by an unsettling stillness. The freezing feeling in your fingertips was the only thing that kept your consciousness from slipping, just barely. It was not a clever idea to pass out somewhere in the East End. There were not only shady people after all, but also individuals who would not like you much. Your clothes were nice and quite clean, but it was also obvious you were not a noble. Just comfortable at best. That does not change much, you still looked like you lived a comfortable life. Which of course could not be further from the truth.
Your life was full of spilled blood and loneliness. And you could never catch a break too!! Traveling all over England was one thing, but the nature of your job was another. A normal person would never think so many people required your services. Well, they technically did not require them, because in what reality you need to get someone killed, right? But there are a ton of them. And each job required meticulous planning, a ton of preparation, and transportation. It is not unnatural to have to travel for hours by train. At least you get paid to do so. Another thing you do is plan murder. You know very well not everyone can afford the full service, and even though it pains you to make someone dirty their hands, ultimately it is their decision, and it is a steady income. And planning murders is not even exhausting, right? Wrong!! You need to collect a ton of information to do anything.
And that is exactly how you might have dug your grave. While you were sniffing and digging around for information for Lord Ernest, whoever that was anyway, you discovered something you should not have. The identity of the criminal who has been ‘terrorizing’ England. If it could be called that. It was someone quite like you after all. The Lord of Crime. Oh, such a fancy name. It was all just an accident, witnessing a murder. Not like it happens to everyone, not at all, but you just had luck.
You were just crouching down in the bushes, tracking your latest victim’s daily routine. He was taking his night stroll around the garden, however just then someone appeared out of…well clearly not anywhere, but out of somewhere, and they held a conversation. You could not make out any words out of it, however as soon as your victim dropped dead, you knew you had to follow the culprit. And that is how you figured out one of the Moriarty brothers must be the Lord of Crime. Or they are partners in crime. Who knows? Certainly not you, for now at least. However, who would have expected everyone to know about your presence?
And that is what, sort of, got you into this current situation. It was the first time you ever got caught red handed. Quite literally, considering blood was spilled on you as well. You, of course, panicked.
The body of another one of your victims dropped dead on the floor and you dusted off the non-existed dust off your shoulders, praising your work. Just then however, you hear a chuckle behind you. The feeling of cold sweat all over your skin envelops you and breath catches in your throat. Someone… they must have surely seen you- well even if they did not, it is obvious you were the culprit. One looks behind yourself. Brown hair, green eyes- SMOKING HOT!! Besides that,…an air of dominance and danger. And most importantly, power and influence. After looking around, you concluded that the only possible route seems through the window. Approximately five meters high with grass and quite slippery ground under it- wait no there is snow, not good either. Oh well. Taking one last look behind yourself, you run up to the window, breaking it smoothly, and jumping.
You of course do not know if he has any people waiting for you, and if he does, there is only one way out. Either you die, or your enemies die. Simple.
The chase was long and exhausting, it had been hours, you ran, you hid, and you took a carriage as well. There is no definite proof of your current enemy following you, however it is highly likely to happen, and your gut feeling tells you so as well.
The creepiest part of the chase was when you finally returned home, only to find your property totally destroyed- no, they just made a mess, something must have gone missing. What is it though? Who knows, not you, since paranoia took the best of you, and you left again. If they use it against you, you can very well get Scotland Yard knocking on your door at any minute. And that is why you are here.
In East End, in freezing cold. This winter has been especially chilly. Your body was shivering, and your hands have barely any sense of touch left, so what is motivating you to go on? A will to live freely? Maybe. Is it something you deserve though? You took the life of so many people, without even stopping to consider their situation. Yes, there were cases where you did not accept a commission because you did not agree with the reasoning. Yet you still took countless lives of people who had friends, family, life. Unlike you. You have no personal life, no lover, no family, no friends. Nothing. So why are you even trying? Yes, this exact thought is the one that made you stop, or maybe it was the sudden sense of dread that spread to you.
“Why hello.” A voice sounded out into the quiet night. “There is no need to run, for I have no intention of hurting you.” The person said. “I merely wish to have a talk with you, you must bee freezing, a lady who is not even properly dressed…” He prods at the fact that you are in fact not wearing proper clothing for a woman, well pants are exactly not it in this age. It is practical though. “Must not be feeling her best, especially here, in this weather.” He got you. Possibly covered as well. You are in fact freezing.
“You, such a gorgeous woman, (Name) (Last Name). Come with me, and you will maybe find a place you could call home.” He offered, while clearly staring you up and down. Not very proper if you ask me. But maybe it is not so bad to give him a chance, it might not be so bad.
