Moriarty The Patriot x Reader II

💟 |Albert James Moriarty| "Oh god... Why are you here?" (Version 2)

A/N: Another version of the previous chapter. It's not that different in the plot tbh you can skip

Warnings/s: Death, Blood, Mentions of Abuse

Tag/s: Angst

Guide:
(Y/N): Your First Name

2nd Person's POV

'No... No, no, no... It couldn't be...' you repeated in your head, your heart thumping against your ears as you scoured Albert's room, hoping your theory was wrong.

Ever since the news of your parents dying from a heart attack reached you, you knew something was off.

Your parents were the picture of health. Even catching a cold was rare for them... A heart attack? It was too bizarre. You knew it was murder.

The only evidence you had were the terrified screams they had the night of their death. You were supposed to be out at a party but decided to go home instead and sleep.

Instead of sleeping on your warm bed, you stood in front of your home as you heard gunshots inside as blood tainted the windows, making you immobile in fear.

When you finally snapped out of it, it took all your strength to run back to the party, locking yourself in one of the guest rooms and pretending to be asleep.

Nonetheless, being an orphaned young noble meant just bad things ahead.

Even at the funeral, you could feel the pitiful looks and malicious gaze of everyone around you.

But when you saw their peaceful faces in the casket, you couldn't help but let out a breath of relief.

As twisted as it is, you felt a weight get off your chest as they were lowered six feet under.

No more walking on eggshells with each word or move, no more hiding bruises under your clothes and makeup, no more hiding around the house when you hear your parent's angry calls.

"(Y/N)...?" a soft voice called out, snapping you back to reality.

"Albert..." you whispered in a shaky breath, "Sorry, I guess I'm just out of it..." you nervously laughed, making him frown.

He held his hand out to you, making you furrow your brows and carefully place your hand in his.

Albert held your hand firmly, giving it a firm squeeze.

"Don't worry, I won't let anyone hurt you..." he promised, making you pause.

Tears you didn't know you were holding back all fell at once, making Albert hold you tightly as you sobbed into his chest.

And he did keep his promise.

You stayed in the Moriarty manor ever since, getting closer to his brothers as you slowly fell in love with Albert, the only one who stayed by your side when no one did.

You couldn't ask for more.

But you couldn't stay there forever depending on the Moriartys.

Albert had no complaints about you staying in their care, but you wanted to be independent.

You wanted to be someone worthy to stay by his side, not some leech living off his money.

So, you decided to leave and make a life for yourself.

But there was still that gnawing feeling of your parent's death, knowing something was wrong.

You continued to dig into their deaths, wanting to know who did it.

What didn't prepare you was your search leading back to the Moriarty manor years later.

You always knew you would go back home to them, to him.

But not because of you accusing them of your parents' murder.

You tried to keep in touch with them. But as years passed, letter conversations slowly became fond memories.

You still held them dearly in your heart... but all the clues lead back to them.

You planned on letting them know when you visit, not sneaking in and dissimilating their bedrooms for undeniable proof.

"Please... Don't let it be him..." you pleaded, going through the documents, and you saw it.

Profiles of your parents are crossed out in red. Details of how they would stage it as a heart attack. There were even more behind it.

You felt your heart drop as you blanked out. You couldn't process what you saw.

The people you considered as family were the ones who killed yours.

"(Y/N)...?" a soft voice called out, snapping you back to reality.

"Albert..." you whispered in a shaky breath, turning around and facing him, your whole body shaking as you gripped the dresser for stability.

'Oh, god...' you gulped, keeping your eyes on Albert as he looked at his room, messy from your search with documents scattered on the floor, his expression unreadable.

"...Why are you here?"

87.5