Crazy or Love? Based on BBC1's Sherlock's Moriarty. Moriartyxreader

A Hacker in his Midst

Beep, beep, beep, beep.
You slid your finger across your phone's screen and unlocked it. You sat up, and checked your messages. Most of them were from your father, swearing you'd pay. He was a Grade-A psychopath, and had beat you mercilessly before you left. But, you had to make it worse by refusing to marry the husband he had chosen for you. You ignored him, and got ready for work. Pulling your h/c hair into a messy bun, and applying light makeup. You pulled the black coat onto your shoulders. You walked to the abandoned building and set up shop to the closest wireless network. You were the Black Queen. World's most ruthless hacker. World's worst adopted daughter. Oh well.
Creek
The door to the old factory opened. No one should be here. You raised the lift you were on, and peered over the side. A man stood in an expensive Westwood suit. His black hair slicked back. A load of gunmen followed him.
'Who is this guy?' You asked yourself. He studied the room, looking for something.
"Y/n? Where the hell is she?" He checked his watch, his obvious Irish accent sounding frustrated, "Her father insisted she'd be here by now!" He was getting impatient. Great. Dad sent a hit man.
'He'll find you sooner or later, might as well make a grand entrance.' You hooked up your computer to the surround speakers, and played 'Emperor's new clothes' by Pan!c at the Disco.
The man and his men looked around in confusion. It was a good 30 foot drop, and your lift was shadowed in darkness. You jumped off, grabbing a rope, and sliding quickly down it, and dropping to the floor, landing perfectly despite the heels. You clicked the music off, and stood up confidently.
"Figured you'd find me sooner or later; no real escape on that handy little lift. I should fix that." You smirked. The man stared at you suspiciously, and his men were in awe. The man rolled his eyes.
"You call that an entrance?" He glared.
"No. I call it my best shot at getting out of here alive. Let me guess, Daddy Dearest sent you?" You played dumb. Westwood, career criminal. Old, but no signs of blood. Doesn't like getting his hands dirty. Irish, rough childhood. Severely abused, physically and emotionally. Bullied. First kill; probably about 12, killed childhood bully. Carl Powers, comes to mind. Found to have been murdered by James Moriarty, King of Crime.
"You'd be correct." You knew men were sneaking behind you.
"So, Mr. Moriarty, you really think I'm going to fight back?" You asked coyly. His eyes widened, he quickly regained his composure. You smirked, despite the fact that you were going to die.
"So you've heard of me?" He smiled smugly.
"Not much, but I know you killed Carl Powers, your childhood tormentor. I assumed it was you, because a) you were bullied mercilessly, but still seem to have an abundance of confidence, meaning you killed your childhood tormentor, I assumed around age twelve, and b) his death is the only one that fit the bill." His eyes narrowed at you.
"It truly would be easier if you just shot me." You looked with boredom at your nails.
"Sorry, Sweetheart, but your father has requested something a little more fun." You rolled your eyes.
"Of course he has. Are you going to cuff me, or strangle me? I assume cuff, my father wouldn't want fingerprints possibly left." Two men forced you into a chair, and cuffed you to it.
"You're good." He complimented.
"No. I'm not. I'm a disappointment, that's why I'm in this predicament." You brushed it off, and he narrowed his eyes at you.
"So, who are you have doing it? By the condition of your suit, you obviously don't like to get your hands dirty." You said nonchalantly. He glanced down at his suit.
"I was going to have Sebastian do it, but you are very annoying, so I think I'm going to have to make an exception. Besides, knowing him, he'd probably fall for you and let you go." He muttered the last part, hoping you wouldn't hear, but you did. You rolled your eyes. He stepped towards you, and grabbed a bag from a taller man. He continued to walk towards you, and you just laid your head back, and closed your eyes.
"So what's the getup for?" He placed the bag on the table, and started pulling different objects out of it.
"Why, considering a purchase for the girlfriend?" He scoffed.
"Please. I'm James Moriarty, I don't have emotional attachments. They get in the way. It was small talk. So, what is it for? It fits the persona, but you're alone, so it's utterly pointless." He retorted.
"There's a reason I chose this building. Three churches, all along this street, a girl in a goth getup, presumably muttering satanic gibberish, enters a building, Pop Rock plays from every inch. Keeps people away. If a dumb teen enters on a dare, with the right lighting, I can make sure they never come back." Your voice was laced with venom. Moriarty smirked, but was looking away from you. He felt the sudden urge to kiss you. He brushed it off.
"Sounds like fun." He sang.
"You should try it sometime." He laughed maniacally.
"I'm James Moriarty, I'm already everyone's worst nightmare." You scanned the room to find a lower level gunman/assassin staring intently at Moriarty. Female, and the way she was looking at him; scanning his body, she liked him.
"Not everyone's." Your voice was sharp and confident. He cocked an eyebrow, and pouted.
"Oh? Why, am I not scary enough for you?" He kind of hoped she would say she liked him, but that would never happen.
"Oh no, you could ruin my entire operation. I'm talking about that little blond girl towards the back. You're not her biggest nightmare; more like her biggest daydream." You smiled despite yourself. Moriarty froze. The girl was red, and many of her fellow assassins eyed her, as her eyes filled with tears.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought he already knew. Don't worry, I'm sure he won't kill you. Well, hopefully." The girl dropped her gun, it simply slipped out of her hands. Moriarty groaned. He hated these things. It's why most of his staff was male. This had happened before, and this was simply embarrassing. He didn't know why; usually this wouldn't bother him.
"Men, she's tied up, I'm sure I can handle it from here." He dismissed his assassins, the girl left crying, and you pitied her.
"Not the first time that's happened?" You asked nonchalantly.
"What do you care?" He snapped back.
"You were the one who said we should make small talk, were you not?" He smiled despite himself. He shrugged, still unable to look at her. He didn't know why he was so afraid to do so, just felt like he couldn't.
"I suppose you are right." He continued pulling out weapons, and you started to hum a song. He recognized it, but couldn't put his finger on it. You started mumbling the lyrics.
"Hell inside my head...
I'm on the run, into the new arms someplace
Run... I'm on the run, inside my head." You absent minded-ly started to sing the song aloud.
"What're you doing?" He asked a little too quickly.
"Oh, sorry, am I disturbing you? I just got bored, that's all." Her voice still rang in his ears.
"N-No. Go ahead." His voice started out shaky, then returned to it's confident aura. You continued to sing the song. He started tapping the beat with his foot. You hadn't noticed.
"I'm on my way, until your bleeding, making you screaming,
I'm out of day, I'm realizing, this is my time of rising!" He couldn't help, but sing the verse with you. You stopped dead in your tracks, and he did, too. Realizing what he had done.
"You have good taste, Mr. Moriarty." He let go of a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. He had to ask.
"What the hell are you doing?" He pretty much shouted, and he turned towards you. You cocked an eyebrow at his sudden outburst, but didn't even flinch.
"I have no idea to what you're referring." He was quite handsome, you had to admit. The fire in his tone was actually quite sexy.
"This! You're supposed to be scared, and you're singing?!-"
"Sorry, but I find this terribly uninteresting. Killing me is like putting a sick cat down. Torturing me? That was Sunday dinner at my house, minus the sexual harassment from my brothers, so sorry if I'm a little less than shaking in my boots." You rolled your eyes, and he stared at you, mouth slightly agape. There was sympathy in his eyes.
"O-Oh." He said simply, his tone hushed.
"Save the sympathy, I'm over it." Your voice was rough, and you had laid your head back, and closed your eyes, and began humming 'Death of a Bachelor' also by, Pan!c at the Disco. He stared at you, fighting a battle deep within himself. He didn't know what was happening; people had given him all kinds of sobs stories, some much worse than yours, but he killed and tortured them without remorse. He looked at you, and finding himself unable to look away, entranced by every thing you did. He felt himself want to hold you close, and never let go. Found himself wishing he could press his lips into yours, but that'd never happen. He was sent to kill you. You would never like him, besides emotional attachments made him vulnerable. He wanted the sound of you singing to fill his ears everyday. He grabbed a knife, and readied to stab you in your arm. But, as he brought the blade crashing down, it hit the rope instead. He looked away, the feeling of failure, but also joy, fill him. This snapped you from your daze.
"You're the world's best hacker, yes?" He said, trying to find an explanation to sparing you.
"Yeah... Why'd you-"
"You will work for me, or you'll be killed, deal?" He spoke quickly.
"Uh, sure? Deal?" You were still confused to why you were alive.
"I'm sparring your life only because you are useful don't forget that." He warned, and you nodded with narrowed eyes. He untied your other hand.
"Let's go, Darling." He helped you up, and lowered your lift, grabbing your electronics.
"Darling?" You whispered to yourself. Why did he say that? You chose to ignore it, and went to grab your things.
"Anything you need from your flat?" He looked anywhere, but you.
"Uh, I have a pre-packed suitcase, and makeup bag. Plus my other two laptops and their respective cords, but otherwise, not really." You asked warily.
"I'll have Sebastian go get it, come now." He walked quickly to the door and you followed. You had no idea what was going on.
"Sebastian, go to y/n's flat, and grab her pre-packed suitcase, and makeup bag. Plus, her other two laptops, with their respective chargers, she's coming to work for me." Sebastian gave him a confused look, but nodded. He proceeded to head back towards your flat. 'Did he just repeat that word for bloody word?' You thought. He, in fact, did. He didn't know why, but every time you spoke, he committed your words to memory. Every. Last. One. He loved how your voice echoed through his head, driving him crazy. But in a good way. He opened the door to the sleek, black limo, and you stepped inside. He looked at Sebastian's distancing figure to avoid having to look into your e/c eyes. He followed suit, and got inside.
"Music?" He offered a phone to choose music for the car ride. You bit your cheek considering.
"Yes, please!" You took the phone. Your fingers brushed against his, causing you to blush, but Moriarty had shivers going down his spine. He was mostly thankful that his plan had, in fact, worked and he got to feel the soft sensation of your skin touching his.