Miss Jackson - Sebastian Michaelis x Assassin!Reader

Assassin!Reader x Sebastian - Your next target is the Queen's Guard Dog, but you'll have to get through a rumored ex-assassin to succeed ... Based on the song "Miss Jackson" by Panic at the Disco.


1. Prologue

Going out the back door

Didn’t leave a mark

No one knows it’s you

Miss Jackson

*           *           *

You refused to look back at the man you just killed.  Many had assumed you were just a regular street urchin out to make her way into society by selling her body.

            Many hadn’t anticipated the amount of British noble victims after they had acquired your services.

            An ugly smile twisted its way onto your pretty face.  Your boss had already given you your next target.  Another noble, this one a mere child.

            They call this one the Queen’s Guard Dog, (Name), he had dictated as you read over the file.  Many that had opposed him never made it back alive.  They say it is because he is always around his butler, a man clad in black.  Many of my spies that witness the Queen’s Guard Dog in action say the butler is a former assassin himself.

            Surely you jest, you had answered as you put the file down.  A boy the Queen’s Guard Dog?  A butler that was once an assassin?  Are you trying to challenge me, sir?  Is Nicholas beginning to surpass me, you think?

            (Name) Jackson, that is not what I’m saying.  I think it would be good of you to try your hand against the butler clad in black.  Who knows: he might be able to teach you a thing or two.  You can’t let all these years of training go to waste, he retorted.  With the swish of his cloak, he disappeared into the night.

            “A challenge for once,” you murmured into the night.  Your ugly smile got bigger as you darted back to the small flat you shared with Nicholas, the other top assassin in your guild, a mere boy of thirteen years old.  You never liked the boy: he was too clingy.  He was also extremely loud.  You never got back to your flat until the wee hours of the morning, and you only wanted to sleep.  You would jump back into training by late afternoon, considering you never went after your targets the minute you were assigned them.

            The door was flung open, and the small brat watched you warily.  “Another job, Miss Jackson?” Nicholas asked.  Grey eyes scanned you tiredly before he decided to give up on small conversation.  It never lead to anywhere since you were always so grouchy after you completed your assassinations.

            “Leave me the hell alone, Master Peters,” you growled.  You were going to have to get ready to listen to another investigator from Scotland Yard explain the circumstances of death of the noble you were apparently hired by.  You would jump into the same act every time – a distressed young courtesan that was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  The inspector would always bow out of your flat.  Nicholas would claim to be your younger brother and assure the inspector that you would make your way to Scotland Yard headquarters for questioning once you were past grieving for your “client”.  By the time the inspector would leave, however, you were well on your way to finding out everything about your next target.

            You changed from your usual job attire into your favourite tunic, a simple red thing with small golden flowers embroidered into the collar.  It was a gift from one of your admirers in the guild.  As much as you despised the other assassins for leaving calling cards for the Yard to find them, you couldn’t resist falling in love with the token.

            By the time your head hit the pillow, you were well on your way to your dreams.

*           *           *

Found another victim

But no one’s gonna find

Miss Jackson

*           *           *

A knock on the door echoed through the tiny apartment, causing you to stir.  It didn’t take you long to get out of bed, get yourself somewhat presentable, and ready to enter into your act.

            “Can I help you, Inspector?” Nicholas asked loudly.

            “Another noble has been found dead, boy,” a gruff voice answered.  “There were reports of a woman leaving the scene of the crime.  Some say she lives here.  Would you be able to tell me where she is?”

            “I’m sorry, sir, but my sister is the only lady living here.  She’s been sick recently, so I doubt she’ll be the girl you’re looking for,” Nicholas replied.  You had to wonder how long he had been waiting to use that excuse.

            “May I come in, boy?”

            “Only if you give your name, Inspector.”

            A sigh.  Then, “My name is Fredrick Abberline (?).  I’m a detective for Scotland Yard.”

            “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Inspector,” Nicholas answered brightly.  “I’m Nicholas Peters.”

            It didn’t take you long to realize the annoying brat’s aimless chit-chat was a stall tactic.  Normally, it was a warning for you to head to the guild’s headquarters.

            This time, you waited.  You listened to them discuss the death of the noble at great length.  You started to smirk when Nicholas decided to kick the officer out of the apartment.  You let yourself relax a little, and go back to bed.

            Without even realizing what this meant for you, you had baited your next target.  Training for you would begin when you would next awaken.

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