#Laszlo kreizler x y/n | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

I need a very loving Laszlo smut, either top or switch with him, take it any direction you want, any build up, any kinks. But I just... my soul needs this V I need to see this man happy and satisfied

Coming Back Home [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Wife!Reader]

Word count: 3k

Warnings: SMUT (fingering, mild victorian dirty talk)

Author’s note: I am weak to see this man happy, my mind went a bit overboard, but I just couldn't hold it back, to see him happy and fulfilled in all his means, professional and private. Thank you so much for feeding my obsession and being my supporter @cazzyimagines <3

The cold air hit him as a welcome back in the moment he exited the carriage, he was back in New York after six months of study and hard work in Wien, he hated and loved it: he learned a lot and got the chance to talk with some of the best alienists in the field granting himself some valuable resources and upcoming publications, the city was amazing and romantic. But all day, every day, he was with his mind on the life he left here, on you and your baby boy waiting at home patiently, easing his pains with letters and little colourful sketches, reassuring him that he would come back to the same house he left.

It was late, he could see the light in baby’s room was off already and it pained him to be late for the goodnight story.

The driver dropped his belongings beside the door with a huff before taking his money with a big thank you.

Laszlo nodded, a sense of tension taking over him, what if something indeed changed? What if you hate him for leaving for his own interest? Will his son remember him?

The silliest questions took over him and he just rang the bell before the spiral would take over and make him sleep in the garden out of his imaginary shame.

Stevie opened the door and his face lighted up instantly, Laszlo’s hand moved close to his own face with a finger up to signal him to keep quiet. The young lad nodded opening the door more, but a loud whine came out of his lips when he saw the heavy trucks beside Laszlo.

“Stevie? Who is it?”

Your voice vibrated through the walls enveloping Laszlo like a distant memory and a fresh breath of air at the same time.

Stevie mumbled something “Nobody Madam, only some funny head playing with bells at night” he said as Laszlo nodded at him.

He left the coat at Stevie with his gloves and hat making his way to the bedroom upstairs trying to be as quiet as possible, your vanity the first thing that appeared to his sight, he shifted lightly so he could spot your figure reflected in the mirror without being seen.

You were already in your white night dress, hair down wrapped in a braid that rested on your shoulder, his own dark blue night gown draped over you making you appear even smaller, a book resting in your hand, the other hand toying with the fabric of his gown. A soft sigh left your lips and a little smile, you are liking the book. You turn the page with your features lighting up by interest, he felt almost guilty to interrupt you.

“Guten Abend, my love”

Your head shot up, eyes wide in surprise, a smile growing on your lips as he walked inside the room revealing his presence. A sense of nervousness still on him.

“Laszlo” you called rushing to him, discarding the book and throwing the covers onside, closing the distance between the two of you by jumping out the bed like an excited child. Your hands wrapped quickly around his neck, you pulled him in, lips clashing against one another. He smiled in the kiss, eyes a bit teary as the happiness you were able to blossom into his chest since the first time he met you was still there. He cupped your cheek with his left hand, the kiss being long and followed by little short ones, and then again a long one.

“You should have told me” You whispered and he smiled at you noticing how you also got a bit of tears streaming down your cheeks, but all due to happiness. You picked his right hand kissing it lovingly, oh that ritual of yours, that mindless action you always did to kiss the part of him he despised the most.

“Welcome home, my love”

He smiled widely, so wide he felt his cheeks and jaw hurt, while he leaned his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes enjoying it. Your little telepathy thing, like he could pour his thoughts to you and vice versa.

In the meanwhile Stevie kept himself far from the two of you not wanting to interrupt or witness anything he shouldn’t. Laszlo pulled back from that position as he stared down at you, your eyes met again as you gulped down a little, his eyes travelling onto your neck as none of you seemed able to pick what words to let out first, too many informations gathered in six months that letters couldn’t covert.

His eyes raising up to yours, you moved first guiding his right hand still safe in your grasp inside that warm robe hiding your body, his fingers meeting with the obscenely thin fabric of your night dress, the shape of your breast clear under his touch, his thumb brushing over your nipple earning an immediate reaction from you.

His breath itched, his tongue wetting his lips as you kept supporting his weak arm while his hand discovered once more what hidden treasure was the body of his wife.

His left hand undoing the silky bow around your neck that kept that useless piece of clothing closed, your breasts being exposed as he leaned his head down lacing his lips with you nipple and giving it a tempting suck, his tongue roaming over it as a sense of home and comfort surged into his stomach, then he spoke and his hot breath against your wet nipple made you shiver.

“Have you done the exercises that I gave you?”

“No”

His eyes shoot up at you, a mix between the need to scold you and desire in them.

“I could do it only with your letters” you added.

“Not touching yourself enough must have been painful, exasperating, you could have brought yourself to hysteria”

“I know, but I was waiting for this moment”

He smirked, the idea to be a vital part of your sexual expression turning him on immensely.

“Which letter was your favourite?”

“The one where you described your fingers inside me, I could imagine it so clearly while I was doing it to myself”

He almost let out a groan only by the sound of your words, the need to go knuckles deep inside you now almost impossible to hold back as the image of your distressed figure rolling onto the sheets trying to emulate that pleasure he only can give you clouded his mind.

His left hand almost angrily undoing the fabric belt the nightgown around your waist before moving behind your back to pull it off your shoulders, you gently let go of his right hand helping him in the task, your hands now tugging his jacket, his waistcoat, beginning already with his shirt buttons, you were so in need, but he was the same. He tugged his shirt off probably ripping off some buttons, the urgency you both felt filling the air.

His eyes trying to take in all your figure as you finally let go of that white dress.

“Oh, meine Frau, no statue or artwork or inspiration I have seen in this travel equals your beauty” he groaned as he felt like he almost forgot how he worshipped your body, how your only presence triggered obscene desires through him.

There was almost a moment of suspense before he leaned his warm body against yours, skin on skin again.

His erection already brushing over your lower stomach as you guided him onto the bed with you laying down for him. “Laszlo” you were about to beg him not to make you wait, not to tease you but his left hand fingers were already between you legs and a yelp of pleasure left you lips immediately.

“Soaked wet without me even touching you”

He was so pleased, you didn’t need to look at his face to know, but you whimpered when his long finger pushed inside you, he knew it, he knew exactly how to touch you, how to manipulate all of you. His lips laced to your neck, he sucked on it, bit it, hickeys soon will follow the passage of him. He is back.

To see your own neck pale and empty from his marks pained you everyday, but now he is at home and there won’t be a single centimetre of you spared. Another moan followed as his mouth found your nipples again, your legs trembling as a second finger joined the first one making you gasp for air. The ultimate pleasure approaching in you too quickly, abnormally quickly, but you missed him so much and six months without his care on you was a torment.

His prideful smile gave you the freedom not to restrain your pleasure, your hips jolting up and trembling, more wetness gathering on his fingers before he pulled them out knowing that it would make you feel empty.

He punished you with distance as he sat down on the bed, you crawled over him, legs still feeling like jelly as you forced yourself to straddle him. You didn’t need to rest, you wanted him to bring you to exhaustion and he knew it, he knew you won’t wait anymore. So you aligned him with your folds, his hard cock opening his way into you easily thanks to your recent orgasm, a loud growl leaving Laszlo’s lips.

“My wife, it appears to me that you’re back being a virgin after only six months away from me”

You blushed because his words made you sensitive and proud in a very peculiar way, you moaned slowly beginning to ride him as he kept muffling how tight you’re pressing his forehead against your chest, his left arm wrapping around you. You voiced your pleasure freely, fingers tangling to the back of his head, now it was your turn to guide his pleasure, to set the rhythm, but the pace was slow and deep, the desire still feverish in you, but the closeness inspiring you tenderness.

“How horrible to rest in the cold Wien without you, how empty to walk without your presence” he spoke directly to your chest, to your heart “every achievement was not an achievement if I couldn’t share it with you” he confessed, his hot breath against your breasts.

“You’re back now, next time we will come with you”

You smiled as his eyes shone looking up at you “my wife”

He loved to call you that, he always did, the pride in his voice when he asked you to be his wife the first time came back to your memory. You didn’t need many nicknames, wife and husband, the holy duo, the balance, the symmetry.

“I love you, my husband”

You moaned against him, his fingers digging into your skin, his right hand settling over your hip.

You couldn’t guess how much it lasted, you impaled deliciously yourself over him, he loved to stare at you going on your own on top of him, love it, express fully your feminine power. His left hand teasing your clit sapiently mimicking your movements making it nauseatingly perfect, your mind clouded by pleasure. He cursed, he growled biting onto the side of your breast when filling you up and gaining another moan from you, he held you down as he kept rubbing your clit until he felt your walls clasp deliciously around him, he still didn’t want to move.

He loved to see you helpless, washed over by pleasure, legs jerking aimlessly and fingers pulling onto him and his hair.

You didn’t take time to recover from that second orgasm, his skilled fingers knowing their ways around you, you bowed your head joining your lips again, you still couldn’t believe it.

“I am such a lucky man to have you”

You smiled kissing his forehead “I am lucky with such a husband like you”

You stayed like this, hugging, the time to talk will come, the time to exchange gifts and come back to routine. But not now. After countless minutes you slowly shifted from that position, freeing his hard on from you but slowly moving beside his sitting figure staying on your all fours, the braid that held your hair almost completely loose.

“Come my husband, you only had one orgasm, I know you love even numbers”

The next morning the light from the window hit his eyes, he frowned stirring as he blinked tiredly. Your figure tangled to his in bed, the covers over the both of you. He kissed your forehead out of habit, the marks already forming on your neck made him proud, your regular breathing and gentle perfume mixed with the sweat of sex made his senses alive. You felt him move and woke up pretty easily, probably due to have slept alone for so long. You smiled at each other, no words yet needed, a soft kiss placed on each others lips.

The a soft sound, more like little sounds following one another, little feet rushing down the hallway.

“Mama” being whispered by a very shy boy, his clear brown hair peaking up from the doors.You smirked covering Laszlo completely with the duvets.

“My baby” you said sitting up holding the covers over your body.

“Mami!” He gasped surprised “what happened to your neck?”

“Oh, it is normal my baby, is it so late?”

He nodded and you smiled as he hopped on top of the messy bed, Laszlo smirked from underneath the covers, it seems like somebody took a habit of sneaking into the big bed.

You smiled as your boy resembled so much his father, he crawled to move to your lap and that’s when Laszlo sat up with a loud “Who’s in my bed?” holding his hand up like a claw.

The boy squared but soon threw himself against his father’s chest.

“Apa visszatért!!!” He shouted so loud at you like you didn’t notice Laszlo at all and you chuckled finding the two of them so adorable.

“I am going to get some breakfast done” you said willing to leave them their space. Laszlo nodded at you as you wrapped yourself into your dress and then the thick nightgown. You could hear them talk softly, Laszlo was all about speaking to him in his mother’s language but also in German, so your boy was always mixing the three. “Have you being a good master of the house while I was away?” “Yes Papa, I have been extra good and mommy was happy too, but it is not like when you’re here” Laszlo’s little chuckle won you over even by distance. You had to learn Hungarian through Laszlo, even if you were lucky enough to know German already. But how sweet it was to learn along with your boy.

“Little Andrea woke you up, mrs Kreizler?” The cook, a very nice and good hearted woman asked once you reached the kitchen still wrapped in your night clothes and redoing your braid.

“He did, but his father is back, I couldn’t detain him in any way” You assured as you instructed about the breakfast to make something special. When everything was ready and settled you saw the two of them coming downstairs together, Andrea holding his father’s weak hand into his, still babbling in German to him. The two of them still in their night clothes, you loved to be unruly with them, half of the world outside would be shocked to see a family have breakfast in their night clothes, but who cares. You sat all together as Laszlo begun narrating about his travel, Andrea almost forgetting to eat as he sat down staring at his dad with shiny eyes like he could disappear any time.

“Andrea, at least the juice” you said and he nodded vehemently in particular after you whispered something to his ear.

“Do you have secrets with me?” Laszlo inquired with a smirk, his messy hair a blessing in such bright day.

“Always had” you said with a smirk and he chuckled softly before standing up and leaving for a moment coming back with some boxes.

He handed his boy one and two to you, while Andrea was busy unwrapping the gift Laszlo moved behind your sitting figure “open the small one first”

You obeyed quietly as the box was clearly hinting it was jewellery, inside you found some white gold and blue sapphires earrings.

“Laszlo, you ..” He shushed you softly “come on, wear them for me, jewellery over night dress, a new fashion from Europe” He joked softly but you obliged his wishes putting them on, Andrea making happy cheering sounds as he found the model train of his dreams. The earrings dropped beautifully on you, framing the new Laszlo loved so much “I knew only a Venus like you could sport them” he said making you blush, he always spoke in a way that made you feel like courting never ended.

“What about this?” You asked about the second box and Laszlo smirked just gesturing you to go on. Inside there was a study for a portrait, your portrait, clearly inspired by the picture Laszlo had with himself of you.

“I met this young painter in Wien, a bit struggling with money but extremely talented as you can see, a craftsman that works with gold, I invited him to come here next month and work on your portrait, he fell in love with your figure already, I already know I will have to guard your safety.”

“What is his name?”

“Oh, he is not famous, Gustav Klimt”

“Well, we can make him famous then” you said and Laszlo just smiled more as you kissed his lips to thank him for the beautiful gifts, knowing Laszlo he probably had way more hidden in his trucks “I knew you’d say something this kind of sweet”

“Mama, you look beautiful” Andrea called you staring like he was waiting for you to say something and you smiled nodding “yes, now it is the perfect time”

“For what?” Laszlo asked as you took his hand guiding him to the living room.

“Please, take a sit now” you said slowly guiding him to his armchair, the comfort of the familiar place relaxed him, the fresh flowers in the vase, the books laid on the table.

“Andrea has a surprise for you” you said leaning to sit on the arm of the chair looking up a his confused face, but he was unable to let go of that smile creeping on his lips.

“Come inside darling” you called “we are ready”

You took Laszlo’s right hand guiding it on your lap, the curiosity already eating him alive as little Andrea came holding his little violin, still looking extra cute in that night dress that made him resemble some cute baby penguin. He puffed his chest blushing as you gave him a nod of encouragement, Laszlo’s eyes shining to see his son like this and the chemistry you two have.

“I have learned this piece to welcome you back home” he announced as his shaky voice betrayed a bit his nervousness.

He placed the violin carefully onto his shoulder resting his cheek on it, your hands holding Laszlo’s while tapping with you finger to keep the tempo for Andrea. The melody was simple, but quite impressive for such a young player, Laszlo was unable to look away from his son, from the way he relaxed while playing, for the way you clearly helped him to gain the confidence to do this little performance.

He looked up at you as you two shared that look of complicity.

Life was bright over Kreizler’s household.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme

Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

#dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler #dr kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler x you #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #laszlo kriezler x reader #laszlo kreizler x y/n #laszlo kreizler fanfiction #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler headcanons #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler imagine #the alienist x reader #the alienist fanfic

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shmaptainwrites · 3 years

Text

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 [𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐙𝐋𝐎 𝐊𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐙𝐋𝐄𝐑]

PAIRINGS — Laszlo Kreizler x fem!Moore!Reader

SUMMARY — When you got your hard-earned degree in medicine you never thought you would put it to use helping your older brother, a close childhood friend, a former prospective husband, and an alienist solve a murder

WARNINGS — depictions of the effects of being drugged, injury, fighting, mentions of death, descriptions of crime scenes and murders, angst (some season 1 spoilers: minimal)

NOTE — Wow okay so this is my very first Laszlo Kreizler fic and I am super excited to share it here with all of you! Honestly writing this really hit the spot so I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did! [Reader can also be interpreted as adopted, I didn't put a big emphasis on race so even given the times let's just pretend they were more accepting]

Frustratedly picking up your skirt as you exited the carriage, you hopped on up to the home you assumed your brother was at, knocking loudly on the door.

When there was no answer you knocked again, louder.

“Hello?!” you called past the glass. “Christ almighty John I know you’re in there,”

You continued knocking until the door slid open right under your fist and you stopped pounding it in mid-air, letting it drop at your side.

“Finally,” you sighed.

“Who might you be?” the man frowned on the other end. You assumed him to be Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, a friend of your brother’s from Harvard. You had never met him and you didn’t even know if he knew you existed. But that mattered less right now, you needed a word with your brother.

“(Y/N),” you huffed. “I need to speak with John, immediately,”

“As his friend, I feel I must ask whether you wish him harm, you seem quite beside yourself,”

“And why would that matter, whatever my business with him is none of your concern,”

“Well if you are a woman he’s currently trying to court then-,”

“Oh no! Never in a million years!” you exclaimed, shaking your head.

He looked at you curiously and you filled in the blanks.

“I’m (Y/N) Moore,” you said. “His sister,”

“His sister,” Kreizler repeated thoughtfully, a hint of a smile coming across his face. “Of course then by all means come in. I’m sure if you’re angry with him it is well deserved,”

“Damn right it is, now where is he?” you asked.

“In the living room right off to the side,” he pointed and you thanked him quickly before picking up your dress and running over to where John was.

“John Schuyler Moore if murder wasn’t a sin you’d be a dead man!”

“(Y/N) what are you doing here?” he asked as soon as he heard you. “Who let you in?”

“He did,” you pointed to Kreizler. “I’m assuming he’s your friend, the alienist, the one I haven’t met,”

“Good deduction,” Kreizler nodded and John sent him an annoyed look.

“Alright then, what is it this time?” he asked with a sigh.

“You promised you would be home for lunch,”

“Oh come on (Y/N) that can’t possibly be such a big-,”

You gave him a stern look and it seemed to click.

“Oh good lord (N/N), I’m so sorry, it must have slipped my mind,”

“Well it’s passed now,” you sighed, straightening out your clothes and gently massaging your temples.

“Laszlo, can we get her some tea?” John asked. “Or perhaps something stronger,”

“Of course,” he nodded, making his way to the cabinet and pouring you a glass of whiskey while John sat you down. “As I am to understand it normal lunches aren’t this stressful,” he handed you the drink and you nodded.

“They aren’t, but my grandmother is trying to marry me off,” you explained. “And she has terrible taste in men,”

“Very terrible,” John added as confirmation. “I promised (Y/N) I would be there to make her more comfortable, but it seems I’ve come a little too late for that,”

“It’s alright this glass of whiskey somewhat makes up for it, grandmother only allows me to drink wine,” you explained to Kreizler.

He had taken a seat across from you and John, staring at you both curiously.

“Is there something on my face?” you asked in a hushed whisper, turning over to John but not breaking your eye contact with the alienist.

“No, he’s just thinking,” John assured you.

“How come we’ve never met?” he finally asked and now it was your turn to look at John with the same look.

“Yes John, why haven’t we met?” you repeated.

John looked nervous, you couldn’t tell if it was because he had a legitimate reason to keep you apart or he was just afraid of upsetting you again. He cared for you deeply, after all, as an older brother should.

“I suppose, normally when Laszlo and I meet we don’t tend to discuss… delicate topics,”

“John I’m a woman who has managed to get into medical school, if I couldn’t handle disgusting things I wouldn’t have become a doctor,” you said flatly.

“A doctor?” Kreizler inquired and you nodded proudly.

“I wanted to be one ever since I was small, I’m lucky it was something we managed to make happen,”

“I believe your sister is right John,” Kreizler pursed his lips, only now did you really notice the hint of a German accent that was there, having not been paying close enough attention before. “Was there another reason you didn’t wish for us to meet?”

“No,” John said quietly. “None at all,”

“In that case, Dr. Moore, your brother and I were planning on enjoying dinner tonight in a restaurant. Would you care to join us?”

“I’d love to,” you smiled with a nod, slightly surprised he used your title automatically, with most men it was something you had to ask of them. You placed both your hands in your lap and held your glass. “I could go back and change into evening wear if this dress isn’t appropriate-,”

“No need,” the man waved his hand. “In the meantime, I wonder if your medical knowledge might actually do us some good,”

John gave the alienist a look and he responded with,

“If she is not comfortable she can simply say so herself,”

“Thank you Dr. Kreizler,” you said while nudging your brother. “And I’d love to be of assistance in any way I can. Is this related to the murders of the children happening in the lower east side?” you asked and leaned forward, your curiosity having been piqued.

“Yes it is,” he nodded, pushing himself up and moving to the table where he picked up a file and came back to you handing it with all its contents.

“We have two coroners working with us already-,”

“The Isaacson brothers?” you asked.

“Yes,” Kreizler nodded. “But they are also police officers, so it would be well on our part to have someone else in case their work no longer allows for them to assist us,”

“How do you know the Isaacsons?” John asked.

“Lucius tutored me in my first year,” you explained and he nodded,

“Small world,”

“Now is there something specific about this you’d wish for some insight on?”

“The wounds,” he pointed with his left hand, the right almost stiffly plastered to his side. “Tell me what you can deduce from them,”

“Well as it is with most things it would be much better if I could see the body in person, not that it would make this any easier, poor little one,” you murmured quietly. “But from what I can see on the wrist and torso it seems that the cuts that were made are clean,” you said.

“Meaning?’ John pressed.

“He didn’t hesitate when inflicting the wound, it’s possible you’re either dealing with a very deeply disturbed individual, but I also wouldn’t discount someone with possible medical knowledge, but that’s more in your wheelhouse isn’t it doctor,”

“That it would be,” he nodded.

“Tell me, do you psychoanalyze John?” you asked, a cheeky grin plastered on your face.

“Often,” John grimaced and Kreizler shrugged.

“Yes, I must say I am guilty of that,”

“And don’t think you’ll be excused,” John looked over at you. “He does it to everyone,”

“Especially when I wish to annoy them,” he joked and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

John took one look at the doctor then you and it didn’t take him long to determine that this new friendship would most definitely be the death of him.

—

Walking up the steps to Dr. Kreizler’s facility, you pushed open the gate and peeked your head inside.

“Excuse me? Can I help you?” a matron asked and you came in and nodded.

“I’m looking for Dr. Kreizler and John Moore, I was told they were here and looking for me,”

“Yes, of course, they’re right up over the staircase,”

You nodded, thanking her and climbing up the steps until you reached the large library.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Moore, thank you so much for joining us,” Kreizler came out from behind one of the shelves.

“You called (Y/N)?” John asked standing from the couch.

“Nice to see you too John,” you rolled your eyes, coming up to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Sara? Is that you?” you asked curiously, seeing the familiar face sitting on the couch. “Has John roped you into this too?”

“Yes, it seems that way,”

“Alright, Dr. Kreizler, what might I help you with?” you asked, walking over to the alienist, and peering over his shoulder seeing the photos with new crime scene details.

“Yes, I just wanted a second opinion on a few things,” he explained handing you the images and walking you through certain wounds and the proposed murder weapon.

“I’d have to say I concur with the Isaacsons,” you nodded. “They seem to have done their work very thoroughly. You can trust them,”

“Yes I’m afraid it’s not them I do not trust but more so a hesitancy to their superior officer,”

“Teddy?” you asked quizzically and Kreizler frowned but nodded.

“You refer to him very informally, do you know each other well?”

“I would say so,” John chuckled lightly to himself and you rolled your eyes at your older brother.

“We courted for a very short time while he was in college. Our plans didn’t fit but he supported me through my schooling and we’re still good friends,” you clarified. “John just enjoys sharing personal details of my life to embarrass me,”

“Oh come on (Y/N), if George isn’t here to do it who will?”

“Don't you dare John Schuyler, that’s awfully thin ice you’re treading on,”

“I love you too,” he mouthed and you shook your head, turning to face the large board with neat cursive writing, showing everything they knew about the killer so far and what Dr. Kreizler had managed to extract from his psyche using some sort of psychoanalysis.

You tilted your head curiously, looking at the board, your neurons were firing, attempting to make connections and solve some pieces of the puzzle.

“Have you noticed anything of particular interest?” Sarah asked and you pursed your lips.

“Do you have a record of the time gaps between each murder? I remember reading somewhere that most serial murderers aren’t able to suppress their urge to kill past a certain interval,”

“We don’t but it would be easy to get them,” Kreizler nodded.

You smiled to yourself, going to take a seat on the couch next to Sara,

“Don’t suppose you plan on sticking around,” she said to you. “We could use another trained eye,”

“I suppose you could, but be honest, you just want a friend,” you chuckled and she rolled her eyes.

“Is that a crime (Y/N)?”

“I suppose not,” you shrugged.

“Good then,” she straightened herself out and you watched carefully as the group continued to interact, the Isaacsons joining you soon after. Kreizler seemed to take the lead on things, deputizing the other to do certain tasks that their jobs permitted them to do. It was quite interesting and you supposed if you were yourself an alienist you might study their dynamic. Each person had such unique personalities and it was clear that at one moment or another they were bound to clash, but the desire to find out the truth was so strong you were almost certain they could overcome any menial differences they may have had.

This wasn’t the last time Dr. Kreizler had called you in to come and consult on a certain aspect of the case, you sometimes found yourself wondering what Marcus and Lucius were even doing for him to constantly call you back and ask for your opinion.

But your relationship with everyone besides John and Sara didn’t extend past the investigation. It was purely professional, devoid of any personal details, though you noticed Dr. Kreizler seemed to be sparing with those even among his close friends.

One day the doctor found himself needing your assistance once again so he made a call to the office where you were employed and when they said that you weren’t working that day he instead decided to go and meet you himself at your grandmother’s house where both you and John were currently living.

Cyrus pulled up the carriage right outside the home and he exited it, walking up the steps two at a time until he reached the door, giving it a firm knock.

He could hear a small rustle inside until he could see John walking towards the door from the crystal-like glass.

“Laszlo, has there been a development?’ he asked, stepping out of the house and pulling the door into his back.

“No, I just thought your sister might be able to shed some light on the old evidence. She has an interesting mind. Is she home?” he asked, head tilted slightly to the side.

John sighed and pressed his lips together in a thin line. His hand reached in past the door and grabbed a jacket off the coat hanger and came back out, closing the door fully this time.

“Come with me,” he said, motioning for the doctor to follow him. Kreizler did so as they walked down the street in silence until they came across a small fenced grassy area, lined with headstones, and there you were, straight in the center, laying down on your back, your hands resting on your stomach and eyes fixed on the clouds above. There was a moment of silence where Kreizler just observed you before he turned to John and asked,

“Does she do this often?”

“Only when she’s upset or unsure of something. She lost a patient today so I’m sure that might have something to do with it,”

Kreizler nodded and bit the inside of his cheek before deciding to push open the gate and walk up towards you.

Hearing the footsteps nearing you, you became worried that it was your grandmother coming to scold you on how unladylike your behaviour was, but instead, when you pushed yourself up slightly you saw Dr. Kreizler looking down at you, insisting you lay back down.

Carefully, you lowered yourself back down to the ground, but turned your head to the side, watching him take a seat next to you and slowly doing the same.

You looked back up at the sky and quietly said, “You’re going to try and pick my mind now aren’t you,”

“I’ll try not to,” he responded, his eyes firmly fixed on you. “But this is your brother’s resting place, correct?”

You nodded, moving your hand from your stomach to the headstone, tracing the engraved letters with your fingers.

“George Charles Moore,” you sighed and there was silence again for a minute or two before you decided to speak up again, “I know you want to know more. Ask me, it’s okay,” you assured.

“Y-You were close with him?”

“Very,” you smiled softly to yourself. “He was my best friend, confidant. He believed in me no matter what,”

Kreizler could sense the respect you had for him, someone who looked after you when your parents couldn't.

“I think after he passed away I realized I had to become a doctor. I had always wanted to do it, but it made me realize why,”

“Because you were able to halt death, even if only temporarily,”

You nodded, confirming his statement.

“You always wonder if there was something else you could have done. If you could have helped them more and maybe they or their loved ones wouldn’t have to suffer the same way I did. Completely helpless,”

“Is that why you’re always wanting to help people? Why you want to find out who’s committing these crimes?” he asked.

“I suppose so, I mean if we find who did it that puts defenceless boys out of harm's way and maybe we can see what happened to whatever tortured soul is committing these crimes and make sure it never happens again,”

A more comfortable silence settled across the two of you and you thought Kreizler might even stand up and leave, but instead, you heard his slightly accented voice speaking just barely above a whisper.

“When my mother passed away I felt like I lost whatever it was that was guiding me,”

Your head turned to look at him, noticing how his face softened when he spoke of her.

“I had the potential to become a monster, a bitter, spiteful monster, but she… she always loved me and no matter who I felt had wronged me, it didn’t matter anymore. So when she was gone I had to learn to do that for myself,”

“I’d say you’re doing a decent job,” you placed a hand on his, laying by his side and giving it a light squeeze. You could see him visibly tense so you let go and retracted your hand.

“Only decent?” he teased and you shook your head.

“You know what I mean Laszlo,”

Laszlo, the sound of his first name from your lips was like sweet heaven and made his heart pound a little louder and faster than he would have liked to admit.

“Am I to assume we’re at a point in our friendship where we can do away with formalities?” he asked and you nodded.

“Yes, I’d like to think so,”

“Alright then, (Y/N), I’ll leave you be a while longer,” he pushed himself up off his back and used his cane to help him back up.

“Laszlo, why did you come to see me?” you asked quietly before he left.

He paused,

“I can’t seem to remember now. If it comes to me you’ll be the first to know,”

You nodded and allowed him to walk away toward your brother, still waiting at the gate and listening closely you could hear their soft voices.

“So is she crazy?” John asked sarcastically, knowing very well he was guilty of doing the exact same thing as you every once in a while, though he would never admit to it.

Laszlo shook his head, and his voice dripped with pure sincerity when he gave John a small smile and said,

“Not in the slightest,”

—

“He asked you to dinner?” John cocked his head to the side. “To discuss case files,”

“Yes, we’re looking over some new evidence Teddy sent over about that rich boy, Laszlo’s not convinced it’s him,”

“So he’s said,” John nodded. “Isn’t that dress a little, I don’t know, formal for just a work outing?”

“It’s not a crime to want to look nice, John,” you said flatly, adjusting the pins in your hair. “And if we’re not eating at the home it’s always nice to dress up,”

John sighed and nodded while you grabbed your purse, and walked towards your older brother.

He wrapped his arms around your and pressed a firm kiss to your forehead, while you hugged him back.

“You don’t have to worry about me John you know that?” you said softly.

“I know, I’m not worried about you going with Laszlo, it’s just…” he shook his head.

“No it’s okay,” you nodded, squeezing him a little tighter.

Ever since George had passed away it didn’t just leave a mark on you. John hid it rather well from others, but he couldn’t deny that each time you stepped out of the house, especially while there was a psychopathic murderer on the loose, he became increasingly worried for your safety. He wasn’t about to let another younger sibling slip through his fingers, not again.

“Find a telephone and call me when you get to the restaurant okay?”

“Should I call here or the brothel?” you raised a brow and that was his cue to shrug you off him, allowing you to make your way to the cab. “But seriously John, where do I call?” you repeated.

“Here,” he muttered and you smiled.

“I love you,”

“Love you too,”

Leaving your grandmother’s home, you hailed a cab and instructed him to bring you to the restaurant you were supposed to meet Kreizler at.

When you came to your destination you made a quick call home before making your way to the table where the alienist was already seated, sipping his wine.

“(Y/N), you look lovely,” he gave you a small friendly smile that you reciprocated.

“Thank you, you’re not looking too bad yourself,” you nodded, taking a seat across from him. “So what are these developments you wished to speak about?”

“The dates,” he said, “After visiting the bishop at the church I realized the significance of the days,”

He pulled out a small day planner, motioning to the highlighted days.

“Do you see what they have in common?” he asked.

Flipping through the pages, you saw Kreizler was right. Each day had one thing in common. It landed on a holy day.

“There certainly couldn’t be a religious motive, no?” you said, looking up from the book.

“I highly doubt it,” he shook his head. “But something more likely is that perhaps religion, or church more specifically has some sort of special meaning to him,”

“Fascinating,” you murmured, glancing again at the dates in the planner. You smiled fondly when you saw your name written under the date for that day, his handwriting moving in one smooth motion, letters curling neatly.

“I thought so too,” he nodded.

Through dinner, you discussed other details pertaining to the case and you made a few small comments on the doctor’s health, hoping he was still taking care of himself while investigating.

“What about water, did you drink any today?”

“Of course I did (Y/N), I’m fine,” he assured.

“And you’re not skipping meals,”

“On occasion, but that’s no different from my normal habits,”

“Then they need to change,” you said simply. “Look at yourself,” you said, reaching a hand to gently touch his cheek with the back of your fingers. “You could put on a bit more weight, and if you add some fish to your diet it’s been found to help with brain functions and various different pains,”

Kreizler stared back down at his food, a small nervous chuckle escaping his lips,

“I guess the steak wasn’t the best choice then,”

“Next time,” you laughed with him, your arm laying on the table, fingers gently tapping in a haphazard rhythm.

Dr. Kreizler raised his hand to come and meet yours halfway on the table, a simple act, but it spoke volumes.

As the night drew to a close he offered you a ride home which you gratefully accepted, continuing your conversation through the carriage ride until you stopped outside your home.

“I suppose this is where we part for tonight,”

“Yes, I suppose so,” you nodded.

He carefully reached to take your hand in his, lifting it to his lips and pressing a light kiss to it.

“Sleep well, (Y/N),”

You smiled, grateful the dark could hide the flustered look on your face. You walked up to the door and looked back, one last time before disappearing back into the cover of darkness.

—

The investigation started to take a turn, and it wasn’t becoming uncommon for you to spend late nights either at the institution or Dr. Kreizler’s home. It was a non-stop search. And after the close run-in Stevie had after the trap had been set everyone was on edge.

So when it was well past one o’clock in the morning and you were the last person there, you weren’t sure you could say what came over you when you sat down on the piano bench, reading the sheet music that was placed on the stand.

Your fingers gazed over the keys before finding the right notes, playing the chords in whatever tune they were arranged in. You made a few mistakes here and there, but that was expected, you were rusty. What you didn’t expect was hearing the soft voice asking you to stop.

Your hands froze and you turned around, looking at Dr. Kreizler, standing in the doorway, and he looked, upset.

“Is something wrong?” you asked.

“No, I’d just like you to stop,” he said simply.

“Why?” you asked.

His irritation became more evident, the way his jaw was locked and twisted.

“Because I said so isn’t that enough?”

You shook your head, the exhaustion getting the best of you when you stood up and looked at him, disappointment in your eyes.

“You can’t expect me to be the type of person to just bow down to your every whim and pleasure Laszlo. I’m already sacrificing a lot helping you,” you said firmly. “It’s just a piano like you said, normally such things don’t cause stress or irritation,”

“Yes well, it’s none of your concern.”

“Actually,” you looked at him, gaze piercing. “It is my concern. Because whether you like it or not Laszlo people care about you,” you said through gritted teeth. “And yet all you can seem to do is push us away! Don’t think I don’t know you lied about your arm, that you struck Sara over it. As an alienist, I’d expect you to know better that there’s a need to talk about such things,”

“You have no right to bring that up,” he seethed.

“Well if you think that then I suppose I’ll take my leave. It seems I’m not wanted here. You be careful doctor, keep on this path and there will be no one left to take care of you,”

You marched out of the door, surprised to still see a few cabs running this late into the night, you called one over and quickly climbed inside a few tears stinging your eyes, but without so much as a look back, you closed the door.

—

The next morning Kreizler awoke to the sound of the phone ringing. He quickly climbed out of bed and made his way downstairs, taking it off the receiver and placing it to his ear.

“Laszlo is that you?” he could hear John’s voice, it sounded worried.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Did (Y/N) stay over last night?”

“John I don’t know what you’re insinuating-,”

“She didn’t show up at home Laszlo,” he interrupted. “Please tell me she’s with you,”

Kreizler could feel his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. If you hadn't fought Cyrus would have prepared the cab to take you home. You could have stayed the night in the guest bedroom, anything, but what he thought had happened.

“John…”

“Dammit! I knew I shouldn't have let her be a part of this!”

“John I’m going to the police immediately,” he said firmly. “Grab your jacket and meet me there, we’re going to need whatever help we can get,”

John took a deep breath, “My little sister better not be hurt, I swear to God-,”

“John, I assure you, whatever you're thinking I’ve already thought ten times worse, let’s just find her first,”

“Hurry up,” he muttered quietly, hanging up the phone and leaving the doctor with a disconnected line.

John was already meeting with the commissioner, and he considered himself lucky to have attended Harvard with him.

“Do you know where she last was, or what happened?”

“Laszlo knows better than me, he was with her last,” John said quietly, looking up at his friend.

“Alright then,” Theodore turned to the alienist. “What happened?”

“We were working late on the case and decided to take a break, I went to get tea and she… it doesn’t matter, we were tried and had an argument. She left the house before I could say anything and the last time I saw her was when she climbed into a cab,”

“Around what time was this?”

“Quarter past one in the morning,” he said, trying to keep his expression stoic, but the guilt that crept up in his eyes was more than obvious.

“What can we do to help?” John asked.

“Stay together and let the police department take the lead on this,” Theodore said firmly. “Maybe try to come up with names of people that you think might be looking to harm her and then get in touch with me directly,”

“But-,”

“John you’re a cartoonist, don’t even try to fight me on this,” Theodore insisted and John conceded.

“Come on John,” Kreizler placed a hand on John’s shoulder. “Let’s go,”

John followed him, however unwillingly and before they knew it they were both sitting in the living room of the doctor's home, glasses filled with the strongest alcohol in the household.

Not a word was spoken between the two, Kreizler’s eyes, drifting back constantly to the piano and the undisturbed sheet music that laid there.

“What did you argue about,” John asked quietly.

“Excuse me?”

“I said what did you argue about,” his voice was louder, showing a bit of an edge it had. “I’m trying to decide whether I should deal with you now or after we find her,”

Kreizler swallowed thickly.

“Perhaps it would be best to put me out of my misery if anything were to have happened to her… I wouldn’t forgive myself. The argument was trivial, unnecessary, had I just taken a moment to listen,” his hand was gripping the glass so tight high chuckles went white and the fragile glass shattered in his hand, spilling the drink onto the floor, mixed with his bright red blood.

He barely even flinched and John saw something, something he’d never seen in the doctor, always so sure of himself. He saw regret.

So, for the time being, he decided to put aside his feelings, placing his drink on the table next to the couch and standing up to grab a cloth and clean up the shards of glass on the floor along with the spilled drink.

Dr. Kreizler stood up and took out a small box from the shelf, opening it and grabbing the tweezers and bandage wrap from it, picking out the pieces of glass from his hand then proceeding to wrap it tightly.

“Who would want to take you (Y/N),” he whispered to himself. “Come on tell me,”

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but nothing came.

“John I’m going to go out for a bit,” he said simply. “If you need anything ask Cyrus and he would be more than happy to help you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere to help me get into your sister’s mind,”

—

At least two hours had passed while Dr. Laszlo Kreizler laid down next to the resting place of George Moore. Something was off, what would be the reason to take you? What would they need from you? What were they going to do to you?

His head was spinning while the clouds passed by overhead, a dark grey colour, fitting for the mood of that day.

The doctor didn’t move even when it started to rain, staying completely still while the water washed over him. He focused his mind on the drops, feeling the way each one hit his body until there were too many to count and with a jolt he shot up.

Quickly standing on his feet he ran down the streets like a madman until he made it back home, breathing heavily and soaked to the bone. His finely pressed suit dirtied with mud and grass.

“Good God Laszlo where have you been?!” John exclaimed, urging his friend to come more inside.

“It’s doesn’t matter,” he shook his head, waving a hand dismissively. “I think I know who took her,”

“What? How?”

“Think about it, the only thing she’s doing that puts her in danger is helping us with this case,”

“Yes, I knew that, but-,”

“And the case keeps pointing us in what direction? A direction that a few high society men and public servants would rather we not pursue,”

“What are you saying?”

“I think former Captain Connor and the former chief have orchestrated her kidnapping to set us back in our investigation,”

“So you think this is all...a distraction?”

“Yes and I sincerely hope it means she’s not in grave danger, but… Connor is a ruthless man, we have to find her, soon,”

“I’ll call Theodore, he can keep it within a trusted few, but we’re going to need his help,”

“I know,” he nodded, using his hand to brush back his dripping hair. “I just pray we find her before it’s too late,”

—

It was maybe just past three o’clock in the morning when both John and Laszlo were startled awake by the ring of the phone.

Despite his grogginess John snapped up and grabbed it, placing it to his ear.

“Hello?” he said, eyes frantic in hopes of any news. “You did? Is she-,”

John nodded,

“Okay, thank you, we’ll be there right away,”

John hung up the phone and looked at Kreizler who rubbed his face to wake himself up.

“They found her, she’s hurt, but alive,” John said. “Theodore’s asked if you can try and find some concrete evidence against Connor, do you-,”

“I’ll stay,” Kreizler nodded. “You go be with your sister, I’ll come around after breakfast,”

“Thank you,” he said, patting him on the shoulder and grabbing his jacket. You were fine and that was probably the biggest relief of all.

—

You awoke to a throbbing pain in your head and the dim light of a candle that was lit next to you. You groaned, trying to push yourself up but crying out in pain just before you felt a soft hand pushing you back down on the bed.

“W-What’s going on,” you whimpered. “Who-,”

“It’s Teddy (Y/N), John’s on his way you’re safe now,”

You looked down at your arms, littered with bruises, there was a huge gap in your memory. The last thing you could remember was leaving the doctor’s house. How long had you been out?

“Drugs,” you mumbled. “Was I drugged?”

“We’re not sure, but it’s a big possibility,”

You moaned from the soreness when you raised your hand to your face, but Theodore stopped you.

“You’ve got a few cuts and bruises on your face (N/N), just keep your hands by your side for now okay?”

You blinked heavily, wanting to sit up, but not having any sort of strength to do so.

“Laudanum,” you mumbled. “Teddy I need laudanum,”

“I’ll get a doctor, okay, we’ll see what we can do,”

You nodded your head, although rather stiffly while Theodore got up to grab a doctor, bringing him back to you so he could assess your needs.

“She’s right, we can give her some laudanum for the pain and it might help make her more lucid,” the doctor nodded. “How did she-,”

“She’s a doctor,” Theodore said simply. The man’s eyes only widened slightly before nodding and going off to get you an injection of the medication, but before he came back the door flew open and John ran in, his expression frantic and worried as it usually was when you were in any sort of compromising situation.

“(N/N) thank God,” he whispered, practically falling to his knees next to your bed, gently taking your hands in his and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. He didn’t even make any sort of effort to hide the tears in his eyes when he saw you laying right there in front of him.

“Told you…” your voice drifted slightly before you took a deep inhale and looked up at him again. “Told you I can take care of myself,”

“If you call this taking care of yourself I think we need to have a little chat,” John sniffed, watching you untangle your hand from his and reach it up to his face, wiping away a few stray tears that had found their way down his cheeks.

When the doctor returned John stepped aside for a moment while you received your injection and took a seat from the corset of the room, pulling it up next to the bed.

“Where did you find her?” John asked.

“A cargo box down by the docks,”

“How-,”

“Anonymous tip,” Theodore crossed his arms and shrugged. “I don’t know who sent it, but whoever did, they very well saved her life,”

John nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation,

“Thank you, Theodore, really for everything,” John said. “You know she’s going to say she owes you one when she’s awake and lucid,”

“I know, just tell her as long as she helps catch this sick bastard, she can consider the favour repaid,”

Theodore patted John’s back and bent down to press a soft kiss to your forehead before exiting the room and leaving you be with your brother.

John didn’t sleep a wink that night, refusing to shut his eyes and let you slip away again.

The sun rose steadily at around seven o’clock in the morning and your eyes fluttered back open along with it, your breathing less laboured and vision clearer, you must have slept off the effects of some of the drugs. The doctor came back in to give you another injection to manage the pain and John insisted you close your eyes and rest once again and you didn’t have the will to fight him.

Quarter past nine the door to the private room carefully creaked open and John could see Kreizler poking his head through the small opening.

“Is she-,”

“Just resting,” John whispered.

He walked in, revealing he was holding a bouquet of flowers and John finally stood up, walking over to his college friend.

“Did you find anything?”

“Unfortunately not. I’m afraid the only way you will get him is with a confession,”

John nodded, lips pursed, thinking about what next steps to take.

“John… I know this is a lot, but… may I ask for a moment alone with her?”

John’s eyes trailed over to your sleeping figure and back to the alienist before giving him a slight nod and placing enough trust in him to leave the room.

Kreizler placed the flowers on the table near the entrance to the room and sat down in the chair that John was occupying.

He hesitated when he reached out a hand to hold yours, but when you began to stir awake he let go.

You blinked a few times before noticing the doctor by your side. Your expression softened and you opened your mouth to say something although unable to, your throat dry from disuse.

He quickly handed you a glass and helped you sip from it, soothing your throat and allowing you to speak.

“You came,” you said simply.

“Of course,” he nodded.

“I-And you brought flowers?”

“Yes, your favourites,” he nodded.

A silence fell between you two and you weren’t sure if you should be the one to break it. It seemed as though Dr. Kreizler had the same thoughts, but acted on them instead.

“It’s my fault you’re like this,” he said softly. “It’s my fault your hurt, I should have taken better care of you… I should have been honest with you. Maybe I’m not as good as I thought, holding back whatever monster is inside of me,”

“I don’t blame you,” you said immediately. “Not one bit Laszlo,”

“You should,”

“But I won’t,” you shook your head, turning it slightly to the side to face him better, reaching out a hand to gently cradle his face, the hair of his beard gently tickling your fingers while he held your hand there. “You’re not a monster Laszlo, you’re a good man, a good man who has struggles just like any other human,” you took a deep breath before continuing. “Plus if you were a monster why would you come here and bring me those beautiful flowers?”

That made him smile, your hand still holding his face until he removed it himself, holding it in his lap instead.

“I asked you to stop playing that piece because I have very painful memories associated with it,” he said softly. “The piano was something I took great pride in as a child. My whole life was set for me with it and now…” he glanced down at his arm, tears glistening in his eyes. “He took that away from me,”

“Who did Laszlo?” you asked, your voice just above a soft whisper.

“My father,” he told you. Carefully explaining the truth behind his arm. Not a congenital malformation like he had put it before, but the misdeed of a cruel father.

After his voice faded into silence from explaining, you reached over carefully and took his hand, the one that he normally tensed when you touched, only this time he allowed you to take it in yours and bring it to your lips, pressing a delicate kiss to it.

“(Y/N)-,”

“Not a word Laszlo,” you whispered. “Every part of you is worthy,”

He swallowed his words and nodded, allowing your lips to burn the skin to his hand and wrists, while he cherished the feeling, the feeling of you so close to him, so intimately connected. Loving the parts of himself he hated the most.

It was no question how special of a person you were, he just wished he could have seen that sooner, sparing you the hurt and anguish. But you were strong and resilient, much more than he had ever seen in a person and paired with your care and empathy for others, it just amazed him how good of a person you were, despite all the hardship life had decided to throw in your way. It was clear everyone might be able to learn a thing or two from you.

—

Around a week later you had recovered from most of your injuries, mainly dealing with the chronic pains that came with them and a few cuts and bruises here and there, but you were determined to continue investigating the case.

The clinic where you worked had asked if you wanted some extra time off to recover and you took it but rest and relaxation were far from what you were doing.

“(Y/N), you have a headache it’s quite obvious,” you could hear Sara’s soft voice ring through your ears.

“Why don’t you just lay down on the couch?” Kreizler suggested knowing there was no use in trying to fight with you.

“Just close your eyes,” John added. “If you want to help your mind has to be clear right?”

You nodded slowly, making your way to the couch and carefully lifting your feet so you were outstretched across its length.

Dr. Kreizler came back with a warm wet towel and you placed it over your eyes only to feel him squeeze your hand and say,

“No peeking, we need you in top shape,”

“Shh Laszlo you’re half the reason I have this headache,” you quipped and that seemed to make him laugh, even if only slightly and if that sound was medicine all your ailments would have been cured at that moment.

You weren’t sure when you drifted off to sleep but when your eyes peeled back open the cloth was no longer on your face and the room was practically dark, only lit by a few candles here and there.

You pushed yourself back up on the couch looking around and only seeing the doctor sitting on the armchair tossing another bout of files to the side.

“Where is everyone?” you asked groggily.

“Home. John didn’t want to wake you so he asked if I could have a room prepared for you here,”

“Oh, thank you,”

It was good of John to have asked because you probably wouldn’t be making any late-night trips alone. Or at least you didn’t want to.

The memories of that night were still incredibly fuzzy and all you seemed to be able to remember was the feeling, maybe it was feet or someone’s fists but they were having a go at you and suddenly it made the lump in your throat grow making it difficult to swallow.

“Are you alright?” the doctor inquired gently.

“Fine,” you nodded. “Just trying to get out of my head,”

Kreizler motioned for you to come closer to him and you did, standing up and moving to the armchair before sitting yourself down at his feet, your hands placed in his own.

“What is it meine liebe?” he whispered, the back of his index finger stroking your cheek gently.

Your breath hitched while you looked up at him, his hazel eyes sparkling with green until the dim candlelight.

“You’re tense even when you’re safe,”

The pain was hard to forget, even when there was a compassionate touch from your brother or a gentle squeeze of your hand from the doctor or a friendly hug from Sara, it still hurt. The wounds were still there causing pain, associating that pain with the way your loved ones would hold you.

Loved ones.

They had really become that close, in such a short amount of time.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked again, pulling you from your daze.

You nodded, somewhat meekly not wanting to admit the pain you were feeling.

“Where doesn't it hurt?”

You detached your hands from his, showing him your hands,

“Here,” you said faintly.

He took your hands in his again, gently bringing them to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle, each finger, sparks flying through you with every touch he gave.

“Where else,”

Your fingers moved to your neck, one of the only places where you weren’t bruised to begin with.

Your face was in his hands and he held you so delicately while you sat at his feet. His eyes scammed yours, asking for permission because dammit if he wasn’t a gentleman. You gave it to him with a simple nod of your head and one of his hands retracted while the other tilted your head to the side, exposing your neck and allowing his lips to trail feather-light kisses along it, your heart pounding through your chest and you prayed he couldn’t feel your pulse through your arteries.

When his lips detached from your neck your breath was shaky, wavering, waiting for him to ask the question once more.

“Where else meine liebe?” he whispered, close to your ear, his warm breath fanning over the side of your head and causing you to almost freeze in your spot.

You swallowed thickly, lifting your hand to your lips, fingers brushing delicately against them, almost begging him to just kiss you proper.

“Las,” you breathed, cutting his name short in an endearing way.

He didn’t need to hear you ask again, tilting your chin up and resting his lips on yours. You quavered slightly under his warm touch but he held you steady. Your bottom lip became tucked between his, like puzzle pieces.

It felt quick, not long enough, you wanted it to last an eternity and when he heard your quiet whimper when you pulled apart he didn’t waste a second to press his lips back on yours, pulling you in closer and letting his beard scratch against the soft skin of your cheek.

When you pulled apart for a second time you were prepared for it. Allowing your forehead to rest against his, your hands holding him close.

“Your brother may have a very good reason to be mad with me now,” he said softly and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

“John doesn’t matter right now,” you shook your head.

“But he does, because I must ask something of him,”

“What could you possibly need from my overprotective older brother?”

“His blessing and permission to court you. Along with your own,”

Your lips couldn’t help but curl into a smile. “Now that will get Gran off my back,”

“My thoughts exactly, and maybe, I hope it might bring you some joy meine liebe or respite,”

“As long as you can promise me that you won’t hide away Las,” you murmured, your fingers delicately brushing away some hair from his eyes.

“Anything,” he nodded. “I’d promise you anything,”

“Okay then while I’m at it, please don’t get yourself killed,” you said, placing a small peck to his lips.

“You have my word,” he smiled. “But you should sleep, I know you’ve barely been getting rest and you look tired,”

“You know it’s not polite to tell a lady she looks tired,” you quipped with a raised brow and he gave you a gentle smile. “And I think… I think I might rest better if I was lying next to you,”

Kreizler seemed to think this over, everything that was proper, especially in New York’s higher society, told him to say maybe it was best they spent the night apart, but his heart ached to be close to you, to hold you tight and feel your body against his.

“(Y/N), I-I’m not altogether sure that’s best especially for a proper woman such as yourself I wouldn’t want to-,”

“Las,” you stopped him. “I think over the time you’ve known me we both know that I am anything but proper. And you and I, we’re not normal people, what harm is there in sharing a bed,”

Absolutely none. You were right. There was no harm.

“First door on the left,” he said softly. “I’ll join you in a moment,”

You nodded, pushing yourself up to stand on your feet, a hand going to affectionately caress his face, tucking a very small piece of hair behind his ear.

He leaned into you, resting his head against your stomach and you held him there, despite the soreness it brought you because you knew how much of a comfort it was to him after working such late nights and long days.

Your fingers gently massaged his scalp, just for a few moments before pressing one last kiss to his head and pulling away, his hazel eyes forever lingering on you while you slowly walked up the stairs.

#laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x y/n #moore!reader #laszlo kriezler fanfiction #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler fic #laszlo kreizler angst #laszlo kreizler fluff #the alienist #john moore #daniel bruhl #luke evans #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel bruhl x you #laszlo kreizler one shot #laszlo kreizler imagine

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munsons-maiden · 3 years

Text

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞?

Hi! I’m so sorry it took me so long, I just couldn’t decide which direction I wanted this to take. I hope you enjoy! - Love, Kiki 🖤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Laszlo Kreizler x female reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Laszlo and you bump into each other at a ball - but he's not the friendliest person on earth (I promise that the story is better than the summary, I didn't want to spoiler anything 😂)

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | angst with a happy ending, smut, romance

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.3 k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | a little bit of angst and some implications of misogyny.

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♡

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝🖤

The ball was already in full swing when you manoeuvred the swishing skirts of your gown out of the carriage, sweating already with the warm, humid air of early summer, and nobody in the dancing, laughing crowd paid any attention to you.

The air was stuffy in the ballroom, and all the voices and laughter mingling with the music of the orchestra created an overwhelming noise hammering against your eardrums. You flinched.

“We’ll meet you there, it will be fun”, you mimicked Sara’s voice under your breath while you made your way through the throngs of dancing couples, your eyes scanning the crowds for your friend. You weren’t fond of crowds – and balls, for that matter, since crowds and balls walked hand in hand – but Sara had managed to persuade you to meet her here. Her, and her friends from the institute she wanted to introduce you to.

You were about to give up your search and return home to a cup of tea and a good book when you bumped into someone – or, rather, someone bumped into you. You huffed with the force of the impact and stumbled a step backwards, barely fast enough to grab your skirts in your fists to avoid falling over the voluminous fabric, and glanced up to see who it was you’d bumped into, to meet a pair of stunning hazel eyes.

Neither of you uttered a word as you just kept staring at each other. He was beautiful in a quiet kind of way. His hair was dark and sleek, his beard neatly trimmed and his eyes, the beautiful brown colour of whiskey, glittered with a quiet, attentive intelligence when they met yours.

“Laszlo! Y/N!”, someone called out, and a second later, Sara was at your side, a smile gracing her flushed features. For someone who wasn’t that fond of balls either, she certainly looked like she was having a lot of fun.

“So, you’ve already met,” Sara stated when neither you nor the man answered her, her eyes flitting from him to you and back.

“I apologise”, the man finally said, “For bumping into you.” He gave you a shy little smile which finally managed to tear you out of your trance.

“I – No, it’s me who should apologize. I wasn’t looking where I was going. I was searching for –“

“Me”, Sara interrupted and linked arms with you. “Laszlo, this is my good friend Y/N.”

“Dr. Laszlo Kreizler”, he introduced himself with a small nod. He looked a little awkward upon the formal introduction, then added, “Laszlo. You may simply call me Laszlo.”

“The alienist”, you nodded with a smile. “I’ve read your works. They’re very fascinating, especially your theory about the development of social skills in children from violent family backgrounds. You’re the first one to believe it’s nurture rather than nature that defines a person’s character.”

You stopped yourself before you could ramble on any further, but the intelligent spark in those beautiful brown eyes seemed to brighten when he answered, “This theory has been met with a lot of disdain among the alienist community, I fear. As much as I believe in Darwin’s theory of Evolution, I fear that the influence of society and upbringing are still very much neglected when it comes to the workings of the soul.” His timid smile made you feel dizzy despite not having drunk any champagne yet.

Usually, when you tried to engage in conversation about the scientific theories you loved to read about, you were met with incredulous looks and – oftentimes, mostly by men – with ridicule. Upon hearing Dr. Kreizler – Laszlo, you corrected yourself – meet your own words with the same respect he would pay any other man, and the same excitement to talk about these matters you felt whenever the topic switched to them, you were filled with a strange giddiness.

But before you could reply, Sara announced, “Well, this is a ball. Laszlo, why don’t you ask Y/N for a dance –“

“I don’t dance.” The warm smile on his lovely features had dimmed, and his adorable shy demeanour had fused into something distanced before he averted his gaze from you.

Sara’s smile beside you faltered, as did yours. “Laszlo, you’re being rude”, she hissed.

“I’m sure she will find someone else to dance with.” His voice had frozen over like a lake in winter; all traces of warmth and excitement erased from it.

You swallowed at the rudeness of his rejection, opening your mouth to reply that it was fine – which it clearly wasn’t, but someone had to stay friendly here – when a second man joined your group, handsome and smiling at you with a flash of white teeth.

“You must be Sara’s friend!”, he grinned, “I’m John Moore.”

“The painter”, you nodded weakly, grateful for the well-timed interruption of the humiliating moment.

John winked at you and offered his hand. “May I ask for this dance?”

The moment of your hesitation was brief, and your gaze flickered momentarily to Laszlo, who still seemed to be avoiding to catch your gaze at any cost, and you took John’s hand.

“My pleasure.”

With this, you let John sweep you away.

“You’re not dancing with me out of pity, are you?”, you couldn’t help but ask when he twirled you across the parquet; the question earning a scowl from John.

“I’m a gentleman, but I asked you to dance because I wanted to. How could I not? You’re beautiful. And Laszlo is an idiot. Don’t mind him – he knows his theories and he likes to analyse people, but despite all his considerable knowledge he’s not the most…skilled man when it comes to social matters. His company can be rather trying at times, I dare say.”

You chuckled. “I noticed.” Your eyes drifted over the crowd of dancing people towards Laszlo, who was deep in conversation with Sara. He seemed to notice your stare, though, since he raised his head and met your eyes across the ballroom. This time, it was you who averted your gaze.

“You’re an idiot, Laszlo.” Sara’s tone didn’t leave room for an argument, and Laszlo could sense an oncoming storm in her grey eyes.

But seeing you dance with John was somehow worse than Sara’s wrath. You laughed at something he said, and Laszlo could feel something coil in his stomach that felt a lot like jealousy. He should be the one dancing with you. Not John. The familiar rage started to boil in his veins at his physical incapability, the hatred at how he couldn’t even dance, and the green-eyes monster slithering in his stomach purred contentedly.

“You know, it’s not your arm holding you back to live a little, Laszlo. It’s fear.” Sara’s words were worse than the thunderstorm of rage he’d anticipated. They were true, as well.

The evening had moved on in a blur of dancing and talking with John Moore, who really was good company. But no matter how much you laughed about the stories he told and how fun it was to dance with him, you couldn’t erase the thoughts about Laszlo Kreizler spinning in your mind, woven into yet another possible explanation for the rapid change of his mood by the spinning-wheel of your thoughts. No matter how often you told yourself to let it go, you couldn’t. And so, every laugh was half-hearted, every smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. A few times, you scanned the dancing crowd, but it seemed Laszlo had left the revel. Possibly, you would never see him again. Possibly, it would be best. What was it that irked you so much about his simple rejection to dance, apart from the obvious rudeness? The doctor had put a spell on you, and you found your mind caught in it like a fly in a spider’s web.

When the next tune ended and its notes faded into the stuffy air of the candle-lit ballroom, you excused yourself to take a quick stroll through the adjoining gardens of the estate hosting the ball. You needed air to clear your head and chase away the annoying thoughts about the doctor. Thus, you stepped into the humid night air. Despite the gentle warmth of the night, there was nobody in the gardens but you – all the other guests were obviously having fun inside on the parquet. You took a deep breath, letting the scents of flowers and earth wrap around you, the air for once cleansed of the stink which usually rose from the surface of the Hudson River to be carried through the cobbled streets and alleyways of the city that seemed to never go to sleep. The gravel path led you a little deeper into the quiet park, and you followed it to a small pond in the centre. The reflection of the crescent moon adorning the star-splattered night sky above shone of the calm surface of the water, and the stalks of the reeds growing at the edges of the pond swayed gently in the warm breeze like a flock of drunken revellers. Water lilies floated across the water, and in the pale moonlight, they looked like stars themselves with their soft white petals, infusing the air with their sweet, floral perfume.

“Please don’t be startled”, a quiet voice suddenly spoke up behind you, and – most definitely startled – you whirled around with a small squeak of surprise. There, on the path a few steps away from you, stood Dr. Kreizler. You could still hear the voices and laughter floating out of the open glass doors of the ballroom, see the flickering lights and dancing silhouettes across the grass behind him.

“I told you not to be startled”, he insisted, and you blinked.

“What else would I be when I’m alone in a garden? There are murderers roaming free in the streets.”

Laszlo chuckled softly. “I did not think you were easily frightened, considering your choice of literature.”

“Reading about something in front of a warm fireplace in my parlour is not granting me immunity to its horrors”, you quipped.

There was a beat of silence, filled by the distant laughter wafting from the building, the clacking sounds of hooves on the cobblestones outside and the chirping noise of cicadas hiding in the old trees which surrounded you.

“Is there a reason for your appearance out here, Dr. Kreizler?”, you finally asked, intently choosing not to call him by his first name. He noticed.

“I fear I have conducted myself with unnecessary rudeness”, he finally conceded, and you couldn’t help the small smirk which tugged on your lips as you saw how nervous the doctor had become, how he looked a little lost with his hands clasped in front of him while he waited patiently for your reply.

“I fear you’re right”, you quipped with a raised eyebrow.

“I am not made for gatherings of this kind”, Dr. Kreizler finally admitted, and your heart softened for him. You could relate to this.

“Me, neither”, you said quietly, and your gaze flicked to the lights of the ball glittering behind him, their glow paining a soft halo around his dark hair. “I feel like an intruder on revels like these. I don’t belong there, and everybody seems to know it as well. Like a human walking among fae folk.”

“Your words capture the feeling far more poetic than mine ever could.”

“So you’ve merely fled to the gardens, as well, doctor?”

“I felt I owed you an apology.”

You folded your arms in front of your chest and lifted a single eyebrow. “Well then. I haven’t heard this apology yet.”

You felt a little wicked to let him stew like this, but he’d hurt your feelings. A little bit of pettiness on your side was due and allowed. What had stung the most wasn’t the simple rejection – not wanting to dance was no crime. It hurt, though, that this rejection had followed the most intriguing five minutes of conversation you remembered to ever have had. Laszlo Kreizler had talked to you as if he could truly see you. With respect instead of ridicule when you showed you interest in an academic topic. With wonder not for the gown hugging your form or the way your hair had been styled, but for what he’d possibly seen in you in these few minutes of your conversation. The man had simply been intriguing, like a book in the forbidden part of a library you desperately wanted to read. You wanted to open the beautiful cover and dive into the words it held, the mysteries its pages would reveal. It had led you to believe you might have found a kindred spirit in him. It sounded ridiculous, to have such thoughts about a man you’d just met, but it was the truth nonetheless.

“I apologize”, he said quietly.

“I enjoyed our conversation earlier”, you replied, and watched the small smile flit across his face before his expression grew serious again.

“So did I. There are not many people as fascinated with the human mind as I am. I fear it’s one of the reasons why people typically don’t like me. They’re scared I could see right into the murky depths of their minds, to see all the rotten parts they hide away from the world.”

You heart broke a little at his words, but the doctor himself seemed unfazed by the notion people couldn’t like him. His tone wouldn’t have been different had he been talking about the weather. He probably didn’t care too much about the opinion of others.

“Are you sure it doesn’t have anything to do with your sudden rudeness?”, you teased. It was bold and probably far more impolite than rejecting a dance, to talk to him like this, but you felt he valued honesty much more than feigned propriety. He seemed like a man who would need a little talking back from time to time.

He chuckled in response, confirming your assessment. “As your – our – dear friend Sara likes to point out on every possible occasion, I am a difficult man.”

Now it was your turn to snicker. When silence settled over the two of you again, it was an easy silence, devoid of any awkwardness or bad feelings.

“May I ask you for the reason you’re so opposed to dancing?”, you hesitated. The question had burned through your thoughts for the whole evening.

Something flickered in his eyes, and you could tell there was far more of a story to be told than a simple dislike for dancing while Dr. Kreizler seemed to be contemplating how much of this story to tell you.

“My arm is deformed”, he finally answered, and you couldn’t help the small frown crossing your face. He’d hidden it well.

“You’re scared it could make you feel vulnerable if anybody noticed”, you concluded, and the flicker of surprise in his eyes, the slight tilt of his head in curiosity as he held your gaze didn’t escape your notice.

“I don’t intend to be rude,” you continued, “but I don’t believe it’s solely because of your arm. I’ve seen people dance just fine with a wooden leg before.”

“Are you insinuating that I merely dislike to give away control, as dancing would require?”

“I never insinuated anything, Dr. Kreizler. You’re the alienist, not me.”

Was he bantering? Flirting, even? Were you? Only then did you notice that he’d begun to walk towards you, and you towards him, both of you crossing the distance which had stretched between you on the path with slow, hesitant steps as if an invisible string was tied around both your wrists, connecting you, pulling you towards each other.

“Please, call me Laszlo”, he said softly, repeating the words he’d said earlier.

“Very well, then. Had you ever decided to give dancing a chance, Laszlo,” you began and took another small step in his direction, the gravel crunching under your feet, “You would have noticed that it allows for another form of control, to follow the steps in tune with the music.”

There were only a few inches left to separate the two of you now, you noticed with a jolt of exhilaration.

Laszlo gave a small nod, and you could see the cogs spinning in his mind as he contemplated your words. “And still, the church sees dancing as prelude to sin, a courting of the devil himself,” he smirked.

“And you certainly seem like a man devoted enough to God to believe the words of the church”, you quipped, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Though I would argue that, if dancing felt like a prelude to sin – it would indicate that one was doing it right.”

The sudden tension sizzling in the air between you and Laszlo felt like it was heralding a summer storm. It made your skin prickle and your thoughts race like kite caught in a gust of wind.

He chose his next words carefully. “Then it seems on the few occasions I was forced to dance, I never did it right.”

“It seems that way, indeed. Maybe it had nothing to do with your arm and everything to do with your choice of a partner.” Heat was creeping up your cheeks at your own growing boldness, and the mischievous spark dancing in his watchful dark eyes made your breath hitch and your pulse quicken as no mere eye contact had done to before. It most definitely felt as if the conversation had moved on from the topic of dancing and to something far more delicate. You enjoyed every second of it.

Yes, Laszlo Kreizler was a forbidden book you couldn’t wait to read, to learn the truths the words hidden inside would whisper to you. Beneath the cover, there was beauty in his soul, and darkness as well. Hurt and pain, and empathy to fill an ocean of its own. What did he see upon gazing into your eyes?, you wondered. Could he see all the things in you that you couldn’t? Did he even care to? In this very moment, the orchestra started to play the next song, and the lilting tunes of the piano, mingling with the voices of fiddles, floated through the night air as if it was meant for only the two of you.

“A valid theory. One worth examining.” Laszlo smiled – a beautiful, genuine smile, with this ember of mischief sparking in his eyes – and held up his good hand. “May I have this dance, Y/N?”

You mirrored his expression with a radiant smile of your own, and without hesitation placed your hand in his to let him pull you closer. The skin on your palm tingled pleasantly where his skin brushed against yours, and the contact sent a shiver through your spine. His other hand – the weaker one – settled on the curve of your waist, a light touch against the delicate embroidered fabric of your dress. Laszlo was close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his body, for his intoxicating cologne to invade your senses and tangle your thoughts as if they were made of the sticky cotton candy sold at fairgrounds. And thus, Laszlo led you into a slow dance to the beautiful melody ringing through the gardens, his steps steady and confident. His movements were flowing with yours, like the ebb and flow of the tides. To a spectator stepping into the gardens, the two of you would look like a pair of secret lovers, dancing beneath the silver glow of the moon and the twinkling light of the stars splattered across the night sky above, to the enchanting music of the orchestra and the crickets and the cheerful lapping little waves in the pond. Yes, Laszlo though as he danced with you across the grass, this was the first dance that made him feel like doing more than just following an order of steps. It most definitely felt like a prelude to something – not sin, probably, but what was sin but a social concept? He was intent on further examining this theory of dancing with you.

Tag list (let me know if you’d like to be added 🖤): @justfangirlthingies @boneheadduluc @trelaney @thesunflowersutra @sokoviandelights @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @stephlent @fandom-lover-4 @cazzyimagines @daniel-bruhhl @aisling1985 @roseabee25 @apparrio @cable-kenobi @marchingicenotes7 @rumblelibrary @purebloodwitch

#dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler x you #dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kriezler x reader #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x y/n #the alienist #the alienist x reader #the alienist laszlo #the alienist fanfic

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0ghostwriter0 · 3 years

Text

“Sometimes we survive by forgetting “| Laszlo Kreizler

MASTERLIST

Pairings: AU Dr Laszlo Kreizler x fem! reader

Summary: Your marriage has suffered after a violent evening at the Kreizler residence. Will the pain push you apart or remind you of a love that consumes?

Warnings: Violence, Miscarriage, Depression, SMUT

Words: 2,665

Unlike a usual Friday morning, the fragile frame woke in a puddle of sweat with nightmares playing on repeat in the back of his head – his head. Unable to leave this highway or torture and sacrifice, the middle-aged man tore away the covers that stranded him in the stone-cold sheets of the king bed. The harsh clock ticked over on the chest. Plunging to the ground, the lifeless soul stood away from the ridged raw wood bed. Shivering and tired, he stretched his fable arms as the though of dismembering his own body parts played in the back of his mind- his mind. He could not escape his crippling demons that left him stranded in the empty air.

Months had passed since you'd blessed the cold dormant sheets on his left. In someways, the alienist was relieved that the constant reminder of the pain he'd put you through did not wake beside him at this hour. His heart could not bare the weight of peering over to the empty promise sealed with an empty womb. But despite your absence, the wicked creatures poisoned his sleep each and every night.

That dreaded night four months ago should have been the day he put the future of his family before his need to unearth every detail on his latest case. But Kreizler's mind was occupied with the promise of retribution for the young child who had washed up dead on the streets. He was far from the loving comfort of his wife's arms and the security of status in the upper class estates of New York.

The primitive behaviour of one tortured soul had crashed through the ranks of society and bombarded the doors of his home. Through the terrible noise, a large deposit of anger lashed from the fury covered beast. His target - you. Blood filled the air like a cheap perfume only to attract a second pummel of blows. Leaving you immobile on the landing, your wounds only seemed to instigate more frequent lashes from the wicked creature. Black. Black hues filled the room as your innocence fell from the room.

One last explosion of anger was all it took before a sharp sting rocketed through you abdomen. Despite the figures crashing into your home after noticing the unhinged entrance, they could not restrain the man from depositing the last of his crippling demons. You future was torn from you reach through the seeping blood that puddled between you legs. The ravenous demon was ripped from you home by authority and your body cradled by Dr. Laszlo Kreizler's former manservant, Cyrus Montrose.

Kreizler had been instantly informed of your state when he returned to his home with John and Sara to find Cyrus luring you to consciousness while in dire need for a hospital. Like a deer in headlights, the alienist had frozen in the torn hallways of your shared home. despite the rushing of John who beamed to Cyrus's side to move you into the coach and Sara's incessant chatter that everything would be fine. The fear seeped sweat from his forehead as he's feet had planted him too far from you and his mind distanced from any of the actions around him.

Alone. He stood staring at the splatters of blood and horrid destruction that had fallen on the household his night. John pulled him back from the deep corners of his mind while left him stranded in the empty air.

Cyrus had saved you that evening but no man nor god could have saved your child. These cracks in you future plans had implanted themselves in you marriage. Laszlo shut himself away - avoided any further involvement in the case and slept where he worked. he was shut off from the prying eyes of high society. In turn, you were left alone in your healing. was it reading healing if your partner of love and in life had thrown you away. As the days went by, you found yourself carefully moving your belongings into the single room and made sure to make yourself scarce when you 'husband' finally chose to return to the haunted reminded of the future you lost.

within a blink of an eye, it had been three months and you had reengaged into the life society demanded of you. But you returned alone. You weren't one for the parties or dinners but with Laszlo- your Laszlo- by your side it became bearable. Now, it was a lion's den as you waited for the gossip to dig into every piece of your life.

'how is the baby?'

'where's that husband of yours?'

'if you were my wife I certainly would not let you come out alone to these things'

'I bet my hat that you are exhasted with your bundle of joy'

'oh dear, it has escaped us'

'apologies I had not realised you miscarried'

'aw it a pity you would have made beautiful babies'

'there's always next time'

You drowned in the chatter only to be dragged out by a tall handsome figure. of all the people you wished it was you were disappointed it wasn't Las.

"Mrs Kreizler," you cringed at the use of your married name. Surely, it was evident that you husband had neglected to resurface in your life for months.

"Just Y/N will do if you don't mind" you cut in before the figure could continue.

'Of course, I'm Wilfred Miller... I was one of the men who dragged that scum from your home.' he released and suddenly you mind swarmed with the voice of a man shouting out for help beyond the darkness of your doorway. A small smile blessed your face and begun a night of careful conversation. Had you forgotten how it felt to truly smile in the months since that distressing day.

In the weeks that followed Wilfred had requested that you accompany him on his morning strolls, something Laszlo used to take you on so he could have you to himself for at least a moment everyday. But this was different, Wilfred was showing you what it was like to be you again. Later you would join him on his way to the local orphanage where he worked to get children adopted by childless families. You spent the day braiding little girl's hair and trimming the boy's to make them more presentable for visitors.

However, before you could leave you were met face to face with your husband except something was different. In this moment, he was Dr Kreizler the alienist and no words were uttered between the two of you. Wilfred had politely asked if you would prefer he took you to your home but the Alienist snapped.

"I will be assisting My wife home thank you Mr Miller' his words were territorial with every syllable. The whole city would talk about the wayward Kreizler had he not assumed his position. Or perhaps they would take pity and paint the Doctor as a neglectful husband.

"thank you for the offer Wilfred but I will make my way back with Dr Kreizler" you reassured softly. Following, the outbreak Wilfred was almost frightfully scared to even look at you in anyway. Again you were alone with no one to call a friend who wouldn't spurt your life around the town or back to your husband. However, Laszlo didn't as much as bat an eyelid in your direction in the carriage on the way home or across the table at supper or as you wished him a goodnight before retiring to you separate room.

So the next morning, as he stood from his puddle of sweat, he knew something had to change. In his silent mourning, Kreizler had pushed away the one person he wished to spare his pain. The rasping at your door torn you from a similar striking dream. Peeling your rebuilt frame from the empty comfort of the bed, you managed to pull the strength to let the tortured man in.

"Mein Liebling" his words sparked the love back into your eyes. You let out a soft whimper as Laszlo encapsulated your body with a much needed embrace. Both bodies hungry for one another. You back trembled as his fingertips set you on fire with each small exploration.

Before, you were often intimate physically and it was hot and steamy but this was different; you were making love- renewing love. Laszlo was calculating every movement that he was offered to ensure you were going to stay with him. Together, there was a spark that society was envious of and sometimes your have to remind each other that despite everything there is still a love that consumes. Right now he was going to make sure you knew that you consume his every thought.

You eyes fluttered closed as he's pillow lips left soft kisses on the crook of your neck before deepening to trail to the soft spot below your jaw.

"I, Laszlo Kreizler" he whispers between each deposit of soft caresses. the warmth of his breath sends sparks to places you had long neglected. Forcing his damaged arm to rest on your lower back, he pulls you closer into his husk while his beard brushes the tip of your nose.

Facing your closed eyes, the alienist breaths in the moment before wiping his head to claim your gentle lips the same way he took you at the end of the aisle. Desperate and needy, you whimpered at the lack of contact when he slowly withdrew.

"Take you, mein liebling , Y/N" your eyes demanded to open and stare lovingly at the man you fell in love with. Usually, Laszlo didn't like to disturb you when it came to his urges so early in the morning. But today he needed to leave with you knowing that he still desires everything about you. You could see by the way his lip trembled that he needed you as much as you did. you both needed to escape into the peaceful comfort of the linen sheets. Your hands shot up to his face and dragged him into the single bedroom.

"as my wife" he whispered into your hungry lips as your clothing began to get in the way of the following events.

"it's been awhile since we've used a single bed for such activities, Laz" you had shocked yourself withhoj direct your words had aimed at your sex life. The doctor just smirked before pushing your back onto the ruffled sheets your left before welcoming him in.

"I didn't hear you complaining last time, Liebhaberin" His hand trailed its way up the bare skin that sat beneath the thin fabric of your night dress. goosebump coated your body in anticipation. Kreizler was an attentive man. Ghosting up your legs slowly, Laszlo found the small nub that he'd neglected in these last months and how your body knew it. As if fingers began to work that small bundle of nerves, the tingling sensation shot to your core and released a small moan as the intensity grew. Smirking softly, Kreizler had missed how little it took for you body to react to him; seeing you throw your head back gently as he sped up, the alienist began to notice his own neglected appendage. Your chest was heaving and you knew there was a blush covering your body which mimicked the heaving of his length with begged to be set free.

Slipping a finger down into the welcoming warm of your core, Kreizler studied how you jolted as if a foreign object despite how often he use to indulge in filling this gap.

"It seems you have forgotten my touch, don't worry mein liebling, I won't let that happen again" he commits, almost disappointed with himself that he had let it get this long.

Slowly plunging his fingers into the wetness, you moaned out for him to continue with the joy that you'd find your release. With a swift movement you swiped your night dress from your body with triggered Laszlo's arousal. your figure was enough to send him over the edge any day but today he had almost finished when you moved to take off you nightdress. laying naked on the white sheets, You moaned and panted at the accelerating fingers that hit that sweet spot in you vagina. Before you could make it over the edge, the digits were replaced by the soft lips of your lover and his delicate tongue. Licking up your wetness, Laszlo silently vowed to only provide the best for his life and soul. Edging you closer, he locked you legs open against the bed with both hands despite his damaged arm trembling slightly, he couldn't care less if it meant that he would get you to that moment of euphoria.

And did he take you there. you body shuddered violently as your orgasm rocked through your body like a starved animal. The bristles of his beard brushed against your sensitive mound as he lapped up your arousal. Before pulling himself up your body, Kreizler began to flutter kisses all over your vagina and clit and then trailed these same delicate kisses up your hip. Soon, his hand crept up to meet the spots on you hip when his lips had left soft touches.

Fully stood before you, he left you body for mere moments before removing the restrainting trouser that locked in his own arousal. You were apart seconds but your body moaned for his missing touch and it drove him mad with lust. He dove on to your body with an almighty force as he set to reclaim your lips with his. Eventually, your tongue poked through to explore the comforting warm of his mouth. to which, he moaned deeply causing his whole body to jolt forward, brushing his desire against your entrance. Electricity sparked between your intimate parts. While fighting for dominance with your tongue, you slipped a hand down his soft abdomen. Distracted, Laszlo allowed your dominance within his mouth only to grasp your slipping hand and attach it to his unattended appendage.

The feeling of his warm cock in you hand unlocked hidden moans and whimpers from you both. you almost forgot the battle you'd won when he began directing your hand to move up and down on his shaft. Laszlo's hum of approval was all it took for you to pick up the speed and shake of his hand. His length throbbed in your hand as you decided to direct his appendage into your warm core. like putting in the last puzzle piece, you both gutturally moaned in fulfilment. Laszlo starred in full admiration as all movements stopped. You were completely filled to the brim by his length in that one movement; he could feel every tense of a muscle and every inch of your welcoming canal.

"please, Las, put our baby back" the words softly slipped from your lips and graced Laszlo's ears. Who was he to deny himself and his wife of their future? so like a freed bird, Laszlo's hips began a depth thrust into the depth of your womb with two goals in mind: to make his wife scream his name and put his seed safely where it belongs. His eye's brimmed with tears he'd long held back after the loss of your baby but now was his chance to fix everything. You velvet walls were so tight as he pounded into your sweet spot. Every inch of your body took him as if you'd never been touched; it begged him to breed you. Instantly, you responded to his determined passionate thrusts as you attempted to push up to meet his pace- push him further to meet your womb.

Sometimes we survive because we forget but in this moment you live because he remembers every inch of your body. From the kisses that wrap around your erect nipples or the hand that remains on your hip as a reminder that he is holding on to you for the long haul.

______________________________________________________________

Please like, comment or reblog if you enjoyed this one shot

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#laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler fanfic #the alienist imagine #the alienist #daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl fanfiction #daniel bruhl x reader #laszlo kreizler #john moore #sara howard #laszlo kreizler smut #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x y/n #dr laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #daniel bruhl smut #the alienist headcanon

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justfangirlthingies · 3 years

Text

Late Night Cuddles (Dr. Laszlo Kreizler)

This is my first time writing for our beloved alienist

Summary: After a long and tiring day at the institute Laszlo joins you in bed

Warnings: none, just a lot of fluff, like 2 German words does that need a warning?

Word count: 1041 words

Translation: Gute Nacht = good night

Your fiancé was still in a session when you left to prepare for bed. It was not unusual for you to get ready for bed on your own. However, he would usually be by your side and get himself ready for the embrace of sleep as soon as you slid under the blankets and join you there mere minutes later.

This night seemed to be different though. You'd been lying in bed waiting for him for about an hour already. You were aware this was going to be a long night for him and so was he. That is also why Laszlo told you not to wait up for him, but you just couldn't help yourself. You were desperate to stare into those hazel eyes once more, to feel his soft hair against the skin of your hand and to run your fingertips through his beard before closing your eyes and feeling his lips on your temple as you drift off into the world of dreams.

Slowly you felt sleep begin overtaking your features as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

▪︎

It was the moment that you finally gave in to your need for sleep, when the door to your shared bedroom creaked open. The sound ripping you from your light slumber. Slightly startled, you forced your eyes open to see the doctor's gaze already on you. His posture told you that he was trying to quietly sneak into the room in order not to wake you, the flinch combined with the frown on his face displayed his distaste for the creaking door, which seemed to have a different plan in mind. You flashed him a drowsy smile as you slowly sat up in bed, extending your arms for him to engulf you in a hug. Your sleepy movements made a chuckle escape his lips as he climbed into bed next to you and wrapped one arm around you while his weaker arm rested on your waist. You were quick to nuzzle your face into his neck, a content sigh simultaneously leaving your lips. Laszlo was quick to lay down on the bed, pulling you along with him. You giggled as you felt the force of gravity and your betrothed pull you downwards. Laszlo joined in on the laughter as he felt you land halfway on him and halfway on the bed.

Sleep still had it's grasp on you as you tried to pull the covers over the two of you. After struggling with the blankets for a minute or two, you finally succeeded in what you were trying to accomplish. A relaxed exhale left your throat as you felt the soft material of the blanket atop of you.

"What took you so long tonight?" You questioned as you shuffled underneath the blankets, attempting to balance your weight on your elbow while your eyes observed his features closely. He seemed tired and exhausted after the long day. "Well, the session went on a little longer than usual and just when I thought I could come to join you in bed, I found one of the children strolling around. A little girl who seemed to struggle with falling asleep." he answered. "Oh? Is she alright now?" you wondered, arching an eyebrow. Laszlo nodded as his eyes met yours "Yes I helped her to calm down and-" "Did you show her the monkey?" An excited grin made it's way onto your features as you stopped him in the middle of his sentence, causing the man next to you to chuckle "Yes" he nodded "Yes I did show her the monkey."

A sleepy smile found it's way onto your lips as you cuddled into Laszlo's chest. Your eyes shot open immediately upon making contact with him. Wide (e/c) eyes stared up at the alienist in wonder and shock. Laszlo grew worried as soon as he saw the look on your face "Are you alri-" "You're ridiculously comfortable!" You cut him off. The worried expression on your fiancé's face was immediately replaced with an amused grin and a raised eyebrow as he shook his head trying to hold back a chuckle. "And you have realized this just now, after 3 years?" Smiling you shook your head "No I knew that of course, I just wasn't aware of the extent of your comfortableness" you muttered, voice still drunk on sleep. This time Laszlo couldn't hold back his laugh, you heard it reverberating in his chest where your head was still placed. You smiled against him while you wrapped your arms around him in order to be in even closer proximity to him, as you muttered "Goodnight love" You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head as you closed your eyes and buried your face further in his chest. When you spoke up once more your voice came out muffled "You're my new pillow from now on Laszlo"

The man in question to just shook his head grinning as he ran his fingers through your hair. "Gute Nacht (Y/n)" he cooed softly.

▪︎

Laszlo stayed awake like that for a while longer, enjoying the sensation of having you so close to him. He felt your hair underneath the skin of his fingertips, felt you hold onto him in your sleep as his thoughts drifted through his head. Thoughts about how he was happy to be able to spend the rest of his life by your side. To know that he always had someone who would be there for him. Someone he wouldn't be able to push away, for even if he tried to do so, you would stubbornly stay with him. He appreciated that and he knew you were aware of it, even if he didn't tell you about it too often.

With the thoughts and dreams of a future with you wandering through his head, Laszlo slowly drifted off to sleep as well, a soft and happy smile on his face after thinking about you as he joined you in the land of dreams.

▪︎

Needless to say, you meant it when you told him about his new purpose as a pillow. From then on you fell asleep on the doctor every single night...

Taglist: @ateez-star @littlemissnoname13 @gwlvr

#laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #the alienist #the alienist x reader #laszlo kreizler imagine #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x y/n #daniel brühl #luna writes

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Baby Bee took the time to take my crappy blueprint of what I imagine Laszlo's office at the university to look like for TIOD & Psychopathia Sexualis and made it in the Sims. Yall it is glorious. Bless you @hardlyinteresting

You can see the desk that he first fucked you on and then the couch where you made sweet love afterwards 🤭🥰

#the interpretation of dreams #psychopathia sexualis #laszlo kreizler smut #laszlo kreizler x reader #Laszlo kreizler x y/n #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler fanfic #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #the alienist fanfic #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #laszlo kreizler daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #Laszlo kreizler's office #laszlo kreizler au #professor laszlo kreizler au #modern laszlo kreizler #scuttle-buttle

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kreizlersdeadpoet · 3 years

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Confidence and Wit (The Boy on the Bridge) [An Alienist Fanfic]

Pairing: Fem!Oc X Laszlo Kreizler

Summary: Whilst in the early stages of solving the most recent murder to plague New York, Laszlo is introduced to a confident woman with a mysterious scar...who also happens to be John Moore's sister.

A/N: Hey, I've never written anything before! This is my first shot at writing as I have a tendency to self-insert an oc into every tv show/film that I watch so I thought I'd write this one down lol. There will most likely be more parts to this but I have no idea how to use tumblr sooo idk. Honestly this works as a self-insert I just love the name Vivian!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John Moore and Dr. Laszlo Kreizler sat around a small table in the well-lit living room of the Moore residence. Without the Zweig flie, the two men could not move forward in their investigation into the recent death of the boy on the bridge. They both sat amongst John’s drawings of the poor boy killed and several of Kreizler’s books on psychology, a topic John viewed irrelevant to the current situation.

“And how do you suppose my drawings and your books of ramblings will aid in finding the killer of this poor boy?” John questioned, already feeling the effects of the past day.

“I don’t believe it will,” Laszlo began “but it’s all we can do without the Zweig file unfortunately. I believe the post-mortem will prove invaluable to this investigation”

John poured himself another cup of tea, downing it as though it were a shot of whiskey. His head rested on the palm of his hand as he tried to process the situation he had gotten himself into over the past twenty four hours. He felt as though his spirit had temporarily dislocated from his body as images of the dead boy flashed before his eyes.

“something on you mind John?” Laszlo commented as though the past twenty four hours hadn’t happened. John’s head snapped forward,baffled by his friend's question.

“Something on my mind? Something on my min-yes Laszlo, a great deal no thanks to you!” John looked exasperated at his old friend. “Look, if we could simply rest whilst we wait to obtain the Zweig file then I would feel much better”

Laszlo shook his head slightly as he combed through another of his books. “There is no time to waste with a case like this. I fear that if I’m correct, a killer such as this will indeed kill again, and another child will be brutally mutilated”

John winced at that last part and reached to hastily pour himself another cup of tea as though it had the same effect as his beloved alcohol. All the while, a young woman had made her way down the long set of stairs in the hall of the house, heading straight to the bookshelf near the end of the living room. She wore a casual white blouse and long black skirt with waves of her hair cascading behind her. She scanned the bookshelf in silence, ignoring the two men bickering at the table as her presence went unnoticed.

“Psychology may not be of such use that it solves a case immediately, but it gives us an insight that the police tend to overlook unless I suggest it to them” Laszlo stated matter-of-factly as he recalled the many cases that went ‘unsolved’ due to the police’s reluctance to accept his perfectly valid evidence due to its root in the study of the mind.

Meanwhile the young woman had now stopped looking for books all together and instead stood listening to the conversation happening on the other side of the room.

“I don’t doubt that Laszlo, but when you claim that every individual’s actions can be explained using your studies, I’m sorry my friend but I find myself siding with the police” John chuckled, “and you know I don’t like siding with them often” he scanned the table of books before him and was suprised to see a copy of the ‘The Signal-Man’ by Charles Dickens mixed with Kreizler’s academic books. “What, and suppose you can explain to me that there’s some sort of psychological meaning behind my favourite Dickens novel too?” John said half-jokingly.

“Dickens suffered from siderodromophobia” is what Kreizler was just about to state smugly, however the doctor found he had not said a single word, and that it was someone else who had said those words. A woman.

“Dickens was victim to a train crash in 1865 and the accident had highly personal implications for him. He never recovered from the trauma; he lost his voice for two weeks following the accident." the young woman explained. "That was the inspiration for the book's plot though I’ve never actually seen you pick up an actual novel before John” she joked

The two men sat staring at the young woman, though John seemed to be staring in annoyance rather than surprise. This suggested to Kreizler that the two obviously knew each other well.

“Aren’t you supposed to be out with grandma?” John hissed, seemingly embarrassed by the young woman’s presence.

“yes, but I’m ill” is all she stated in return, grinning as she clearly saw humour in the fact that she very much did not look at all ill.

“yes, and I’m the king of England! You seem to be looking perfectly fine now. I told you I had important business to attend to today, why don’t you go out and sit in a park or something”

Laszlo sat in silence watching the two interact. He was both humoured and bewildered by the young woman’s wit.

“Important business?” she questioned “you draw pictures for a living John, I doubt it’s of any real Importance” the doctor had now noticed a strong English accent in the young woman's speech which only led to more questions.

Laszlo finally allowed himself to take in the woman’s apperence as the two continued to bicker between each other. She had dark, brown hair woven with strands of gold which were highlighted by the sunshine pouring onto her frame through the window. The sight was almost angelic Laszlo thought. Her dark brown eyes of million hues led Laszlo to question what the word “brown” even meant, and yet, there was a tiredness to her eyes that no woman of such a youthful age should ever be burdened with, he thought. That perked his curiosity. Still, her nose was in congregation with her eyes and lips to form a perfectly coordinated glow of confidence that morning. ‘Confidence and wit were a form of beauty’, something Laszlo remembered reading in one of his many books and something that certainly came to mind as he met the challenge in the woman’s eyes. However, it was the narrow thread of silver that ran from the bridge of her nose to the right side of her cheek that caught his attention the most. The scar wasn’t too prominent on her face, but it was definitely noticeable. She must have sensed his attentive eyes on her disfiguration as her confident stare diverted to the floor before she made her way over to the two men.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, John?” Laszlo asked, closing the book before him.

“Not if I can help it” John mumbled to himself before clearing his throat. “Uh, Laszlo this is Vivian Moore, Vivian this is Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, a dear old friend of mine”

“Moore?” Kreizler questioned and looked between the two. Vivian rolled her eyes. Of course, John had forgot to mention he had a sister, everyone seemed surprised to meet her when visiting the house.

“I’m his sister, unfortunately” she wore a small smile as she offered her hand out for Kreizler to shake, which he did. He wondered how Vivian had managed to go unseen for so long, after all, he and John had been good friends for a long while and never once did he mention a sister, only a brother. “of course I’ve heard a little about you Dr. Kreizler, its nice to finally meet you” Questions inevitably began to poke at Laszlo’s brain as they always did, and so the usual interviewing began.

“Your accent, its not like John’s its-“

“English, yes. I’ve lived across the pond most of my life, educated there too. I’m only here to visit for a few months before going back but i-“ Vivian's voice trailed off as her own attentive eyes then landed on the pictures sprawled across her living room table. “So it is true what they're saying about the boy on the bridge?” she asked, taking one of the drawings into her hand.

However, before she could inquire any further, John had snatched the sketch from his sister and scoffed at the change in subject. “Absolutely not” he said to himself, gathering all the drawings and placing them back into a folder. “You are not getting involved in any of this, nor will I have you pressing for information like you always do” John had also taken a mental note at how quickly his usually focused friend had now shifted all of his focus onto Vivian completely. “a woman should not even be remotely interested in such an incident as-“

“oh come on John” Vivian feigned offence as she rolled her eyes “I seem to be less troubled over a drawing than you given the irritable mood you’ve been in all morning. Don’t you know, women have their own minds now dear brother”

Laszlo smirked slightly, trying not to show John that he was taking sides despite the fact that he most certainly was. “Perhaps a fresh pair of eyes on the drawings could-" Laszlo began to suggest before being shot down immediately.

“Absolutely not!” John cried as he suddenly stood from his chair. “Laszlo, I implore you to not involve my sister in such investigations, this crime is not meant for the eyes and ears of a lady” he began clearing up the cluttered books and graphic notes that littered the table before him. John also wondered how his sister seemed so interested in the graphic depictions on his sketch paper, especially concidering certain facts of her past.

“Well, I won’t try and argue with him, he’s awfully sensitive sometimes” Vivian joked as she brushed down the front of her dress. “It was nice meeting you Dr. Kreizler, perhaps you can indulge my curiosity’s on this case when my brother is busy down the brothel” this humoured Kreizler greatly, much to his old friends distress and the sudden redness of his face.

“That’s enough Vivian” he warned as his lips tightened in annoyance. John thought that perhaps there was something in the waters of England that had made his sister return to New York with a new found cheek. Perhaps it was her new way of coping. He usually enjoyed her wit but not when it was at the expense of himself.

Vivian turned to return upstairs but before she could, Kreizler had finally spoken up again. “May I inquire about the scar on your face, Miss Moore?” he couldn’t help himself, her sudden introduction prompted too many questions from him and he needed answers. However, it very quickly became clear that perhaps he had crossed some sort of line as he watched Vivian’s radiant smile fade quicker than he could savour it.

"Laszlo!" John scolded quietly, not understanding why his friend couldn't just let people go without analysing every fibre of their existence. It doesn't take a genius like Kreizler to realise that scars never usually came accompanied with a funny origin and his sister was not an exception.

The tiredness in her eyes grew more prominent as she stared at Kreizler directly. As if she'd been asked the same question a million times prior and the answer wasn't a very nice one.

“you may not” she answered simply, her speech free of any specific emotion for Kreizler to take note of or analyse. It was clear that the doctor had struck a chord within Vivian and he almost instantly regretted his curiosity, though he would never admit that.

John had also seemed to forget his embarrassment from moments before and instead let out a small sigh that filled the rooms silence. “Vivian” he warned again, almost like a parent rather than a brother. He cared for her deeply but understood that Kreizler never meant harm in his question.

“it’s fine, I’m going. Apologies for disturbing you both” she spoke simply as she turned away from the two men and returned upstairs as silently as she had been when coming down them.

“I’m afraid i may have crossed a line?” Laszlo broke the silence as he was left again in the company of just himself and John. A small part of the doctor wished that Vivian had stayed a little longer, she seemed an interesting enough person to get to know considering she was John’s sister.

“ yes well when don’t you” John smiled sadly as his gaze lingered on the staircase momentarily. “you’ll have to forgive my sister, life has not always been too kind to her and her mood tends to change rapidly” he sat back down opposite Kreizler. He watched as his friend seemed to ignore most of this, clearly only waiting for him to reveal the truth behind the scar across his sisters face. John rolled his eyes at this. “I don’t believe it’s my position to tell you my sister’s business if she does not wish to share it herself. Besides, she’s my sister and not a child at your institute”

Suddenly, there was a frantic knock at the door and before the two men could process the sudden noise, the Moore’s resident maid had already opened the door.

Sarah Howard pushed past the maid as she made her way into the living room, a familiar sight from her childhood. “I have it” she stated boldly

“Sarah?” John questioned as he stood up once again from his seat.

“the Zweig file, I have it” Sarah marched over towards the two men and placed the file down on the table. She wanted to be a part of this investigation and Kreizler smiled unsurprisingly at her efforts.

“Thank you miss Howard, this file may indeed move the investigation forward quicker than we thought.” Though Dr. Kreizler was glad to see the file, his mind couldn’t help but wonder back to the woman he had just met. What could’ve happened to prompt such a reaction to his curiosity? And what did John mean by life not always being kind to her? Though his mind was certainly on the case of the Santorelli boy, a new line of curiosity had sparked across his mind: who was Vivian Moore?

#laszlo kreizler #John Moore #Sarah howard #The alienist #Daniel Brühl #Laszlo Kreizler x reader #Daniel Brühl x reader #andrea marowski x reader #niki lauda x reader #dr laszlo kreizler #Daniel bruhl x reader #Moore!oc #Luke Evans #Laszlo kreizler one shot #Laszlo kreizler imagine #Laszlo kreizler x y/n #Angst

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italianraviolos · 2 years

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(1st of March 2022)

I'm currently in Paris with my father who's a PAIN IN THE ASSHOLE.

He complains about everything, he doesn't want to visit anything...

He's definitely testing my limits to see how much it takes to bring me to commit homocide.

So, this morning I visited Orsay Museum without him, and this led me to think about...

HOW WOULD DANIEL BRÜHL'S CHARACTERS REACT TO VISITING MUSEUMS?

1) LAZSLO KREIZLER

Everything started with this motherf*cker right here.

I literally thought "Lazslo would never do this to me, he would love to be here and watch all this paintings, he would love to comment the author, their style and to tell me the stories of all these paintings".

He would be the one to ask you to go to museums (O MY I LOVE THAT THING), he would ask you to join him, and if you do, he would definitely be your guide through every kind of exhibition.

(this is a clear symptom of a big dick)

I don't want to support mansplaining, but, I would stay there hours with him explaining things about whatever the museum is...

Also, eating at a cafe after the show or the visit and commenting what you've seen...

SO HOT

2) HELMUT ZEMO

He would buy you the museum.

End of the story.

I firmly believe that, at the first occasion you mention your will to go in a particular museum, he would instantly call the owner and ask for a private visit and telling them that he's willing to pay... A lot...

Also, I believe he's probably highly educated, being the Baron he is.

Guiding you through the museum and telling you the stories of the paintings, sculptures and the authors.

"museum date" wouldn't be the most popular option between you two, but I like to think, once or twice a month he'd be like "hey you know, there's this show of this famous artist, I was thinking we could go together".

Again...

SO HOT

3) ALEX KERNER

I'm sure as hell I would end up kicking him in the face...

I'm sure he would be all whiny and would bitch around for staying in front of a statue for more then three seconds...

He would complain every two seconds and ask perpetually when we are leaving.

He would rather prefer do other things instead of museum (I think I made it quite clear), but maybe he would agree to come with you if this makes you happy.

But that doesn't mean he's gonna enjoy it and that he's not going to bitch about it...

4) NIKI LAUDA

Only if it's about something that he likes too.

I imagine a museum about cars or motors or stuff related to F1.

So here we have two possible endings, one good and one bad.

The good one, happens if you like the same things.

He would love to come with you to cars related shows and museums, and explain to you how things work and their history.

The bad one, happens if you have different interests.

Prepare yourself to go around art shows and museums all alone, or with a bratty and bitchy Niki.

5) ANDREA MAROWSKI

This is a difficult one to identificate.

He plays the violin, so I believe he has an advanced knowledge of music and its history and probably a good level of general culture, probably above an average person.

BUT

His childish attitude and his hyperactivity will definitely influence his interest and his attention in a museum.

So for this one, I believe he would gladly come with you, and he would actually enjoy it, but not for an excessive amount of time.

Let's say, no more then 2 hours.

THOSE ARE THE ONES I WANTED TO ANALYZE TODAY, IF YOU HAVE DIFFERENT HEADCANONS FROM MINE AND/OR HEADCANONS FOR OTHER CHARACTERS, PLEASE LET'S START A CHIT CHAT IN THE COMMENT, I LOVE THAT THING.

Bye Lovies ❤️

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noforkingclue · 8 months

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No Questions Asked (Laszlo Kreizler x reader) Chapter 17

No Questions Asked tag list: @fandom-lover-4, @ajeff855, @booksarekindaneat, @greeneyedblondie44

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You stuck your hands in your pockets as you walked down the streets of New York. People pushed passed you and didn’t bother giving you a second glance. People never sparred you a second glance. To ‘respectable society’ you were invisible.

Well, unless they wanted something.

“Hey, Doc.”

You paused and looked around to see who call your name. Your eyes lit when you saw Polly and she beckoned you over. You dashed into the alley she was hiding in and she said,

“I saw him again.”

“Pol,” you gave her a disapproving look, “I thought I told you not to. He isn’t good for you.”

“Huh? What?”

“Your,” you waved a hand and scrunched your nose as you tried to find the right word, “companion. Man.”

“Doc-“

“I told you what I thought of him and it’s your choice.”

“Doc.”

“Now it’s your choice whether you listen to me or not but-“

“Y/n,” Polly hissed, “will you shut the fuck up and listen to me.”

You froze at the use of your actual name. Polly hardly ever used your name and never in public.

“By him I meant John Smith,” said Polly, “looking for business.”

“You weren’t interested?”

“Not that desperate,” Polly jerked her head down the alley, “he went that way. If you’re quick you might catch him.”

“Right,” you gave Polly a bright smile, “thanks Pol. If you want to stay at mine feel free.”

“Thanks Doc but I’ve still got the night ahead of me,” Polly winked at you and wrapped her shawl around her, “might catch up with you later. Oh, and Doc?”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful.”

The unusually serious tone of Polly’s voice and made you pause. You smiled faintly and nodded before saying,

“I feel like that’s something I should be saying that to you. I’ll catch up with you later ok?”

You dashed off down the alley not hearing what Polly called after you. There were a few people but they didn’t pay you much attention. Unless you could give them something people had little interest in you. It didn’t take you long to find him. He was talking to another one of the girls who was giving him a suspicious look. Her gaze drifted over to you and she looked between you and the man. John, seeing that she wasn’t paying him any attention looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with you.

Which caused him to take off running.

He pushed the girl out of the way, causing her to give out a shout. You had to ignore her this time as you took off running after him. You’d make sure to make it up to her later but now you had more important things to do. John looked behind you and grimaced when he saw you running after him.

“Wait,” you said, “just wait. I have some questions for you.”

“Like fuck you do. I know who you are.”

“Yeah, no surprise there, most people do.”

“And I know who you’re working for.”

Ah. Now that was new.

“Oh do you? And how do you know that?”

The two of you slowed down and you leant against the wall to catch your breath. John Smith was giving you a suspicious look and you smirked.

“So, someone’s been leaking information. Who?” you asked

“It’s more than my life is worth to tell you.”

John backed away but you were quicker. You lurched forward and grabbed his wrist tightly.

“More people could die,” you hissed, “More children. Can you really live with that on your conscience?”

“If I tell you anything I wouldn’t live long enough for it to weigh me down.”

“Then you shouldn’t have an issue telling me. Now why don’t you- OOF!”

To your surprise his fist connected with your stomach. You gasped for air and let go of John’s wrist as he darted away. You slumped against the alley wall as you struggled to take in air. Of course this wasn’t the first time you had been punched but somehow you weren’t expecting it.

“Doctor.”

A warm hand was placed on your shoulder and you looked up into a familiar face.

“Moore,” you gasped, “What a-“

You were cut off by a coughing fit. Moore frowned slightly and you waved a hand at him.

“I’ve had worse.” You said

“Sounds like it.”

“What are you doing here?”

You slid down to the ground and looked up at him.

“Following up on a lead,” he said, “Laszlo said you had an idea and wanted me to check it out.”

“Did he?”

“You sound surprised.”

“Wasn’t actually expecting anyone to take me seriously.”

Moore offered you his hand which you took gratefully.

“Why don’t I buy you a drink,” he said, “And you can let me know of any other information that you might’ve found out. You’ve got to have a bit more faith in us. We’re all on the same side now.”

#fanfiction #the alienist #reader insert #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader

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mahbonesmccoy · 3 years

Text

The Baron's painter

Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Author's note: I used Laszlo's face as Zemo's for the sake of Visualization. This is supposed to be a one shot but I got carried away... Please do enjoy this fic! There might be some inaccuracies since I didn't put much effort to research but I'll try my best to do in the later chapters.

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warning: John walker. Misogynistic remarks. So much fluff, it could ruin your teeth from grinding it too much. Sexism. Smut in the later chapters.

Tags: @ultrarebelheart (I want to tag you cause this is actually for you)

CH 1.

For a woman of your standing and all the misogynistic remarks from certain people, you are a great painter and many royals consulted you to paint their portrait. Mainly princesses and Ladies in waiting. You were fortunate enough to be home-schooled despite your mother’s persistence to marry you off to someone wealthier than your father instead. You don’t exactly belong to a high class family but you are fortunate enough to be in the middle class where your father could afford to give you an education. Marriage wasn’t in your list and you certainly still wanted to explore the world and paint. You are lucky enough to have a father who understands your wishes and respects them. Most of the daughters in a family were sent elsewhere just for the purpose to marry and have children.

You are currently in London since a client had sent you a letter that requests your expertise to paint a family portrait. Of course you accepted it eagerly. Just as you finished your work in London, you wet back home only to receive another letter… From Sokovia.

“Dear, Lady (Y/L/N),

I hope you are well. A friend of mine referred your expertise to me regarding painting a portrait. He has spoken of your work as if you’re in par with Michelangelo. With that, I am compelled to hire you as my painter. I trust his judgement regarding your painting and I can’t wait to see you work in person. Write me back as soon as you read this letter if you wanted to accept my offer or otherwise. I shall pay all your expenses on your way to Sokovia and then back to Deutschland.

Yours truly, Baron Helmut Zemo.”

It’s your first time to receive a request from the country of Sokovia and you are absolutely thrilled to be there and so you quickly rush to your writing table to write a reply to the Baron. Of course, your mother is trying to convince you to stop what you are doing and be a proper lady but you are on fire with your passion of art. You’re just so glad your father tolerated you and didn’t force you to do the expectations of a daughter in the family.

“Baron Zemo,

I just came home from London when I first read your letter. I am thrilled to be under your employ and be at your disposal for painting your portrait. I will be travelling starting the 1st of May and be there as early as I could. I’d rather discuss the important details in person regarding the painting. I appreciate you placing your faith in my abilities, as men seldom employ female painters.

With regards, Lady (Y/N)”

Zemo had received your letter a few days later and is already looking forward to seeing you. His servants are already preparing his royal clothes. He delicately folds your letter and places it in a small box. His happy solitude was cut short when he heard someone coming in his office.

“I heard you hired a woman to paint your portrait. Really… A woman?”

Said Sir John Walker. One of his associates in business from America who’s currently, and unfortunately for Zemo, visiting him for business matters. Baron Zemo might be a Baron but he’s also engaged to business that involves selling gunpowder and supplying ammunition and, not to mention, he’s also a Colonel. Everyone feared him and everyone respects him immensely.

“What’s wrong with a female painter, Sir walker?”

John Walker almost scoffs at his question but refrained.

“A woman belongs to her man. A husband. Her duty is to marry and provide children and you trust this woman to give you a perfect portrait to hang on the wall? Don’t be absurd, Baron. Men are skilled and better than women.”

Zemo is aware of the prejudice and too ahead of his time. His mother had taught him well to respect women and to treat them as equals despite his father being a Misogynistic himself. Either way, he looks at women so highly and as his equal… not some breeding doll to provide heirs.

“Yes you had said too much, Sir walker. But Sir Barnes from Romania spoke highly of her skills and recommended her to me. I’ll be the judge of her work and not you. I recall this will be your last day of visit, is it not? I shall provide the carriage for you so you could be on your way. Please tell Sir Lemar that the shipment will be on hold for a moment unless he pays me in advance.”

With a small huff, Sir walker bowed his head for the Baron before making his way out of his Manor. Zemo never liked Sir walker… He remembered how he treated that poor man who was offering him service to carry his lodgings. The Baron observed the man at his office window as he boarded himself in the carriage he had provided for him…

Your presence annoys me… This is much better than having you around for another few days…

His train of thoughts was cut short when a maid knocks on his door, serving him his usual tea.

“Baron, the maids are done preparing your clothes. We will prepare the whole room for the portrait painting afterwards.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Grey. Please tell your husband to prepare the horse… I feel like riding this afternoon.”

“Certainly, Baron.”

---

You are on your way to Sokovia now and the nature around never fails to soothe your soul. The greeneries, the colorful sky with a hint of violet, blue and pink is a sight you could never grow tired of. The Baron was kind enough that he had sent someone to fetch you in Deutschland. An elderly gentleman named Oeznik. He is really that serious in taking you to sokovia and al the expenses are all on him and you couldn’t even complain… Travelling is expensive despite the fact that you can afford it.

“Sir Oeznik, may I ask if you know who is the man that recommended the Baron of my Painting skills?”

“Ah, Sir James Barnes from Romania. He said you painted him once in America.”

Oh that made sense to you now. Sir James Barnes, the gentlemen who hired you to paint him and his close companion named Sir Steve Rogers. Both of them are sweet and a gentlemen and never gave an impression that they doubted your skills despite your gender. They were even more ecstatic when they finally got to see your finish product. Your thoughts drifted away elsewhere, longingly looking at the sky and nature with so much hope for your future. You’re so happy already and you couldn’t ask more. You drifted off to sleep eventually, not knowing it has gone darker and have arrived inside the borders of Sokovia. Oeznik softly wakes you up to avoid startling you and tells you that you had finally arrived at the estate of Baron Zemo.

“Oh forgive me, Sir Oeznik. I must have drifted off too long.”

“Travelling can be very tiring. I understand. Mr. Grey will be the one to take all your lodgings to your room. Mrs. Grey will take you to the Baron.”

Without further ado, you got out of the carriage. Despite being exposed to the lovely architectures in Great Britain, you couldn’t stop from admiring the manor. It was lit and bright like the Baron had a party prepared inside. Mrs. Grey, the maid, leads you inside and instructs you a few things around the manor while she’s guiding you to the office of the Baron. You didn’t exactly listen, too distracted with the statues and lovely decorations around the hallway. Too distracted that you didn’t notice that the maid led you inside the Baron’s office.

“Ah, you must be Lady (Y/N). The painter that James has told me about. Please do take a seat.”

You were caught off guard at that very moment and immediately bowed your head, softly apologizing from being distracted and take your seat near his table.

“Oh please no need for such formalities. I want you to be comfortable around here and treat me as someone who isn’t a royal. Where did you learn how to paint? James has told me your talent is remarkable that a number of royals actually seek for your expertise.”

“You’re too kind, sir… My father actually tolerated my passion for arts and insisted that I should have a proper education to be more intellectual. Despite my mother’s wishes to marry me off to someone, he supported and respected my decision. I learned how to paint very young and it’s actually my mother who taught me to paint until it became my passion and my work.”

Zemo drummed his fingers softly on his knee as he intently listens to you.

“Then your father must have understood that you are your own person and that no one is allowed to dictate you on how to live your life. Not even the mother who gave birth to you. Dinner is almost ready, and we shall discuss the details during supper. I know you feel exhausted so it’s best if we get into business.”

In Zemo's view, the psychological consequences of having a thoughtful father like yours are quite apparent. Because you are not burdened by the responsibilities of a daughter, your job is of excellent quality. You have nothing to be concerned about... He informed you what he wanted for his painting at supper and asked you how long it would take you to produce three portraits of him. It might take a month or two depending on your speed and how urgently he required the painting, but Zemo was not in a hurry. Everything that is created with art requires time. After supper, he bids you good night and Mrs. Grey shows you to your room upstairs, which is a wonderful guest room. Your previous guest rooms were not as lovely as the one you are now in, and you are grateful for the Baron. Before changing into your night clothes, you had peeled off all the layers of your dress and removed your corset. You relish the opportunity to sit near the window and eagerly gaze at the stars... You had the key to your whole existence in your hands, and that's all that mattered right now. Your mother isn't here to pass judgment on your decision not to marry. You simply hoped she wouldn't do anything extreme that would upset you.

----

You had a peaceful slumber for the rest of the night and by 7 in the morning, one of the servants had woken you up and served your breakfast. As much as you are grateful for her service, you couldn’t help but tell that you could have gone downstairs yourself to eat breakfast at the dining room.

“It’s okay, Lady (Y/N). The Baron instructed to serve your breakfast in bed since he had matters to attend early in the morning and could not join you. He assumed you must be very tired from your trip yesterday.”

“I see… Thank you. And please just call me by my name without the title. I’m no longer a Lady. I’m just a painter now.”

Your compassion is appreciated by the servant, who smiles. Nowadays, servants are rarely treated with respect. You had readied yourself to look respectable and presentable after breakfast before savoring the prospect of visiting the magnificent garden while the Baron was absent. It appeared to be considerably more lavish than your own garden, and you might easily get lost in the maze of flowers. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and listen to the birds singing... Bliss.

You didn’t know that the Baron is behind you, giving you a little bit of time to unwind before clearing his throat to announce his presence. You turn around quickly and greeted him with a surprise tone in your voice.

“Forgive me… I didn’t know you were there, sir.”

The baron, who was beaming warmly at you while you were apologizing and lowering your head, thought your humility was really endearing.

“Please, again, no need to bow. My garden rarely received any visitors and you are free to roam around the manor. The whole estate might give you an inspiration for the painting. Speaking of painting, when do you want to start?”

You softly chuckled, quite surprised at the prospect that a client is actually asking you when you are ready to paint him.

“I should be the one asking you that, sir. I could begin now.”

“By all means… But first I must get ready before we begin. I hope that your sleep and breakfast is excellent?”

“Yes, I feel well rested and full. Thank you, sir.”

Zemo guides you back inside then to the room where he desired to be painted first. A room brimming with family artifacts. Crowns, swords, jewels, and this one purple mask that you find peculiar. You arranged your canvas and art equipment, ensuring that everything would be ready when the Baron arrived. And as soon as he did, you recalled what your mother had said...

One day you will be looking at a man and you couldn’t help it but feel your world slowing down. Time will come that your heart will scream at you no matter how hard you resist this new sensation. This feeling. You find yourself stuck on your spot and couldn’t blink your eyes. After all, we are only human. I hope that time will come soon…

And, by God, the moment had arrived... You find the Baron already attractive but seeing him dressed in regal garb makes him 10 times more so. Oh, you were terrified... terrified of the emotions your mother had warned you about. You immediately clear your thoughts away from that and focuses on the matter at hand. The painting. Clearing your throat, you instruct him where he should be standing and posing and then you begin your work. The more you stare at him, the more you notice those moles on his face, the lovely beard, and the perfect and honey-coloured eyes. You wonder how soft his hair is… Your cheeks are suddenly tinted with pink and you are thankful that the huge canvas is covering your face. Now that you had painted his shape and his pose, you told the Baron to take a rest from standing.

“Thank you, Lady (Y/N). May I see your initial work?”

You wanted the final work to be a surprise but you think the Baron might wanted a few changes in the portrait so you decided to let him see it.

“Good lord… You managed to paint all that fast? The initial work looked good enough for me.”

James Barnes was true to his words regarding your skills in painting. He will definitely hire you again after this…

“You’re too kind, sir.”

Many royals had praised you before, but the Baron's comment made you feel... strange. You feel very much appreciated, and you get the impression that you are in the limelight, with the crowd roaring for you. You take the risk of gazing at the Baron when he is staring at the initial painting. He's right next to you... Even your closeness to him made you feel something. Your gaze returns to his face.

Oh you are beyond from stepping away right now… You fancy the Baron.

#baron zemo #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #helmut zemo #marvel imagines #laszlo kreizler #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel brühl #baron helmut zemo #marvel #bucky barnes

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pannypunkpanda · 2 years

Text

Some comfort from Laszlo today — February 19

#1yr challenge #panny art #laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler #the alienist #daniel brühl #digital art #art #procreate #y/n #y/n x Laszlo #Laszlo x y/n

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

Hello! I'm watching The Alienist- Angel of Darkness, and I keep thinking of a fic where laszlo's wife!reader just gave birth and this case worries the poor man more than usual, because their baby is in danger and he can't get into the assassin's mind. Perhaps the reader could offer to breastfeed laszlo, and they have an in-depth conversation about the workings of the killer's mind and why the reader herself enjoys nurturing her husband. Perhaps it would even become a habit after the case was solved and every time Doctor Kreizler wanted some milk, he would let her know with a touch just below her breast that would go unnoticed in public as a gesture of affection? I think I thought about it too much, what do you think about writing about it?

The Marriage of Happiness [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Wife!Reader]

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: erotic lactation, breastfeeding kink, mention of other kinks and of murder

A/N: What do I think about writing it? I think THANKY YOU because I could write Laszlo having a boobie obsession for the rest of my life. I do think about it daily and it is just THE kink for him (as poor @cazzyimagines knows how obsessed I am). The case of studies mentioned are taken from psychology books of the time. I don''t know what point you're with Angel of Darkness so I am not giving out too much.

The night was dark and tensed, not a soul on the streets of the residential area you lived in with your husband, the only light up the one in your bedroom.

You became mother three months before welcoming the first little Kreizler of her generation. It was hard but worth every second, every moment of the pregnancy and the delivery your husband was with you. You were lucky, you felt lucky to be with a man like Laszlo: open minded, modern, charming and righteous.

You smiled walking around the room as you lulled your baby humming a soft lullaby, the baby observing you with dazzling eyes, you could see she was tired and the melody kept her attentive but also lulled her to a place of comfort.

You swayed slowly in a gentle waltzer, your arms embracing the tiny body wrapped up into the finest white clothing. You yourself wore your white nightdress with a dark green cover up that Laszlo gifted you, it was slightly bigger in size so you’d use it though the whole pregnancy, your hair loosely braided.

The baby opened her mouth making a soft sound, she was calm and relaxed, to see her like this brought you an immense joy.

You heard steps approaching to the door, the house was empty since Stevie was with Laszlo and the cook you hired was in her quarters, you wouldn’t be worried if your husband wasn’t working on a case of abducted babies, but then you followed Laszlo’s common sense and listened instead of letting your mind worry. You listened to the steps coming one after the other, the weight of them, the pace.

You smiled to yourself as you guessed right, your husband appeared on the door frame and the shadow over his face disappeared for a moment meeting your standing figure with the baby. Since the case begun he refused to have any new staff in the house, he brought the bed of the baby in your bedroom, which wasn’t common back then, and every night sent Stevie to roam around the streets before going to bed to see if there was any obscure presence.

“My love” he said with a smile as he walked his way toward you undoing his jacket as you offered him a look of the falling asleep baby. His left hand gently caressing the little chest to feel the breathe of life in it. The baby blinked at him and smiled. Your baby girl was an early smiler, she smiled in her first month which just ripped off her father soul, tucked it in her little pocket and sold him forever. He was already ecstatic to be a father, only the announcement of your pregnancy got him wild, a mix of worry and tenderness always over him. The constant fear to be losing it. To lose what you brought to his life, not only his daughter but that happiness, the home feeling, the meaning to have something to come back to at night.

He loved you like a flower loves the water, he loved you more than metaphors can explain. He closed his eyes pressing his forehead against your temple, you rocked the baby gently in your arms as she relaxed, the sleep over her even if the presence of her father stirred her a bit.

“I am so worried for her” he murmured, he couldn’t cope with it anymore. The pressure to be following that case.

Sara told him to drop it, but he couldn’t. He owed it to Martha Napp, he owed him to his own child. To be in the case put his darling baby into the spotlight, but the best chance to solve it and avoid the menace of losing the apple of his eyes was to fight the crime from the inside.

And yet, he couldn’t. He couldn’t get inside it.

He looked up and noticed your eyes on him, you detected the twist into his mind, the fear, the tremble of his intentions.

You kissed his cheek as his head was bowed slightly before slowly moving away to lean the baby into her cradle.

“Get comfortable” you urged him softly as he nodded to you undoing his jacket and his waist coat shrugging them off his shoulders as you adjusted the baby into her usual sleeping position, you pulled the covers over her caressing her head full of dark blonde hair like her father had as a child. You brushed them gently as she stirred and relaxed again, a soft sound coming from her mouth. She was well dressed, well fed and happy, you knew your child had all the possibilities in life to be the most charming and smartest woman of her times.

You moved the little veils on top of the crib to shield her from the dim lights of the room before pacing your way back to your husband.

Laszlo was sat on your shared bed. His eyes focused in the nothing in front of him. His waistcoat and jacket abandoned as he wore only his candid white shirt and dark pants.

You picked the hooked needle as you slowly bowed to your knees, he blinked surprised for a moment as you begun to undo his boots silently. You knew him, you gave him time to express himself. He was elaborating still, collecting ideas after a day spent talking back and forth with Sara.

“I saw the body” he said as you looked up.

“The body of Martha Napp’s baby” he added and you frowned, the poor woman, you couldn’t imagine yourself in her position. You’d probably be accused of murder too because you’d probably become feral if somebody touched your baby.

“Are you sure it is her baby?”

You knew he was sure, but the hope still fazed you.

“The child was poisoned, the deadly pallor was evident but Martha mentioned her child had an identifying contusion” he took a pause, he licked his lips as you could almost see him relieve the scene in his mind “A benign hemangioma under her left axilla”

He looked at you, to see the corpse of a baby, a baby that could be his, to find out a baby girl was abducted and this time in a well known residential area. The anxiety took over him. He was pestered by dark worries, images that saw you in a state of loss and disruption like the poor Señora Linares.

His eyes rested onto you, your calm firmness made him shake at times. His strong and aggressive demeanour might show him as the rock of the couple, but you are. You’re the one that can overcome things, that can see clearly when his mind is clouded.

“Might that child soul rest now with her mother, if you allow me I will take care of organising the burial along with the mother’s corpse as soon as the Isaacson’s have concluded their inspections on it”

He looked at you, a soft smile crept on him. Your thoughtful self always finding the cure to the pain. He saw the failure and you found the ultimate resolution. You could not join them in life, let it be in death.

You gave him a warm smile before finishing with both his boots and pulling them out, your hands slowly tracing his calves and ankles resting your chin on his knee to interject his eyes.

“Darling”

He blinked, he zoned out again and your voice called him back.

“I apologise” he only said

You stood up, his eyes lingering over your body for a moment. You healed like a true champion after the delivery, in few weeks you were back on your feet like nothing, in a month you were able to attend events. Your energy and vitality made you seem immortal to his eyes, which triggered his fears of loss even more.

Something so special, so strong like you, the idea to see you broken in any shape or form poisoned his soul and tortured his heart.

“Laszlo” once again, you called him back to reality as you sat beside him “you’re not thinking clearly”

He huffed softly, you were right.

“I can’t focus” he admitted finally taking your hand in his “I even upset the señora with my questions, enraged Sara, I feel like an headless chicken rushing around to find answers I can’t deal with. The scientific community protecting a butcher, John doing all he can at the newspaper and yet I am providing nothing to this investigation but background noise” he frowned deeply.

You could tell he was doing it for Martha and for you. He wanted to protect you and he tried to keep you far from all that darkness.

“Come” you said as you moved to your spot on the bed relaxing your legs as you adjusted some pillows behind your back “come on”

You hushed him and he obeyed quietly crawling on the bed, his frown still present. You hated to see him like that. Usually he was able to keep cases of study and worries outside of the bedroom, but this case was too personal.

You smiled at him as you undid the silly bow on your neck that kept the upper part of your night gown up. It was a maternity gown so to undo that little knot exposed the sensual curve of your breasts in a second. His eyes indulged over that little silky cloth twisted around your finger and the stars of little moles on your chest, he knew each of them by memory, he knew the scent of your perfume and the oils you use after bathing.

He looked up at you with a questioning look, he mindlessly run the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip when you exposed your juicy breasts. He always had a thing for them, he was always enchanted by the feminine chest as the highest form of femininity, big or small, that sensual shape was the epitome of life, of the charms of Eve in the Garden of Eden, the Mother Earth personified into the sacred body of his wife.

His eyes darted up back at you, a silent question on him as you didn’t let his confusion overwhelm you, you fought it with calmness and temperance.

“I know only one way to calm a restless Kreizler”

Your words would have made him smile as your open arms weren’t such a charming offer. He run his tongue again over his upper lip this time, using his left arm as support he slowly slipped closer to you.

His face leaned to yours as you didn’t seem to have changed your mind.

Somebody else would have maybe found it repulsive, a man of simple and good heart like John would have felt that kind of attention misplaced.

But not him.

He lowered himself over your chest adjusting into a nice position as you used few extra pillows you had there to ensure him a comfortable stay. His nose gently brushed over the inside of your chest, his hot breath hitting over your skin as he looked up at you once more and once more a welcoming smile followed his gaze.

He leaned down once again, lips parted to gently capture your nipple among them. Your mouth gaping lightly as he sucked a bit too much at the beginning sending shivers down your spine but just like any child his sucking revealed his anxiety to be fed, his fear and his need of protection.

You wrapped one arm around him as with the other you brushed his hair, your nails gently scratching his scalp to relax him, fingers combing his always well kept hair.

You watched his eyes flutter closed as you resumed your usual humming. It wasn’t a real lullaby, it was some of a rhythm you got stuck in your head.

“You’re here and I am here, our baby is safe from the world outside and nothing bad can happen” you narrated softly to him “you’re the most amazing man I have ever met, I know that the clarity of your thinking will come back. Just stop the world for a moment, it will all be back when the time comes right”

He hummed softly as you fell silent gently caressing him as you observed him lovingly, the fingers of his weak right hand toying with your braid. His beard hitching a bit in the beginning but you got soon used to it, you didn’t speak up anymore, you felt him relax more and more and you also did. This new kind of bond felt pleasurable and sweet, you felt to have reached a new kind of intimacy which is all you could hope for your marriage.

The time passed in silence, not a sound disturbing you until Laszlo’s relaxed body stretched lightly, the common knowledge telling you that the baby is fed.

He pulled back slowly before resting a kiss over your chest in a silent thank you.

He rested his head over your lap observing you like some Madonna staring at him with you gentle tenderness, not even Michelangelo could have grasped the beauty of your act or the absolute unfiltered love of your gaze.

“Was it pleasurable for you?”

He asked as you smiled gently caressing his cheek and his beard

“It was, you are really gentle” you answered. Another thing that you loved about your marriage was the unfiltered expression of feelings. You both looked for clarity through the eyes of your partner.

“Does it makes me your child?”

You smiled understandingly. This is your Laszlo, inquiring, curious, witty.

“No, no I don’t have a feeling that resemblance to breastfeed a child, it is more deep, more bound into my mind as an act of” you stopped thinking about it.

“Communion?”

He dared and you nodded as that was the right word.

“There’s a 1903 study, a German alienist suggested practicing erotic lactation as a way to deepen the relationship between husband and wife in a book called Die Offenbarung im Weibe, quite of a title I’d say, but he advised it as a good way to family plan, to give both the partners pleasure and he focused most of his studies over the idea of women’s sexual satisfaction being vital to the creation of an happy marriage.”

“It pleases me, I won’t deny it and it is a way that makes me feel you closer to me but in a more primal way, closer to the way sex works but with a different meaning”

He nodded as he toyed still with your brain slowly, a little fetish he just noticed in himself still doomed by the charm of unfiltered pure femininity.

Long hair, breasts, welcoming hips, all details that attracted him and drawn him toward you.

“There’s a study case, a man, a very wealthy one, he was obsessed with female hair. The smell, the composition, the touching” he paused as he toyed with yours among his fingers “He wouldn’t be able to suppress his desire, he confessed me his deepest fantasy was to have an orgasm while kissing the female hair and burying his head through them. It was peculiar but not harmful until he got himself a pocket knife, one of those not even good for a little pickpocketing but just as good to be able to cut some ladies’s hair in a crowd”

You kept caressing his hair yourself, probably moved also by the story, observing it and enjoying the texture.

“Do you think the killer of children needs to posses his fetish then?”

He nodded as you’re so smart.

“The possession is part of the final abdication of a person to their fetish, to be up to crime to own the desired being just proves the final commitment to the satisfaction of one’s desires” he explained to you and he paused now almost asking to himself “why would somebody steal a child then?”

You turned around looking at the crib where your baby girl rested.

“Because my crib is empty” you said and his eyes widened lightly.

“Tell me more, try to imagine it”

You frowned lightly as you moved your hands away from him, making distance, imagining the loneliness of empty arms, the excruciating pain of having a child and then not having it anymore.

“I need to give my love to my child” you said then taking a pause, your eyes staring to some unknown spot of the room “and if my child is not there, I will make sure that there will be”

Laszlo sat up as he stared at you.

“But that child won’t resemble you, your child was special and peculiar in its own way, this child grows up, changes, blabbers words while yours didn’t”

He pushed this image in you as you came to the only reasonable deduction you’d do if you were in such a state

“Then that is not my child” you said only “my child is somewhere else and this one is an impostor”

Laszlo nodded “So you get rid of it as soon as the reality outgrows the fantasy”

He concluded.

You looked at him as he stared back at you, a woman, the killer must be a woman that lost a child or got it taken away from her. She finds surrogates and dismisses them, she probably never saw her baby grow so they can’t grow.

“What would I do without you?”

You smiled at his words “you’d be completely lost, we both know about it” you said kissing his lips having a taste of your own medicine “now get into your night clothing, you’ll see Sara tomorrow to give her this new perspective.”

He smiled, not even a trace of the worried and confused Laszlo that stepped I the room before. He was back to his senses, his mind active, he could see with clarity.

- - - - - - -

The case unveiled itself, proof after proof, run after run, document after document he came to the solution.

He was proud, you and the baby were safe and now he could go back to the everyday.

“I don’t see the point Laszlo, you have proved yourself enough against him” John said as he stared up at his annoyed features s you served him some more tea.

John looked at you like why are you not stopping him but you just smiled it off relaxing in the loveseat beside your husband as John shook his shoulders like an annoyed bird.

“A man like Dr Markoe after all he did holding a public lecture with the anguishing title of Murder, Madness and Motherhood?” Laszlo snapped back at John “please, the least I can do is to humiliate him in front of the whole academic arena”

Laszlo leaned back smiling at his friend like he was just a poor fool.

“He will again fight on you, you know he always picks up on you for treating mostly children and being part of the investigation, you get heated with him and you lose your control”

John seemed only to know reasons to get Laszlo to desist, you understood him from your part, your husband was a fiery character and he hardly forgive people with quick and poor judgements. You also noticed he became way more aggressive toward Markoe since before the case, he always depicted pregnant women as prone to lose control, foolish and behaving like animals that had to be kept on a tight leash, it all in particular when you were expecting.

John’s tsunami of words couldn’t be stopped he had a reason not to do anything but your attention was quickly taken away by the soft touch of Laszlo’s hand on your side, just above the hem of your corset, his thumb tracing the side of your boob giving you a shiver as you already knew perfectly what he was demanding.

You could now tell that John actually made him feel unsure or at least unsettled him, he needed comfort and energies to face his enemy now.

Sara groaned making herself heard for the first time, she noticed his gesture and found it actually cute as she could never wish Laszlo with somebody more perfected than you. Your calmness matched his fiery nature, you talked when he needed to think, you smiled when he couldn’t. You allowed him to be more himself than he had ever been.

“Let’s go John, you’re being so obnoxious, at what time we will see the butchery of the doctor?”

You quickly answered to her giving her a gentle smile as she put John to silence.

She asked as she stood up and John groaned following her “See you there” John said still saying how useless it was to still go after that man.

Laszlo stood up escorting them to the exit and then coming back to the living room. You sat there like he left you, he would close the door behind his back locking it before crossing the room with long steps and close the curtains letting the darkness wrap around you. Your fingers slowly undoing your shirt as his shape takes again form in front of you as he turns on one lamp in the corner of the room before moving closer to you again, eyes shining even in the obscurity as his fingers finally meet with your skin once you undid the first knots on your corset.

“Give me life” he would plead to you before lacing his lips your nipple once more.

You knew from the first suck on your nipple how Markoe held no chance on today’s debate.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog

#dr laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler drabble #dr laszlo kreizler x you #dr kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr kreizler #laszlo kreizler fic #laszlo kreizler x y/n #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler fanfiction #laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler imagine #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler headcanons #tw: lactation kink

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shmaptainwrites · 3 years

Text

𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 [𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐙𝐋𝐎 𝐊𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐙𝐋𝐄𝐑]

PAIRINGS — Laszlo Kreizler x fem!reader

SUMMARY — After the death of Martha Napp Laszlo can't seem to get out of his head and deal with his emotions concerning his own guilt and all you want to do is help.

WARNINGS — minor season 2 episode 1 spoilers, descriptions of death (by electric chair), a bit of sadness and minor angst (but there's fluff too I promise), pregnancy

NOTE — Alright you guys! This is it! The fic you guys helped me plan! As you can see it's for Laszlo, and a fluff/hurt comfort fic. The prompts that got the most votes are bolded and used down below and I took a few of your guys' suggestions as well. I can't wait to see what you guys think and thank you so much for helping me pass so many milestones <3 [Also I got the translation of the name (Ilka) off google so apologies if it's inaccurate]

The rhythmic bouncing of the carriage was not enough of a distraction to deter Laszlo’s thoughts from what had just happened. The images of her convulsing body through his mind, the way she shook, screamed and then stopped. The silence was worse than her screams.

If he had just managed to find the baby, well and alive this would have never happened. He wouldn’t have failed them. Failed them both.

But now Martha Napp was dead. The smell of her burning flesh stained in his nostrils. The words of the guards as they called for higher voltage. More than necessary to kill. 1000, 2000, his voice caught in his throat, wanting to scream for them to stop, they had done enough. They had taken the poor mother from her child. An innocent woman.

He couldn’t comprehend who would have taken her baby. Let alone why.

He couldn’t go home. No, not yet.

“Stevie,” he said, his voice more strained than it would have normally been.

“Yes Dr. Kreizler,” the boy nodded, turning his head around.

“Would you take me to the park please,”

“Not home?” he asked and Laszlo shook his head.

“I find myself in need to… clear my head,”

Stevie turned the carriage to go towards the park while Laszlo tried to focus his mind elsewhere in a much futile attempt. All that he could hear was the shaking of the chair against the ground and the sloshing of the water in the bucket at her feet.

Stevie stopped the carriage in front of the park, letting Laszlo climb out of the vehicle and walk carefully over to the bench, the chatter of children and families, birds chirping, drowning out his thoughts if even only for a short time. The evening air was cool but refreshing and the sun gave everything a wonderful orange hue. It would have been a nice day if his mind wasn’t plagued with guilt and regret.

Although when he sat down on the bench, he wasn’t not expecting to have another body join him. A familiar one at that.

“Laszlo,”

His head turned and he was met with John’s tired and apologetic eyes.

“What might you be doing John?” he asked carefully.

“I thought I might find you here,” he admitted. “I wanted to make sure you were alright,”

Laszlo chuckled humourlessly. “What a curious thing to ask after a day such as this,”

“Laszlo what happened was terrible, but it happened,” John insisted. “There’s no going back, all we can do is try our best to find the child before any more harm comes its way,”

“You didn’t make promises John,” Laszlo shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as a small breeze blew across them, leaves swirling at their feet. “I was a fool and I promised her things I couldn’t deliver,”

John turned to face his friend more fully.

“Laszlo this is not your fault,” he insisted. “You fought for Martha Napp, tirelessly, at every single impasse you were there, putting your reputation at stake, you mustn't forget that,”

Laszlo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“As much as I would like to wish what you said had granted me some comfort I’m afraid it hasn’t. Martha Napp did not deserve to die and I let that happen to her,”

John didn’t say anything, only extending an arm to place on the shoulder of his friend.

“Don’t think too hard Laszlo. We’ll find the child. That’s the first step to fulfilling the rest of the promise,”

Laszlo nodded his head and the two men stood up, sharing a handshake before parting ways.

Stevie was still waiting for the doctor, his carriage parked off to the side.

“Where to, Dr. Kreizler?”

“I should think I would like to stop by Sara’s office before heading home,” he said.

“Of course, hop in, we’ll get you there in no time,”

Laszlo nodded, greatly appreciating all the help Stevie had brought him, especially as of late. He wished to let his eyes rest on the way there, but every time he closed them he saw the most disturbing things. No, it was no longer only Martha’s death that his brain wished to put at the front of his mind. Images of his loved ones, in situations so foul he would never be able to find the words to describe them.

From that moment onwards he was determined to keep his eyes peeled open.

By the time they reached Sara’s office, the sun had set, and most if not all of the lights were off. He quietly crept in, peeking his head through the doors, and walking the halls until there was a slight click followed by,

“Laszlo! You must be more careful! I could have killed you,”

Sara was holding a gun, outstretched towards him. She placed it back in her purse and looked over at the doctor. Sympathy, but also the same amount of guilt in her own eyes.

“You would have been doing me a service,” he said quietly. “I can’t seem to rid myself of the smell of burning flesh,”

“A drink is in order then,”

“Ah yes,” he nodded. “I’d love a glass of-,”

“I’m going to stop you there,” she opened the door to her office, letting him come inside. “By drink, I mean American bourbon, straight or watered down,”

“I’ll have it straight then,” he nodded and Sara went to pour him the drink. “It’s quite interesting, the way you’ve decorated this place. It’s very you,”

“Laszlo please,” she sighed, handing him the drink, “I’d really wish for you not to try and discover the deepest secrets of my mind through the furnishings of my office,”

“Very well then,” he nodded, lifting his glass and sipping the strong amber liquid.

“There must be some reason you’re here,” Sara noted. “Is there a way I can be of assistance to you Laszlo?”

“Will you be taking on the case of finding the Napp child?” Laszlo asked.

“I feel like I must. The police have already determined it to be murder. No one will be looking for the baby,”

Laszlo nodded, taking another sip of the alcohol, his eyes trailing to the many guns and certificates that lined the office walls. There was a chalkboard in the corner, Napp was written in big white letters in the top centre and everything they knew about the case underneath it.

“Should you ever find yourself in need of my assistance,” Laszlo started.

“I will not hesitate to call on you,” Sara assured.

“I made a promise to Martha,” Laszlo explained. “You would be doing me a service Sara, as your friend, for letting me be involved in this,”

“Of course,” she nodded, tracing the rim of her glass with her thumb. She lifted it slightly as if in a meagre toast. “To Martha, may she find peace,”

Laszlo pressed his lips together, lifting his glass in a similar motion, tilting his head forward. “To Martha,”

Laszlo finished his drink then bid Sara goodnight finally instructing Stevie to take them home. Entering the house with a creak at the door he almost felt guilty. It was so late, he hadn’t called home all day, you were probably worried out of your mind.

He didn’t find you in your usual waiting spot, in the living room by the piano. Instead, upstairs, he saw the light of a candle illuminating his study and carefully made his way towards it, just barely grazing his fingers over the doorknob before gripping in tightly and twisting it with a gentle push open.

You were still in your day clothes, no doubt highly uncomfortable at this time of night, curled up in his chair with a novel in your hands.

He didn’t think you noticed him, but when you whispered,

“One more paragraph,” he knew you were nearing the end of the page and wanted to mark it properly.

As soon as your eyes scanned over the last word, you took the small slip of paper and placed it in the centre of the next two pages and shut the book, looking up at your husband and giving him your full attention.

“It’s late Laszlo,” you said simply and he pressed his lips together and nodded.

“I know, I apologize,” he said simply, not wishing to elaborate on his worries, but you had a different idea.

“Won’t you come closer?” you asked. “I haven’t seen you all day,”

You changed your seating on the chair, feet down on the ground, legs pressed together, your arms resting on either armrest. Laszlo blinked once and for a moment his heart stopped. Your feet were placed in a bucket of water, arms tied down, a cap on your head, but he blinked again and it was gone.

“Why don’t you come to me,” he suggested gently, trying to coerce you into leaving the chair, allowing his mind some rest and ease.

You agreed silently by standing up and walking over to him, your hair falling down in its natural way after having unpinned it some time ago. You looked peaceful. You always did, especially this late at night, it was the time your mind was most at ease.

Your hand reached out to move a misplaced curl from his forehead, a weak smile grazing your lips.

For some reason, Laszlo wasn’t altogether sure why, he flinched at the contact, causing your smile to turn into a frown. You removed your hand quickly, bringing it to your chest, fingers gently fiddling with the frilly fabric of your dress.

“Something happened,” you said simply, knowing without him having to utter a word. “Talk to me Las,”

“It was nothing,”

He knew it was pointless to lie, but it came out anyway. He didn’t want to burden you, he never did. And this, this was the burden to bear all burdens.

“Laszlo,” you said, your voice almost lightly scolding. “Qui n’avance pas, recule,” (He who does not move forward, recedes)

“I-,”

“You cannot say it doesn’t apply to you my love you’ve used that many a night to win an argument with me,” you said, but it was gentle, loving, you wanted to help.

“(Y/N) I can’t say,” he shook his head. “I can’t tell you,”

“What do you mean?” this worried you. “I’m here to help Laszlo, I took that as a part of my vows to you, that I would be here through it all, don’t you remember?”

“Of course I remember,” he nodded, but then shook his head and broke his gaze away from you. “I just… I just can’t say,”

You took a deep breath, your own eyes trailing to the clock on the wall. It was late, you couldn’t fight all night.

You didn’t say another word, only gently pushing past him and making your way to your room.

It was a relief to rid yourself of your dress and corset, you felt as if you could finally breathe, the physical side of your body now relaxed along with your mind. Well, as relaxed as your mind could be after the conversation with your husband.

You thought of him while you picked up your sleep clothes, one of Laszlo’s shirts and a pair of his trousers, they messed them up at the tailors and they seemed to fit you better and you loved to sleep in them. It made you feel like you were eternally being held by him. A pseudo embrace.

These past weeks had been hard. The case he was working took much of his time, he was overworked, overtired, and stressed beyond words. You just wanted to be next to him, you wanted to be able to work through whatever was going on in his mind with him. He may have been the alienist, but alienists needed someone to look after them too.

You had been laying in bed, staring out the window, praying that the door would open and Laszlo would come rest by your side, but nothing happened. A half-hour passed and still, nothing.

Your worries got the better of you and you pushed yourself up on the bed, going to make your way to his study where you assumed him to be, but the candles had been since blown out. So carefully, you made your way down the halls, peeking your heads into the rooms until you reached the middle one, pressing against the wood and glancing over at Laszlo.

He stood, placed almost in a calculated manner in front of the bassinet, his hands in his pockets, looking down at the sleeping figure of your daughter, and from there everything started to make sense.

All these demons haunting him, whatever was causing him to feel this way was because he thought you, you and Ilka could be in danger. His darling angels.

You chewed your bottom lip, watching his hand reach out to gently stroke her cheek, such an innocent, loving gesture and you could sense how much he wanted to hold her, but at the same time not wishing to rouse her from her peaceful sleep.

For a moment, your mind drifted back to happy memories, memories of a time when things seemed to be alright after one madness had ended and before another began.

—

You stepped out of the doctor's office and into the summer sun, your breath caught in your throat. This was news, you hardly thought it was going to be anything like this. You thought maybe just an illness that might require a tonic or medication of some kind, but this was more of a permanent affliction. Maybe affliction was the wrong word.

But suddenly the air smelled fresher, the sun shone a little brighter, and everything seemed right.

You decided it might be nice to walk home instead of being stuck in a carriage, an unusual smile on your face up until the point where you realized something.

How in the world were you supposed to tell Laszlo?

He was out of town for work, you hadn’t told him about your symptoms, you knew it would worry him and now you were in a bit of a bind. You were so caught up in your thoughts of how to inform your husband (surely you would want to do it in person) that you didn’t notice the lady walking directly towards you, her head bent down in concentration, reading a newspaper.

You both bumped into each other, spewing out apologies immediately before you realized that you knew each other.

It was Sara Howard.

“Sara!” you grinned, placing a hand against your chest. “Goodness you gave me quite a fright, are you okay?”

“Oh I’m fine,” she nodded, quickly folding her paper up and giving you her attention.

“It seems we are both a bit lost in our minds,”

“Yes, I fear more so for me, I seem to be going in the wrong direction,” she frowned with a playful chuckle. “May I accompany you?”

“Yes of course,” you nodded, extending an arm to her so she could link it with her own and you could walk down the street together. “What brings you to this end of town?”

“Just work,” she nodded. “I’m looking for some office space currently,”

“For the detective agency?”

Sara nodded with a smile.

“Oh! There’s a nice cozy little place on Broadway that might work perfectly,”

“I’ll have to take a look at it,” Sara hummed. “Now what has got you in such a chipper mood? Normally when Laszlo’s out of town you barely leave the house,” she remarked.

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, but unable to keep the smile from your face.

“(Y/N) you are such a terrible liar,”

“Well if I’m such a terrible liar what am I hiding?” you asked, raising your brows.

“I’ll give you the recipe for my grandmother's pound cake if you tell me,” she coaxed.

“Oh really?” you asked, your stomach already growling at the thought of the sweet treat. Sara gave you another nod and you bit your lip and stomped your foot down on the ground. You wouldn’t be able to tell Laszlo until he got back and it was such a heavy thing to keep to yourself, perhaps it was best to share it with your close friend and confidant. She would already come to know it at some point.

“Alright, but you mustn't tell Laszlo until I’ve had the chance to speak with him myself,” you insisted and Sara nodded adamantly. “I was at the doctor's office and they told me… well they told me that I’m with child,”

Sara’s eyes were blown as wide as you had ever seen them, clearly not expecting such an answer.

“(Y/N) this is wonderful news,” Sara stopped walking to pull you into a hug. “I’m incredibly happy for you and Laszlo,”

“As am I,” you nodded, holding your friend a little tighter. “I must admit we’ve spoken about starting a family recently, but nothing quite so serious, but I suppose the decision has been made for us hasn’t it,”

“Yes, it does seem that way. Let me walk you home then, it only seems appropriate to have someone watch over you at such a time,”

“Oh Sara I would be fine, but I won’t deny you my company,” you smirked and she rolled her eyes lightly.

“Is there someone around that you can call on if need be?”

“Stevie is at home and if it turns out I need more than his assistance I won’t hesitate to call you or John,” you assured her, “You have my word,”

“Good,” she smiled somewhat victoriously and let go of your arm so you could turn to walk up the steps to your home. “(Y/N) be sure to tell me as soon as you’ve mentioned it to Laszlo,”

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to keep either of you waiting too long,” you chuckled. “It was nice seeing you Sara and don’t hesitate to stop over for a visit, we do not do it often enough,”

“I’ll be sure to keep the offer in my mind,”

You bid your friend goodbye and walked up the steps to your home, entering quietly despite the fact that no one was there and pressed your back against the door, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. You wished Laszlo would hurry back home, you did, after all, have big news to share with him.

—

A few weeks had passed since your encounter with Sara, Laszlo had made it back safely home a week ago, but it seemed, as with most things, it had slipped your mind to tell him about your...delicate situation.

You sat together in the dining room, sharing a dinner of beef stew when suddenly a wave of nausea overcame you.

Laszlo didn’t notice it at first, talking about a piece of literature he had read, but when his eyes flicked up he saw your head in one hand and the over placed on your chest as if to suppress a not so delightful feeling.

“(Y/N), is something the matter?” he asked, quickly wiping his hands and stepping away from his chair to come closer to your side.

His hand pushed some hair away from your forehead and prompted you to look at him.

“It’s just another bout of nausea, it should pass soon,” you said, taking in a shaky breath.

“My beloved, this is happening far too often don’t you think?” he asked. “We must find a way for you to see a doctor soon,”

“Laszlo I’m fine it’s just the baby,” you waved off your husband and his face seemed to go ghostly pale.

“B-Baby?” he repeated, standing up and you finally realized the problem with what you said. You cursed under your breath and looked up at him with an apologetic smile, standing up to be at eye level with him.

You held back a small chuckle as you tried to explain yourself to him, “I-I was meaning to tell you, but it must have slipped my mind,” you said. “You were gone for so long and I wished to tell you in person, but after the appointment, I ran into Sara and she’s been helping me with things I practically forgot I didn’t tell you,”

At this point Laszlo surprised you, you thought he might be upset, but his face bore the same light-heartedness as your own, a playful frustration.

“Sara? You told Sara before me?” he said, unable to fight back the smile that came upon his features.

“In my defence, I forgot I didn’t tell you,” you retorted playfully.

“Forgot you didn’t- it was my own child good God (Y/N)!” he laughed and oh what a wonderful sound it was. It wasn’t often you heard such a thing, but the amount of pure joy that radiated through his voice was enough to lift one off their feet.

“I’m really sorry Laszlo truly,” you giggled, your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Were you ever going to tell me or was I just supposed to live in ignorant bliss the rest of my life?” he jested and you slapped his arm lightly.

“Just shut up and kiss me already,”

That was something you didn’t need to ask Laszlo twice to do, his lips were firmly on yours, his right hand pressed against your stomach while his left held the back of your neck.

“A child, my beloved, I-I’m at a loss for words,” he whispered into your lips.

“For once,” you rolled your eyes and he kissed you harder to silence you, a slight squeal escaping past your lips.

He paused, his forehead pressed against yours looking deep into your eyes before something dawned on him.

“Your corset, it’s constricting your airways, increasing your nausea,” he looked worried now. “We’re at home you should take it off,”

“I assume you’re finished with dinner then,” you chuckled lightly.

“My mind is spinning, of course, I no longer have an appetite,” he took your hands in his. “Come let us rest,”

Nodding your head you followed him up to your room, discarded dishes on the table paired with unfinished food.

When you entered the room he drew the blinds shut and closed the door, coming back to your side to help you.

You had already removed your blouse and he placed his right hand holding your waist while his left undid the knot of your corset, carefully pulling back the string until it could be easily slipped off.

He gave you a shirt, far more comfortable to wear and for once it felt like you could breathe, your brain was able to focus and the headache slowly faded.

Laszlo was in front of you, his hands ghosting your stomach. You gave him a gentle look, your hand pressed against his cheek, your thumb stroking his beard.

“M-May I?” he asked his hands now at the hem of your shirt.

You nodded and he bent down carefully, lifting your shirt up to the top of your stomach and allowing you to hold it up for him yourself.

You were just barely showing. A small bump.

Laszlo held your waist once more, his grip slightly tighter while he leaned into your stomach, pressing a delicate kiss, right below your belly button. You almost shivered at the close contact, his beard soft against your bare skin.

When his lips pulled away they were replaced by his forehead against you and he whispered a quiet, almost inaudible,

“I love you,”

And it was only then that you really got a sense of how much he craved a family, children, to be a father. You knew from the moment he found out he was ready to give everything up for your child, no matter what the cost.

—

Laszlo was pacing wildly outside of your bedroom in the hallway, flinching each time you cried out in pain, begging for the nurses and midwives to let him in, but they refused. It was no place for a man to be.

His finger started tapping mindlessly on his side while his other hand stroked his beard and ran his hands through his hair, multiple times.

It had been… he didn’t even know how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity. He just wanted to be in there. Sitting next to you, holding your hand. He wanted to comfort you because that was his job as your husband. Not mindlessly pacing like some useless decoration in the workings of this delicate process.

Laszlo was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost missed the small cries coming from the room. His ears perked up and his eyes widened as he pushed past the door, rushing into the room, not giving the nurses and midwives even a second to let him get out because he was kneeling at your side, entwining his left hand tightly with your own.

“Are you feeling alright my beloved?” he asked, eager to hear from you.

“Exhausted, but well,” you breathed out, “H-How is she?” you asked.

“It’s a girl?” he responded, his face beaming with pride and you nodded.

“Happy and healthy Dr. and Mrs. Kreizler,” the head midwife assured, bringing the newly wrapped child to your arms. Laszlo let go of your hand so you could better adjust yourself to hold the baby.

“Oh she’s beautiful,” you cooed, using your fingers to delicately move the blanket coming into her face.

“Do you have a name for her ma’am? Sir?” one of the nurses asked the two of you and Laszlo smiled.

“I believe we do,” he nodded and you agreed. “Ilka, our little torch of light,”

“A beautiful name fit for a beautiful girl,” she smiled. “We’ll let you two have a moment alone, but we’ll be back soon to check up on you ma’am,”

“Of course, thank you,” you nodded and the room was cleared, leaving you, your husband, and your daughter. After a few moments of silence, you looked up at Laszlo, staring so intently at the small girl. “Would you like to hold her?” you asked.

He seemed to hesitate a moment and you quickly quelled his worries with a gentle hand to his cheek.

“Your daughter Laszlo,”

He swallowed thickly and nodded, standing up first and coming to the other side of the bed to sit next to you. Carefully he scooped Ilka out of your arms, holding her close to his chest, her small eyes just barely blinked open as her mouth moved around in odd kissing motions.

Laszlo’s lips flicked up into a smile, letting out a small chuckle, accompanied with teary eyes.

“Hello there meine Schatz,”

You smiled at your husband, letting out a yawn and resting your head against his shoulder, more energy leaving your body with every second, it was nice to just shut your eyes, hear him whisper sweet words to the both of you. The two most important people in his life. The two people he would love unconditionally.

—

“Laszlo what did we say about having her around these things,” you whispered somewhat harshly, pointing to the photos of previous crime scenes.

Laszlo’s eyes went wide and he quickly flipped over the images on the side of the table where Ilka was looking. She was sitting in his lap while he looked over some additional paperwork for the institute.

“Apologies,” he chuckled nervously. “I must have forgotten I had them laying there,”

You nodded and took a seat across from your husband’s desk, watching as your daughter fisted his coat in her small palm, trying to reach for his pocket watch with her other hand to put it in her mouth. She sat in the center of Laszlo’s chest with his arms used as barriers so he could continue to read while she played around with whatever she found herself inclined to.

Laszlo was insistent to get as much time with her as possible. He had read many articles that said the beginning years of a child’s life and the way they presented their attachment were highly important to the ways they would perform in relationships in the future.

Sometimes you would just sit, watch how they interacted. His quiet mumbling about whatever he was reading followed by Ilka’s babbles.

Every once in a while when his mind needed a break he would pause and turn to her, trying to teach her new words or even just playing silly games like peek-a-boo.

Now Ilka’s eyes were on you though, expecting some sort of interaction from her mother.

“Hi my love,” you waved at her, a sweet smile adorning your lips. “Are you having fun with your papa?”

The girl, having understood you nodded her head and giggled before gurgling a bit of drool and having it all on Laszlo’s lap, he didn’t mind.

She reached out a hand to you and you extended yours across the table allowing her to hold two of your fingers in her tiny hand. She attempted to place them in her mouth and for now, you let her because it wouldn't be long before she had teeth and well you would make for a pretty bad chew toy at that point.

Laszlo bent his head down pressing a gentle kiss to Ilka’s head, letting himself rest there, his glasses perched upon his nose, still flipping through his papers.

Ilka wasn’t a fussy baby, she loved just sitting with her parents, especially her father. She was her dad’s girl, that was for sure and you doubted that would change as she got older. You didn’t mind too much, there was always the next child that might cling onto you, perhaps a boy. But for now, it was the three of you, the Kreizlers. A family by all definitions of the sort and not something you and Laszlo ever thought you might have had the honour of having.

—

“This is about Martha Napp isn’t it,” you whispered finally, causing Laszlo to turn around and face you, not having realized you were there before. “Today was her execution day, I saw it in the papers,”

Laszlo swallowed thickly and only nodded.

“A daughter holds her father’s heart,” he looked over at the resting baby again.

“Of course she does,” you nodded, not entirely sure what he was getting at.

“What happened to her child could have been Ilka,” he whispered, “What happened to her-,”

“No don’t say that,” you shook your head, walking over to him quickly and wrapping your arms around him tightly. “Don’t say that Laszlo,”

“But I’ve failed all of you,” he whispered shakily, clinging onto your frame.

“No you haven’t Laszlo,” you assured him, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his head while he continued to shake in your arms.

“It was so terrible (Y/N),” he sounded so distressed, you had never heard that kind of emotion in his voice before, that desperation. “The way she shook and spasmed when they shocked her, w-when her screaming stopped, but they kept going,” he gulped. “I can’t get the smell out of my nose, I can’t!”

You hushed him quietly and pulled him away from you slightly to press a kiss to his forehead before leaning down to his trembling lips.

“That’s a terrible thing to have to witness,” you acknowledged. “It’s not fair to you, to Martha, she deserves justice and there’s no one better to help serve it than you, do you understand me, Laszlo. You are in no way responsible for what happened to her. Look at me Laszlo,” you insisted and his eyes flicked up to yours. “You’re not responsible. And you know what else, you have me here, Ilka, we’re safe and we’ll do whatever you think is necessary to stay that way,”

Laszlo nodded and bent down to press a grateful kiss to your lips.

There was a small shuffle in the bassinet followed by a quiet cry and you both turned around to see Ilka waking up. Laszlo carefully walked over and scooped her up in his arms, hushing her gently, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“Come on,” you placed a hand on his back, leading him out of the room. “She can sleep with us tonight,”

Laszlo silently agreed and followed you out of the nursery, the three of you pressed closely together and closing the door behind you.

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