#daniel bruhl x reader angst

[andy-15-07]

A Love Unscripted

Summary: Daniel and Y/N, co-stars on a film set, experience an intense connection that quickly blossoms into love. As they navigate their deepening relationship, they find that their off-screen romance becomes the greatest story of their lives.

Paring: Daniel Brühl x reader

Words count: 2907

Daniel Brühl Masterlist | Masterlist

It was a bright, crisp morning in Berlin, and the air buzzed with excitement as the cast and crew gathered for the first day of shooting. This was no ordinary film set—this was the next big project from a critically acclaimed director, and everyone knew it had the potential to be a masterpiece. The title of the film, still under wraps, hinted at a deep, emotional journey that would challenge both the actors and the audience.

Y/N arrived on set with a mix of nerves and excitement, feeling the weight of this opportunity. It was their first major role, and although they had done their fair share of indie films and theater, this was different. The script had resonated deeply with Y/N when they first read it, and they knew this role could be a turning point in their career.

As Y/N stepped out of their trailer, adjusting the costume that already felt like a second skin, they noticed a familiar face on set. Daniel Brühl was speaking with the director, his warm, easygoing smile lighting up his features. Y/N had always admired Daniel’s work from afar—the subtlety of his performances, the way he could convey so much with just a glance or a slight change in his expression. Meeting him in person, however, was something they hadn’t quite prepared for.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N walked over to where Daniel and the director were chatting. As they approached, the director noticed Y/N and smiled broadly. "Ah, Y/N! Perfect timing. Come meet your co-star."

Daniel turned towards Y/N, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. His eyes met Y/N’s, and there was an unmistakable spark—a connection that went beyond the usual pleasantries of a first meeting. Daniel’s smile widened, and there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put Y/N at ease.

“Hi, I’m Daniel,” he said, extending his hand.

“Y/N,” they replied, shaking his hand. The touch lingered a bit longer than necessary, and Y/N felt a strange but pleasant flutter in their chest.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Daniel continued, his voice smooth and genuinely kind. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”

Y/N chuckled, trying to ignore the heat rising to their cheeks. “Well, I hope I can live up to the hype.”

“I’m sure you will,” Daniel said, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s. “I watched some of your previous work. You’re really talented.”

Y/N was caught off guard by the compliment. “Thank you, that means a lot coming from you.”

Before the conversation could continue, the director clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s get started! We’ve got a lot to cover today.”

The first scene they were shooting was a pivotal one—an intense confrontation between Y/N and Daniel’s characters. The air was charged with anticipation as the crew set up the shot. Y/N took their position, trying to focus on the character’s emotions, but found themselves distracted by the fact that Daniel was standing so close.

Daniel, sensing Y/N’s nervousness, leaned in slightly and whispered, “Don’t worry, just be in the moment. We’ve got this.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath. As soon as the director called “Action,” the transformation was instantaneous. Y/N slipped into their character’s mindset, and the world around them faded away. The scene required them to confront Daniel’s character, emotions running high as they delivered their lines with a mixture of anger and vulnerability.

Daniel was incredible. His performance was raw, powerful, and it drew Y/N in, making it easy to react naturally. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and it crackled with intensity, as if they had known each other for years instead of mere minutes.

When the director finally called “Cut,” there was a moment of stunned silence on set. Y/N blinked, coming back to reality, and noticed that the crew was staring at them with something like awe. The director had a wide grin on his face.

“That was fantastic!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “The chemistry between you two is electric. If we can capture even a fraction of that in every scene, we’ve got something truly special here.”

Y/N glanced over at Daniel, who was still looking at them with that same warm smile. “You were amazing,” he said softly, his eyes full of admiration.

“So were you,” Y/N replied, feeling the flutter in their chest return.

As the day progressed, the initial nerves melted away. Daniel and Y/N fell into an easy rhythm, their connection both on and off-screen growing stronger with each take. Between scenes, they would chat about everything from their favorite films to their experiences growing up in different parts of the world. They discovered they had a lot in common—a shared love for classic cinema, a penchant for exploring new places, and a mutual respect for the craft of acting.

During lunch, they found themselves sitting together, away from the rest of the cast and crew. It wasn’t intentional, but it felt natural, as if they had always gravitated toward each other. As they ate, their conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and the occasional teasing remark.

“You know,” Daniel said, leaning back in his chair, “I didn’t expect to meet someone who’s as passionate about cinema as I am.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth in their heart. “I could say the same about you. It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.”

Daniel nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s rare to find someone who really understands what it’s like to lose yourself in a role, to feel that connection with the character and the story. I can tell you’re someone who does.”

Y/N looked at Daniel, their eyes meeting once again. There was something in his gaze that made their heart skip a beat—an intensity, a depth that went beyond mere attraction. It was as if they were seeing each other, truly seeing each other, for the first time.

“I feel the same way,” Y/N admitted, their voice soft but sincere. “There’s something about this project, about working with you… It feels different. Special.”

Daniel’s gaze softened, and he reached across the table, his hand gently covering Y/N’s. “I feel it too,” he said quietly. “I think this could be the start of something really wonderful.”

The rest of the shoot passed in a blur. Days turned into weeks, and with each passing moment, Y/N and Daniel’s connection deepened. Their scenes together were electric, filled with a chemistry that was palpable to everyone on set. Off-camera, they spent more and more time together, often finding excuses to stay late after a day of shooting just to talk, to be in each other’s company.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of filming, they decided to take a walk around the city. The night was cool, the streets quiet as they wandered aimlessly, talking about everything and nothing. Daniel seemed more relaxed than usual, his usual charisma softened by the late hour and the intimacy of the moment.

As they walked along the Spree River, the moonlight reflecting off the water, Daniel suddenly stopped. Y/N, who had been in the middle of a story, turned to look at him in surprise.

“Is everything okay?” Y/N asked, concerned.

Daniel smiled, a little sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s just… I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

Y/N’s heart began to race, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation bubbling up inside them. “What is it?”

Daniel hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

The question caught Y/N off guard. They stared at Daniel, their mind racing. Did they believe in love at first sight? They had always thought it was something that only happened in movies, in the stories they told on screen. But as they looked into Daniel’s eyes, so full of sincerity and something deeper, something that felt a lot like love, they found themselves reconsidering.

“I’m not sure,” Y/N replied honestly. “But… I think I might be starting to.”

Daniel’s smile widened, and without another word, he took a step closer. The distance between them disappeared as he gently cupped Y/N’s face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring. Y/N’s breath caught in their throat as Daniel leaned in, his lips brushing theirs in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and full of unspoken emotions.

The world seemed to fade away in that moment. There was no film set, no crew, no cameras—just the two of them, standing by the river, lost in each other. The kiss deepened, and Y/N felt a warmth spread through their entire body, a sense of rightness, of inevitability, as if this was exactly where they were meant to be.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they shared a quiet moment of connection.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment we met,” Daniel admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled, their heart full. “So have I.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. It was a perfect moment, the kind that Y/N had only ever experienced in the movies they loved so much. But this wasn’t a script, and this wasn’t a role. This was real, and it was happening to them.

As they walked back to their hotel, hand in hand, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like they were living in a dream. But it was better than any dream they could have imagined—because it was real, and it was theirs.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of emotions, both on and off set. Their relationship blossomed quietly, just under the radar of the curious eyes of the cast and crew. Though they kept it professional during filming, it was impossible to hide the subtle glances, the shared smiles, and the way their hands would brush as they passed each other by.

Y/N found themselves falling deeper for Daniel with every passing day. He was kind and considerate, with a sense of humor that caught them off guard and made them laugh when they least expected it. They had never felt this way before, and it scared them as much as it thrilled them. But there was a comfort in Daniel’s presence, a sense of safety that made them feel like everything was going to be okay.

One afternoon, they had a rare day off from shooting, and Daniel suggested they explore the city together. Berlin was full of history and culture, and though Y/N had been there for weeks, they hadn’t had much time to truly experience it.

They spent the day wandering through art galleries and museums, stopping at cafes for coffee and pastries. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how Daniel seemed to know all the best spots, the hidden gems that only locals frequented. He would tell stories about the city’s history, pointing out landmarks and sharing little anecdotes that made Y/N feel like they were getting a private tour from someone who truly loved the place.

As the day turned into evening, they found themselves at a small, cozy restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. The candlelit atmosphere was intimate, and Y/N could feel their heart racing as they sat across from Daniel, the flickering light casting shadows across his handsome features.

“This place is beautiful,” Y/N said, looking around at the warm, inviting decor. “How did you find it?”

Daniel smiled, a little shyly. “I’ve been here a few times. It’s one of my favorite spots in the city. I thought you might like it.”

Y/N reached across the table, taking his hand in theirs. “I love it. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Daniel’s eyes softened, and he squeezed Y/N’s hand gently. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say,” he began, his voice serious.

Y/N felt a flutter of nerves in their stomach. “What is it?”

Daniel hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but… I can’t help the way I feel. From the moment we met, I felt this connection between us, something I’ve never experienced before. I don’t want to scare you off, but I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in their throat, their heart pounding in their chest. They had felt it too, but hearing Daniel say it out loud made it all the more real, all the more intense.

“I feel the same way,” Y/N admitted, their voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been trying to make sense of it, but… I think I’m falling for you too.”

The relief in Daniel’s eyes was palpable, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He stood up from his seat, moving to sit beside Y/N, and pulled them into a gentle embrace. Y/N melted into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against theirs, the steady beat of his heart under their cheek.

For a while, they just sat there, holding each other, letting the world outside fade away. It was as if time had stopped, leaving just the two of them in their own little bubble of happiness. They talked quietly, sharing their hopes and dreams, their fears and insecurities. It was easy to be vulnerable with Daniel, easy to let down the walls they had built around their heart.

As the evening wore on, they decided to head back to the hotel, their hands intertwined as they walked through the quiet streets. The city was alive with the soft hum of nightlife, but Y/N only had eyes for Daniel, who looked at them with such affection that it made their heart ache in the best possible way.

When they reached Y/N’s hotel room, they lingered outside the door, neither of them wanting the night to end. Daniel brushed a strand of hair from Y/N’s face, his touch tender and full of longing.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly, his voice full of emotion.

Y/N nodded, their heart racing. They opened the door, leading Daniel inside, and as soon as it closed behind them, he pulled them into a deep, passionate kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of all the emotions they had been holding back, all the desire and affection that had been building between them since the day they met.

They stumbled toward the bed, their lips never breaking contact, and as they fell into the soft sheets, Y/N knew this was where they were meant to be—wrapped in Daniel’s arms, lost in the feeling of being loved and cherished by someone who saw them for who they truly were.

The night was a blur of whispered words and tender touches, of shared laughter and quiet moments of connection. When they finally drifted off to sleep, tangled up in each other, Y/N felt a peace they had never known before. It was as if all the pieces of their life had finally fallen into place, and they knew, deep in their heart, that this was just the beginning of something truly beautiful.

The next morning, they woke up to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. Daniel was still asleep beside them, his face peaceful and relaxed, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile as they watched him. They had never felt this content, this happy, and they knew they had found something special, something worth holding onto.

As Daniel stirred awake, his eyes meeting Y/N’s with a sleepy smile, they leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Good morning,” Y/N whispered, their voice full of affection.

“Good morning,” Daniel replied, his voice husky with sleep. He pulled Y/N closer, his arms wrapping around them as if he never wanted to let go. “Last night was… incredible.”

“It was,” Y/N agreed, their heart swelling with emotion. “I don’t want this to end.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Daniel said, his gaze serious. “I meant what I said last night. I’m falling for you, Y/N, and I want to see where this goes. I don’t care about the logistics or what anyone else thinks. All I know is that I want to be with you.”

Tears pricked at Y/N’s eyes as they looked into Daniel’s sincere gaze. They had been so afraid to let themselves fall, but now that they had, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“I want that too,” Y/N said, their voice choked with emotion. “I want to be with you, Daniel.”

He smiled, a smile so full of warmth and love that it took Y/N’s breath away. “Then let’s make it happen. We’ll figure it out together.”

And so, they did. As the film production continued, so did their relationship, growing stronger with each passing day. They faced the challenges together, navigating the complexities of a public relationship in a private world, but nothing could diminish the connection they shared.

When the film finally wrapped, and it was time to say goodbye to the set and the characters they had brought to life, Y/N and Daniel knew that this was just the beginning of their story. They had found something real, something lasting, and as they walked hand in hand into the next chapter of their lives, they knew they were ready to face whatever came next, as long as they were together.

In the end, it wasn’t just a love story scripted for the screen—it was their love story, one that would continue to unfold in ways they could never have imagined. And as they looked into each other’s eyes, they knew that this was the greatest role they would ever play, not as actors, but as themselves, deeply in love and ready to take on the world, side by side.

[babybluebex]

good doctor kreizler ch.4: sufferings of the present

summary ↠ part 4 of good doctor kreizler // laszlo deals with the aftermath of your abduction and ponders on what his and his son's lives could be if you are truly gone. pairing ↠ laszlo kreizler (the alienist, 2018—) x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 2.8k warnings ↠ explicit language, mentions of abduction, SO MUCH ANGST, laszlo being a mean and brooding bitch to sara, mentions of: breastfeeding, blood, suicide, child abuse author's note ↠ jesus christ, first i don't post for a month, and then two updates in like 3 days. yall don't come here for consistency, that's for damn sure. thanks for sticking in! we're just over halfway finished with this fic, though! so stick around for the next few parts!!

Laszlo could hardly function. He had fallen to the ground distraught, his knees bruising from the force of his body weight crashing to the wooden floor, and he went nearly comatose as John pulled him up. He halfway-carried Laszlo into the study and settled him on the chaise lounge, and he whispered, “We’ll find her, Laszlo. I promise we will.”

The only thing that broke Laszlo out of his catatonic state were the shrieking wails of his newborn son. There was something instinctual about the way Laszlo cradled Friedrich to his chest and shushed his cries, like he was asleep but still working. He held Freddie in his left arm, rocking him softly, but he still didn’t speak, not even to soothe the newborn.

Once the sun rose, Sara gathered her wits and entered the study, prepared to see an awful scene before her. She had heard stories about mothers who had gone insane with grief and killed their own children and she had steeled herself to see a similar fate having befell her mourning doctor. Instead, she found silence. Laszlo stood at the window, Friedrich held tight to his chest in his left arm as he looked out the glass to the street below. She could tell that he was no longer in disbelief, now at the stage in his grief where he could think rationally once more, and his mind seemed fixated on whatever he found outside the window. “What are you watching out there, Doctor?” Sara asked.

Laszlo shook his head and sighed, breaking himself from his nightmare. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing to watch. No footprints in the snow, the bedroom window isn’t broken, there's only fragments of fingerprints… There’s nothing to see.”

Sara sighed lightly, and she said, “I’m going to the shop to get formula for Friedrich. He must be getting hungry.”

“I can run my own errands, Miss Howard,” Laszlo began, but Friedrich gave a quick wail that had Laszlo abandoning his conversation and bouncing him a bit to soothe him. It seemed that his years working with children were nicely translating to his own son, and Sara was at least a little relieved to see that Laszlo was acknowledging him at all.

“People know,” Sara said quickly. “Lucius telephoned earlier, people know that something happened to Y/N. He said that his neighbors asked if she had died. The rumor mill has started up, Laszlo, and if you’re seen out, people will try to talk to you, offer you condolences. Please, I think it will benefit all of us if you stay home with Friedrich.”

Laszlo fixed his jaw as he listened, and he heaved a sigh. “As always,” he said. “You’re right. I suspect I’ll be here when you return.”

Sara frowned, and she put a careful hand on Laszlo’s shoulder. “It seems impossible, surely, but don’t dwell. John’s already at the Institute, with the evidence we have from the boy murderer, working on any leads we have. We’ll find her.”

"How do we know the cases are connected?" Laszlo asked.

Sara sighed. It had been Laszlo himself who had insisted upon that much earlier in the night, speaking through gasping sobs and bouts of retching. "The handwriting is the same," she said softly, just as Laszlo has explained it. "The same loops, same pressure points. And the reference to Mother Mary, and Friedrich being born on Christmas Day. An assumption, to be sure, but it doesn't seem ill-placed."

And then, Laszlo sniffled. Sara looked at his face and, behind his thin, circular glasses, she found the doctor’s dark eyes glossy with tears. “I failed her,” he whispered. “I was supposed to protect her, and I let this happen to her. What sort of husband am I? What sort of father, if I let this happen to my child's mother?”

“You didn’t let anything happen,” Sara said quickly. “Laszlo, there wasn’t anything you could have done. But now we need to focus on you and Friedrich, and getting Y/N home. Alright?”

Laszlo mulled over Sara’s words for a minute, and he looked down at his son. His eyes were open, looking around with the curiosity that he had certainly inherited from his father, and Laszlo murmured, “I think I’ll call him Freddie.”

“That’s a good name,” Sara said. “Freddie Kreizler… A handsome name for a handsome boy.”

“He looks just like me,” Laszlo scoffed. “‘Handsome’. He is more handsome than I.”

“Don’t say that, Laszlo,” Sara scolded gently. “You’re as handsome as the day is long, and so is your son. I know you don’t believe it when I say it, but I’ll have Y/N tell you.”

Laszlo tightened his jaw, and he felt his face loosen at the sound of Freddie’s itty-bitty gurgles. The boy was a handsome little thing, even though he was hardly more than twelve hours old, and Laszlo gave a jolt of shock as he watched his own tear fall onto Freddie’s forehead; he didn't even know he was crying. Without a word, Sara stepped forward and carefully took Freddie from Laszlo’s grip, and she whispered, “I suggest you go lay down, Laszlo. You’ve had a difficult day, and it will only get worse.”

“I need to take care of my son—” Laszlo started, but Sara shook her head.

“Laszlo, I am telling you to lay down,” Sara said firmly. “Or I will have John make you. You need to rest, you’ll feel better.”

“I’ll feel better when I have my wife back in my arms,” Laszlo mumbled. “And I cannot stop until I do.”

“Laszlo—”

“No!” The doctor roared, and Sara took a shocked step backwards. Her hand came up to cradle Freddie’s head to her chest as he began to wail, and Laszlo said, “I will not sleep, I will not eat, I will not do anything that does not bring this investigation to a close! Every moment that I am resting, eating, not working, is another moment that my wife is being hurt, or another moment in which her body grows colder and colder! I cannot stop, I refuse to! Of course you can’t see it, Sara, you know nothing of heartache of this sort. I vowed, so many months ago, to protect Y/N, and I cannot even accomplish that! What did I do instead? I let her be abducted, right from under my nose! My world has stopped turning, I might as well be dead. Go, go find John and cry to him about how awful I am, how heartless I am, just how I know you always do! But know this, Miss Howard: if you thought I was heartless before, when the very woman I loved was alive and held my soul in her hands, you do not even want to fathom the sort of man I am now.” Laszlo paused to take in a shaking breath, and a strand of his dark hair fell in his eyes. He didn’t move it, though, and his reluctance to keep up even the smallest bit of his appearance made Sara’s blood run cold. Freddie was still wailing, his crying having gotten louder to compete with his father, and Laszlo gave a frustrated grunt. “And shut that fucking thing up! I can hardly think with its damn incessant whining!”

Laszlo watched Sara’s face fall into a contortion of hurt and sorrow, and he knew that he went too far. Certainly, there had been times in the past where he had said hurtful things to her, even the memory of his palm connecting harshly with her cheek having crossed a line, but this was new. This was something else. Sara knew that, as angry and hurt that the good doctor was, he meant none of what he said. Perhaps his words did stem from a place of truth, but Laszlo was a man in mourning. Her sorrow was not at her expense, but rather at Laszlo’s. This poor man. She couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind. Surely, it was nothing that Sara could even imagine.

“One day,” Sara said softly. “You will look back and see how ridiculous you’re being. But I understand that that takes reflection and hindsight. But know that your words hurt. They hurt me, they hurt you, they hurt Friedrich, and they hurt the investigation. And they hurt Y/N.” Freddie continued his sobbing, and Sara held him close. “Even if you don’t believe me, when we get her back, she’ll tell you.”

“Tell me?” Laszlo spat. “What, with her cold mouth? Her dead mouth, the mouth I let die?”

“She’s not dead—”

“How do you know?” Laszlo asked. “How can you say, with certainty, that my actions last night did not lead to my wife’s death? It’s because I brought her on the investigation, it’s all because she’s associated with me… The moment she agreed to be my wife, she died.”

“You speak of her like you know she’s dead,” Sara said. “And as if she is incapable of making her own decisions. Sometimes, Dr. Kreizler, women can make up their own minds and decide what’s best for them outside of the men in their lives. Laszlo, we don’t have much to go off of, only that letter and the few stains on the windowsill, but we need hope more than anything. We cannot write her off and presume to find a body. We find her alive. Do you hear me, Laszlo? Alive.”

Laszlo lowered his eyes to the floor, his jaw clenching as he bit at Sara’s words. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You’re right. I… It’s only that I can’t imagine my life without her. I-It’s selfish, Sara, but… I can’t be a widow. I simply can’t. If she’s left me for another world, I… I suspect that I might follow her. Regardless of Friedrich or not.” Then, his dark eyes grew stony, and he looked back up at Sara. “If anything were to happen to me or to Y/N, promise that you’ll do what’s best for Freddie. Whatever you choose it to be, please.”

Sara nodded quickly, swallowing down tears, and she set herself steady. “Anything for the two of you,” she answered. “Please, Laszlo, I beg of you. Sleep. I’ll come wake you the moment we get any news from John.”

Laszlo took a heavy breath, then looked back at the window. The rising sun made the freshly-fallen snow glitter on the street, and Laszlo thought of the way you would have smiled at it. He thought about you sitting in your chair by the window, a glass mug full of steaming cocoa, nursing a forgotten book as you watched the sun rise. Laszlo tried to imagine what the scene would look like now; instead of a book and a warm drink, you would have his son in your arms. Perhaps your chemise was unbuttoned, and Freddie was nursing from your breast as you watched the sun. Laszlo could see the scene in his mind as easily as if it were actually happening: you sitting there, only your thin chemise nightgown, untied to allow his son to nurse, your hair down and mussed from sleep. Laszlo could see himself getting dressed for the day, buttoning up his vest as he entered the library (in his daydream, you were surely in the library, as it was your favorite spot in the house). Laszlo would sigh and kiss your cheek, then sit beside you and handle his right arm to lay around your waist. He would settle his head on your shoulder and use his good arm to wrap around Freddie, and brush his thin dark hair back from his blazing eyes. Laszlo could even hear himself speak: “Mein Gott, my beloved. I have never loved someone like you, and I don’t think I ever will.”

“And your son?” you would ask, giving him that sleepy smile that graced your mouth during those hours of the day where there was little on your mind other than your interrupted sleep.

“Freddie’s got my affections in a different way,” Laszlo would answer. “I love both of you, and I love my son in a way that makes my chest burn. But you… You and your love soothe the flame.”

You would give a little “Hmm!”, then say, “If you weren’t an alienist, you might have a good career as a poet.”

“I’m not an alienist, my beloved,” Laszlo would say, nuzzling his beard into your neck and making you laugh. “I am a husband— your husband— and a father— his father. Those names are more important to me than any degree or title that some school can give me.”

“Really?” you would ask, and Freddie would give a little squeal as he drank, and extend a little fist out to his papa. Laszlo would take his son��s hand and feel the boy hold tight to his pinkie, and he would listen as you asked, “What’s your favorite name you have, Las?”

“That one,” Laszlo would answer. “Las. You’re the only one who calls me that. Or, perhaps, Papa, if that is what Freddie chooses to call me. I presume that will be my favorite.”

You would smile at him, that soft and contented thing that made Laszlo’s heart hit his ribcage, and you would lean in and kiss him. He could taste your lips, sweet and soft against his, and he could feel your hand reach up and rest on his face, your fingers stroking his beard. It was as if you were really there, touching him, kissing him, holding him. It hurt his heart all the much more when he came to his senses and found himself laying in bed, alone. He couldn’t remember how he got there, or if he had even been asleep as he dreamed of you, but he sat up all the same. In his mind, he recognized that he was at the scene of a crime, that every inch of the room should be examined by Teddy and his capable men, but the thought of anyone else in there made Laszlo sick. This was his bed, your shared bed. The bed where he first made true love to you, tugging off your dress and biting at your breasts as he rutted into you like a starved animal; from what he could gather, you didn’t mind his actions that night one bit. The bed where his son was conceived, where Laszlo planted the seeds for the most honest love of his life. He had nursed you during difficult parts of your pregnancy in that bed, sat beside you and read to you on days where you could hardly leave. He woke up next to you in that bed and went to sleep next to you there. He held you, kissed you, adored you, revered you there, he became a father there, and, even though the bed had been stripped of the sheets and it was nothing more than a mattress with a few uncased pillows on it, it was hardly even the bed at all that made his heart ache. Laszlo figured that, even if all of those things had happened on perhaps the chaise lounge, he would still have an affinity for this room, this bed, solely because, just hours ago, it had been the last place he had seen you. He thought about the fleeting image he had, the last moment he had seen you. He wished that he had a clearer image of your sweat-covered bosom, your hair, your flushed face. He wished that he had kissed you one last time before he left.

Groaning with the weight of his world, Laszlo got out of bed, and he moved to the window. The sun was evenly in the midsky, around noon or so, but he drew the heavy curtains and sent the room into near darkness. Then, Laszlo surprised himself. He worked himself to his knees and settled his clasped hands on the dark wooden windowsill, and he bowed his head. He could hardly remember the actions, but, with a shaking right hand, he made the sign of the cross over his chest, and he sighed. He didn’t even know what to say. “Please help her,” he whispered, his voice cracking with the weight of his pleading. “I haven’t called on you in years, but please. Protect my wife. Keep her well. She’s a mother, you cannot take a mother from her boy… Her boys. Perhaps it’s selfish, Lord, but I need her too. I can’t… I can’t go on without her. She’s smarter than me by far, a more handsome being than I; I am her inferior in every way, but I need her. I have devoted my life to my work, but that was before I met her. Please, I need… I don’t deserve it, not one bit, but please. Give me a sign that she’s alive. Any sign, a fallen snowflake or a certain song on the radio, please. I need her.”

Laszlo’s eyes hurt with the force of how hard he had them squeezed closed, and, upon opening them, a stolen sliver of sunlight blinded him. He shifted away, trying to remove the flashes of purple and mauve in his eyesight, and, once he was right again, he looked forward at the cream-colored curtains. He had ordered them from Venice after you commented on how nicely a similar set complemented John Moore’s grandmother’s parlor, and, when they arrived, you, although a little plump with pregnancy, had jumped and threw your arms around Laszlo’s neck and planted a big kiss on his cheek. Laszlo reached for the curtain, lace with a silk backing, but he stopped frozen. There, the deepest crimson, sat an oval. It was different from the others that littered the windowsill. It was the exact thing that the Isaacsons needed to achieve their dustings; a full mark. Albeit bloody, a perfect fingerprint. Suddenly, words boiled in his chest, and burst forth from him before he could stop them: “Sara! Phone John at the Institute! Phone the Isaacsons too! I found something!”

[writteninsaturn]

stolen glances [helmut zemo x fem!reader]

summary| ✏ you have loved Helmut since you both were kids, so you couldn’t resist yourself when proposal arrived from the Zemo family for your hand in marriage, even if Helmut doesn’t feel the same way about you.

warnings| ✏ angst, fluff, smut, inaccurate marvel reference (very inaccurate, I just used marvel names to my liking), inaccurate nobility and morganatic marriage rules reference (I know nothing about noblemen), idiots to lovers, arrange marriage, pining explicit language, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering.- 18+ ONLY • MINORS DNI

word count| ✏ 9.1k *click the bold words for little visuals regarding the outfits. thought it’d be fun.

a/n| ✏ this one’s been long time coming. And I feel like my writing was a little all over the place so I sincerely apologise for that. But I do hope that you enjoy even if it’s very little, you have some enjoyment while reading this. But yeah once again, hope the warnings are appropriate, if you do think it needs a few more, let me know and I’ll add them. Feedbacks are always welcome. I will try my best with the next one and will try and make sure it doesn’t take a year again before I post another piece. I hope you can leave a like and maybe even a reblog. I appreciate you all so much.

It was quite a common thing for noble families to have arranged marriages rather than love marriages back in the days. However, such traditions were considered quite backdated and not followed anymore. I mean why should such outdated customs be followed, one shouldn’t be told who to love, they should have the freedom to choose. And arrange marriage in the 21st century? Anyone would think one must be joking.

 So, when the news of Sokovia’s most eligible bachelor, Baron Helmut Zemo’s marriage being arranged to you, the Countess of Symkaria, was announced, a wave of shock and heartbreak fell over the land. Ok, more jealousy and less heartbreak perhaps. You see while the Baron was single, there was hope for all the ladies, but with the announcement, all hopes and dreams came crashing down.

 Despite the mass disappointment of the ladies of the land, one couldn’t say that they were surprised by the union. Or maybe even a merger perhaps. It is only natural the Baron would agree to marry someone of a high stature, and it must’ve been a strategic and political move to marry someone of a higher nobility standing than him. That’s what the people talked about, and that’s what you thought too.

 You see, you’ve known the Baron since you both were young. Whenever your family visited Sokovia, you stayed in Castle Zemo and when the Zemo family visited Symkaria, they stayed at Y/L/N Manor. Both your parents were friends from well before you two were born. However, that never raised the idea that you two would be getting married. Both your parents wanted to give you both full freedom to marry who you wished to. This was mainly why you were a little surprised when your parents told you that the Zemos wished for your hand in marriage to Helmut.

 Despite growing up with Helmut, you two never grew up to be quite as close as your parents. As kids, you two always played together, but the as you grew, not seeing each other for long periods of time before meeting again, both of you grew into your own worlds. And while your infatuation and love for Helmut grew with you, Helmut was much more reclusive, busy with his education and learning the workings of his land and his people from his father.

 Every year you managed to take a trip to Sokovia, you’d immerse yourself in the day to day life of the castle. Not behaving like a guest, but a part of the family. The family treated you as such also, Hilda Zemo being like your second mother. Everyone in the Zemo Castle was especially fond of you and your antics. You could often be found in the kitchen, helping (eating whatever you could find) in the kitchen. And no matter how much, Idel, the aging cook, scolded you, she knew it was useless and that you would go around doing your own thing. And if not in the kitchen you were with the younger housemaids, who you’ve befriended over time. And if you weren’t found creating ruckus around the castle, you were in some corner either with Hilda or Heinrich, just chatting away.

 And no matter what you were doing around the household, running around helping the house helps in the kitchen, or having a heart to heart with Hilda, or just discussing world politics with Heinrich, whenever Helmut walked in the room, you became mute. Everyone in the household took notice of that real quick, and would tease you about it too.

 However, when Hilda took notice of how you act in the presence of Helmut, she became worried. Hilda saw you as her daughter, and because how close you were to the family, she did not want to see you get hurt. So one afternoon, while you two were having tea and playing with the residential kittens in one of the balcony in the castle, she decided to bring up the situation. “Y/N love, what is going on between you and Helmut?”

 This question startles you, because you genuinely thought you were doing a great job of concealing your feelings for the man. Avoiding eye contact, and giving all your undivided attention to the little snow looking kitten aptly named Snow, the Zemo house pet, you answer, “Nothing’s going on Hilma you know nothing’s going on. We barely talk.” You always said how she was like your second ma, and so, she became Hilma.

 “Lovie I see how you look at him. I am worried about you. You know I can’t force him to be with you don’t you?” Hilda spoke softly.

 You only nodded slowly, replying in an almost whisper, “I wouldn’t want that. I would be gutted to know that he was with me because he had to be and not because he wanted to be.”  You tried to master up the best smile you could, which, if Hilda was being honest, was quite lousy, looked up at her and spoke again in the same low voice, “I just want him to be happy. Be with a person who would make him happy. As cheesy as it sounds, his happiness will bring me happiness.”

Hilda could hear the heaviness in your tone and could only let out a sympathetic chuckle as she reached out to cup your cheek with her right palm, rubbing her thumb over your cheek gently. “My little Y/N is all grown up.” You close your eyes hoping to hold back your slightly teary eyes from dropping any tear, as you lean into Hilda’s motherly touch. Despite your attempt, a tear escaped your closed eyes. Hilda gently wiped away the tear before pulling you in for a warm embrace, whispering in your ear, “You deserve all the love in the world my dear. And while that may not be my foolish Helmut, I know you will find your Count.” She gives your temple a firm kiss and rubs your back before letting you go once she is sure you are a little more stable.

 The little emotional confrontation with Hilda happened when you were still a young lady in your teen years. And while you knew what Hilda spoke was true and you may never be with Helmut, that did not stop you from doting on Helmut. And over the years, your love for Helmut only grew despite the unescapable tragic end that it would reach. So imagine your surprise when the proposal for your marriage arrived from the Zemo family.

 Your parents were more than happy about this union and was over the moon when you also agreed to the proposal. Invitation was sent for your family to come to the Zemo family for the festivities and a grand function for the engagement. In your heart, you were convinced that Zemo was not marrying you for love. Being a countess, you received many proposals from noblemen all around the world. You rejected them all, waiting for your Baron to marry first. Holding on to the final drop of hope. So despite being so very elated when the Baron chose you to be his baroness, you knew this marriage was to solidify the ally ship between the two nations and that you wouldn’t become the baroness but Helmut would become the count. So whether it was to climb the social ladder, or to formally become allies, you were happy to oblige to your Baron’s wishes, even if it meant that he would never love you.

When you and your family made your way to Sokovia, in preparation for the festivities, you were greeted by a large crowd. The word had gotten around that Helmut was to be engaged, and despite the green monster that had taken over the region, the secrecy of who was engaged to the nation’s most eligible bachelor kept everyone on their feet. The funny thing was, you weren’t much of a secret as everyone thought you to be. You grew in front of the nation as much as Helmut did and they all knew you equally. So when you were the first to step out of the car, and people got the first glance of their Baron’s to be, knowing whispers erupted amongst the crowd. It seemed very trivial now to even expect anyone but you to be stepping out of that car.

 The people of Sokovia loved you. So when the news of your arrival as the one to be engaged to the Baron spread across the land like wildfire, all but few jealous noblewomen were joyous over the occasion and the choice. In the lead up to the engagement ceremony, you and Helmut were invited to various different events together, to get the people accustomed to seeing you two as an unit and also to give you two some more time to spend together before the official engagement. From charity events to dinner party hosted by the prime minister, at every high society event leading up to the engagement ceremony, you and the Baron attended hand in hand.

 It was at one such event, your love for Helmut grew, if that was even possible still that is. The event was a fundraising for disadvantaged children. With Sokovia being a developing nation, not all children had equal opportunity, and Helmut felt very strongly for the wellbeing of the children of his land. So much so, that he was a large benefactor to the charity, so he was invited as the guest of honour for the evening.

 While the original invite list did not include you, with the event being held annually and the invite having been sent out well in advance, whether or not you could be accommodated to really wasn’t up for debate. With you having attending so many events back to back, most of the outfits you had brought with you had been worn, and while no way were you a diva who never wears the same outfit twice, there was an expectation for the formal events, particularly being attended within such short intervals, that the outfits seem to have not been worn before. And so you were in complete panic mode on what to wear for tonight. With how hectic things had been, you didn’t even realise earlier that all your gowns had been worn, so you couldn’t even get an outfit prepared and fitted in time. To be fair, you weren’t prepared to be making appearance at so many events during your visit and thought 7 gowns were more than enough.

 As if the gods above have heard your panic and prayers and answered your call, because as you enter your room, venting your urgency and frustration to your mother who was remaining annoyingly calm and being of no help, you spot what you can only assume is a dress inside a garment bag containing the House Insignia, with a velvet box placed next to the bag and on the floor a box which you believe is possible footwear. You turn to your mother as a smile starts to etch itself onto your mouth, “this is why you were so quiet and just watched me freak out? You already had everything figured out?”

 Your mother chuckles, before replying, “I may have been aware of something before you my child but no this is not my doing.” It is then that you realise that a little note is left on top of the outfit. You step forward and pick up the slip of paper and written on it simply was “For tonight. Z.” And you couldn’t help but smile at that. Even though the note was so simple and nothing special, to you it held great importance.

 You opened the garment bag and the first thing you spot is the beautiful sheer high neckline with golden details almost looking like twigs. The further you open the bag, the more of the golden branches are revealed leading all the way down and once you’ve opened the bag completely, two little golden deer are revealed at the bottom of the dress. You run your finger over the stitch work, admiring the playful deer on the dress, loving the dress at the first glance. Your mum just leaned against the door and watched as delight took over your face.

 You then reach for the shoe box, opening it to reveal the most beautiful pair of golden heels, vines and pearls wrapped around the heel. You kind of just stayed sitting there admiring the ensemble. Your mother chuckled again before calling out to you, “Ok dear that’s enough sitting around, now how about you get ready, it’ll be time for you and Helmut to leave soon.” And with that, she left the room, leaving you to get ready.

At 7pm, when it was time for you to leave, a maid made their way into your room informing you that Helmut was ready and waiting. You nodded in acknowledgement before gathering up your gown, slipping on the beautiful pair of heels, before heading towards the staircase. As you stood at the top of the stairs, you saw you Baron at the bottom, fixing his cufflinks, looking handsome as ever. You took a moment to yourself to admire him as he remained unaware. And slowly as you started to descend the stairs, the sound of your heels captured his attention, looking up the stairs to look at you, and just as his eyes locked at you, he froze. Now it was him who was admiring how ethereal you looked, while you were far too busy looking at the stairs as you took each step, to concentrate and make sure that you don’t trip.

 As you descend down to the final few steps, Helmut shakes himself out of his faze and reaches his hand out for you to take, like the gentleman he is. Sensing his hand in front of you, you take your eyes away from the steps and to his hand, going to grab it. And despite all the  caution you took, out of nervousness and excitement, you managed to foolishly misplace your foot and trip forward. For Helmut, it was almost an immediate reaction, throwing his other hand forward to rest flat against your tummy to hold you steady, landing you face to face with him, noses almost touching, and your eyes clenched shut. Helmut takes his time letting his eyes roam over your face, a smile reaching the corner of his lips before he speaks up in his gentle, husky voice, “Careful countess, we wouldn’t want you getting into an accident under my watch now would we?”

 Feeling his breath against your lips, your force yourself to open your eyes, his lips being the first thing you see. You awkwardly let out a shaky breath before you gain your footing again with his support, before replying, “Thank you Helmut.”

 Helmut only nods, and leads you down the final few step, letting go of your hand only for him to guide that hand to the small of your back in a protective manner, leading you out the front door and to the car.

 The driver was waiting outside the grand entrance of the castle. Zemo subtly waved at the driver to move away from the door, which you didn’t pick up on. As the driver quickly scuttled away, Zemo led you to the car and as you lowered to get in the car, he moved his free hand to guard the top of the car from hitting your head. This you did notice and as you were getting in, let your head bump a little up so that you could have his hand brush against the top of your head. Zemo’s hand, however, tensed, worried that you may have hurt yourself, and as soon as you are in the car, he brushes his hand silently over your head almost like petting a pup. He then goes around to get in the car as well.  

The entire car ride was silent, both of you stealing quick glances towards each other under your lashes, none the wiser to each other. As the car comes to a halt at the venue, Zemo hurriedly steps out of the car, not waiting for his driver, and walks around to grab your door and once again extends his hand to help you out. As you step out, Zemo brings your left hand to loop around his right, and his left hand resting gently on the back of your palm as he leads you down the carpet led to the ballroom. As you two walk down hand in hand, flashes go off from both sides, capturing the most anticipated couple. Zemo stops half way down the path, taking you by surprise, as he holds you close to him. You turn to him as if to question him “what is it?” but Zemo simply smiles with adoring eyes staring at you, making for another perfect photo opportunity for the eager media. And once Zemo is sure that there is more than enough photo of Zemo’s gaze on you for tomorrow’s tabloid, he simply shakes his head and continues to lead you inside, leaving you completely confused.

 Throughout the night, you were next to Zemo like an obedient partner. There was no rule or clause that required you to be with Zemo constantly, you simply chose to be with him as he introduced you to many influential people. However, as the night went on, you happened to grow more and more detached from the political conversations that were taking place between Zemo and other men. Thankfully at that point, you see the children who are taken care by the charity being brought in to join for the dinner part of the function. You decide that is a perfect time to excuse yourself from the circle of elites and quickly make your way towards the group of about 10 kids ranging from toddlers to teens, who seems to be much more approachable than the very adult conversations that were happening around you.

 Just as you reach the kids who were brought in by who you can only assume is their warder, you squat down to meet the kids on eyelevel, a wide smile spreading across your face as you introduce yourself to the group, as you ask them for their names. While most remained quiet, slightly intimidated by the unfamiliar surrounding, it is one of the young ones, a young boy with mischief in his eyes and a toothless grin gracing his lips who decides to introduce himself first, “Hi ma’am my name is Thor, I’m six!”

 And before you can reply to “Thor”, you hear the warden clearing her throat before saying, “What did I say about fibbing Tim?”

 To which Tim lets out a huff and replies, “Not to tell them. Sorry ma’am, my name is Timofie.”

 You give Tim a comforting smile and repeat after him, “Timofie, meaning god’s honour, you are as good as Thor sweet boy.” To this, Timofie lights up and jumps forward to give you a hug as big as he could manage. Despite being small, the force he came at you with took you by surprise, and while you managed to wrap your arms around the little boy, your heels weren’t prepared for the little stumble, causing your foot to trip.

 Helmut had been keeping an eye on you from the moment you left his side and when he spotted you with the kids, he also excused himself from the group to slowly approach you so he could hear your interaction with the kids better. He was near you when he noticed the little stumble and in a split moment he took one quick large step to stand direct behind you, to be your support and stop you from falling. You reached back with one hand to make yourself stable, your hand going to grab the support that was holding you steady from behind, Helmut’s leg. Once you were steady, you looked up to see who was the one to save you and as you looked up, you saw Helmut towering over you, looking at you with concern, asking “Are you ok Y/N? You really don’t seem to be too steady on your foot today.” There was a teasing tone to his voice as well.

 You looked back down, your cheeks heated from the embarrassment of falling twice in Helmut’s arms in one night. “Thank you, Helmut, for saving me again.” You remember the little boy still in your arm and attempt to stand up with the little guy. Helmut immediately helps you from behind, pulling you up slightly so it’s easier for you.

 The little boy now leaning his head on your shoulder, turns to look at Helmut. He then leans in your ear and whispering rather loud, defeating the purpose of a whisper, “Is he your prince?”

 You turn to him with a questioning look, “Prince?”

 “You are a princess so he must be prince.” Tim said as a matter of fact which caused you to let out a little chuckle.

 “I’m not a princess sweet boy,” you say to him as you caress his cheek with your thumb.

 Helmut from next to you surprises you when he speaks up, “yes she is the princess and I am her prince.” Timofie once again turning to him at this with a smile of admiration at the idea of being in presence of royalty, which the kids don’t know all too much about. All the other kids are now surrounding Helmut asking random questions and grabbing at his hands. Helmut leads the group of kids to the bottom of the staircase, signalling you to follow him. You both take seat at the bottom of the stairs, Timofie remaining in your lap while the rest of the kids are surrounding you two.

 At Helmut’s introduction the kids get very excited to meet the man which the entire country has heard about, while not everyone has the privilege of meeting. The kids get involved in conversations and banter and even little games with Helmut. The once confident boy Timofie, now shying away at the competition which Helmut poses. While you take your time to admire Helmut with all the kids, you go back to your little world you’ve created with Timofie and a few other much young ones who are much too infatuated by you. Helmut from time to time turns to you, watching you playing with the youngest ones of the group, admiring how you are with the little one, unbeknownst to him, you are doing the same.

 The entire night was spent like that for you two, with the kids, separating only during the actual auction, but finding your ways back to the kids during dinner, having dinner at the same table as the kids.

 The charity event really caused a buzz around the nation, photos of you and Helmut with the kids not only plastered across every newspaper and magazine, but was also circulating on social media. You two as a couple was capturing the nation’s heart. Following the event, you had a new found love for Helmut. Which is a strange thing to say because Helmut always had your heart. But seeing Helmut with kids, that made you feel something in the pit of your stomach you never felt before. And the idea of a loveless marriage started a lot less bearable than it did before.

In the lead, up to your and Helmut’s engagement party, meeting between the two of you started to become a lot scarcer.  You were busy with helping out with organising the event while Helmut was kept busy with official duties. So much so that you started to miss Helmut.

 Slowly but surely, the day of your engagement party arrived and you had dress set in advance for this event. And more than anything, more than the party more than the people, more than the engagement, you were looking forward to seeing Helmut after so long, excited to have him next to you. You put on your beautiful emerald gown, a diamond necklace borrowed from Hilda and a pair of silver heels to finish off your look.

 Once ready, you decided to head down to see how things were, if everything was organised before the guests came. Hilda told you that everything was being taken care of and that you did not need to run around in your gown, but you couldn’t be kept calm, it was your form of distraction until you could see Helmut.

 Helmut finally did show up, before the guests also, you sensed his presence the minute he stepped into the ballroom, turning immediately to catch him looking handsome and elegant as ever, walking in as he fixes his hair. You see him spotting his mother and going to her immediately, b-lining away from you. You could see the two talk and laugh and perhaps a little scolding from Hilda, you couldn’t quite tell. You truly loved the mother son pair and while you were upset that Helmut failed to acknowledge your presence on such a night, it filled your heart to see how he was with his mum and you couldn’t help but think what a good father he would be, a possibility you might not have the good fortune of seeing or being a part of.

 As it neared the time of arrival for the guests, Helmut finally made his way to you, “Come on, we should greet the guests” and that was all he said as he lead you to the entrance, a hand on your waist. You two greeted each and every guest with large smiles, a large part of it having to do with how close Helmut was to you. Helmut talking to some people he knew personally, you continuing to greet as well, Helmut’s remaining around your waist the entire time and you also took the opportunity to just lean against him, standing your body completely flush against him. All the guests gushing at the loving couple as they came in.

 You both headed in once it seemed like most have arrived, heading in to mingle with the guests. Once again, Helmut failing to give you any attention, busying himself with the guests. It was Helmut’s parents who called upon the two of you through the microphone for the ring exchange. Helmut looked around for you as you already slowly started to make your way to the makeshift stage and people gathered around one side of the ballroom. Instead of heading straight, Helmut started to walk in your direction, catching up to you as you both make it to the front of the room together. You almost jump a little as Helmut reached your side, not expecting him there.

 Rather than you two making any speeches, it was both your parents making the speeches. About how excited they were to finally become family, how their kids are finally all grown up, how they wanted this since you two were kids. And you managed to maintain a steady smile throughout the speeches, but your excitement for the engagement had been dwindling throughout the week leading to the day and also throughout the night as Helmut continued his cold shoulder to you for god knows what reason.

 As the speeches came to a close, your mum handed to you the ring, which you put on Helmut’s finger absentmindedly and Helmut’s father handed the ring to him which he put on your finger ever so lightly, leaving a kiss on the back of your hand and heat rose to your cheek, your body reacting as it always does to any form of affection, pretend or not, from Helmut. The crowd erupts into loud cheers and congratulations throughout the ballroom. As you two stepped down from the steps, people came around to congratulate you personally. And as things died down again with the announcement of dinner being served, you managed to slip out of the room without anyone noticing.

 Or so you thought. After being congratulated by friends, family, business partners alike, Helmut came to notice that he couldn’t spot you anywhere around. Throughout the night, whenever he scanned his eyes, his eyes picked you out amongst the sea of crowd immediately. I mean it’s hard to miss the emerald hugging your body so perfectly from back or front. As soon as Helmut had laid his eyes on you that evening, he started to feel constricted in his pants. He had missed you all week, busy with work, trying to clear out his schedule before the wedding so that he can help his wife to be with the planning.

 But as soon as he saw you, he had to hold himself back, because he knew if he was to greet you he wouldn’t be able to control himself, and so he goes to only space he knows, straight to his mum. Helmut, distracted as his eyes remained on you, bumps into his mother as he reaches her. He quickly grabs onto his mother as he steadies himself and his mum sputtering out an apology as he quickly looks at her in embarrassment. Hilda looks at her son with a knowing smirk, “Is everything ok son?” and he can only nod and busies himself talking to his mother.

 He was all too aware of his self-control, or lack there of, with how tempting you looked tonight and he actively worked to avoid you except for when it was absolutely necessary. He didn’t realise that in the process of keeping himself under control, he was driving you to self-doubt. Helmut’s search proved to be futile as he found you nowhere in the ball room, asking his parents and your mum, none being able to answer. He even asked few of the wait staff who were serving drinks around the room, and the only answer they could give was that they saw you leaving the ballroom.

 Helmut followed their vague instruction and headed out looking for you. He jogged around skimming outside first. He peaks through the front door, not finding you in the front porch, went to the door leading to the backyard, not finding you there either or anywhere in the bottom floor. It really seemed silly to be roaming around such a large mansion so he stood by the steps and tried to think about where you could be. And his mind could only think of one spot, the common balcony upstairs where you spend time nearly every day with his mum or even alone reading a book. He’s spotted you there plenty of time in the passing and always would stop in his way even if for a few seconds to just admire you.

 He quickly makes his way upstairs to the balcony and lets out a sigh of relief when he can see your silhouette in the darkness, in the balcony. He steps into the balcony and softly calls out to you, “Y/N… What are you doing here, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

 You quickly wipe at your eyes when you hear his voice before turning to meet him face to face, “Oh Helmut, what are you doing here? Did you need something?” Your voice sounding a little hoarse.

 “What’s wrong? Why does your voice sound heavy? Have you been crying?” He steps closer to you, hands reaching out to touch at the corner of your eyes to inspect your face to which you only move your face to the side before letting out an almost mocking chuckle.

 “Let’s not pretend that you actually care Helmut, there’s no one here. Did you need something?” This time your voice sounded a little more aggressive.

 “Yes I needed my fiancé, I saw that she was missing from my side and I was missing her.”

 At this confession you couldn’t help but look at him in disbelief, “Missing your fiancé? Oh you’ve got to be kidding me right now.” You let out an exasperated huff. “I’ve been trying to get noticed by you the whole evening only to get ignored and now you say you miss me?” Your tears are now freely falling. “I don’t know what I ever did to you Helmut to be mocking me like this. I know this situation isn’t ideal, I know that you don’t love me but I do. I love you so much, have since we were kids. But I never had any hopes or expectations. I didn’t know that a situation would arise where I could marry you but when it did, I couldn’t help it, I became selfish. Maybe that was my mistake, maybe I shouldn’t have been greedy and I am sorry for that but please, spare me my feelings. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” At this point you have completely let go of yourself, unable to control the sobs that are coming out.

 Helmut reaches both his arms for your shoulder to bring you into a hug to comfort you, unsure of how to handle the situation, never seeing you quite like this, so emotional and speaking your mind. You violently shrug him off again, wiping angrily at your eyes, mad at yourself for letting yourself go like this in front of Helmut, before you speak up again. “I know what the answer is already but I need to hear it from you. I need to hear from you what this is, what we are. If you are marrying me for the alliance, and the status, I will be that for you, I will be by your side, smile at the cameras, push away my heart’s fluttering somewhere deep down that I even forget my heart exists. I can do that for you, I just need to hear it from you, so that I don’t hold any false hope.” You finally look at him trying to smile through the tear, “I promise you I will be an ideal countess for the people, a nice trophy wife for the cameras and events, and the ideal wife to you. I just need to hear you say that there is no possibility for me to ever become your baroness. Say it to my face and I will learn to be ok with it.” With all that you wanted to say now completely out in the open, you leans against the balcony railing, sliding down, kneeling on the floor, your whole body shaking from your cries as you are kneeling by Helmut’s feet now.

 Helmut couldn’t take it anymore, your ramble had caught him completely off guard, having no idea that was how you were feeling, which was why his reaction was so delayed, hearing you speak what you had to say while he remained stunned silent. Finally feeling your body move by his feet, he is now also leaning down, cupping your wet face with his palm to lift your face up to face him. You keep your eyes shut out of complete shame of becoming so vulnerable. Helmut takes a moment to just look at your face, even as pain is etched across your face, your beauty radiates far brighter. Helmut leans into your face, unable to help himself, first kissing at the corner of your lips where your tears were gathering, your eyes immediately opening in complete surprise, and at that moment, Helmut captures your lips between his, both his hands coming to delicately cup your face as his thumbs are wiping at under your eyes at an attempt to wipe away your tears, now crouching down to be face to face with you.

 Caught in a trance, and in the comfort of Helmut’s warm hands, you let him kiss you, but as soon as he goes to deepen the kiss, trying to force his tongue past your lips, you come to your senses, pushing away at his shoulder with all your might before speaking out a little too loud, “What are you doing? Stop it!” You shake your head as, starting to cry again, your body jerking, “I don’t need this Helmut, I don’t need your sympathy affection.”

 Helmut grows a little frustrated at this, and pinches your cheek to force you to look at him again and this time, forcefully pushing his lips against yours and immediately shoving his lips

 Helmut grows a little frustrated at that, forcing you to look up as he pinches your cheek between his hand as he brings your body flush against his with his other hand around your waist, “You fool, you absolute fool! How do you still not get it?” He drops his hand from your waist down to your exposed leg through the slit. Guiding it slowly up with feathery touch as he moves to kiss at your neck. Unsure of what Helmut meant, you completely melt at his touch. And as you feel his creep to the inside of your thigh, riding further up heading to your core, your find yourself moving your knees apart, exposing your core to him. And as his fingers finds his way to your covered and slightly damp centre you decide that you don’t know and don’t want to know what Helmut means but you are going to let him have his way with you, however he wants, and whatever it means at the end, you are prepared to risk it all to have him at least once.

 As Helmut is kissing your neck, you wrap one hand around his neck. He uses his fingers to move aside your panties, sliding his fingers up and down your slit, pressing lightly at your nub. He keeps running his fingers up your slit, picking up the speed, and flicking at your clit every once in a while as he is sucking at your where your neck meets your chest. All you can do is hold him tight against you, or more so reassuring yourself that all this isn’t just another one of your dreams.

 Once Helmut feel his fingers are lathered enough in your wetness, he slips it into your craving whole, three fingers at once. And immediately, with the resistance he felt on his fingers from the tightness of your walls and with and the way your head lulled back and a wince etched in your face, Helmut was sensing that this might be your first time and speaks, “Sorry did I hurt you?”

 You being your stubborn self, shake your head no, afraid that if you let on that this is your first time, he will stop and you are not prepared to have this end so soon. Helmut picks up on your lie however, and he carefully pulls his fingers out, stopping when just the tip of his fingers are in you, pulling out two and going back in with just one. Making sure that once the finger is inside, he moves it around and curls it, feeling around your inside, the foreign sensation making you terribly weak at your knees. Now, even more carefully, Helmut adds two more fingers, picking up his speed, and rubbing at your clit with his thumb. At this, you let a loud mewl, Helmut immediately crashing his lips with yours again to swallow your moan.

 Holding you flush against himself, Helmut can feel your lower stomach quiver as your mouth opens up against his, drool slipping past both your lips from the intense kiss. Helmut can tell that you are nearing your climax. Your head slips on his shoulder when you feel his fingers moving rapidly, you bite on to his shoulder to keep yourself from screaming as the climax takes over you. Helmut starts to slow down his fingers as he helps you ride out your orgasm. Helmut slowly You hide your face in his shoulder out of embarrassment for cumming so fast and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

 Helmut is confused at that, “what for?”

 And you are feel a little flustered at his question, stuttering out, “y-you know, for, like, cumming, like, really fast.” You were having a hard time articulating sentences, due to both embarrassment and the recent high. Helmut can’t help but chuckle, which does not help with your humiliation.

 Without another word, Helmut abruptly pulls out his fingers, which brings you back to awareness, and you push yourself slowly away from Helmut, still on your knees, trying to regain balance. Helmut brings his fingers to his lips, licking each finger while looking at you. When you catch on to what he is doing, your eyes flicker to everywhere else to avoid his eyes.

 As Helmut finishes licking his fingers, letting out in the most teasing tone “yum, I think I need some more, haven’t had my dessert yet.” As he pushes your tummy, catching your off guard as you fall back on your bum in the most ungraceful way, as your leg folds out as you try to balance yourself, with your arms falling behind you on the floor as you go to hold yourself up. Helmut laughs a little at the fall, pushing you further back by your shoulder, this time much more gently, until you are laying flat on your back.

 Utterly confused by what’s going on, you let Helmut manhandle you to the positon of his liking, but can’t help the arch in your back due to the coolness of the tiled floor. He pulls both your feet out from under you, stretching them out, one on each side of his waist, your one leg completely exposed to him due to the slit, a bit of your pussy also peaking out. You can feel the cool night breeze against your exposed pussy, which is still a little sensitive after Helmut’s treatment of them.

 You can feel Helmut shuffling around between your thighs, moving your dress up and to the side to have your pussy completely exposed to him. However, that doesn’t last long as your thighs instinctively shut, cheeks feeling warm even in the cold night. At this point you can’t tell whether it’s due to all the previous activities of the night or the current. Helmut does not appreciate how your thighs close up, obstructing his perfect view, and is pushing apart your thighs open, and landing a harsh slap on the inside of your thigh, far too close to your pussy, as the tips of his fingers brush against your pussy lips.

 “You look absolutely ravishing tonight countess.” He speaks as he takes off his blazer, throwing it off to the side and is laying himself down so that his face can hover over your bottom half. Placing soft kisses along your hipbone, he continues to pepper little kisses all the way to the top of your mound. “I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of your all night.” Another little kiss, a little closer to your clit. Helmut is looking up at you, only to find you already looking down at him with cautious and confused eyes, anticipating, his next actions, his next words, the lower tummy shaking a little as your breath quickens a little. “And you’d be an absolute fool to think, that all that I am doing is out of anything other than complete and utter desire.” He speaks as he keeps his eyes trained on your eyes, and he thumbs at your clit, pressing down on it before rubbing harsh circles. You bite down on your lips, your one hand going up to grab on to the railing of the balcony, gripping it so tight your knuckles go white. He can see you are getting wetter with every sentence he uttered, he leans down running his tongue from the bottom of your pussy all the way to the tip, sucking your clit into his mouth so harshly that it almost feels like a vacuum on your clit. Your arm flies to your mouth to keep your moans from getting too loud. “And judging from how much sugar you have for me my dear countess,” he continues to speak against your pussy that his voice comes out a little muffled, “I’d say you desire me just as much.”

 He gives your pussy another wet, sloppy, open mouthed kiss, and is reaching both his hands up as his nose digs into your pussy, bumping against the nub of your clit, causing your whole body to shudder, as both his hands are reaching out to grab both your hand, one hand unclenching your hand from the railing, another being pulled away from your face, as he brings both your hands between your legs, leading them to his head, “I’m at your control Countess, guide me as you please.” And you instinctively grip on his hair lightly, feeling him take another lick of your sleek.

 Helmut lets go of your hands as his hands goes to hook around your thighs. He darts his tongue out, dipping it right into your wet and inviting hole. Your grip on his hair immediately tightens. Helmut can’t help but smile a little at that, as he thrusts his tongue out and then right back in, but you were far too drowning in the pleasure to notice the smile against your pussy. Helmut moves his face around, nuzzling further into your pussy as the tip of his nose keeps brushing against your clit, causing you to jolt up and further into Helmut’s lapping tongue. He is swirling around his tongue, savouring all that is running out of your pussy. And as he moves his mouth up, and attaches himself to your already sensitive clit, giving it few harsh sucks, you become undone in his mouth. Your fingers grip onto his hair tight, holding for your dear life, pushing his face further into your climaxing pussy, as his tongue helps you ride out another high.

 Helmut can feel you quivering against his tongue, but he does not stop, licking you clean of every last drop. He brings one of his hand from around your leg to your spent pussy, moving his mouth slowly only to replace it with his fingers, gently rubbing up and down your folds, in a soothing manner. And you can’t help but twitch now and then as you are taking deep breaths to calm yourself down, as your fingers loosen on Helmut’s head, now just resting in his matted and messy hair in an almost caress.

 It takes you quite a bit of time before you are coming back to your complete consciousness, all the while Helmut laid between your thighs, placing gentle kiss on your soft, warm thigh every now and then, fingers still running ever so slowly up and down your fold, with Helmut’s gaze moving from your used pussy to your face, back down to your pussy, smile never leaving his face. Once becoming more aware of your surrounding, you immediately burn bright red feeling Helmut’s fingers and eyes on you, feeling so indecent, sitting up immediately, scrambling to gather yourself.

 Helmut also sits up with you, a little confused of what you are doing, “My love what’s wrong?”

 You don’t miss the way how Helmut addresses you has changed, and if you are being honest to yourself, you like it quite a bit. But you can’t help but feel like what just happened shouldn’t have happened, and you start to sputter out apologies, completely disregarding the fact that Helmut had devoured you of his own will. And just as you try to get up, Helmut pulls you down on him, wrapping his arm around you, with your back against Helmut’s chest and his one hand running up and down your exposed leg in a soothing manner, making you completely relaxed despite how exposed you are, as he speaks against the back of your neck, his breath tickling you, “What are you apologising for my baroness. You have no idea how long I wanted to do that to you.” Another kiss on the back of your ear as his whispers continue, “I wanted to wait for our marriage, when I have you officially and completely to me and I to you, but with how you started to speak of us, the doubt you had in us, I could not let that manifest any further, had to clear all these little doubts you had of me, of us, of what this is. My sweet love, these titles, these ranks, they account for nothing to me if I can’t have you. You must know since the moment we’ve met, I’ve had my eyes on you always, far too young to know what love is but my eyes saw none but you when we were together. And when this heart came to know of love, it loved one heart always. Yours.” And as he said that, you found yourself pushing further into Helmut’s warmth, his words making you feel completely dizzy, as these are words you never expected to come out of his mouth.

 You grab his hand from around your body, and holding them to your chest, trying to hold whatever you can of his as close to your heart as possible, trying to make yourself believe that it is no dream. You open both his palms up and put them on each of your breasts. Helmut laughs with a little humour at this and speaks, “my love what on earth are you doing.”

 “Squeeze me.”

 And Helmut can no longer be subtle with his laugh, “What on earth are you talking about, I pour my heart out only for you to ask me to grab your tits?”

 You nod innocently, turning your head slightly towards him, meeting his gaze ever so shyly before speaking, “I need to know I’m not dreaming, so, my Baron, can you please squeeze my tits tightly.”

 Helmut shakes his head fondly at your words, and obeying your request, moving his hand to slip it inside your dress from the top, grabbing your tits once more and giving both your tits a long and harsh squeeze, your nipple getting caught in the most delicious painful pinch, and you can’t help the whine that escapes your lips as you lean hear head back onto his shoulder as you repeatedly let out, “real, real, real…” Helmut leans forward to give your lips few soft pecks and slowly removes his hands from inside your dress.

 “Now my love, I know you must be tired, and I apologise that I can’t take you away just yet, but we must tend to the guests again. We’ve left them alone for far too long. But don’t you worry, I’ll be right by your side the whole time. You can lean on me for the rest of the night, I’ll be your crutch” Helmut speaks teasingly.

 You whine against him, “No, I’m fine, lets go.” Determined to prove him wrong, you push yourself up with his support, once standing, you start fixing yourself up, setting your panty decently, which is still embarrassingly wet, but you know you can do nothing about it. You fix the skirt of your dress and pull the bust up to make yourself all decent. Helmut stands up behind you, standing on guard in case you need any help, and he was right to do so as you stumble on the very first step you take as you find yourself still drained from the earlier events. Helmut immediately grips at your waist, holding you steady. Helmut shakes his head endearingly, bringing you close to his side, taking one last look up and down at the both of you to make sure everything is decent, and leading you both back to the grand hall, slowly.

As you both step into the ballroom again, your and his mum rush to the both of you bombarding you two about your whereabouts. “Where were you kids, leaving your guests unattended.” Hilda goes off, eyeing both of you a little suspiciously, “and something seems different about you two. Were you guys off doing drugs or something.” Hilda’s eyes turn a little wild, your mum’s eyes also going wide, “you know what I don’t want to know, not now, go back in there and tend to the guests.” Hilda pushes you both inside. Helmut’s arms remain around you as you both the guests around the room, Helmut looking at you from time to time, leaning down whispering sweet nothings to you.

 Your and Helmut’s mum can’t help but stand by each other while eyeing both your interactions, can’t help but notice how it has drastically changed since earlier tonight. Both knew of your feelings towards Helmut, but now seeing both of you so cosy, so publically, both are very confused, but couldn’t contain their happiness, especially for you, both looking at each other then giving each other a massive hug of relief, both elated for their respective children and what their closeness may mean.

 Throughout the night, the happy couple greeted everyone around the room, made conversation with whomever they were required to make conversation with, and with each and every people they interacted with, everyone could see the love and fondness in each other’s eyes. Anyone who witnessed Helmut’s gaze on Y/N would say that he looks at Y/N like she held the universe in her palms, the two must be soulmates, lovers for eternity, if a past life existed, the two must’ve been together. And they wouldn’t be wrong, Helmut indeed look at her as if she were the most precious being to ever exist.

 You see, while Y/N was so infatuated by Helmut growing up, she never did see that Helmut was equally enamoured by her. Whenever Y/N would visit, he’d always be somewhere close by, try to get a glimpse of her, be it a second. He loved seeing Y/n with his mum in their balcony, or her in the stables, far too scared to be on the horses, but helping feeding and brushing Helmut’s horse. What started as stolen glances from Helmut, bloomed into love. And with both of them being equal parts idiots, never approached each other either with their confession of love. So when Helmut’s father approached him with the proposal of both their marriage, he agreed in a heartbeat.

 That night, there was affirmation on everyone’s heart that there was love in the air and that these two were meant to be. There was a satisfaction in both their parents heart that the two aren’t simply compromising for their countries, but do truly love each other. There was content within both Helmut’s and Y/N’s heart knowing that Helmut loves Y/N and Y/N loves Helmut. And there wasn’t a doubt in anyone’s mind that these two were meant to be.

a/n: hope that was ok.

[blackleatherjacketz]

5 sentences or more

Zemo and leaving

Why must you hurt me with this prompt?

😢

You couldn’t exactly blame him for leaving without saying goodbye, without one last kiss to your hand or neck before disappearing into the shadows forever. What you had with him was nothing more than a product of circumstance, a frank expression of longing for the brief period of time you spent together in a stressful environment. The memories of your shoulder in his mouth and his hands in your hair have already begun to fade away, like scattered images from a dream more difficult to recall shortly after you wake.

It was always going to end like this, at least that’s what you tell yourself as you step onto the plane that’s taking you back to the states. It isn’t until you shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket that you feel something that wasn’t there before; a small charm of some sort. You pull it out to glance at it, letting the chain it’s attached to dangle between your fingers as it reflects the fluorescent lighting of the cabin. The scarlet stone is cut into several facets, accented only by the plate of gold that holds it in place as you turn it over to inspect it. Your initials are engraved in cursive on the back of your birthstone, something he had to have done days in advance before leaving you without a trace.

“What the hell is that?” Sam asks suspiciously, looking over your shoulder.

“Nothing.” You close a fist around the necklace and put it back into your pocket, trying not to smile too wide in front of your partner. “Nothing at all.”

[italianraviolos]

¡HELP!

Hi Daniel brühl fandom, especially those who are simping for Laszlo Kreizler.

Ages ago, I read a ff about Laszlo falling in love with one of is patients.

I remember the plot, it was the story of a women who's Sara's friend and she suggests her to go to Laszlo due to her problems.

She suffers from panic and anxiety attacks and Laszlo tries to cure her, and one night tries to cure her in a different way (coff* smut *coff) and after that he invites her to the opera but a few misunderstandings happen about a letter (I don't remember what happens) and so she goes but Sara gives her a knife as a defence.

They come back at Laszlo's house after the opera and she feels threatened during a particular situation of sexual tension, so she takes out the knife and then ✨smut✨ again.

IF ANYONE KNOWS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT PLEASE TELL MEEEEE

Thank you✨

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 ❧ you and Laszlo are different in many ways, some harder to ignore than others, but you share one latent predicament: affection.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 ❧ 3.1k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 ❧ angst, kinda smut? (just male masturbation), alpha/omega social dynamics (including sexism against omegas), laszlo being a huge asshole, brief violence, mutual pining, really just so much pining

⇥ 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 ⇤

Cardamom. Fresh-cut grass. Something sweet, like honey or fresh wine; something he couldn’t quite make out.

He recognized it instantly as the smell of you, and it made him grimace as he stood up from his couch. When you’d been over yesterday to discuss a case of his, he had honestly contemplated not letting you sit on or touch anything, anticipating this exact issue. But he had been too considerate to say anything and now your horridly wonderful stench was all over the place.

“Mary!” he called out into the house, and she thankfully appeared quickly. “Would you take these cushions from the sofa and… clean them, somehow?”

She nodded, stepping past him to start gathering them in her arms, and he watched her with narrowed eyes.

Truth was, he would rather never have to spend time near omegas when avoidable. It was a distaste he preferred not to voice since many people, alphas and betas alike, discriminated against omegas. Laszlo’s issue was not with some foolish notion that omegas were less worthy of respect, or too emotional or whatever offensive stereotype one might conjure. Rather, his concern lied less in any prejudice against the omegas themselves and instead in his own fears about being an alpha.

He wasn’t blind to the way being an alpha gave him a certain advantage in society, but if he’d had it his way he would’ve been able to avoid presentation entirely and be a beta. Betas were, for their potential blandness, much more… predictable. And Laszlo had never taken issue with the idea of being boring and predictable.

Alphas, on the other hand, had a habit for being a bit primitive. Especially when they were around other alphas… and especially when they were around omegas. It was no wonder that he barely had any idea how to act around you; it was like the composed, educated, respected man disappeared, leaving the mind and body to fend for themselves as he tried simply not to make a fool of himself.

Some omegas might like an alpha acting that way, but you weren’t as frivolous as those sort; and even if you were, he certainly wouldn’t debase himself to impress you.

Would I? he was forced to wonder.

He scoffed to himself, realizing this was exactly the internal monologue he had been hoping to avoid in the first place. This was why he couldn’t be running around with an omega, even if ‘running around’ was more like sitting and discussing neuropsychiatric disorders.

It was a shame that he liked you so much, that you always had such insightful things to say, or he could just do away with you for good. Maybe it had gotten so bad now that he would do it anyways, but you were an invaluable partner now in his investigation, and he was seeing more and more of you, hearing more of your gentle voice which seemed to stir his soul effortlessly.

And smelling more of you… that damn scent that he couldn’t seem to shake. The only thing he feared more than catching a whiff of it in his home unexpectedly, was to never breathe the scent of you again.

When Mary had all the cushions in a haphazard pile and turned to step away, he found himself reaching out and opening his mouth to speak. “Wait,” he blurted out before he could stop it, and Mary turned with her brow raised expectantly. “I’ll just… take this one,” he mumbled awkwardly, plucking a small cushion from the top of her pile. “For safekeeping.”

She nodded, but he caught her smirking a little as she turned and walked away with the rest. Of course she knew, and he cursed himself for being so obvious with his fickle emotions; but then again, a woman as perceptive as Mary was bound to find out sooner or later… she said nothing, but saw everything.

Or, almost everything. He made sure to lock his bedroom door and wait until the entire house was asleep before holding the stolen cushion tight to his chest in bed that night, to make sure no one would see his humiliating predicament, his juvenile obsession.

When he closed his eyes and ran his hands over the cushion’s embroidered fabric, he could almost pretend it was your dress, he could almost imagine holding you like this.

But he’d hold you even tighter. He’d never let you go.

It was honestly a bit ridiculous that he already had an erection from only this, but his imagination was running wild and his body wasn’t so far behind. He knew if he opened his eyes, it would remind him how pathetic this all was and he would likely stop himself. So, instead, he forced his eyes to squint shut even harder as he slipped his left hand down the front of his pyjama trousers.

A strict regimen of rut suppressants meant that he almost never had to resort to this, opting to ignore any tension rather than relieve it. But this time, when his hand wrapped around the throbbing base of his cock, it felt better than he remembered; though still nothing compared to what he was imagining.

He wanted to be buried inside you, so deep your eyes would roll back a bit. He wanted to kiss your neck until you were breathing those pretty little sighs of yours that he'd heard from time to time.

Though he'd never bedded an omega in his somewhat sparse sexual experience, he knew from his studies that omegas were uniquely sensitive, especially to an alpha. He could hardly dare to imagine how it would feel if he made you come; surely it would be too perfect to do anything but knot you right away, and just the thought of that made his cock flex against his grip.

“Omega,” he mumbled to himself, wondering how it would feel if you called him Alpha in the same way; that might be enough to almost make him like being an alpha, for once.

Because really, he hated it so desperately, with such a passion. He hated being ruled by instinct, even if he managed to overcome it the overwhelming majority of the time (this moment notwithstanding). He hated craving something that he didn’t know how to get and that no one wanted to give to him. He hated that being an alpha meant being expected to be strong and dominating and aggressive when he was nothing like that. Even if he had moments of weakness that brought out his more instinctual side, he could never be strong with only one good arm; he could never protect you like you deserved. He could never hold you as tight as he dreamed to.

He could never be your alpha. But maybe he could indulge in his fantasy for just a few moments longer...

Perhaps you shouldn’t have put so much time into selecting your outfit, or you wouldn’t have been a quarter hour late past when Dr. Kreizler asked you to arrive at the Institute. As you scurried down the hall, trying not to walk too loudly since your heels echoed through the corridor, you just hoped he wouldn’t notice or say anything about it.

When you stepped through his office door, everyone— Sara, John, the Isaacsons, and Laszlo himself— looked up to stare at you.

“Ah, I was wondering if you intended to arrive at all,” Laszlo frowned.

“Well, I—” you began.

“It’s no matter, just shut the door behind you and try to keep up with the discussion,” he interrupted, turning around to write on the chalkboard again.

You nodded awkwardly, catching a sympathetic smile from John, before listening to the Doctor pick up where he left off.

Laszlo continued to be uncharacteristically curt with you— well, it wasn’t so uncharacteristic, but it was even worse than normal— throughout the entire meeting, regularly undermining your suggestions if not directly interrupting them, dismissing your ideas as fantastical or preposterous.

The others seemed to notice, in fact it seemed to make them similarly uncomfortable, but nobody thought to say anything and you spent the better part of an hour biting your lip to keep from either crying or cursing him.

You were relieved when Laszlo finally dismissed the team; you were the first to turn for the door, in fact, more than ready to get out of this nightmare of an office, but Laszlo addressed you specifically by name as the others filed out of the room.

“Yes?” you answered, noticing John nonchalantly hanging behind as well.

“Next time, try presenting some reasonable ideas, why don’t you?” Laszlo suggested to you sharply.

“Leave off,” John warned Laszlo, who didn’t even turn his attention away from you for a moment, though he did seem to heed the warning regardless as he cooled off slightly.

“It’s no matter,” Laszlo decided flippantly, “I shouldn’t have expected much else— it’s in your nature.”

You swallowed thickly, hearing John scoff at your side. “C’mon, let’s go,” he encouraged you quietly yet firmly. You gave Laszlo one shy glance, but he’d already turned to examine some papers on his desk, ignoring you completely.

“Goodbye, Doctor,” you mumbled sheepishly, turning and following John out the door and out of the Institute.

When you reached the street, you were prepared to start walking on but John held your arm gently. “Your apartment isn’t far from my grandmother’s house, why don’t we share a cab?” he offered.

You considered turning him down simply because you had been looking forward to a chance to wallow alone, but as he looked down at you, you realized you were better off with the company of a friend. “All right,” you nodded, “that would be lovely, thank you.”

John was able to flag a buggy down and was kind enough to help you in before following behind you, sitting across from you as you looked out the small window.

“Pay no mind to the Doctor,” John decided to offer as he interrupted the silence. You thought maybe he would just distract you with small talk, so you were surprised when he got right to it. “He’s always this irritable.”

“I just can’t imagine why he’s so irritated by me,” you sighed, hoping to regulate your tone to just somber and not heartbroken.

“I can,” John chuckled, and you shot him a glare.

“You’re agreeing that I’m irritating?” you confirmed, incensed, and he looked back at you with a slightly condescending smile.

“Not at all. It’s just that there are things about alphas that omegas can never properly understand.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because our minds are too simple, right?” you pressed sarcastically.

“No, no, not that,” he defended, getting a bit more serious. “You know I’m not the type to think those things about omegas; Doctor Kreizler certainly isn’t. I just mean, it can be difficult to explain.”

“Well, use that big alpha brain of yours and give it a shot, why don’t you?” you encouraged, crossing your arms incredulously.

“All right, don’t get upset with me,” he soothed. “Nobody who really understood alphas would ever accuse them of being logical, that’s the thing. Alphas certainly want you to think that, but… we’re really not so rational at all.”

You raised your eyebrow, confused, and he sighed.

“I mean, I suppose we can be, I know I try my best… but I think we both know that I have a few of my own vices.”

John did certainly seem to have a reputation with prostitutes, mostly betas but some omegas as well. Some mornings you could smell them on him still; and it made you appreciate that maybe a man like Laszlo wasn’t only putting on the appearance of solitude.

“Betas are really the only ones who have their heads on straight, the way I see it,” John decided. “I mean, think of Sara. Do you think before she does something, she wonders what omegas will think when she does it? Or what alphas will think?”

You chewed your lip. “No, I suppose not.”

“No matter what alphas try to tell you about how they’re the better sex, ultimately all we can ever really do is worry about omegas. And, I won’t speak for you, but I think the reverse may be true as well.”

“So… that behavior there, in his office, that was him… worrying about me?” you concluded.

“I think it worries him that he worries for you,” John specified, smiling like he’d said something profound.

But you were unimpressed, and you made that plenty clear by sighing and leaning back against the seat of the buggy. It was a long ride home, your mind racing with reimaginings of how Laszlo had spoken to you and what a more outspoken version of yourself might have done, but you had to admit that even in silence it was better with John nearby.

Perhaps even preferably in silence.

You waited a few days, hoping to find your mood improving, but it only seemed to get worse. Each day you thought about Laszlo— everything about Laszlo, annoyingly enough, but especially the inconvenient fact that he couldn’t stand you.

John apparently had his own theory about it. He seemed to imply that Laszlo had some underlying attraction to you, something he could help as an alpha dealing with an omega— and while that idea made your heart skip a beat, it seemed too good to be true. He would’ve said the same thing if Laszlo was kind to you, wouldn’t he? So what difference does it make?

No matter the cause, you didn’t want to leave it unaddressed any longer. That was what compelled you to drop in at Dr. Kreizler’s home one foggy and grey evening— the kind where one could smell the incoming rain in the air even without an omega’s keen senses— knowing he wasn’t at the Institute this time of day.

Mary let you in, showing you to the living room to wait for him; you would’ve sat on the couch, but you noticed all the cushions were missing with a befuddled expression. Mary seemed a little amused by your confusion before she left to return to some task in the back garden, and so you just let your eyes wander over the room to pass the time. Laszlo’s collection of books was impressive, of course, as were the bottles of medications and salves stored in shelves. You noticed rut and heat suppressants among them, and you were pleasantly surprised since heat suppressants were often considered to be controversial— a form of birth control, in the eyes of many, and therefore often thought of as sinful. But of course a man like Laszlo wouldn’t think of things that way; you admired his progressiveness.

You turned from the shelf when you heard him enter the room; he seemed surprised to see you, understandably. “I apologize that I didn’t call first, but I wanted to discuss something with you,” you explained.

“Something you couldn’t call to discuss?” he presumed, making you frown.

“Well, yes, or I would’ve called. You know, Laszlo, this may surprise you but I actually don’t try to irritate you,” you explained, already losing a bit of your patience.

You didn’t often call him by his first name, not to his face at least. Apparently, he didn’t care much for it. “It must come to you naturally then,” he nodded.

“Then why do you keep me on the case? If I’m so frustrating and fundamentally unhelpful?” you interrogated. You expected an immediate response, but he stammered over his words for a moment.

“Well—” he began, stopping to sigh and glance at the window. “Is it especially hot out today?”

“Um, no,” you answered, confused. “It’s rather temperate.”

When he looked at you again, something had changed in his expression. “Oh,” he sighed, “you— you should go.”

“Doctor, you haven’t answered my question,” you reminded him firmly.

“Yes, I’ll tell you another time, but I have matters to attend to,” he rushed, starting to look a bit unwell as he coughed and started fuss with his tie.

“Are you all right?” you asked, stepping closer and seeing him step back in turn— but he tripped, trying to catch himself with his weak arm and failing completely. He hit the floor with a hiss, dark brown hair falling out of its style and into his face as he grunted in pain.

“Doctor!” you gasped, running to him as your heart pounded. “What’s wrong?”

But in your heart, you knew. In fact, it wasn’t just your heart but your whole body that told you it was his rut. He looked to be in such pain, panting and tugging at his stiff collar, face already turning a bit red.

“Laszlo,” you sighed, reaching down and starting to kneel with him, but he slapped your hands away.

“Get out,” he breathed, ragged and dark.

“No, you need help,” you asserted, reaching for him again and nearly screaming with shock when he jumped up and roughly shoved you back.

“How dare you say no to me, in my own home, like I am your inferior?” he snarled. “Get out!”

“I… I can help you…” you whispered shakily, trying not to cry, unable now to save your dignity as your caring omega instincts kicked in— as well as your latent desire.

“And what makes you think I want your help? Have I not made what I want abundantly clear?” he bellowed, storming closer to you as you fumbled backwards. “Leave here, and don’t come back.”

Even with tears in your eyes and fear coursing through you until your hands began to shiver, you softly shook your head. “N-no, Laszlo, I won’t… I won’t leave you like this.”

For a moment, you thought he might relent, considering the way his expression softened. But just as quick as it came, it shifted to seething rage again and you didn’t even know what hit you for a moment— it was the back of his hand, striking your cheek so hard you almost fell to the floor, though you just barely managed to keep your balance.

It was only a brief moment that the two of you stood there, you holding your cheek as tears fell straight from your eyes to the hardwood beneath you while he just glared at you, chest heaving; but it felt like an eternity.

You couldn’t find the strength to meet his gaze again before you spun on your heel and scampered away, picking up your skirt with one hand and wiping your tears shakily with the other.

Fighting not to spare a glance back at him, you shoved the front door open and ran out into the sheets of freezing rain, finally taking the time to properly sob as you made a mad dash for the only address you knew for John Moore.

[over-active-imagination]

Dinner Manners

(Not my Gif)

Synopsis: One of Sarah's friends has a run in with an old flame and a terrible dinner guest.

Warnings: SMUT, Mentioned minor character death, swearing, Fem!reader, Victorian Ideals.

A/N: I have been working on this for about three months beacuse I kept getting writers block or distracted. So please enjoy! I also haven't edited it..please forgive my mistakes it any lmfao

Masterlist

The soft piano lilted through the dinning room at Delmonico's as Y/n entered the building holding onto her friend Sarah's arm. Miss Howard had practically begged Y/n to dinner with her and John. Citing that they both missed her a great deal wanting to know how all about her time abroad in Paris and London.

That is what they said at least.

Then she saw another man sitting across from John with only two seats available. One next to Mr Moore and the other next to the bearded stranger. Upon their arrival both men stand up quickly John pulling out the chair for Sarah leaving the Y/n and the other man awkwardly staring at the empty one.

"Well this is a surprise" Y/n says quickly in a polite tone moving to take the seat before it was pulled out. She hated having things done for her.

"Mmm I would agree. Feels quite a bit like an ambush" The man to the left of her says. This causes Y/n to straighten up more, agitated by the fact he sounded so stiff.

"Yes, well since you called it what is is," John hums a bit and natures to the pair. "My dear I wanted to introduce you to Doctor Laszlo Kriezler a close friend of mine. Laszlo this is Miss Y/n Y/l/n a dear friend of Sarah's who has been travelling abroad with her family." John smiles brightly.

Both Laszlo and Y/n knew this was intended to be a blind set up the moment Sara and John snickered to each other. Deciding to just play along for the time being the younger woman looked up at Doctor Kreizler.

"Its a pleasure to meet you Doctor, Be it that our friends have taken it upon themselves to force this meeting" She hums not attempting to hide her annoyance.

"I wish I could say the same" Laszlo says simply causing every part to look at him in shock.

"Laszlo!" John and Sara say together shocked at his bluntness, sure they knew Kreizler wasn't the most well mannered man. But usually in public he could restrain himself.

"What? You two decide to throw both Myself and this...woman...into a very uncomfortable situation. How do I know you didn't just pay for her to be here just so you didn't feel bad for having me as a third party." He hisses causes the Woman to his left too snort.

"And the same could be said for you Doctor" She snaps back just as quick.

"That is a bold response coming from a woman in a very low cut dress" Laszlo says flatly and that was the last twist of the knife the young lady needed to hear.

"With all due respect Doctor...go fuck yourself" Y/n says and stands throwing a glass of wine into his face before storming out of the restaurant.

Laszlo however stayed seated picking up a napkin and wiping his face.

"Well she certainly makes an impression" He grumbles causing both of his friends to sign exasperated.

"As do you, you idiot" Sara huffs "I expect that you will go an apologize to her or I will never speak to you again"

"Thats a bit dramatic even for you Miss Howard." This earns a glare from John.

"You know what Laszlo, I share Miss Y/l/n's last sentiment. And be thankful I haven't received my wine yet"

With that Miss Howard rose to her feet and quickly followed her friends path. Wanting to find her and ease the anger that had bubbled up from the unfortunate meeting. Leaving John and Laszlo together for a less than comfortable dinner.

The young woman often made sure every engagement she went to was void of the handsome Hungarian man since that night. Usually she was pretty safe as he Laszlo rarely made public appearances, for example the party she had just come back from was void of the man right up until she made it home.

Teetering a bit on her heels that where all the rage back in Paris, she opened the door humming a soft tune. It was honestly a rather dull affair but the champagne was good and flowing.

"Oh...Miss...you're home. A gentleman is here to see you" The housekeeper, Ms. Fitzwilliam coos at her happily as Y/n kicks off her shoes jumping at the sudden voice glancing up.

After registering who it was the woman smiled a bit and nodded at her.

"Is there? How wonderful! Please make sure they are aware I want nothing to do with them as you send them away." She airily flourishing a hand as she move gracefully through the hallway towards the the sitting room off the main foyer.

"Umm..are you sure Miss? He is quite dashing and-"

"I don't care if he is the bloody king of England! Send. Him. Away."

Ignoring the way her housekeeper followed spluttering behind her as she looked up making eye contact with Laszlo who had been sitting in one of the high-backed armchairs a class of Port in his hand.

"I see your colourfully language is still the same" he says taking a sip of his drink. Laszlo would be lying if he said he wasn't bit stunned at how..disheveled the woman looked. She looked like a very different person then the one who he had observed at dinner.

Strands of her hair had fallen from the elaborate braid she had, the pieces framing her face. Slowly his eyes gravitated lower to her chest for a moment watching it heave under the effort of the tight corset that lay beneath the dark green lower cut dress.

Damn those Parisian designers.

"Well the statement stands, although I regret comparing you to the King of England"

"That is an inappropriate way to treat a guest" He replies gruffly, tightening his hand on the cane as she rolled her eyes.

"Right, of course. As I should always hold myself up to your high esteem right Doctor? Like how you practically called me a harlot. In public! Before rushing out of dinner leaving me ALONE." Y/n snaps and throws her shoes down onto the ground.

"You are acting like the children I work with" He retorts and realizes perhaps that was a mis-step as her glossy shoe comes hurling at his head. "Verdammter Scheiß!"

"Ms. Fitz, Show this pompous asshole out of our lovely home" Y/n snaps and moves to leave gasping when she feels his hand grip her upper arm.

"You will not speak to me that way. Ms. Fitz if you wouldn't mind giving us the room" Kriezler says in an authoritative tone. Fitz looking between both her mistress and the Doctor.

"It's fine, I can handle myself. Goodnight Ms Fitzwilliam" The woman says her voice still strong but Laszlo could sense her wavering. The older housekeeper nodded a faint smile on her lips as she moved to shut the parlour door.

"Do you enjoy making a fool of yourself?" Laszlo whispers harshly into her ear. "Do you enjoy making me mad? Testing my patience? Pushing me over and over again? Making me lie to our friends? To Dear Ms Fitz"

His tone made her shiver and bite her lip. Slowly allowing herself to press back into his body.

"No one asked you to lie to Sara and John. Just like no one asked you to humiliate me” She snaps reminding herself why she was so angry with him.

“We both know that is an inaccurate statement, as you have on many occasions asked me to humiliate you” Laszlos voice makes her shiver.

The pair had met each other at a seminar her father was holding on new ideas for child medicine. Laszlo had been more open minded then. Not so set in his ways often finding himself in discourse with the younger woman, who would often twist a knife just to get a rise out of him. He really believed that a beautiful relationship could blossom between them…until her father died.

Then she had went away. No words where exchanged, no goodbyes given. Just one day he walked by the home and the doors where closed and drapes hung over all the furnishings to keep the dust away.

Something that caused Laszlo a great deal of pain, Something he had never mentioned. Even though they made a point to send letters to one another it just wasn't the same. So when he caught a glimpse of her walking into Delmonico's he become a swirl of emotions, most he had never let himself feel. Until that moment their eyes locked again.

"You mean like how you left me alone Schatz." He husked and instantly regret and guilt caused her to relinquish the upper hand to him.

"Las I didn't-" She went to say something but found her words caught in her throat.

"How could you know! You left! You left and never told me that you planed to go." Laszlo snaps pushing her against the wall looking down at her, his eyes full of emotion.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't know I-it would hurt you so much" She says in earnest reaching up and gently touching his cheek. Trying her best to quell the beast brewing beneath the surface.

Laszlo did not reply leaning in and kissing her fiercely. He didn't want to speak about it any more. He just wanted to feel her again, have her close to him. He reveals in the soft moan that escapes her lips and the little bit of writhing she does attempting to get control.

"Stop it. We have been apart for too long and I have to remind you who is in control" He gravels out he roughly pushes her down onto the chaise lounge before kneeling between her legs.

"Pull up your skirts" Laszlo commands and nervously the girl does so, gasping as he lounges forwards licking a stripe along her thigh to her core.

It had been a long time since either of them did this. With anyone and Y/n was shuttering with delight as the man hadn’t lost his touch. A whine escapes from her lips and it sounded like a perfect melody to him.

A warmth started spreading throughout the woman as he head feel back with a soft thud against the head of the chaise. Just when she thought that warmth was going to over take her Laszlo pulled back. Another whine came from the back of her throat but before another word could exit her lips, Kriezler pushed into her warm welcoming heat.

"Oh Doctor!" She exclaims and he is hovering over her.

Originally he was going to draw this out, make her beg and plead for him. Be a touch mean to her in order to prove how much she needed him. But in the end he was over taken by his own primal urges to be one with her. All those other things could wait until later. Right now he just wanted to feel her, hold her and chase after their mutual pleasure.

He listened to all the soft whines and cooing that passed her lips. A smile gracing her usual scowl and kissed down the column of her throat.

"Thats it my little dove, Mein Schatz" He groans and Heiress looked up at him with so much unshared emotion both of them knew what they wanted to say but could never find the right moment.

"Laz...I-" She starts and he kisses her swallowing the admission.

"I know you don't have to tell me" He whispers and starts to speed up watching her come apart for him. Just like she used to, her nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders a high pitched sound escaping her chest.

The Doctor soon followed after her panting and resting his forehead on her chest. His eyes closed as a tear drips down his checks. It had been so long since he had been with anyone let alone the one woman he had been in love with. Laszlo instantly melted has her fingers carded into his hair as the both start to breath in tandem.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to hurt you" Y/n says softly after a moment of silence.

"I know" He answers slowly looking up as she wipes his cheeks.

"I was just so angry" She sniffles "And that wasn't fair to you"

"Listen we can work all of this out later. Right now I just want to hold you, will you let me?" He asks in earnest and she nods whining softly as he pulls out and moves to create room for him.

"I have and always will love you Laszlo" She whispers "Even if you call me a whore"

"And Ill always love you, even if you call me the King of England" He hums chucking when she smacks his chest.

"I told you I didn't mean to call you that" The woman laughs and he smiles down at her kissing her once again both thankful to be back in one another arms.

[shmaptainwrites]

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.

[andsheloved]

for drabble tuesday maybe a soulmate au!! with zemo? mayhap something along the lines of when he met heike (his wife), though knowing she wasn't his soulmate, he still loved her dearly. however after sokovia fell, he found that the reader was the only one able to fully bring him comfort/peace from his grief, being soulmates and all. perhaps with a bit of angst in where he's conflicted over his feelings in honor of his dead wife? but the desperation knowing he'd never have this peace otherwise.

oh man, me thinks i absolutely levitated when i got this ask, mmm i love this so much!! i have never written a soulmate au before but i am very excited to try!! i hope you enjoy this my friend!! mwauh!!

pairing ~ helmut zemo x gn!reader

word count ~ 1k

warnings ~ discussion of familial death (heike + carl), mention of praying in a not religious sense, mention of shield agent reader (but no real elaboration), slight tfatws spoilers, mild angst with a fluffy ending!

prompt ~ trope #5: soulmate au

He was told all of his life, even from when he was a young boy, mindlessly wandering around his family's estate without a care in the world, that love had bigger plans for him.

He was told he would simply just feel it. An undeniable pull, like a string tied to his heart that would tug and tug relentlessly until he was chest to chest with the apparent love of his life.

As years went on and people passed him by, he feared that the empty feeling of desperation that had settled in his chest, longing for something, someone, would always remain.

Even as he found himself at the alter with Heike, he waited patiently as they both said their vows, anxiously anticipating the sudden feeling.

Though it never came.

He still felt that he loved her, that he never doubted, even when his son was born, it wasn't that he felt nothing, it was just a strange, different sort of love that kept them all together.

He wondered if she felt the same way, empty and yearning for a feeling that may very well never be found.

He hoped not.

He prayed not.

As he finally lay eyes on the bodies of his family, he found himself on his knees, not only weeping, but praying.

He had never been much of a religious man, but suddenly, words tumbled from his lips, words begging that she had felt at least something. His heart sunk at the idea that she had never felt that pull that now almost seemed like a fairy tale to him, and for her to not feel anything before she passed pained him to even wonder.

He felt empty, he still loved her, he feared he always would, and he had just lost the only chance he would ever have at some semblance of love.

"I'm so sorry."

He heard a soft voice behind him, and he quickly stood from his knees, brushing off dust and debris as he turned.

It was just as sudden as he had been told, like a unstoppable magnet that attracted him to you.

Not now, not now, not now.

He had dreamed of this moment, for years, and now that it had finally came, he wished he could have taken back every day dream and hope for this one minute.

A soft, sad smile played on your lips, "I'm sorry" You repeated, slowly placing a hand on his shoulder.

It felt like electricity, like a lightning bolt had shot straight though him. He should have been overjoyed, finally, what he had always been waiting for.

But all he could feel was grief. His future may very well could have been standing before him, but all he felt was loss. He had loved them, he still loved them, he had loved her, and joining the pit that had begin to fester in place of his heart, confusion and pain nestled themselves deeper between his heart strings.

You had clearly felt it as well, your eyes slightly widening the moment you touched him. You seemed so unsure, but intrigued regardless.

He sighed, a feeling of shame now washing over him, he hated to think that now, you would be left with that same empty feeling he had felt for years, but it was simply a fact of life to him now.

Sometimes, some things aren't meant to be, some people aren't meant to be, even some feelings just aren't destined to be felt by certain individuals.

And although walking away from you almost physically pained him, he knew he had to.

It would be for the best anyway.

It felt like a lifetime ago, his family, Sokovia, you, and he had believed he had almost become completely numb of feeling, he was sure that prison only helped him in that regard.

He would think about you on occasion, sometimes, he even believed he could even feel that rush of sparks shooting through him as you touched him that day.

It was a strange sort of comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

He dreamt of a life beyond the walls of his cell, and when he dreamt, while he still felt a flash of guilt at the idea, he dreamt of you.

He would sometimes feel that same pulling feeling again, and he would rush to the front of his cell.

He remembered your clothing that day, a uniform of some sort, the SHIELD logo emblazoned on the sleeve of your shirt.

Were you here to release him? To bring him in for questioning? Or maybe you had found him?

Were you just as lonely as him?

His shoulders slumped when he finally saw who had entered the room, but as the familiar man propositioned him, he was filled with something entirely new.

Hope.

As he made his way through the guards and brawling prisoners, he felt it again. The sudden pull he had felt when he first met you had returned, but it wasn't fleeting this time, it was somehow stronger, much more powerful than any other time, and ignoring every instruction given to him, he began to be guided by it, he followed the feeling, all the way into some hidden away garage.

His heart drummed in his ears, the pull was almost as strong as the day he had first met you, yet you were nowhere to be found.

"...He okay?" He heard Sam chime, though he was much too distracted by the thunderous beating in his chest to care.

There were footsteps behind him, and he instantly turned.

"Hi" You muttered, a stunned expression on your face as you stood before him.

"Hello" He meekly replied, his legs seemingly working on their own accord as he walked closer to you.

He could hear the two men behind him bicker, "You're kidding" "How were we supposed to know..."

It was going to be an interesting few weeks, that was certain, but a thought occurred to him, a feeling he wasn't convinced he had ever felt before. The very idea both frightened and excited him.

No matter what happened, no matter what Sam and James threw at him, regardless of whatever peril and danger he found himself in, you would be worth it.

i hope i did your request some justice my friend!! this was actually kind of very fun to write, and i am just, asghdhwfornewg over the idea that your soulmate will always find you :'), anyways, i hope you enjoyed this my friend!! mwauh!!

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!!

want more zemo? check out my masterlist!

join in on drabble tuesdays!

[povcastiel]

A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME

[ Request from @purebloodwitch : “Hi! I was thinking about a request (pretty angsty one) where Y/N didn’t know they were pregnant, and then as a result of certain events (up to you to decide), they lose the child. Then they are in the hospital and Zemo is comforting them etc.”

This developed into more than I intended. Thank you so much for choosing me to write this, I hope it was worth the wait. ]

Synopsis | It’s hard to say where it all went wrong. A marriage on the rocks, constantly living in fear. Living La Vida Loca isn’t exactly as romantic as the movies. Unfortunately for Zemo and his wife, an unexpected accident makes them reconsider their priorities.

Tags | Angst, Uncertain feelings, Being on the run, Guilt, Fighting, Minor fluff, Soft!Zemo, Husband!Zemo

Warnings | Fighting, Talk of injuries, Mentions of a miscarriage, Hospital scene, Mentions of blood, Zemo being an asshole (But the end is kinda happy if you squint.)

Word Count | 3.8k

Rating | T

Zemo’s death grip on your wrist nearly cut your circulation. Stumbling along toward the front door, wide open to reveal the awaiting vehicle. The car’s head lights blared at you, blinding you momentarily. Finally, he released you at the threshold.

“I’m not leaving. Not again!” You cried. Your husband’s expression was hard to read, but you were certain of his short fuse.

He tossed the duffle bag in his right hand into the trunk, which contained other suitcases that withheld your belongings and his own. He’d been insistent and unrelenting. It was dire that you leave unless you wanted to watch him be taken away again. Despite the massive risk it was to stay in Prague, you simply could not bear the thought of running once again.

The fighting between you and Helmut had become almost constant. He often didn’t sleep in bed with you anymore. Opting for the couch and even then, he wasn’t managing much rest. Neither were you.

This had been your fear for the last several years. Well aware you couldn’t keep the demons at bay forever. Knowing well enough, that Zemo’s deeds would circle back to you in the cruelest of ways. Despite this, you and him both went on. Using each other, your vessel, as a means to forget the road ahead.

At first it was easy.

Helmut, given he was a Baron, had the means to keep you both comfortable. You traveled light and for a while, it seemed like constant honeymoon bliss. Your destinations were beautiful, hidden in plain sight, and most importantly… you were with him.

But that was before. When the entire world wasn’t scouring the earth for your husband and when your faces were untraceable, unnoticeable. These days you barely left the house. Only for basic necessities and there was always a plan B, C, and D. As anyone could imagine, running had become exhausting. Especially now that you felt more far away from Helmut than you ever had.

“Y/N, I don’t find it necessary for me to put you in this car, but if I must…” Helmut‘s voice was tired.

His implications infuriated you. To your dismay, you knew arguing with him was futile. He was never one to raise his voice, to use his force in situations. Although, his ability to constantly control his emotions had driven you mad at times.

You reluctantly succumbed to your fate of, yet again, leaving another place in which you’d come to call home. It hurt. You had made wonderful memories here. If it hadn’t been for the last two weeks, you would have been certain you and Zemo were on the right path. That had all come to a screeching halt.

His knuckles were white, holding the steering wheel as if his life depended on it. You were relatively close to the nearest airport. Oeznik being alerted of the situation. The jet prepared and ready to go.

The sleeping city passed by you. Its colorful homes, cobble stone streets, and charming avenues disappearing—swallowed by the night.

You had grown tired of the silence. Your temper flaring again. This was unlike you. Your emotions felt uncontrollable. More so in the last few days. Helmut had noticed but assumed your nerves had given you reason to act out.

“If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t even be in this mess! I suppose you wish to evade normalcy for as long as we both shall live.” Tears were brimming your eyes now.

“Darling, if you wish to discuss blame, then let’s-“

“Don’t patronize me. I am your wife.” You spat, giving him little room to compromise.

Helmut sighed heavily through his nostrils.

“It is my duty to protect you. That is what I’m doing. Or at least attempting to, but you’re making that rather difficult.” He finally defended himself.

“You say that, but we never face the fire. We run! City to city. Home after home. I want a life. To be seen with you…” You were breaking at the seams and Helmut could tell.

He knew you better than anyone, but the fire brewing between the two of you had erupted.

“They would kill me!” He practically hissed. “Surrendering at this point wouldn’t benefit either of us. My crimes have erased any hope of a fairytale. Something you were well aware of.”

He shot you a glance then. That godforsaken head tilt.

“I hate you!” You cried then.

Three words you did not mean. Though you had to release something, anything.

“Don’t be ridiculous…”

“It’s true! I hate you! And I hate this life with you!” It was just to hurt him.

Just to make him feel the immense pain you felt, in that moment. The crashing waves of reality were already drowning you.

“After everything…” Still eerily calm, your husband’s hands clenched around the wheel of the car. “You fucking hate me?”

Finally, Helmut had broke too.

The fire roared. Awakening something deep within both of you. Like caged animals. Your screaming match filled the small confines of the car. Both of you entirely distracted by your heated argument. Useless and empty threats. Hurtful truths that would be hard to undo later.

When you tore away from his face. Long enough to catch sight of the road, headlights stared back at you. No time to warn Helmut. He had discovered the error too late, himself.

The cars collided. An airbag leaving you dead to the world, Helmut barely hanging on to his own consciousness. The sound of a car horn blared in his ears. He felt the rush of blood, tasting it on his tongue. His head turned over, a miracle he hadn’t broken his neck. Lifeless you laid, pinned to your seat, your legs and abdomen crushed.

Desperation seized him entirely. He couldn’t lose you. Not now. Not ever. His strength was gone. He reached for you in his final attempt before the darkness took him.

When Helmut had come to again, his surroundings were much different. A dull ache penetrated his skull, his eyes weak and throbbing by the white light above his bed. A monitor was beeping softly nearby, keeping track of his vitals and heartbeat. He groaned, deeply in his chest and began to sit up.

He was lucky to be intact. No broken bones, possibly fractured ribs, and a bloody nose. Aside from a few scrapes, Zemo was nearly unscathed from the accident.

He wasn’t worried with himself though, as he began pulling himself loose from tubes and cords. A nurse came in then, alerted by the other patient in the shared space. He was on his feet then, pulling back the curtain drawn beside him. The bed was empty.

“Where is my wife?” Was his first question to the brunette, who was busy attempting to usher him back into bed.

“Sir, I need you to lay back down. You should rest.” She insisted.

She intended to go on into further detail, to explain his injuries and what had happened. Helmut was not going to listen.

“I asked you a question. Are you simply incompetent or do you truly have no idea?” She looked up to him then.

She scoffed a moment. His heavy gaze nearly making her uncomfortable. A husband distraught and fearing the worst, not her first time experiencing this type of behavior. Unfortunately, Zemo was a patient she wouldn’t be able to handle.

“She got out of surgery about an hour ago. You’ve been sedated a while. I don’t believe she’s awake.”

“I wish to see her. Now.” He demanded.

The nurse sighed heavily. Another glance over his expression and she had been defeated in convincing him to rest. When it came to you, Helmut wouldn’t rest. He couldn’t lay peacefully , in a hospital of all places, knowing you were alone and isolated. Helpless and injured. You needed him and he would be there.

You were not far from him and that settled his nerves slightly. The nurse stopped at the door.

“The doctor should be in soon.” She informed him.

He did not acknowledge her statement, which was enough to bid her farewell. She left him then. The door soon shutting behind him. It was darker in this room. Neatly tucked beneath your sheets, you laid soundly. Machines surrounding you, a nasal cannula giving you oxygen. Cuts and abrasions covered your skin and that was only from what he could see. Truly, it nearly caused him to collapse.

Helmut approached the bed slowly. A silver band left on your ring finger. He looked to his own and then did he begin to feel the cool whips of anguish. The last few weeks, months even, flooding back with a vengeance. He had taken it all for granted. Most of all, he neglected you and your marriage. He’d come so close to losing you, the possibility still lingering, that it brought Helmut to tears.

“I’d like to think of it as our second honeymoon.” He raised a glass of champagne to his lips, snug in a bath robe and relaxed on the massive bed.

You turned away from the cool breeze of the night’s air. Retreating to the bedroom to find your husband. A smug smile on his lips.

“I wouldn’t exactly call this a honeymoon. We are running for our lives after all.” You quipped but couldn’t help the smile stretching across your face.

You were happy.

“And yet, here you are… all mine.” He grinned, taking another sip from his glass flute.

You proceeded to crawl onto the bed. The soft comforter touching your bare legs. His t-shirt hanging loosely on your body. You plopped beside Helmut. His hair was wet, cologne still musky against his damp skin. A gold necklace dangled at his chest. You moved in, laying your head where his shoulder met his chest. Your fingers toyed with the chain.

“Schatz…” That endearing nickname falling off his tongue like refreshing water. Which you were so willing to drink. To quench your thirst.

“Mm?” You hummed softly, still preoccupied by his jewelry.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His voice husked; his nose buried into your hair.

“That I never want this to end…” You confessed.

Your heart was aching then. Longing for the simpler days, but these quiet moments would have to subdue your yearning. After all, Helmut wasn’t hauled up in a prison. He wasn’t halfway around the world. He was here, with you. For now, that would please your heart. In the depths of all your history, you were certain Zemo to be the one and only. Even given your differences. His stubbornness and unforgiving nature at times seemed nearly unbearable, at least to someone on the outside. To you… He was yours. The world had only known a fraction of the truth, which is often how history writes.

This you feared. For your life with Helmut wouldn’t be remembered for your loving glances, Royal galas spent on his arm, lavish trips spent abroad, and having children somewhere in between.

No, he would be written as a monster. His wife loyal till the end. Leaving the average person to ponder your sanity and what on earth you’d seen in a man as evil as Baron Helmut Zemo.

“I’m surprised. Surely by how spaced out you seemed; I could only conclude you dreamt of me.”

There it was. His ego dripping off every word and still somehow managing a semblance of charm.

Your head lifted and gave him an unamused expression, though teetering on the edge of a smile. It was then that he kissed you, capturing your lips with fervor. You moaned almost instantly, his lips still slick with alcohol. Though you could’ve intoxicated yourself silly with his sober kisses alone.

You broke away for air. The two of you holding each other’s gaze.

“What now?” You asked, though the question had many translations, Helmut knew what you’d meant.

A faint grin touched his features, not enough to brighten them. His gaze faltered, lowering to your lips and back up again several times.

“We live the life we want. Together…”

Opening your eyes was the first difficult task of many to come. A searing pain engulfed you, head pounding, and your body racked with agony. Slowly but surely it started to all piece together. Your mind forming small bits, like a puzzle, fitting together at ends and odds.

Even with your great amount of pain, distress overcame you.

Helmut. Where was Helmut?

You were nearly to yell, beckon for someone, when your eyes landed on a figure out of your peripheral. Slumped in a chair, your husband was asleep. He’d rid himself of the medical blue gown and exchanged it for a pair of sweatpants and a familiar gray sweater, layered overtop a black shirt.

You reached for the railing, attempting to pull yourself up. Your grasp fumbled, as a shot of pain spread through your body. Attempting to muffle your noises failed, you cried out as you fell back against the thin mattress. Which you would have argued was only worsening your injuries.

Helmut had awoken then, almost as if he had been pretending to sleep. On his feet in seconds, you don’t think you’d seen Helmut so attentive—at least not for a long while.

“Don’t move. The Doctor will be coming to see you soon.” It was an order.

You glanced to him. If looks could kill.

You tried to sit up again, this time Zemo was there to help you. He mumbled something under his breath. A smart remark you were sure of it. Unfortunately, you found no recoil left in you.

He grabbed the styrofoam cup from the sliding table. With a steady hand, he held the cup of water up to your lips. You parted your lips, cracked and dry. Anyone would’ve been embarrassed to be seen in such a state. Years of marriage made it less humiliating. Though lying in a hospital may not have been deemed degrading, more so terrifying.

“We can’t stay here.” You finally croaked.

You pushed his hand away, as he returned the water to its original place. He pressed his lips together then.

“We must, you are in no shape to go anywhere.” Helmut reminded and you knew there would be no arguing. That method hadn’t exactly accomplished anything. Hence your new surroundings.

Maybe not entirely what you wanted, but there was gratification in the fact that you weren’t hiding now. You felt seen with Helmut. The nurses and doctors were aware of your status. Husband and wife. In its own fucked up way, this was the normalcy you craved.

A man in white interrupted your fleeting conversation. He held a clip board in his hand and a folder, containing what you could only assume was information of you.

“Mrs. Zemo…” He peered over the rim of his glasses. “Mr. Zemo.” He addressed. Helmut didn’t dare move from his close proximity to you.

The doctor gestured to you then, “May I?”

Helmut was reluctant, but he obliged, and gave the professional permission to look you over. He gave a warm grin, though it did little to ease your increasing anxiety.

“You’ve suffered a great deal of injuries, which I will go over in a moment, but first I’d like to address another matter.” He stated. A grave look replaced his once solemn demeanor.

You waited then. Helmut just as tuned in for what the doctor would have to say.

“I am truly sorry to inform the both of you, that your baby did not survive with the extent of your injuries.” His eyes moved between you and Zemo then.

His statement seemed to come out as if it were obvious. You turned to Helmut and back to the doctor. Your emotions began to cycle wildly. Should you cry? Should you be relieved? Is that even possible?

“I’m sorry. I think you’re mistaken.” You spoke up then. As Helmut couldn’t find any words.

If matters weren’t already bad enough, your heart sunk and along it went with Helmut as he exited out of the door. Your eyes weld with tears.

“I understand how difficult this must be. I’m truly sorry.” The doctor extended his condolences once more.

“How far?” You asked through tears.

The older gentleman’s brows furrowed with slight confusion. Only then had he realized by your own bewilderment, that you were not aware of the pregnancy.

‘Eight weeks,’ was his next statement. A truth that crushed you entirely. To think it was considered a fetus. Growing in your belly with purpose and you simply hadn’t a clue yet. When you began to cry a second time, the doctor decided to come back later. He did take a few notes before he left, while you remained completely oblivious in your own grief.

Losing a child. It had more weight to it than you ever anticipated. It would explain your mood the last several weeks. Your odd cravings when Helmut had been out of the house. In the midst of all the chaos, your trials with your husband, you failed to realize the significance of your changes. That wasn’t important. Surviving was crucial.

Helmut didn’t stay gone long. The door softly clicking shut and your head shot up, with horrible consequences of pain. He looked to have been crying himself, but you truly couldn’t tell in the blur of your tears. He approached the bed then.

So this is what it took.

Helmut sat at the edge of the bed and drew you in. You had no reason to be angry. Any and all quarrels you had with him vanished. Your priorities changing, as you wept into his chest. He cradled your head, engulfing you in strong arms. If it hadn’t been for his presence, you would’ve surely come undone.

You had been brought to the realization of how drastic things had become. How it all slipped so easily from your grasp. You didn’t recognize each other. Helmut guilty of his own neglect to his wife and you failing to express concern. To express yourself at all, until it had been too late.

Needless to say, you forgave each other without words. You pulled back, to find your husband’s eyes. The same brown eyes that brought you solace in the darkest of times.

“meine Geliebte, Forgive me…” He whispered.

His hands held your cheeks, thumbs stroking the damp skin beneath your eyes. He was wiping your tears.

Gently and with ease, he kissed you.

His forehead came to press against your own. Your hands held his forearms, eyes closed. One thing you were certain… you could never be without him.

Despite all your worries and fears, Helmut and you would always fall back together again. Only this time, Zemo had his own awakening. The possibility to share a different kind of life with you.

“Please…” The words struggled on your tongue, but it was enough for Helmut to understand.

You shifted. Your body close to one edge of the bed, as he turned and laid back himself. His arm draped around you and you effortlessly leaned against his chest, while he crossed his ankles at the end of the bed.

“I’m sorry, Helmut.” His name leaving your lips made his heart swell.

“I know, Y/N. I’m sorry too.”

You were silent then. Not uncomfortably though. You pondered over the last few years, weeks, days, and minutes. There was a sudden perception. The warmth in his arms. A secure safeness in how he embraced you.

All those houses, empty and bare, you filled your memories in what was nothing but walls and rooms. They would’ve meant nothing without him. Your Helmut.

No matter where you went, what life had thrown at you, you would always be home. So long as you had him.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His request often, helpless to worry in your deep silence.

“That I wish the world could see you for how I do.” You answered honestly.

Your arm laid over his abdomen. His chest rising and falling with each subtle inhale and exhale of air.

Another moment of pause.

“A pretentious asshole? Or a handsome Baron?”

There it was again. You could never escape that witty banter of his.

“Maybe both. You’re quite the charming asshole.” You teased him then, a genuine smile spreading across your face, which was still flush against him.

Another wave of silence passed. So much to say and so little time. Something more important needed to be brought forward.

“Helmut, I didn’t know about the baby. I hope you don’t think I was keeping that from you.” You pointed out the elephant in the room.

He seemed to have gone stiff then but did not dare move away. He only seemed pained by it. The loss hurting him as much as it did you.

“I wouldn’t blamed you if you had.”

His confession surprised you. As you would have assumed Helmut to be upset over such matters. You sat up then. Situated to look up at him. By the look in his eyes, he was absolutely sincere.

You looked at each other for a long while. “Helmut…” You grabbed his face then.

He didn’t answer, merely gave you his attention. Eyes forward and looking into your own. So easily he seemed to reach inside and see every part of you. Even now you were in amazement by him.

“Where you go. I go.” You began. “This hasn’t been easy, for either of us, but I still would never keep anything from you.”

He listened still and even in the fluorescent glow above his head, he was damningly beautiful. Exhausted, dark circles rimming his eyes. Salt and pepper stubble covering his face.

“Do you remember the hotel in Berlin?” He asked softly.

You nodded, “Of course I remember the hotel in Berlin.” You gave a small smile. Cherishing those moments, you could recall so dearly.

“What did I tell you?” He tilted his head then, examining you with adornment, his eyes still troubling.

Your eyes flickered and you shook your head, at a loss for answers. Many things had been said, many things had been done.

“You asked me what was to happen next. ‘What now?’ more specifically.” He spoke clearly, each word with calculated reason. “I told you that we would live the life we wanted.” He finished, this time taking your hand.

His thumb turned the silver band around your finger. Helmut concentrated for a moment, before he lifted his eyes to yours again.

“Well, today, I’m making that my mission.” He nodded; lips pressed together.

You hugged him then. His arms carefully enveloping you, as he was sure not to hurt you. You buried your face into the crook of his neck.

“We can’t stay here long.” You reminded him.

“I know, Schatz, just let me hold you a while longer…”

[januaryembrs]

CLIPPED WINGS MASTERLIST

LASZLO KREIZLER X READER SERIES

Laszlo needs to walk the dark path of the sick person murdering all the young boys. In order to catch their killer he must enlist the help of one.

Please be sure to read the trigger warning at the beginning of each chapter. This is 'The Alienist' so there will be dark, mature themes throughout!

STARS' MAIN MASTERLIST

CHPT 1 | CAGED BIRD

CHPT 2 | WOLF IN DOVE'S CLOTHING

CHPT 3 | FLEE THE NEST

CHPT 4 | TAKE FLIGHT

CHPT 5 | DANCE OF THE SWANS

CHPT 6 |

CHPT 7 |

CHPT 8 |

more to be added...

NOTE: IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST, PLEASE SEND ME AN ASK, MESSAGE OR DROP A COMMENT AND I’LL ADD YOU 💜

[cazimagines]

Two Birds on a wire

Synopsis: You had a longing for freedom, feeling trapped and caught within the city of New York, desperate to be free, but does your love Laszlo feel the same way?

Word Count: 1.1k

Pairing: Laszlo x f!reader

A/N: Does this make a lot of sense? Not really! But after hearing this song all over tiktok I needed to write a little angst piece to it and why not will our lovely Alienist Laszlo, because he definitely hasn't been through enough yet? Right?

Warnings: Angst

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Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

You and Laszlo were relaxing on your sofa as the evening ticked on. His right arm rested on your leg, the pads of his fingertips gently tapping on your skin as you draped your head on his shoulder, your palm rested on his chest as you felt it slowly rise and fall as he breathed. You could feel the hair of his beard graze your forehead as he glanced down at you and placed a gentle, warm kiss on it. You let out a slight sigh and snuggle in further to Laszlo, wanting to be surrounded by his scent and warmth. It enveloped you like the warmth of a fireplace on a winter night and made you incredibly comfortable being wrapped in his presence. You don’t know what you would do without this comforting presence, and yet there was an aching longing for more lodged within your chest like a swallowed pip.

Slowly, you moved your hand from his chest and down to where his deformed hand hung by the side of his body, forgotten about till now. He flinched at the icy touch of your hand but then relaxed as you entwined your hand in his and squeezed it in reassurance.

The thought stuck in your throat was plaguing you, though, and you knew that the only way you might resolve it was by asking Laszlo, though you didn’t want to disrupt this silence. Unprompted, you raised your head to glance at the man, and his gentle eyes looked down at yours and with a soft voice asked you,

“Is something wrong, my dear?”

As you looked into his welcoming eyes, you felt your chest tighten and a pain in the back of your throat as you tried to speak. To ease the pain, you turn your head to the side, not looking him in the eyes as you talk.

“Laszlo… have you- have you ever thought about leaving New York?”

His calming smile slowly cast down into a frown as his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes glanced around your face, trying to read your facial expressions, to no avail.

“I see no need to,”

“It’s just, well, I want to explore the world, Laszlo. I want to travel, explore, be free. I feel stuck here, like I am trapped with no escape. Don’t you feel the same way?”

There was a pause before Laszlo spoke again. He licked his lips and straightened his back, tensing as he tried to gain his composure. He moved his hand that was entwined with yours to grasp your chin with delicacies instead, cradling it and slowly moving it to so you look at him again.

“... Yes, but it’s not - it’s not the time, love,”

You nod your head and place it down on his chest, snuggling closer to him as your eyes slowly fall shut. Laszlo watches you, swallowing as he feels his body grow colder and his chest tighten.

It was three months later when you brought up the question again, this time over dinner. You had been waiting for Laszlo to approach the subject again, but he never did. As if you two had never discussed it in the first place, though you were still feeling suffocated in this city. You two sat next to each other, holding your forks as your other hands were entwined together. Not speaking, just enjoying each other's company in silence.

“Laszlo love,” you start, watching how he perks up at your address, placing his fork down and politely dapping his napkin over his lips.

“Have… you thought about my question?”

His eyebrows flicker as he looks at you questioningly.

“Your question?”

"About leaving New York,"

"Ah… yes, that. Well, you know y/n-"

"I feel so constricted here like I need to leave. This place, Laszlo, it’s so dangerous; with everything you do, I worry about you. I worry for us. We still have so much of our lives left. Why not explore,"

Laszlo lamented, placing his other hand on yours, squeezing it tightly.

"I'm tired love, let's discuss this another time,"

You sighed dejectedly but left the subject alone as Laszlo picked up his fork again to continue eating while you looked down at your plate, not feeling as hungry.

It was another few months before you got the gall to approach the subject again, this time as you laid in bed next to Laszlo, both on your respected sides looking up at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep.

"Are you scared of leaving?" You mutter, so quiet it was likely he didn't hear you. But he did.

He barely let out a sigh as his eyes focused on a point on the ceiling, intensely glaring at it as he sorted through his words, trying to figure out what he should say.

"Don’t you feel a sense of comfort here, love? There is so much unknown out there, so much uncertainty. Here I have my job, our friends, our life,"

"So you are,"

"I never said that,"

"But that's what you are implying,"

"If you want to leave, then we will… just not now,"

Yet still, the day never came, your lives continued on at the same boring pace, day after day, night after night, slowly suffocating you from the inside out till one fateful day when Laszlo came home after a challenging day at work, to find the house vacant and cold with one singular letter addressed to him lying on the table.

Dear love,

I'm sorry to do things this way, but I find it easier for me to leave a letter instead of telling you in person. I'm aware this makes me cowardly, but I am beyond the point of caring. I'm leaving New York Laszlo, and subsequently you. I wish things weren't so, but it has become evident to me you will never leave New York, while I cannot stand to stay confined here another moment. I hope that maybe one day you will find the courage to leave the place you grew up, but I believe it will not be for some while and for me, I must move on.

I wish you nothing but the best,

Yours truly,

y/l

The link on the paper ran as a teardrop landed on it, ruining the carefully written words. Laszlo crumpled the letter within his hand, and with little else of thought, threw it away. Without much will, Laszlo’s legs buckled out from within him, and he collapsed on the floor, letting out a puff of shock from the pain in his knees. What was worse were the tears that were still falling. With shaking hands, he brought them up to his face and wept freely, mourning your loss and his insecurities.

-

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[rumblelibrary]

OMG.

Just the way you use the words, describing his little gestures and quivers. I am sold. The way it is just so easy to imagine him move around that desk.

Now that I got my sight on Padre Domingo, bless his heart, all those years spent as an altar girl will come to hunt me in my sleep.

temptation incarnate ch.1: temptation

summary ↠ (part 1 of a multi-part series) for the longest time, you could only imagine what it was like to make love with the young priest at your parents' church. thankgully, he's been thinking the same, and his curiosity gets the better of him. pairing ↠ father daniel gonzález-domingo (priest!daniel/padre domingo) x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 5.4k warnings ↠ explicit language, semi-public heavy petting, discussions of virginity and loss thereof, religious themes, slight degradation/mocking, implied slutshaming slight misogyny a/n ↠ i know yall horny mf have been waiting on this, so, enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio!

You had admired him ever since he started preaching at your church. And that was saying a lot; you didn’t quite care for the church or for anybody who worked for it. Something about Father González-Domingo was different, though, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. Maybe it was the way that he was so much younger than your previous priest. Maybe it was the way his face was always darkened by facial hair, almost like he didn’t care enough to look truly presentable for Sunday morning mass. Maybe it was the way that, whenever he greeted you as you walked in and shook your hand, he smelled like cigarettes. He was just different, and you liked that.

You liked a lot about the priest. You liked his dark brown eyes, his tan skin, and his dark hair. You liked his voice, smooth and comforting as he preached about whatever it was that Sunday. You liked the way that he always talked about his childhood growing up in Europe, dividing time between Spain and Germany. You could just imagine Father González-Domingo in his hometown of Barcelona; he seemed the type to say hello to everybody and greet everyone with kisses on the cheek. You liked the little freckles and moles on his face; especially the one that peeked out from under his white collar. It was unfair how handsome Father González-Domingo was, but at least it spurred you to go to church with your parents. Before him, there was no reason, but now…

You watched Father González-Domingo as he spoke. That Sunday, he wore his black robes, a red stole around his shoulders, the white collar gleaming. The sun was shining through the stained-glass windows, throwing blues and greens onto him. He looked like a painting, so beautiful and graceful. He spoke with his hands, as Spaniards were oft to do, but you hardly paid attention to his words. At the moment, he was just reciting passages, and you didn’t care too much for that. It was when he actually started his lecture that you tuned in (or, rather, tuned in as much as you cared to). However, he spoke a certain word that made you snap back into your body and focus entirely on him. He had said whore; as childish as it was, it made you pay attention.

“... ‘That sitteth upon many waters’,” Father González-Domingo said. “‘With her, the kings of the earth committed adultery, and the inhabitants of the earth were intoxicated with the wine of her adulteries’.” His dark gaze swept the room, almost like he was studying everybody before him. It was intimidating. You could hardly sit still with the fire that had bloomed in your stomach, but your mother’s presence next to you kept you stationary. If your mother knew that the only reason you came to mass with her was to ogle the young, hot priest, you would be damned straight to hell by her. The man paused for a moment and bit his bottom lip as he looked down at the lectern to his notes, and he looked back up with seemingly renewed energy. “‘Then the angel carried me away in the Spirit into a wilderness. There I saw a woman sitting on a scarlet beast that was covered in blasphemous names and had seven heads and ten horns. The woman was dressed in purple and scarlet, and was glittering with gold, precious stones and pearls. She held a golden cup in her hand, filled with abominable things and the filth of her adulteries. The name written on her forehead was a mystery: babylon the great, the mother of prostitutes and of the abominations of the earth.’”

Your rosary sat tucked in your fist, and you chanced a glance downwards at it. White and gold, each bead crafted of pearls; your grandmother had gotten it for you as a birthday present. You couldn’t remember which birthday— perhaps thirteen, when you became a “woman”— but it hardly mattered. But the pearls. The image that came to your mind was of the woman, the Whore of Babylon, holding aloft a golden cup with your rosary submerged in blood-red wine. Then, the image of Father González-Domingo came to you, wrapped around your body and kissing your neck as his fingers played with the rosary and the golden cross that nestled perfectly between your breasts. From there, your mind had his hand, warm and rough and larger than yours, cup your breast and capture your nipple between his thumb and index finger. You imagined that it would hurt; he would make sure it did. Then, his breath was on your ear, his voice deep and rich with his half-Spanish, half-German accent. “It has to hurt, my child,” he whispered to you, and his lips pressed to your shoulder. “Pain purifies you. The more pain you feel, the more your sin is forgiven.”

You swallowed thickly and looked back up to find those dark brown eyes fixed on you. He was speaking, never having skipped a beat, but he was looking at you. Watching you, almost. You couldn’t have possibly done anything wrong. The burn of shame, ravaging you for reasons unknown, came to you, and you lowered your head again. You quickly gathered up your Bible and tried to act like you were following along in the text, but your brain was moving far too quickly to even see the words on the thin page before you. There was no possible way that he knew what you were thinking, but you couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. Would you want Father González-Domingo to know you thought that about him? Surely, no, because it would be too embarrassing on your part. It’s not like he could ever indulge you in that anyway, even if he wanted to, and you doubted that he did. Perhaps you were overthinking it. You were the youngest there, barring the young children that were dragged along by their mothers, and probably the closest in age to him (you actually didn’t know how old Father González-Domingo was, but you imagined that he couldn’t be much older than you, maybe ten years your senior at the most); it wasn’t absurd to think that he was looking at you because of that. Indeed, it was absurd at all to even think that the glance that you had shared was anything but a chance moment.

Your heart and stomach seized inside you, and your fist closed tighter around your rosary. You knew that, when you released it, you would have an imprint of the cross and Jesus on your palm, but you didn’t quite mind it. Of course, by now, Father González-Domingo had moved on and his gaze was off of you, and a quick glance at your watch told you that there wasn’t that much time left in the service. He would finish his sermon, the congregation would sing one last time, there would be a prayer, and then you were free to go home and hate yourself for your insecurity. You felt that awful pinprick in your eyes, the tell-tale sign of impending tears, and you pressed your hand to your eyes to alleviate it. No crying, not in church. You just had to wait until mass was over, and then you could at least go cry in the bathroom. But absolutely not in the sanctuary. You might as well never come back. And what if Father González-Domingo caught you crying? The thought of that shame nearly made your tears come full force, but you bit the inside of your cheek to stop it.

The hymn came quickly, and you struggled to even remember the words. You were too overwhelmed with the thought of him. You imagined a hole in the earth opening up beneath you and swallowing you in one piece; at least, that fate would be less embarrassing than Father Gonzalez-Domingo catching you having impure thoughts about him— during mass, no less. Then, the closing prayer, and you squeezed your eyes shut as Father González-Domingo blessed everybody and bid you farewell. Your legs felt weak as you stood and you started to follow your father out of the pew, but a voice— the voice, his voice— stopped you. “Y/N! May I speak to you?”

You turned to find Father González-Domingo approaching you. His face was a bit darker, holding something there that you were a bit afraid to figure out, but you clasped your hands in front of your body. “I’ll be right out, Papa,” you told your father, and he gave you a quick little smile before patting your back and departing with your grandmother. “Hi, Father. Is something the matter?”

The priest regarded you with a quiet smile, and he placed his hand softly, carefully on your lower back. “Might I speak to you somewhere privately?” Father González-Domingo asked, leaning in just a bit to lower his voice.

You furrowed your eyebrows, but nodded all the same, and you allowed him to lead you out of the sanctuary. “Has school started back yet?” he asked, his eyes looking at you. It felt less like a look, though, and more like an observation. He was watching you, completely.

You shrugged. “Not for me,” you replied. “But I think the high school started back last week or so.”

“Ah, very good,” Father González-Domingo said with a curt nod. “And where do you go to school?”

“Just the state university,” you said. “About an hour out of here.”

“Might I ask what you’re studying?” Father González-Domingo asked.

“Nothing really specialized,” you said. “I haven’t declared my major yet.”

“Just core classes, then?” Father González-Domingo asked, and you nodded. “Very good. Do you live here, with your parents?”

“Usually, I live in student housing,” you told him. “I only live with my parents during breaks and stuff.”

“Do you go to mass when you are there?” Father González-Domingo asked. His accent seemed thicker, somehow, now that he was speaking just to you. You liked it, and you liked the way it warmed your stomach. His voice made your anxiety and fear wash away, as was the job of a priest, you assumed. He could have been talking about anything, though, and you were sure that you would feel at ease in his presence.

“Umm…” You started. “No. I don’t.”

“May I ask why?” Father González-Domingo asked.

“I can’t find a church I like,” you said, and Father González-Domingo gave you a teasing smile. His lips were pink, maybe a little chapped, but still looked soft.

“Lying is a sin, my child,” He said and gently nudged you with his elbow.

You rolled your eyes and leaned into his joking attack. “Alright, fine,” you sighed. “I just don’t believe in this, you know? I never have, and I can’t see myself going to church if I don’t care for it.”

“So why come now then?” Father González-Domingo asked. He stopped just in front of a door, and the small golden plaque on the wall beside it read ‘Father Daniel González-Domingo’. Daniel. It suited him.

“To please my parents,” you said, and you watched Daniel extract a ring of keys from what you assumed was his pants pocket underneath his robe. He quickly slotted a key into the lock and pushed the door open, and he ushered you into his office. The place exuded him entirely, messy but organized. Books were stacked on the corner of his desk, and a crushed package of cigarettes lay haphazardly overtop several sheets of paper with messy cursive scrawled across it. Behind the desk, just under an ajar window, was a small table, with something on it that was covered by what seemed to be a bath towel, grey and pilling at the edges.

You took a seat in the open chair across from Daniel’s desk, and you watched him shrug out of the red stole and black robe and hang them up in a small little closet. Under the robe, he wore black pants and a black buttoned shirt, that white clerical collar still snug in his shirt collar. He ruffled up his dark hair a bit as he sat down heavily in his office chair, and he looked at you expectantly. “That’s it?” he asked. “To please your parents?”

You drummed your fingers along the spine of your Bible, and you amended, “To keep the peace. They’re paying for my tuition, I can’t exactly make them too mad.”

“I see,” Daniel said softly. “Do you believe in God? In any capacity, I mean, not just in the Catholic way of thinking.”

“Why are you asking me this?” you asked. “Why does it matter?”

Daniel pressed his fingertips together, his eyes studying his desk, and he finally looked up at you. “I would just like to know, if that’s alright,” he said. “I am a man of a certain faith, but theology as a whole fascinates me. I just like to know people’s thoughts.”

You pondered it for a moment, trying to put your thoughts into words. You had never been asked anything like that before, and the fact that your hot priest was the one posing the question did not make it easy to succinctly arrange your ideas. “I think that God exists,” you began. “But I’m not sure how or in what capacity. Like, there has to be something bigger than us, you know? I’m not sure I believe in the whole all-knowing man thing, though. I… I’m not sure. I’ve never really thought about it before.”

Daniel pondered that for a moment, his eyes never leaving you. Finally, he clicked his tongue, and he said, “I saw you crying during mass. I assumed you were getting emotional over my sermon, and I only wanted to speak with you to calm your nerves. But, if what you’re telling me is true, that wasn’t it. What is the cause of your distress, my child?”

That terrible and unholy flame in your stomach caught light, and you lowered your gaze from his. You felt like his dark brown gaze would actually set you aflame. “I wasn’t actually crying, Father,” you said. “But… It was the image of her, she just… I can’t explain it. She just affected me.”

“She? The Whore, do you mean?” Daniel repeated, an amused smile hinting at his mouth. Your face must have fallen without you realizing it, because the small smile escaped from Daniel’s face. “I’m not making fun of you, I promise. It’s only that the story and image of The Whore affects me deeply as well. What about her affected you?”

You shrugged and tried to distract yourself by messing with the sleeve of your dress. Even though it was the fall, it was still hot out, and your dress was hardly anything more than a sundress. “The thought that she never really dies,” you said finally. “She just keeps coming back with a new visage. It’s… I just think that’s really cool.”

“She only comes back with a new visage to tempt men away from God,” Daniel told you, but you knew that well enough. “Is that the part you find compelling?”

You swallowed thickly and shook your head. “No, no,” you said quickly. You tried to ignore the way he seemed to be staring holes into you, and your fingers fiddled with your rosary. “No, it’s the-the never really dying part. Reminds me of Hinduism and reincarnation, ya know? It’s just cool. What do you like about her?”

Daniel leaned back in his seat a little, giving it a few tentative half-twirls before standing up. “I was told that I couldn’t get rid of this when I was given this office,” he started, tilting his head as he examined the pilling towel. “But, in all honesty, and if you’ll excuse my language, it creeps me the fuck out. I feel like He’s always watching me, and I don’t care for that too much.”

“What is it?” you asked; you had to remember to bring him back to the Whore after whatever this tangent was was finished.

“It is a rather unnerving painting of Jesus Christ,” Daniel said. “His eyes follow me.” With that, he carefully lifted the towel up to reveal a painting, and you averted your gaze from it. He was right; it was creepy and overbearing, and the eyes did seem to follow you, like the Monet paintings you had seen in New York.

“God,” you huffed. “Big Brother Is Watching.”

“I have to scold you for that,” Daniel said softly, and he lowered the towel back over the painting.

“For what?” you asked.

“For daring to bring up Orwell in my presence,” Daniel said with a crooked smile, and you laughed softly. “No, it’s the ‘taking the Lord’s name in vain’. I have to advise against doing that, especially in a church, of all places.”

“Oh, right,” you said softly. “Sorry about that.”

“All is forgiven,” Daniel said, and he settled himself on the edge of his desk, mere inches from you. Maybe it was because you had never properly seen him without his robes, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of his arms. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and you shivered at the thought of what it would feel like to have his arms around you, and those big tanned hands on your skin. “When it comes to the Whore, though, I find the same thing compelling. She returns with a new face and new temptations to lead men astray, and it’s a reminder of how vigilant one has to be. You can’t just trust any pretty face that smiles at you, because she might be out to corrupt you.”

“That must be an awful way to live,” you said.

“It’s not conducive to much of a life outside the church,” Daniel agreed, and he leaned back on his hands. “But that’s the life I made for myself, and I’ve never wanted much else than that.”

“Much else?” you repeated. “But that means you did want something more, at least at one point.”

“Everybody has doubts,” Daniel shrugged. “I prayed about it for so long. I still do… If this is the life I really want. Maybe it’s what works for me now, but what happens in twenty years? I won’t have a wife, or children to carry my name. If it weren’t for my brother and sister, I would be the end of my family line. And that frightens me.”

“Have you gotten any answer?” you asked. “When you prayed about it, I mean.”

Daniel sighed, and he slapped his hands onto his thighs. “You know,” he started, his dark eyes narrowing. “Not a single one. But I suppose that God works in mysterious ways. He’ll give me His answer when He sees fit.”

“Do you want children?” you asked. You shifted in your chair a bit, and you found that you didn’t entirely hate the warmth growing in your thighs. He couldn’t possibly be telling you any of this in an effort to seduce you. Of course he wasn’t.

“I’ve always liked the idea of it,” he said, absently scratching his chin. “Do you?”

You blinked a few times at his forwardness, and you carefully replied, “I mean… I’m still young. I have time to decide.”

“But if I asked you to decide right now,” Daniel said. “What would be your answer?”

“Yes,” you said instantly, and, for the first time, you dared to look him in the eye. “I would say yes. I do want children.”

“And that’s the difference between you and me, querida,” Daniel replied, tilting his chin down. “You know what you want. Even if you don’t think you do, you do. When push comes to shove, you can make up your mind.”

“What’s stopping you from doing that?” you asked. “From making up your mind, from knowing what you want?”

“I do know what I want,” Daniel said. “But the problem is that it goes against everything that has been put in me. Celibacy and a life devoted to God is not what you need when you want a family, when you want more than going home after mass to an empty parsonage.”

“So you do want a family,” you said carefully.

“Maybe a family is a bit of a stretch,” Daniel said. His mouth screwed up for a moment, then he peered over his shoulder to the covered painting of Jesus, and he sighed. “I just want to fuck a woman. Christ, how long’s it been…? Ten years, at least.”

You wanted to be taken aback by his statement, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be. You had been holding your breath ever since the conversation had softened from priest to patron to what felt like friend to friend, and you carefully set your Bible aside. “Is that really it?” you asked. “Father, that’s…” you paused to gather your thoughts, and Daniel stood up and moved back behind his desk.

“Bad,” he said quickly. “Irresponsible. Blasphemous. You should go.”

“Father,” you began again. “It’s not bad, or irresponsible. Thoughts are one thing, actions are another—”

“Why do you think I brought you here?” Daniel snapped. His soft jaw was set, and he ground his teeth as he retrieved the carton of cigarettes. “God, I tried so hard not to give in to temptation, but you— And that dress— You need to leave before I do something that we’ll both regret.”

You took a deep breath. Your suspicions were confirmed, and you would have been quite pleased with yourself, if it weren’t for his unwillingness to give in. “Alright,” you said softly, carefully settling your rosary around your neck for ease; less things to carry meant a quicker escape.. “I-I’m sorry, Father Daniel, I didn’t mean to tempt you. I… Have a good day, then.”

Then, as you reached for your Bible, he moved back to you. His hand wrapped around your wrist, his grip tight and bruising, and you took a deep breath of him. He smelled of cigarettes, as he always did, but there was something else there. It was sharp and bitter, and you cast your glance down to the white collar that sat against his neck. “Father, have you been drinking?” you whispered.

“Don’t call me that,” Daniel snapped. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

His gaze was sharp, and you felt small. He had been drinking, at the very least, and was now lecturing you about tempting him. “Is this why you preached about the Whore today?” you asked.

“I thought that, by confronting temptation, it would go away,” Daniel said through gritted teeth. “But it only made it worse. You have no idea how much willpower it’s taking not to...”

“Not to what?” you asked. You carefully wet your lips, and you took note of the way that Father Daniel watched your tongue. “Say it, Daniel. Please, I want to hear it.”

Daniel drew in a shuddering breath, and he said, “I’ve dreamt about making love to you. Would you want me to do that?” His hands carefully went to your waist, hesitating for a moment before fully grasping you, digging his fingers into your flesh. “Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

You nodded, and your hand slipped from his face to his chest. “Please?” you asked softly, and you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

He watched your face for a moment, then he looked down at your body and that thin little dress you wore. You could tell that he was fighting something inside himself, and he finally let out a soft groan. With that, Daniel pulled you into him and pressed his mouth to yours. You melted into his body and gave a gentle gasp when he tugged your hips against his, and you laughed despite yourself. You could feel the beginning of his erection through his pants, and the thought that you had done that to this holy man made you moan.

Quickly, Daniel pushed you to the desk, and you settled against it as he wound his arms around your waist. His kiss was heavy and demanding, and your hips bucked up onto his when his kisses moved to your neck. He was breathing heavily, panting almost, and his hands moved from your waist to grab at your breasts. “Mierda, querida,” he whispered, graveled and low, and he went to slip your dress off of your shoulders. His hands were shaking and he seemed frantic in his attempts to undress you, and you took fistfuls of his hair and tugged his face from your neck.

“Stop shaking,” you whispered. “You’re okay, I swear.”

Daniel’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, and his hands fell from your body. He took your wrists in his grasp and brought them to his neck, and he gave a little sigh. “Wanna know a secret?” he asked, and you nodded quickly. “Would you like to guess how many times I have sat right here and thought about you as I touched myself?”

“How many times?” you asked.

Daniel captured your mouth in a kiss, and your fingers deftly tugged the white collar from his shirt. You set it down beside you, then started to unbutton his shirt as he broke the kiss and answered you. “Too many times to count,” he said. “I tried to keep track, but I lost the number once it exceeded the rosary.”

“Really?” you asked with a quiet laugh.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Daniel said. “Especially not about this.”

It only took a few of the topmost buttons on his shirt to come undone in order for you to see his chest. As you had suspected, it was dusted with dark freckles, and you pressed your mouth to his neck, right where that mole that you had coveted for so long was. He titled his head back, giving you ease to reach his throat, and he let out a strangled moan at the feeling. A small part of you pitied the poor man— ten years had to have been a long time to go without sex— but a different part of you was filled with excitement. You were the one to break the streak, the celibacy that was expected of a man of his position. But you had heard the rumors about the Spanish and, even though Father González-Domingo was only half Spanish, that seemed to be the dominating side.

Daniel gave a little gasp when you pulled away from his neck, and his fingers went to the little red mark that you had made. “You goddamn whore,” he chuckled. “You left a mark.”

“Is that a sin?” you asked.

With surprising strength, Daniel captured you by the thighs and threw you onto the edge of the desk, and he slotted himself between your thighs. You could feel his strong hands and bruising fingers kneading your flesh as his kiss found your mouth again, and you moaned when he ground his erection against your core. It didn’t surprise you that he was already stunningly hard, but it made you gasp all the same. “Do you like that?” he whispered, moving his mouth to your ear. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you sighed. Your hands carded up through his dark hair and tugged him back for a kiss, and one of his hands wound your leg around his waist as the other went to your neck. You nearly thought that he would close his fingers and test your will, but his fingers tangled in your pearl rosary instead.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he whispered to you. You nodded quickly, letting out a whimper when he tugged you fully against him by the golden cross at the end of your rosary. “How many times?”

“I-I don’t know,” you told him. Daniel let go of your rosary and instead took your face in his hand, forcing your head up to look at him, and you shivered at the intense dark gaze he had fixed on you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that his eyes were fully black, like that of a demon. But he was no demon, not that you could tell.

“Too many times to count?” he huffed out a laugh. “Exceeding the rosary?”

“Definitely,” you laughed softly.

“Have you ever thought of me as you touched yourself?” Daniel asked.

“N-No,” you stuttered out, and he set a gentle kiss onto the corner of your mouth.

“Oh, no,” he whispered, almost sympathetically. “Lying is a sin, my child. And lying to me, of all people? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Can I repent?” you asked eagerly.

“Perhaps,” Daniel said. He settled a kiss onto your lips, softer and more restrained than before, and your stomach sank when you thought that maybe he was being gentle because he was bringing it to a stop. “Would you sin again if I let you repent?”

“No—”

“Another lie,” Daniel said. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? I should punish you instead of letting you repent.”

“No, please,” you said quickly. “I’ll be good, I’ll do what you ask. Please, Father, I’ll do anything.”

He gave you a smile and kissed you again. This kiss was deeper, his tongue pressing into your mouth and drawing out a moan, and his hands took the edge of your dress and started to tug. He pulled it up past your hips, and he pulled out of the searing kiss in order to remove the dress entirely. Daniel placed his hand flat on your back and kissed you once more, following you as he pushed you to lay flat against his desk. The wood was cold against your back and you shivered, and he laughed gently. “Need me to keep you warm?” he asked.

“Yes, Daniel,” you sighed, running your fingers through his short hair once more. “Please.”

“So much begging, it’s cute,” Daniel said. “A little pathetic, actually. Do you usually beg this much?”

“I’ve never made love,” you laughed lightly. “I wouldn’t really know.”

Daniel froze. You could hear his breath catch in his throat, and he carefully said, “You’re a virgin?”

“I… Yeah,” you said slowly. “I thought you would’ve figured that out... ”

He stepped away from you, giving you his hand and helping you sit up. “I didn’t,” Daniel told you. “I… My morals are loose, but I couldn’t… I can’t be the one to desecrate you.”

You scoffed. “Desecrate?” you repeated. “You say that like I’m anything worth being holy.”

“You are,” Daniel told you, and you believed him. At least, you believed that he thought you were. “I worship you, my dear. But I… I can’t take your virginity. I can’t allow myself to do that. I-I’m sorry—”

You shushed him and pressed a sweet kiss to his mouth, and you said, “It’s okay, I promise. It was wishful thinking that you’d fuck me anyway. It’s honestly better if we don’t.”

Daniel nodded, pursing his lips. “You should go,” he said softly. “Your family is waiting.”

You nodded in agreement, but you couldn’t control the sick feeling that overcame you as Daniel helped you back into your dress. In the moment, the prospect of fucking him had been searing hot, enough to make you burst into flames, but now you were glad that he couldn’t go through with it. You would have regretted it, you were sure of it. You wouldn’t be able to return to the church or even see him again, and you doubted your ability to do any of that even following the intense moments you had already shared. Other than that, he was a fucking priest. It went against his entire job. All signs pointed to no, and you were relieved that Daniel had at least been able to read those signs.

You gathered up your Bible and tugged nervously at your rosary, and you watched Father Daniel redajust his clothes and slip the white collar back into his shirt. His cheeks were a bit red and, when he turned his head to look at you, the mark that you had left peaked out, already turning a bit purple. “Peace be with you, my child,” Daniel told you.

“And also with you, Father” you muttered, and you fought back tears as you escaped.

[bruhlsbees]

broken wing || dr. laszlo kreizler x fem!reader

summary: laszlo catches reader attempting to play the piano

pairing: dr. laszlo kreizler x fem!reader

warnings: this shit just pure angst but at the same time so soft

word count: 2924 (this got a little out of hand LOL)

a/n: based on this set of prompts specifically "stroke - my muse gently runs a hand over your muse's back/arm", takes place before the events of the first season of the alienist

You knew you shouldn’t have been in here. You were supposed to be helping Cyrus in the back with something to do with the chickens...or was in the weeds? To be quite frank, you hadn’t been paying much attention to what the man needed help with, you were fixed on doing one thing and one thing only…

Playing the piano.

The piano that sat in Dr. Kreizler’s study always fascinated you. You didn’t know how to play, but you were always tranced by the music that came from the keys. You had heard someone play once before, in one of the fancy restaurants that Dr. Kreizler often went to. While you hadn’t exactly been inside to see the pianist perform, you were out on the street, dancing under the light post to the adoring classical music of Mozart.

At the time, you had no idea that it was Mozart, but later that week when you were prepping Dr. Kreizler’s dinner, he overheard you humming the tune and questioned your knowledge of it.

“I heard it...on one of my walks. It’s beautiful - although I do not seem to be familiar with the composer.” You explained, looking down at him after setting his plate in front of him.

Looking up with a weak smile, Dr. Kreizler nodded once, picking up his silverware to cut into the chicken, “It’s Mozart. Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor to be more specific,” He put the slice of chicken in his mouth, chewing it in thought before swallowing, “I had no idea you were fond of the piano.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “I enjoy music, Dr. Kreizler...anyone who enjoys music is fond of the piano.”

Nodding his head once, Dr. Kreizler paused, glancing ahead of him at the piano that sat in the corner of his study. The tune was not one he had fond memories of, as they were attached to his childhood. It pained him to know how much she adored it, and how incapable he was of even being able to play it for her.

Pulling back from his thoughts, Dr. Kreizler looked up at you and his expression fell slack, as if something changed in the air that left him sour, “Thank you for bringing me my dinner. I wish you a good night.”

You were taken back slightly by the dismissal, not understanding what you did to upset him. Embarrassed by the situation, you could find yourself only nodding, bowing slightly before turning on your heels and quickly leaving the room.

Ever since that night you hadn’t brought up pianos or Mozart again. You found yourself biting down on your tongue when you were around the doctor to avoid from humming the tune and upsetting him again. But as much as you tried to forget, tried to avoid the subject, your curiosity only grew.

And here you were, in his study sitting at the piano, the keys glossy and free to be touched. You noted how the keys looked as though nobody had played them in so long.

Running your fingers gently along the keys, you smiled as your fingers maneuvered over the black and white keys. You felt like a sneaky child, sitting at the piano, trying to not make a sound and get caught. Your fingers would occasionally slip down too hard and a low note would echo from the instrument, sending chills down your spine. The smile on your face though never went away, no matter how on edge you felt.

You noticed the music book sitting on the stand in front of your eyes and your hands moved from the keys to the book, running your fingers down the cover.

Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor.

A light gasp escaped your mouth and you instantly opened the book to the first page, looking at the notes that were on the pages. Did the doctor know how to play this?

While you read the music, humming in your head what you thought it sounded like, based on what you heard outside the restaurant, you knew that it wasn’t accurate. You had no idea how to read music, nor did you understand what any of this meant. You wished you knew how to play, to be able to recite note for note what you heard.

Sighing, you dropped your head down slightly and closed the book, not bearing to look at the music anymore, only feeling your heart twitch in pain...envy in a way, as to why you couldn’t play, yet so many others could.

Sliding off the bench, you figured it was time to go find Cyrus, before he came looking for you and turning the Institute inside out. As you turned around to leave, taking a step forward, you immediately stopped in your tracks, mouth gaped as you jumped, seeing the doctor in the entryway.

“Dr. Kreizler! I-I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be in here I ju-”

“You’ve been intrigued by one of Mozart’s many fine compositions,” He said, cutting you off. A smile formed on his face as he made his way into the room and towards you, brushing past you to sit at the bench, looking at the music book, “I can’t say I can blame you. I do admire his work.”

While the doctor didn’t seem upset with you in his study, your body still felt tense, as if you were walking on eggshells. Your body stayed in place while your head turned, looking behind you as the doctor lifted his good arm up to the keys, playing a few notes.

The silence that fell over the two of you alerted him of your discomfort. “Please, why don’t you join me? I assure you I am not upset.” He explained, his voice soft as he knew the state of your emotions at the moment.

You were hesitant at first to join, part of you almost telling him that you couldn’t and had to go help Cyrus - but the chance to listen to the doctor play overcame you and you found yourself seated tightly beside him, looking at the keys in awe.

While you didn’t notice, the doctor was looking over at you, smiling in admiration at your newfound love for the instrument. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I believe that everyone should have the chance to learn. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Feeling his eyes on you, you glanced to your left for a moment, cheeks pink as your eyes faltered back to the keys, a small smile on your face as you nodded.

The doctor nodded back, smiling as he reached across with his left hand to open the music book to the beginning of the song, licking his fingers once to unstick the pages. When the book was at the beginning, he smoothed the spine so the book would stay open before leaning back.

“I must admit, I do not believe you’ll be able to play this piece today, but if you continue to practice and stick with it, I have no doubt your capability of performing the piece.” The doctor explained, pulling his weak arm up to the piano.

You noticed that Dr. Kreizler was a bit frustrated with the state of his weaker hand, not being able to properly show you how to play. He let out a faint grunt as he attempted to move his right hand to play the keys, failing miserably.

While learning to play was something you found yourself yearning for, you knew it was wrong, given the state of Dr. Kreizler’s condition and not wanting him to be embarrassed. Seeing him in so much pain broke your heart, as you couldn’t understand how the man who cared so much for the ones he saw didn’t have anyone to do the same to him.

Reaching out, you found your own right hand placed over his, stopping him from attempting to push down on the keys. In surprise, Dr. Kreizler looked over at you, eyebrows furrowed for a moment before the turned into a somber expression.

“I believe I got in over my head,” He admitted sadly, “I used to play, you see, but after my arm, I haven’t been able to play as it requires two hands.”

You didn’t want to press on the manner. You never knew much about his weaker arm, but assumed that it was a sore subject for him. Smiling weakly, you shook your head and took his weaker hand off the keys, placing it in your lap as you squeezed his hand, gently running your other hand up his arm.

The delicate flesh that sat under his shirt was noticeably thinner than his other arm. The bones felt more prominent and his muscles were miniscule, perhaps not even there. You could hear his breath hitch in his throat as you stopped as his bicep, holding his arm close to you, almost in a hug.

“Dr. Kreizler...you do not need to push your own comforts for me and my lust for the piano,” You admitted, turning to look at the man in the eyes. “Perhaps one day I shall be able to play, but right now it is not necessary.”

Dr. Kreizler returned the smile, staring down at you and into your eyes contently, his breathing still hitched from his rising nerves, “Perhaps...but it still doesn’t excuse that I wished to teach you,” He admitted before continuing, “And please, call me Laszlo.

Your hand that was holding his reached to his face, your fingers running down into his beard, “Laszlo…” You whispered, almost as if to test the name as it came from your own mouth. You noticed his smile twitched bigger at the sound of his name coming from you before closing his eyes and pressing his chin down on your head.

The both of you stayed in that embrace for moments, enjoying the sound of one another’s steady breathing and the scent of one another. The moment went on for several more minutes before you finally pulled back, smiling once more at Dr. Kreizle- Laszlo before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Forgive me, Laszlo, I just felt as though it would be nice to kiss you.”

Laszlo could only smile, his cheeks pink before he nodded his head, “There is nothing to forgive...if it wouldn’t be bold of me to ask, perhaps I could return one for you?”

Pausing for a moment, your smile crept into a toothy grin before nodding, watching as he leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss to your cheek, your face twitching slightly at the tickle of his beard.

“If you wish, I would still be willing to teach you,” Laszlo began suddenly, leaning back now and untangling himself from you, looking back at the piano. He looked over his right shoulder and smiled down at you, “We could have dinner together and practice for an hour. As part of our new nightly routine...that is if you are not busy after dinner.”

The offer was more than what you could have asked for. Dinner and time to practice the piano? The doctor was spoiling you, there was no doubt about that. But how could you deny the offer? It was far too good to turn away.

Nodding your head furiously, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh, ecstatic now for what lied ahead of you two, “Yes, yes I would quite enjoy that proposition, Laszlo. Thank you.”

Pleased to hear your agreement, Laszlo nodded and turned to the music book, pointing at the first note before directing you where to put your hands on the piano.

The rest of the afternoon and evening in the Institute was filled with repeating rhythms and phrases as well as the occasional echo of laughter between you and Laszlo. The time you shared that night went on for hours until you found yourself drifting off onto his shoulder as you listened to him explain the next measure that was more complicated than the others.

Laszlo couldn’t be mad at you for falling asleep as he was talking - in fact he was quite pleased to see, and feel, you asleep on his shoulder. Turning his body slightly, he looked over your face before leaning forward to place a gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling away after a moment. He heard light footsteps approaching and turned his attention from you and to the entryway where Cyrus now stood.

“Cyrus, please help me in assisting her off to her room. I don’t believe she will be waking up anytime soon.”

Approaching the two, Cyrus nodded and carefully scooped your sleeping figure into his arms, wishing the doctor a well evening before taking you up to your room, leaving the doctor to his thoughts for the evening.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Laszlo was more than impressed to see you seated at the piano no more than two months later, flawlessly playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor. The two of you had spent every night since the night he found you practicing until you were seated there now, playing for himself and Cyrus.

You worked hard to be able to perform the piece for the two men, working late most evenings and oftentimes on your own once you were able to understand how to play without Laszlo’s assistance. He went above and beyond with you as his pupil, being more than patient and understanding when you couldn’t get the measure right after numerous tries or when you first started and you couldn’t understand the proper wrist form.

But here you were, no more than a couple months later being able to play the piece without any hesitations. You could hear the other accompanies in your head - the strings, woods, and brass - which made your playing more confident as you felt as though you were on a stage, performing for a grand hall.

When the song finally came to and end, however, you lightly moved your hands up, letting the notes finish ringing out before dropping them into your lap, mouth opened in awe at yourself for being able to perform the piece. Turning your head, being brought back to reality and into Laszlo’s study, you stood from the bench and bowed, like you were told by Laszlo that performers do once they are done, before your smile spread wide, seeing them applaud you.

You couldn’t help but blush, especially when both Cyrus and Laszlo presented you with flowers picked from the garden out back.

“That was wonderful. I haven’t heard such a lovely song in how long.” Cyrus praised, his hands back at his side, a proud smile on his face.

You couldn’t help but feel warm, not expecting the praise from Cyrus, “Thank you, Cyrus. Your words are too kind.”

Nodding, Cyrus smiled and gently clasped Laszlo’s back, “As much as I’d love to stay up and chat,” He said after a moment, “I better be off to bed.” He bid you both a good night before going to retire to his room, leaving you both in study to yourselves.

Twirling the two flowers in your fingers, your attention was fixed on the yellow and orange daffodils, doing your best to ignore how obvious it was that Laszlo was staring at you.

Your attention was soon pulled from the yellow and orange to meet the honey brown of his eyes. A smile grew on your face as you laughed lightly, motioning towards the flowers, “I should be giving you one of these, at the very least, after all, you were the one who taught me.”

Plucking the stem of one of the flowers, you gently placed the flower in the front of his coat pocket, taking a step back before letting out a giggle, thinking he looked charming, yet silly. “I don’t know, Laszlo, I don’t know if daffodils are your flower.” You teased.

Before your hand got drop fully back to your side, Laszlo quickly caught your hand with his good one, holding it as he looked down at your. His smile turned weak, shaky almost, as if he was trying to not cry. You frowned, confused by the sudden reaction before he beat you to it.

“I haven’t been able to play in so long, and now hearing you tonight play…” He found himself choking on his words before he swallowed the painful lump in his throat, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss before holding it against his face, “Thank you, for bringing some I love back to life.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his confession, how close you were to him, and how extraordinarily handsome he was this evening. Your mouth fell open, unsure as to what to say next before you found your gaze wandering to his lips.

“Laszlo I-”

But before you could make out your sentence, you felt his soft lips on your, his beard tickling your face as he kissed your sweetly. Instantly closing your eyes, you melted into the kiss and shifted your hold to be around his neck, kissing him back.

You felt his weak arm placed on your waist and didn’t mind the connection, in fact, you adored it. Moving your left arm down, you gently ran your grasp down his weaker arm, squeezing the flesh delicately. As you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes to preserve the moment before hearing him speak again.

“Thank you, for letting my passion fly again.”

[mahbonesmccoy]

The Baron’s Painter

Chapter 3

Series Masterlist

Summary: Upon acknowledging your feelings for The Baron, you are quite prideful and scared at the same time. Maybe someday you might be able to form it in words and confess, but do hurry up… Not all fairy tales end up with a good ending.

Author’s note: Goodness me. I appreciate you all for liking this story and the fact that some of you wanted to help me correct any German translations. 😭😭 THANK YOU!!! Do give yourself a break, drink water and manifest good mental health, Lovies!!

WordCount: 2k+

Tags: @luvmeijii @justfangirlthingies

Warnings: Racism, Sexism, a little bit of romance in the first part if you under the age of 18. And maybe a bit of mistakes like Grammars and Spellings.

You weren't expecting the rain to last this long. You enter the hedge Maze, unsure why you did, but you felt compelled to do so. As you continue to move forward in the maze in search of the exit, you begin to question whether this is a good decision. You're not afraid of the dark, but you're afraid of being ill from being soaked for an extended period of time in the freezing rain. As you continue to move forward, guessing which path should you take, you begin to jitter. As if bad luck follows you at this very moment, the sky have gone much darker than it should be…. Leaving no light for you at all.

Anxiety starts to wash all over your being and started to make random choices. Left, forward, and right. The sudden roar of the thunder gives you light, revealing that you are far too deeper in the hedge maze.

Scheiße

When the second bolt of lightning strikes, you take advantage of the opportunity to take a look about. The drenched figure of the Baron is suddenly right in front of you, making you startle. His probably expensive robes all wet and he looked rather exhausted… He’s been trying to find you all this time.

“Sir?? Why-“

“What are you doing here?? I thought you went back inside. I asked Wanda to check your room, but you weren’t there!”

He yelled to amplify his voice in the stormy rain and the rumbling of the thunder. Now this is rather embarrassing. The Baron found you in your nighties and soaking went under the rain. Everything feels suddenly unreal to you, and you couldn’t explain entirely why. You couldn’t see the Baron, but you knew he moved forward a little and you find it rather embarrassing since you’ve caused him an inconvenience. You are expecting him to take you away now, but it seems he’s just standing there, watching you… His handsome visage then revealed when the lighting appears along with the thunder’s roar. He’s much closer than you thought… The rain slightly slows down, finally giving both of you some mercy. The moon slowly shows up in the sky, giving you a little bit of light enough for you to see your surroundings.

“I know…”

You whip your gaze back to the Baron, noticing how dangerously close he is to you now.

“Pardon?” You stuttered a little.

The baron steps further and closer to your personal space. Zemo lifts his hand and softly lays it on your cold cheeks, grazing his thumb on the bottom of your lip. You couldn’t move, couldn’t move your eyes off his lovely face. He leans in, softly grazing his cheek on yours. Something stirs in you and you are slightly confused… Both his arms slowly snaking around your figure, keeping you close to him.

“I know… You don’t have to hold back.”

He whispered on your ear.

Before his parted lips could touch your cheek, you softly gasp and open your eyes… Everything was just a dream. You remained snuggled in your bed, contemplating what the hell just happened in your head. You just hope that the rain didn’t gave you that… sensual fever dream. You distinctly remember you went back inside in the manor before you could catch yourself a cold. You cannot allow yourself to get sick while you’re working on a painting.

Meanwhile, Zemo was already awake in his bedroom, putting on his tie immaculately… conjuring the image of you in his mind of last night as you danced under the rain. It sounds like a guilty pleasure, but he could not, at all, stop himself from being fascinated by you.

---

You proceeded to work on the Baron's portrait with great care and perseverance. You'd occasionally find yourself staring at the Baron's face on your canvas... recollecting the events of your dream. To you, it felt real and rather dramatic. Under the rain? The roar of the thunder and it’s bright lighting that gives you clear light to see his face? Yes… a fever dream. But it’s a picturesque moment. You might paint it one day when you get back home in Germany...

You shake your thoughts away and return your attention to your work. You've just realized you've gotten somewhat off track right there, slightly distracted by daydreaming.

Why am I so prideful?

You sighed, eventually accepting the fact that you fancy Helmut Zemo. Fortunately, the Baron isn't in the room, so you could enjoy the silence without having to constantly cover your agitated expression whenever your mind wanders back to that passionate dream you had the night before.

“Lady (Y/N)?”

Ah, speak of the devil…

You hurriedly wipe your hands with a cloth you stashed near your art materials before turning around to face the Baron. To your surprise, he brought a tray of tea and carefully placed it on the table near you.

“Oh goodness, you really don’t have to… but thank you.”

“I insists. It’s been 2 hours since you started to paint again and 2 hours left before lunch. Also, I came here because I have something to ask and say to you.”

Oh dear God…

“Oh… I hope I’m not in trouble?”

He chuckles, giving you that pretty smile.

“Unfortunately, I have guests coming here. One I could barely tolerate and the other is much preferable to talk to if you want to be open minded. I know you’re a free-spirited woman, but I hope you keep your fists to yourself as much as you could.”

You’re trying to understand what in god’s name did he just said and you slightly feel offended that he even thought of you as someone who relies on fist fights instead of communicating… But in all honesty, you could really give a punch or two to those who really deserve it. You take your cup of cherry blossom tea on the tray, blowing it softly before drinking it.

“No promises, Baron.”

He nods his head in understanding

“Thank you… And if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do in my office and I will join you as soon as I could.”

Then he went on his way to do something in his office. God, he just hopes John Walker would just zip his sexist mouth and focus on business instead.

You took a break, feeling your hand and arm slightly numb from working too much since you’re not just working in a small canvas but a bigger one. You silently walk to the stables alone, wanting to see the horses. This one Dutch Warmblood caught your attention… The Baron’s favourite horse. It suits him, you think. Its black coat was well taken care of, the hooves are also nicely trimmed… All kudos to Mr. Grey. You stayed there for a moment, softly caressing the forelock. Whilst distracted, you didn’t know that the Baron alongside with the notorious John Walker are heading towards your direction. You turn around when you feel their presence.

“We’re going horseback riding, Baron? You never invited me once…” Then John turns to you, handing you his flask quite dismissively.

Now I know why The Baron asked me to keep my fists to myself.

“John… She is not my servant. She is my painter. And were not here to ride horses but to introduce you to her.”

Women usually smiles when they are being introduced to a man, but you didn’t. This isn’t a man at all nor worthy to be smiled at. You just simply kept your head high up with poise and gave the flask back to him.

“I doubt she could really paint.”

“I doubt you know anything about art… Sir. I’m Lady (Y/N).”

You don't usually utilize your title to demonstrate your dominance, but in this case... You desperately wanted to brag in order to spoil the man's mood. The Baron, on the other hand, thinks it's a terrible idea and a dreadful time to visit. He does, however, have a business to run with this man who is investing his resources. Before John can say anything else, the Baron chooses to bring him back inside as someone else was waiting for them. You silently walk behind the two men, listening to their small conversation related to their main rendezvous.

A black man so elegantly dressed stood in the hallway with his hands on his back. You know the prejudices against the coloured people but it never, ever, crossed your mind that they are less. You give the man a smile when Helmut introduces you to him. He was even brighter when you smiled at him with no judgement or sarcasm.

“Sam Wilson, madame.”

“Please… Just (Y/N).”

The three men then headed their way upstairs to the Baron’s office and you could clearly see how annoyed John Walker is with just the presence of Sam Wilson. You just have to remind yourself not to slap the hell out of that man. Keep your fists to yourself… This is much harder that you have expected.

Unbeknownst to you, the three men had a slight argument in Helmut’s office.

“The Stark industry is doubling their supplies and their genius founder had come up with a new blueprint for new weapons and doubling their ammunition supplies. I heard he kept having nightmares of a global war and this is the result of his paranoia.” Said Sam, respectfully sitting on a chair while John walker paces around the room.

“Then we should do something. Increase, rebuild, make new ideas! We can’t just let Stark took us over.”

“I do not sell my weapons and ammunitions outside Sokovia and there’s a reason why I don’t, and I hope you both respect that.”

Sam Wilson agrees, silently nodding his head in understanding but John is quite disturbed at the fact that Zemo won’t be stepping up to export his goods outside his own country.

“Why do you always settle for less… Baron.” Oh, that struck a chord. Sam Wilson looked at the blonde man, knowing what’s about to happen in this room in about… 20 seconds.

“Firstly, you have a black man here as one of your partner and now you don’t want to up your game against Stark??”

Sam watches the whole scenario unfold in front of him, the Baron lifts himself up from his elegant office chair and walks forward to the fuming white privileged brat.

“Also… That bitch isn’t just a painter, is she?”

He huffs and smiles… a smile that you really don’t want to see on his face. He punches the man right on his jaw, and john falls on the ground with a broken jaw and a broken tooth.

“Sam Wilson is much respectable and worthy than you, white boy… I do not condone racism and sexism here. You’re free to leave but I won’t provide you a carriage. You walk and you better be out of my property before I could even grab that Musket on my wall and shot you in the head.”

---

The servants are, once again, called to eat dinner together with the Baron. Sam Wilson is talker yet a funny one that you constantly have to cover your mouth because all of you are laughing a lot with his stories with Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. You are quite surprised that he knows the two… what a small world indeed. You noticed the bruise on the Baron’s hand as he eloquently slices a piece of his steak.

“What happened to your hand, sir?”

“Ah… I must have accidentally bruised it.”

You smirked upon hearing his excuse. It’s pretty much clear to you since John Walker wasn’t around.

“What happened to keeping your fists to yourself?”

You mumbled, smiling at the thought of him punching that man for good.

“He had it coming, schatzi.”

You slightly paused when you heard him call you that. You didn’t know the man could speak German except Sokovian but that really caught you off guard. And did he just… called you that? Keeping your composure as normal as you could, you silently continue to eat your food while listening to Sam. But your mind drifted back to that dream…

“I know… don’t hold back…”

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 13

WC: 1200

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: angst, anxiety, truth hurts, jealousy, hints at infidelity, mildly suggestive dialogue?, laszlo still doesn’t understand women

🧠

He wasn't sure where to go after he left you in his parlor. Laszlo never had a history of the best coping mechanisms, which is how he found himself meeting Karen, the last person he should've been seeing given the situation, at a bar downtown. But he would admit that he felt much calmer than earlier.

Laszlo was grateful that Karen had agreed to meet him on short notice. Not much was said in the first fifteen minutes or so. Eventually Laszlo broke the silence. “Karen,” his head cocks to the left, “might I ask you a question? Regarding my aide, since you appear to know her well.” He took a sip of the burning whisky.

Karen looks up at him where he sits next to her, “yes.” She hides her displeasure well.

“Recently, she has been acting strange. More melancholic and aggressive than is usual. She-” he searches for a way to mask the truth enough but still convey his question “-mentioned having relationship troubles. She expressed that she believed her significant other to be unfaithful. I was hoping that, as a woman yourself, you might have insight to this that I could offer her.” A beat passes. “To assuage her anxieties and improve her work ethic back to its full potential, of course,” he adds to appear pragmatic. He was hesitant to admit that he was really asking for himself.

“Oh I’m sure she will be fine, Laszlo,” she curls her fingers around his upper arm as a caring gesture. “Young women often deal with these things as they attempt to figure out what they want in life. At her age they are always so emotionally back-and-forth. She is likely trying to make decisions between her love life and her future as a career woman. To really find and establish her identity. In all honesty I have always seen her as too independent to settle down seriously with a partner. I would not find it a shock if she was considering breaking the relationship off. Time will tell.” Her answer is easy, almost practiced.

He gives a small grunt at her advice. He sincerely hoped that you weren’t reconsidering your relationship with him. Laszlo knew that he shouldn’t be asking Karen about you, but who else could he trust? She had always given him sound professional advice in the past. Seeing that Karen was waiting for a response he diplomatically states “I’m not sure that will be sufficient advice to offer her, let alone coming from me. Perhaps you are right in that time will be what is required.” He works to keep his fear from showing in his features.

“Since we are on the topic,” Karen turns to face him. “Laszlo, I must admit I haven’t been entirely truthful with you the last few weeks.”

He looked up to meet her eyes across the bar. “How so?” Had you confided in Karen about something? It wouldn’t make sense, seeing as you held an unfounded grudge currently.

“When you left Munich I had told you that I agreed that a long-distance relationship of that sort wouldn’t be fruitful for either of us. At the time I believed it.”

Laszlo shifted back in his chair. His brow furrowed as his thoughts raced to make sense of what Karen was telling him. Had her beliefs changed? Had she regretted agreeing to end the relationship? At the time it had been a very civil, and frankly easy, conversation. Not wanting to misinterpret his own conclusions, he asks “and now?” He doesn’t notice her fingers still on his bicep.

Her head cocks to the side. “When you first left I had hoped you would ask me to join you. I also understood that it wasn’t of your nature to do so, and I couldn’t hold that against you. So when I was given the chance to bring my research back to the city I realized that it would bring me close to you. I thought that perhaps we could try again; pick up where we left off before you moved. Maybe I even stay.”

His expression remains unchanged as he mulls over her confession. She had regretted the mutual split. Laszlo can feel the annoyance bubble in him instantly. He feels regret at shutting you down earlier when you had been correct all along. He knows his first words should be to defend you, to defend your relationship. What instead leaves him is “why did you not bring this to my attention sooner? Had I known then things might have been different. And yet you waited years to tell me.”

“I wasn’t sure it was a commitment you were prepared for. With time it became harder to admit.”

“Says you, the woman who knows no boundary to what is or is not appropriate to confess. You’ve made your life’s work on asking about and admitting the taboos of our human existence. I hardly think that your desire to remain coupled would be that difficult to explain to me.” His raising voice attracts the attention of some patrons nearby. He pays no mind to their curious glances.

Karen sighs. “Laszlo, please. We both know how fickle you were with these things back then. We only ever saw each other on weekends because of the distance to start with. I once suggested that you come to work at the institute so that we could be closer and you dismissed the idea. I'm sure even you can imagine that in hindsight as enough to deter me.”

His jaw clenches; he knows that she has a valid point. He was not the most pleasant or sociable at times. In truth he isn’t sure what he would have said if she had been honest from the start. “I suppose,” he breathes in deeply to calm himself, “that you had good reason to be cautious regarding this. But it has been years, Karen. You must be made aware that I have met someone; I am engaged in a serious relationship. I am happy.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that new development.” She looks away for a second, a flash of bitter in her eyes before it quickly vanishes. Laszlo is confused as to how she would know, as he had never disclosed having a significant other explicitly in her presence. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it. Her hand moves down to cover his own on the bar’s surface. “But my dear, we have such a history together. Think of how good things were between us. She is too young for you. A student no less! I know you, surely, better than she ever could. I know the things you need. I can give that to you and more.” Her whispered words are impassioned. He jerks back at the feel of her palm meeting his cheek.

Laszlo carefully and quickly retreats his hand from under her grasp. “I can assure you that I only view our relationship now as one between colleagues. Nothing more. I apologize if I gave you the impression otherwise. Have a good evening, Dr. Stratton.” With that he steps out of the bar and into the cold night air. He needed to find you.

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