#modern Laszlo kreizler

[lorna-d-m]

Gingerbread

Word Count: 4,870

Rating: E

Warning: wine drinking, swearing, breast play, some dry humping

Author's Note: happy thanksgiving! Now that it's passed I can officially say: Merry Christmas y'all! Timeline wise, this takes place between chapters six and seven.

Alice missed the days of elementary school when the last day before winter break was reserved for nostalgic movies, hot chocolate, and wearing your pajamas to school. Instead, students completed their end-of-term exams. Instead of relaxing, kicking up her feet and putting on a movie, she graded first periods’ exams during second, and so on and so on. Those who finished before the end of the period could read or study for another exam. 

Stevie approached her desk, and she looked up assuming he had a question about the exam. Instead, he handed her a small envelope and whispered so quietly she could hardly hear him, “Merry Christmas, Ms. Greene”. Stevie turned on his heels and returned to his desk.

Curiosity piqued, Alice examined the envelope. She would recognize Stevie’s handwriting, so she assumed it must be Laszlo who scrawled her name on the front of the envelope. Alice noted the fancy stationery: the thick off-white envelope with a red wax seal. 

It was a simple but elegant Christmas card depicting a winter scene. Before she read it, she looked at the gift card tucked inside. It was for her favorite coffee chain and $15, plenty for two drinks or a drink and a snack. Inside the card, Laszlo wrote a brief thank you, Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays. He signed, as well as Stevie. 

Stevie watched her open the card. Not wanting to distract any students or draw too much attention, Alice mouthed thank you to him. She wondered if any other of Stevie’s teachers received a card. When she checked her phone at lunch, Bits answered her question. 

Nice Christmas gifts from the good doc 🎄🎁 I’m assuming you’ll get more than a card from him? 😏😉

Alice chuckled, knowing all the innuendos Bitsy meant with a simple wink and smirk emoji combination. They made plans for Saturday when Stevie was supposed to be hanging out at a friend’s house.

Oh hush you 🤫A lady doesn’t kiss and tell

She went back to grading, worrying if the gifts she bought him were enough. Saying he was difficult to shop for felt like a lame excuse, but Alice couldn’t think of anything else to get him. Unless… well she supposed it was more of a purchase for her, but he would certainly appreciate it.

Laszlo deliberated for two days about what to cook for dinner. It was not his first time cooking for Alice, but it was his first time in his kitchen amongst all his tools and familiarity. The expectations were higher. He wanted to do something delicious for her, showing her how much he cared for her. Once decided, he went to the markets in the morning. It was his guilty pleasure. Laszlo enjoyed carefully perusing all his options and leisurely strolling around. He could never stick to a list; he always bought things he didn’t need but decided at the moment he wanted. 

He returned, carefully holding a brown paper grocery bag to his chest. Stevie stood over the stove, cooking a late-morning breakfast of eggs and toast. Laszlo had to tease him as he slipped into a winter break sleep schedule. 

“Good morning. Any later and I would tell you good afternoon.” 

“Ha ha,” Stevie laughed dryly. “I’ve never heard that one before.” 

Laszlo unpacked his groceries and handed a party-size bag of chips to Stevie. “For tonight,” Laszlo thought it rude to go to someone’s house emptyhanded. “Do you need a ride or is Jake picking you up?”

“He said he’d pick me up at like four, and then…” Stevie trailed off, but Laszlo waited expectedly. “I was going to ask you how late I could stay.”

Curfew was, Laszlo didn’t like to call it a debate, but a matter of discussion. On school nights Laszlo stuck to 9:30, wanting Stevie home at a reasonable time. On weekends, however, he was more flexible. So long as Stevie was transparent about his plans, telling him where he wanted to go and who he would be with, Laszlo was willing to adjust the time. 

Laszlo trusted Stevie and he had yet to disappoint him, but for emergencies and peace of mind, they had each other’s location shared on their phones. It went both ways, Laszlo could see if Stevie was at school, home, or a friend’s house, and Stevie could see if he was at the university, the Institute, the police station, or the courts. As a show of faith, Laszlo told him he would only check if he had a legitimate concern or cause. He had yet to check, knock on wood. 

And of course, if Laszlo coincidentally had plans with Alice the same night, then perhaps Stevie could stay with his friends a bit longer.

“That depends,” Laszlo huffed a sigh in thought, “Will he be dropping you off, or will I pick you up?” 

Stevie didn’t bother to plate his food or sit at the table. He stood at the counter, scooping the scrambled eggs onto a piece of sourdough toast with his wooden spoon. At least he didn’t create many dishes… Stevie answered with a mouthful, “He can drop me off.” 

Perfect. “How does eleven sound then? Take it as an early Christmas present.” Then Laszlo could enjoy more time with Alice. “And text me when you’re on your way back.” That way they had a reminder when she needed to leave. 

“Thanks!” Stevie was a quick eater, a result of his childhood, and already he finished his breakfast. After cleaning the few dishes he used, he went back to his room.

Alice pressed her lips into a thin line in focus. It was an unconscious habit as she piped details on gingerbread cookies in royal icing: delicate buttons to the little men, twinkling lights on the trees, and fine lines on the snowflakes. Flour and icing smeared her cheek and dusted her clothes, and she was sweating from the residual heat of the oven. 

The timer on her phone startled her, making her smear the line of the snowflake. She cursed and set the cookie aside. Alice didn’t want to give Laszlo an ugly cookie. And, she sighed while brushing away an errant lock of hair, she didn’t want to look like an ugly cookie either. The timer reminded her to step back and start getting ready.

After hearing Laszlo had no Christmas plans, other than little celebrations with Stevie since John and Sara were on a much-needed vacation, Alice wanted to make sure their night was perfect. She debated what to wear, settling on a red low-cut sweater and a tight skirt. Classic, but enticing, and she could show off one of her gifts for Laszlo.

***

Alice parked on the street and waited in her toasty car. It was her first time visiting Laszlo’s house. She pulled out her phone, and rather than text Laszlo that she arrived, she typed a message for Bitsy.

Oh shit. He’s rich rich 💰

Bitsy responded quickly. oh??? 👀👀That’s good because you need to marry rich you’re a teacher

She took a picture of the front of the brownstone house and sent it. That should tell Bitsy all she needed to know. Then, she texted Laszlo that she had arrived. Taking a deep breath in, she left the coziness of her car and braved the cold night air. 

The front door was off street level; it was up a set of stairs. Alice was careful, her hand gliding over the railing as she ascended them. The last thing she wanted was to slip on icy steps: embarrassing herself and ruining her hard work that afternoon or Laszlo’s gifts. Before she could knock on the old brass knocker or ring the decorative doorbell, Laszlo opened the door. 

He radiated warmth, and not just because of the heat escaping the house. Laszlo wore a white apron over his clothes, a lock of hair fell across his forehead, his sleeve was rolled up, and he smelled like the delicious food he cooked. It made Alice’s stomach growl and her heart flutter. 

“Please, come in. You can put your coat there,” he gestured to a coat rack in the corner of the vestibule and took the platter of cookies from her hands, “and I can take these to the kitchen.”

He had a vestibule and a foyer beyond that. Alice knew he had money, but she did not realize how much until she saw his home. She shed her coat, and she caught Laszlo’s eyes appreciating the neckline of her sweater just as she intended. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t quite finished, but please, feel free to wait in the parlor and nibble on the cheese board while I return downstairs.”

“Your kitchen is downstairs?” Alice almost asked “you have a parlor?” but that was a less pressing matter.

Laszlo chuckled. “Yes, it’s an old house, so the garage, kitchen, and ironically Stevie’s room are all street level. I promise I won’t be long.”

“Good,” she pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I’m hungry and I’ll miss you.” 

His cheeks flushed, and he kissed her properly. “Then I won’t keep you waiting.” He disappeared down the stairs, readjusting the apron tied around his waist. Alice admired his ass as he left. 

Alice did as Laszlo suggested and wandered to the parlor. She nibbled on a cracker with brie and thinly sliced apple while she surveyed the room. A heavy, ornate fireplace warmed the room, and she relished its heat. Her sweater and skirt did little to keep her warm. Alice noticed there were no pictures on the mantle, just a television mounted on the wall. It was one of the fancy ones disguised as a landscape painting, complete with a gilded frame. 

Two bookshelves bookended the fireplace, and Alice skimmed through the titles. Some she recognized, like classic novels, whereas the psychological essays and journals were far from her realm of familiarity. Where did he find the time to read, she mused. A record player nestled in the corner, made to look like a vintage gramophone, filled the room with traditional Christmas music. Alice hummed along to the familiar song. Laszlo was a maximalist, filling his home with as much as he could in his eclectic style.

Alice heard footsteps coming up the stairs, so she went to the formal dining room. As she wondered how often Laszlo and Stevie ate there, he answered her silent question.

“We rarely use it, but I wanted tonight to be special.” 

“Please, let me help you,” she offered. Laszlo held a heavy tray laden with plates and bowls with one hand.

“There’s no need,” he insisted, setting it on the table.  “It’s part of why we don’t use the dining room very often.”

“I can imagine, but it looks lovely, Laszlo.” He dressed up the space with formal dinnerware and linens. He lit a candelabra on the table, and pitchers of water and bottles of wine waited to be poured. 

“Thank you.” He blushed again, clearly unused to praise. Alice wanted to make the tinge of pink darker. 

“You’ve put in so much effort, and I appreciate it. You’ve made tonight special and memorable, and we’ve barely begun.” 

Laszlo returned downstairs for the rest of the meal, and Alice stole a glance at what he brought up already. A basket of dinner rolls, small bowls of soup, and salads. This was meant to be the appetizer, and she wondered eagerly what the main course could be. With perfect timing, he brought the entrée: roasted vegetables, seared duck breast with a red wine sauce, and creamy mashed potatoes. 

Once everything was settled on the table, Laszlo could settle himself. He removed his apron revealing a white button-up and a Christmas-themed waistcoat: dark green with white detailing and gold buttons. Laszlo pulled out her seat for her, and then he poured them both a glass of water and a glass of red wine.  

“Please, enjoy. There’s plenty.” He offered her the basket of warm dinner rolls glistening with butter.

Laszlo was an excellent cook, and she was excited to try it. He waited until she tasted it and smiled before he ate anything.  

Over dinner, they reminisced on past Christmases: best presents, worst presents, family drama, vacations. Alice thought long and hard about the best present she ever received and decided it must have been when she got a Barbie dreamhouse. She knew what it was as soon as she saw the gigantic wrapped box by the tree, but her parents made her wait until the end to unwrap it. Laszlo smiled saying he had something similar happen when his parents bought the baby grand piano for the parlor.

“Do you play?” She noticed it, but the keys were covered and the music books were nowhere in sight. If he did, he left no clues. 

“No,” he frowned, “not since I was a young boy.”

Alice didn’t want to upset him, so she did not press it. She found it odd since he was the one who mentioned the piano, to begin with, but this was a happy night. From then on, Laszlo was more inclined to listen to her than share his memories. 

Alice insisted upon helping him clean up after the meal, and Laszlo found it hard to refuse her. He enjoyed simply being near her, and he admitted it was easier with an extra set of hands. Laszlo rinsed the dishes from dinner while Alice unloaded the dishwasher. 

“I wasn’t sure about making Christmas cookies,” Alice confessed.

Laszlo raised an eyebrow in playful alarm. “Why ever not? Your cookies are delectable.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m a one trick pony. You’ve had my cookies before at open house and the conferences, so I thought I should show you something new.”

“But they’re delicious, and I presume gingerbread to fit the season. I’ve not tasted those.”

“Which is why I went with it. You can really only do gingerbread this time of year. But I think next time, I’ll make something totally different.”

“I look forward to it.” Since his hands were covered with soapy water, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Speaking of dessert, do you want it now or do you want to wait?”

Alice smirked. “Well, if dessert is a real kiss, I want it now.” 

How could he refuse? Laszlo kissed her again, his tongue slipping into her mouth. Alice pinned him against the counter, and since her hands were dry she ran them through his hair and rested them at the back of his neck. Laszlo leaned into her touch.

Abruptly, Alice ended their kiss. She stayed close to him, pressed to him. “But if dessert is the cookies, they can wait until we’re watching a movie on the couch.” Laszlo hardly understood what she said. He was too distracted by the way Alice kissed him. She giggled, clearly amused by his love-drunk expression, and smiled. “Come on,” she teased, “let’s finish this up.” Laszlo did not need any more encouragement. 

***

They set out all their gifts on the coffee table along with the platter of cookies and two mugs of hot chocolate. Laszlo insisted on preparing it for them, his recipe using dark chocolate and rich milk to create the most decadent drink. Stevie preferred the instant Swiss Miss powder, no doubt due to his unrefined palette, and Alice surprised Laszlo by asking for a sprinkle of cinnamon and nutmeg. Curious, he had to try it for himself.

Alice shivered once on the couch, so Laszlo found the red knit blanket he kept in the living room and draped it over her shoulders. She looked comfortable like she belonged there.

“Can I go first?” Alice volunteered, “My gifts for you require a little bit of explanation.”

“Well now you must. You’ve piqued my curiosity.”

She handed him one slim box, one wrapped present that could only be a book by its shape and size, and a flat, rectangular box. All were wrapped in delicate blue and white snowflake wrapping paper and finished with silver bows. Laszlo reached for the smallest box first. He tore the paper at the tape and lifted the lid from the box. It was a black and gold fountain pen, weighted in his hand.

“It’s supposed to be smear proof. All the reviews said it was left hand certified.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” He reached for the book next, sliding his thumb under the edge of the wrapping paper. It was a well-read, well-loved paperback copy of her favorite book. Laszlo glanced at her before skimming through the pages. 

“We talked about books before, and how a person’s favorite book can tell you a lot about them, so I thought I would give you my favorite filled with all my thoughts and annotations.” It was a deeply personable gift. Laszlo was shocked, and he immediately tried to give it back to her. “I already bought myself another copy, please, keep it.”

The final present was a rich golden-colored cable knit sweater. Laszlo held it up, modeling what it would look like, and he saw her eyes light up. He would have to wear more gold…

“I had to guess your size, so I put the receipt in the box in case you need to return it or exchange it. But I thought the gold would suit you, and I see I was right.”

“Thank you, darling.” He kissed her cheek again. Laszlo enjoyed seeing her cheeks flush whenever he did. “It’s all so thoughtful.”

“Technically,” Alice said with a sly grin, “there’s one more gift, but you’ll have to wait to unwrap it.”

“Oh?” Laszlo checked the coffee table wondering how he missed it. Alice nodded, removed the blanket from her shoulders, and sat up straight, pushing her plentiful chest out. “Oh!”

Intentionally, her sweater slipped off her shoulder exposing a touch of lace. His eyes followed the movement. “It’s more of an investment, I think, but mutually beneficial.”

“Certainly,” he agreed, unconsciously licking his lips. 

“But not yet.” Alice fixed her sweater and re-wrapped the blanket. Laszlo blinked twice, refocusing on the moment. She knew how to tease him, draw him in, and turn his head all around. It was maddening and enthralling. He thought carefully about the order in which to give his gifts to her. Start small.

“The poinsettias on the table are yours to keep, so long as you keep them away from Georgie. I read they’re not good for cats, so put them somewhere high and out of reach for him.”

“They’re gorgeous, Laszlo, and I appreciate the research. All the other flowers you’ve given me have been Georgie safe, so I’ll have to find somewhere special for these.”

Next was a little gift bag filled with imported German chocolates, the best in his opinion, and cat treats for Georgie. Treats for both of them, he explained, with a sheepish smile at the pun. These were all small gifts, trivial really, but they all brought a smile to her face. It was time to step it up. He handed her a slim, unmarked envelope with two tickets to the Nutcracker, on Christmas Eve no less. 

Alice’s eyes glittered. “I thought this had been sold out for months! How did you get these?”

“I have a box, so I get the first pick of any tickets…” he trailed off. He always bought at least two tickets. In years past, he would take John, Stevie, or John and Sara and play the third wheel. This year, Laszlo would have a date. 

“Fuck off,” Alice said indelicately, but still alluringly to him. “You have a box?”

“I do,” he snickered, “It was my family’s before it became mine.”

“That’s incredible.” She still held the tickets in her hand, looking them over and over. His eyes met hers, a silent question. What are you thinking? “Honestly, I’m trying to think if I have an outfit worthy of this.”

“Whatever you wear, I’m sure it will be divine, and I hope you pair it with this.” He slid his final present over to her: a small jewelry box. 

Tentatively, she set the tickets down and picked up the box. It wasn’t wrapped; Laszlo thought the black velvet spoke for itself. Now he feared it was too much too soon. Jewelry set certain expectations. It announced intention. 

“Oh, Laszlo.” Her thumb rubbed along the edge of the box, and she tilted the necklace and earrings toward the light. “It’s- I don’t know what to say other than thank you.” Alice’s wide eyes met his, and he thought he saw the shadow of a tear.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” The troublesome tear slipped down her cheek when he asked, and more threatened to follow. Given the nature of his work, Laszlo was accustomed to tears, but he did not know what to do when Alice cried.

“You’ve done so much and given me such wonderful gifts,” she tried to steady her voice but was unsuccessful, “and I’m worried I didn’t do enough.”

“Don’t say that,” he rushed to assure her. In the unspoken silence, Laszlo sensed her true fear was that she wasn’t enough. He struggled for words, so he took her hand in his and squeezed it. “You have given me plenty.”

Alice smiled, tears still in her eyes, and nodded to herself. “Thank you, Laszlo, just-” she paused again, registering her hand in his, “Thank you.”

After Alice dried her tears, embarrassed she cried but comforted by Laszlo’s words, they dimmed the lights and turned on a movie. All playful bickering about what to watch stopped when Alice spotted an old stop-motion classic about the year without Santa Claus. She had not seen it in years, but she vividly remembered the song with heat miser and snow miser. Laszlo chuckled and indulged her, selecting the movie and letting the opening credits play. 

She cuddled up next to Laszlo, his arm across her shoulders, and she shared her blanket with him. Alice leaned her head on his chest, and he rested his chin at the top of her head. She was comforted by his slow and steady breathing. Laszlo was a rock: steady and reliable under her. 

Both their hands wandered, appreciative and lingering touches, until the movie was forgotten and Laszlo encouraged her to sit on his lap. Alice hesitated, biting her tongue at a quip about being more than he could handle, but he was insistent and unflinching. She straddled his lap, her already short skirt rising up even further, teasing him with the tops of her thighs. 

“There you are,” Laszlo crooned. He looked less perfect and more like a person. Toussled hair, pink cheeks, sly smile. Alice adored him like this. His hand circled her waist and pulled her closer, eliminating any space between them. His kiss tasted of their drink, rich chocolate with a touch of spice. Alice melted into his touch. Laszlo panted, whining into her mouth as he felt her chest pressing against him.

His hand slipped under the knit of her red sweater and traced the skin underneath. His fingers danced over the clasp of her new bra, her gift just for him to unwrap, asking her permission before advancing any further. She broke their kiss and nodded, a quiet “I want this” escaping her lips. Laszlo needed no more encouragement, and he deftly undid the clasp. She pulled the sweater over her head and tossed it aside. Her nipples pebbled in the sudden chill, and Laszlo was quick to latch himself to her. 

He took one into his mouth, lavishing it with attention, while he cupped her other breast with his hand. Laszlo did not want it to feel unappreciated as he nipped, licked, and pinched. Alice moaned his name and wriggled her hips against him, craving more in the heady heat of the moment. “I want to see you,” she huffed. 

Laszlo paused and drew back. A trail of saliva connected them, and Alice brushed it away with her thumb. “I’m all yours,” he murmured.

Alice hastily unfastened the buttons on his waistcoat and shirt, cursing him for wearing so many layers, but grateful for them too. Laszlo looked good in his layers, coordinated and well-put-together, but she wanted to see underneath his careful clothing choices.  Alice feasted her eyes on a broad chest, dusted with coarse hair and fine freckles, leading down to his soft stomach. Laszlo tipped his head back and groaned when she trailed her hand down his chest.

“Much better.” Pleased, Alice touched Laszlo’s chin and brought his attention back. His eyes were hazy, as if he’d drunk more than a glass of wine, as he studied her form. Laszlo ran an appreciative hand across her body: cupping her breast, holding her waist, and resting on her ass. He kissed her again, his lips wandering from her lips to her jaw, and her collarbone. 

“Laszlo, I-” His phone, forgotten on the coffee table, rang and interrupted her. She turned, glancing at the caller ID, and handed it to him. “It’s Stevie, he’s probably on his way home.”

Laszlo answered and held the phone to his ear. Alice was somewhat relieved he called. She wasn’t sure how much further they were going to go, and she was nervous to broach the topic. This was a natural end to the evening. When she went to move off his lap, he held her there with his right hand. Not firmly, but the surprising and warm touch was enough to keep her there. She slipped her hand over his.

Alice waited until he hung up to speak. “I think it’s time for me to go, Las.” 

“Please, darling, five more minutes.” His hips ground against hers, and his voice was as enticingly sweet as honey. 

“Five minutes, my final Christmas present for you,” she teased.

His lips reattached to hers, and his hand groped her breast. Her hips continued above him, and Laszlo followed every one of her movements. 

Hindered by Laszlo’s request, but hastened by his assistance to redress, Alice left without issue. She promised to text him when she arrived home safe and sound, and he reminded her what time they would leave for the Nutcracker. Laszlo waited for Stevie to return in the kitchen, hoping to ask about his evening before locking the front door and going to bed. 

“Hey,” Stevie entered through the more hidden ground-level door that connected through the garage. He preferred the direct access rather than messing with the front door. It was part of why he chose to live downstairs.

“How was it?” 

“Good,” he shrugged, “Caleb got a new game for us to play, so it took a while to figure out the rules, but it was fun.”

“Did they enjoy the chips?”

“Yeah, yeah, they did.” Stevie glanced at the sink, empty apart from two mugs of hot chocolate. “How was your evening?” 

One mug was still smeared with lipstick, and panic shot through Laszlo. Did he have any of her lipstick on his face? He wished he checked a mirror instead of presuming he looked okay. Laszlo flustered, thinking on the spot.

“Fine. Some people from the psychology department came over for dinner, part of a new tradition they’re trying to start.”

Stevie poured himself a glass of water and stood in front of the fridge. “That’s cool. Any leftovers? ”

“What? They didn’t feed you over there?” Laszlo chuckled, relieved by the change in subject.

“They did, but I’m still hungry. Growing boy and all.” Stevie ate a dinner roll without bothering to microwave it. 

Laszlo rolled his eyes. Ah, the youth. “Goodnight, and don’t forget to lock up.”

“Already did.”

Laszlo meant it when he said, “Good kid.”

***

Two days later, Laszlo picked Alice up from her apartment with a bouquet of pale pink roses. She wore a simple, elegant black dress and shawl. Underneath her silver shawl, Laszlo spotted the simple necklace he gave her and more than one purple hickey. He felt a sense of satisfaction seeing his work.

They arrived early to the theater and worked slowly through the crowds. People acknowledged him — former clients or students — and he stopped for a moment to chat with some of them. His chest puffed up with pride, talking to them with a woman as wonderful as Alice on his arm. She shimmered under the chandeliers.

Finally, Laszlo brought her to his box on the upper level. Alice whispered in his ear she always wondered what the view from the boxes was like rather than general admission. Laszlo promised to take her to more shows in the coming year. They enjoyed the show, her hand clasped in his, and her shawl slipping off her shoulders.

Laszlo asked if she was hungry, too, when they left the theater. Sheepishly, Alice confessed she was. He swung by a fast-food joint, one of the only things open at the late hour on Christmas Eve, and ordered fries and milkshakes. After their midnight snack, they made out like teenagers in the front seat. It was a complete contrast to the formality of their evening, but it was the perfect way to end the night.

taglist: @scuttle-buttle @fictionlandslanddreams @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @hardlyinteresting @sapphiredreamer26 @aedeluca @alycu1 @linkpk88 @rachreads @fandom-princess-forevermore @groovyponypatrollamp @to-fat-to-give-a-crap @kateris-world @eli-the-thinker

[valquiria3000]

I was reading this in class and to tell you just how much effort I had to put on not laughing while reading this, I LOVED THIS, the modern AU fic I didn’t know I needed ❤️❤️❤️

WC: 1829

Rated: M

Tags: humor, adult and sexual humor, detailed descriptions of male genitalia, fluff, married life

A/N: I saw a commercial for this on Facebook and thought it was a joke but it's not apparently. And then I got to talking with @lorna-d-m …. Anyways :)

🩲

The front door shuts and locks with a soft click. You drop your luggage next to the side table, letting out a sigh as you stretch and crack the joints in your stiff neck. After an almost 6 hour flight, plus a 3 hour delay due to bad weather, you were finally back in New York. The townhouse you share with your husband is quiet, dark. Only the soft sounds of Tchaikovsky can be heard wafting from the upstairs home office, leading you to where your Laszlo must be. Looking at your cell phone's clock you see it's nearly 10pm; you know he's eaten dinner by now and is likely just waiting for your impending arrival.

Climbing the stairs you stop and lean on his door frame. Laszlo is concentrated on a book, his brows scrunched and round glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He gives a tiny grunt before writing something in one of his many notebooks.

"Find anything interesting?"

His face pops up from the tome. "Ah! Bärchen, I didn't hear you come in." He marks his page before standing and walking over to you. Laszlo's kiss is warm and comforting, welcoming you home after nearly a week away. His hands find purchase on your waist. "Your flight was smooth I trust?"

"A little turbulence but otherwise it was fine, yeah."

"And the conference?"

"A lot of fun - I'll have to take you with me next year. I'm sure you'll get a kick out of some of the lecturers and their crazy ideas about collective psyche and social movements." You roll your eyes in good humor.

Laszlo leans in once more, his lips brushing delicately against yours. He quickly deepens the kiss. You can feel the way his body presses closer to you, a subtle firmness along your hip. Before things can get too heated you break away to look into his amber eyes. "As much as I would love to... make up for lost time," you give him a pout, "I'm exhausted and just want to shower and go to bed." You level him with your best puppy dog look as a means to apologize for killing the moment.

Laszlo chuckles. "There is nothing to apologize for, my dear. Having you back in my arms is more than enough for me." He steps back, using his left hand to gently guide you from where you lean and into the hall towards your bedroom. You beeline for the ensuite bathroom, your husband a few steps behind in the bedroom finding you something clean to change into. "Have you had a chance to eat something?" he calls to you.

His question reminds you that in your desperation to return to your loving husband and wash off the day you neglected to actually eat more than the paltry bag of airplane pretzels. As if on cue your stomach growls. You lean your head back towards the bedroom as you pull a fresh towel from the closet. "No, I figure I'll shower and then whip up a little something before bed."

"Allow me."

You turn to look back at him as you continue to set up the shower, removing your traveling clothes in the process. "Oh no Laz it's okay, I can do it-"

He levels you with a look before cutting you off "-and I, your husband, am offering to make dinner for my wife, whom I love."

Clicking your tongue against your cheek you simply nod in acquiescence.

The hot spray loosens your tense muscles. Next time you had to fly out any longer than 2 hours you were definitely going to take up your husband’s suggestion to fly first class. He'd offered you the upgrade when you first planned your trip, but you'd simply shrugged and said it wasn't necessary, that you'd rather him spend the money on treating you to a nice date when you got home instead. Boy how your body hated you for that now...

You wash away the day of traveling and quickly follow with your usual skin care routine after. The steamy room keeps you warm under your fluffy towel, but all you want is to throw on one of his old t-shirts and slide under the silk sheets of your shared bed.

Opening the door you spot a plate of grilled cheese waiting for you on the bed. You waste no time making yourself comfortable on the end of the bed and digging in to the crispy, gooey, buttery sandwich. Moaning around the bite you shovel as much as you can fit into your gullet the second go. Laszlo isn't here as you finish the first sandwich.

Three bites into the second grilled cheese he enters the room. Holding your hand to cover your mouth you mumble out "thank you." His answer is a kiss to your head. You swallow. "You know I'll never figure out how you learned to make the perfect grilled cheese?" You tear off a chunk to pop in his mouth as he stands before you.

"A secret I'll never tell," he winks, leaving you to go change for bed.

You grin around a mouthful. "Well as long as you keep making them for me I'll be perfectly content to never know."

Laszlo exits the closet in his dark robe, the ties undone and the glorious expanse of his chest and abdomen on display for your wandering eyes. Gaze trailing along the line of chest hair from top to bottom you stop in your tracks when you reach his shorts. A pair of obnoxiously plaid boxer briefs hug his hips and thighs. What really gets your attention as he walks past you? What sticks out between his legs.

For fucks sake you had to be imagining things.

You blink quickly. You knew Laszlo was gifted, so to speak. He was the biggest you'd ever been with by far. There were no complaints from you; above average size and he knew how to use it? A+, top of the class. But the absolutely massive bulge that protrudes from his crotch currently?

It's obscene.

There's no way you're seeing clearly! Maybe you just forgot what his dick looks like? How long were you away for? Did he take something? Are you jetlagged? Is it possible to forget the size of your husband’s penis if you go too long without seeing it? Your mind races as it tries to piece together what you think you just saw.

You must be making quite the face, as the next thing you know Laszlo is looking down at you with concern. "- are you alright?" He waves his fingers in front of your slackjawed face.

Starting blankly at him for a second you finally reply with an extremely eloquent "... what?"

"You don't look well, are you alright?"

Oh. Right.

"Uh…." You gather your wits, looking back at his boxers as he stands before you. Not only are they plaid, but right on said crotch is a picture of mistletoe - if you weren't in such a state of confusion you would've found the pun to be funny. "What the fuck are you wearing and why is your dick so big?!" blurts out before you can stop yourself. Your hand claps over your mouth.

You both immediately share a look; eyebrows to your hairline as if to say 'wow I can't believe what you just said'. With a blink he looks down at himself and proceeds to give a soft "oh".

"I'm so sorry I don't... uh…" your voice gives out on its feeble explanation. What a thing to say to your husband, questioning the size of his manhood, you lament at your awkwardness. Then it clicks. You've seen those before, several months ago. "Wait wait wait…. are those the-" your words are cut by a small giggle "- are those the gag gift I got you for Christmas last year with the little-?" you hold your hand up to mimic a cupping motion.

You had seen the underwear on Facebook and thought the whole concept was some sort of joke; boxer briefs with a built in "hammock" that held everything up like a "push-up bra for your jingle balls" the ad proclaimed. The whole thing was too hilarious, so naturally you bought a pair for your husband as a joke knowing he would never wear them. And so to the back of the closet they went, until now that is.

"Ah….well," he clears his throat. His left hand comes to scratch along his bearded jaw. Laszlo meets your eyes finally, his cheeks redder than a tomato; "I fell behind on laundry while you were away."

You bite your lip to stifle the smile threatening to break your face. "So instead of doing laundry you dug those out? Laz oh my god! They have mistletoe right on your-"

"- Yes I know," he finishes for you. "If I recall it was you that bought them to begin with."

"Yeah but I just wanted to see you blush, I didn't think you'd actually wear them ever!" Pulling him closer you stand him between your legs from where you sit. The material is soft. With a finger you push just under the waistband, pulling back and letting it snap against his hip. He gives a soft grunt.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

You raise a single eyebrow at him. "How do they feel? You know," you gesture downward with your chin.

He licks his lips briefly. "To be honest," he pauses, "they are some of the most comfortable bottoms I've ever worn," he finishes quietly, as if reluctant to admit how much he likes them.

Humming in amused satisfaction you add "and you look fantastic in them, it really brings out-" you wave your open palm over the general area between his hips before concluding with "-the color of your eyes." The smirk is full force as you watch him cringe at your tease. "What more could a girl want? But Jesus you're huge."

Laszlo scoffs, his face burning an even darker shade of red. A hint of a smile tugs at his lips, despite him trying to remain stoic at your compliments. "I do believe it's time for bed," he deflects and pulls away from you, effectively ending your ribbing. Shedding the robe he situates himself under the covers and gives you an expectant look.

"All I'm saying is I'm a very lucky woman." You join him in bed.

The two of you lay curled into one another in a peaceful quiet for several minutes. The calm of the dark bedroom and the exhaustion of your week has finally caught up with you. In the first pulls of sleep you whisper out "Hey Laz?"

"Yes my dear?"

Not one to let go of your mischievousness so easily, you say "if you like them so much I can always get you some more." You yawn. "But maybe not ones with mistletoe on the crotch. That's for my eyes only."

Click here to read part 2- Clean Laundry

___

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @that-one-fandom-kid @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @uncomfortablebagel @rachelicouss @wisia02 

Tag list 

[nocapesdahling]

Put that Pen Away

Laszlo Kreizler x GN! Reader

My Masterlist

Summary: You come across a man writing in books in your bookstore and have to put a stop to it. Yet you can’t help but think he looks familiar and for a book vandal, he’s surprisingly charming. 

Warnings/Tags: Fluff; Modern Laszlo Kreizler; Featuring Laszlo’s glasses

Word Count: 667

A/N: This one is a bit short, but I’m very excited to be dipping my toes back into writing and a sweet and silly fic featuring Modern Laszlo seemed like a perfect place to start. Hope you enjoy!

You were walking the aisles of the store to see if anyone needed help and to make sure no books were out of place when you saw him. You first noticed his profile, bearded with a lovely nose, his neck wrapped in a scarf and a pair of clear circular glasses rounding out the look. What really made you stop however was not the fact that it was a handsome profile, but that he seemed familiar somehow.

As you gathered yourself and walked closer, the next thing you noticed was he had one of the books out open on one of the tables as he leaned over it. And he wasn’t reading it. Oh no, he was writing in it. Writing in one of your store’s books. That was unacceptable, it was defacement of the highest order. That poor book. Handsome familiar profile or not, you couldn’t let that stand.

“Excuse me, sir. You can’t write in the books. Please don’t do that.”

He sighed and it sounded world weary, like he’d been caught writing in books before and he was tired of people stopping him. Well good, he should be. He should have learned his lesson the first time.

He had the audacity to finish whatever it was he was writing before gently closing the book and sliding it back onto the shelf. You made a note of where it was for its later removal and held in a shudder at the thought that he might have written in others.

He turned to you and you moved your eyes away from the books to take in his face. The gasp you let out was hopefully inaudible. It was Laszlo Kreizler. The Laszlo Kreizler. The author whose books you’d devoured since he published his first Alienist novel, reading them again and again, and the man you’d had a slight crush on ever since seeing his author photo at the end of book one. Well if you were being honest with yourself, it was a little more than a slight crush. However, it was nice to fantasize about people you’d never meet, and a famous author was a harmless person to have a crush on. It’s not like you ever thought you’d meet him in real life. Your favorite author was here in your store, and even more handsome in person. Somehow. And he was writing in books?!

“Can I do it if I’m signing my own books?”

You then realized what aisle you were in. Mystery and Thriller in the K’s. He’d been signing his own books. He hadn’t been defacing anything after all. You were giddy in your relief and smiled at him without thinking.

He was patiently watching you. His dark brown eyes behind his glasses were piercing and seemed to take in every detail as he analyzed your face and expressions. At your smile, his cheeks reddened slightly and he glanced away.

“Yes, that’s okay Dr. Kreizler. That’s wonderful. It’ll be such a nice surprise for buyers. I may have to ask you to sign mine while you’re at it.”

His blush was impossible to hide now and he cleared his throat, his accented voice hesitant. “You know of me? You’ve read my novels?”

You smiled again and gave him a once over. His author photo really didn’t do him justice. “I’ve read all of them multiple times. They’re some of my favorites.”

“Oh… well, it’s nice to meet a fan.” He looked down for a moment before making eye contact again and smiling back hesitantly.

“It’s even nicer to meet you, Dr. Kreizler. Do you do this sort of thing often? Come to bookstores and sign your books?”

“Yes, I have been doing it for years now though I am not often caught.”

“Really? That’s amazing. I’d love to hear more about it and any of your other signing misadventures over coffee. What do you say, Dr. Kreizler?”

“Coffee sounds lovely. On one condition.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“That you call me Laszlo.”

Reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated. Thanks so much for reading!

A/N: This is the first fic I’ve posted in ages, so I hope you all liked it and please let me know if you did! 

If inspiration strikes, then I might end up writing a sequel to this about their cozy coffee date because I love the idea of drinking a hot beverage and talking about books with Laszlo. 

My Masterlist

[morguevampire]

Daniel Brühl for Festival Lumière 2023 ©️ Olivier Chassignole

[claireandacat]

The Alienist: my new hyper fixation?

Today I want to talk about what is possibly my new hyper fixation, TNT’s The Alienist. A limited series made from 2018-2020. I cannot get enough of it. The plot revolves around an Alienist, basically a mental health professional in the Victorian era. He works with a reporter and police commissioner secretary to solve a complex crime in late victorian New York. If you like crime, mystery and drama you’ll love this.

I have ADHD and often times I need a motivator to watch something such as an actor/actress or director I like or it has to have a really captivating plot. This has both. I was initially interested because it had Daniel Brühl in it, who I think is FINE as hell, we’ll get to that later.

I’m not normally into dark stuff, as a Catholic I believe that the eyes and ears are gateways to the soul and if you’re watching that often, it can really affect you. I used to be able to tolerate a lot as to me it’s fakey fake Hollywood and CGI, since converting to Catholicism there’s only so much horror and darkness I can handle. At most I can do 28 Days Later and Fresh, but I’ll be honest here I only like Fresh because Sebastian Stan is HANDSOME in that movie. 😍

I want to add that watching this made me realize how sad, dark, dirty, and sexist the Victorian period is. Darkness aside, there is some charm to it. I used to watch those Tiktoks or instagram accounts of people dressing like they’re in a certain time period and would always be so confused to why someone would want to dress in the style of a sad and depressing era of people drinking arsenic in hopes of better health. Now I kinda get it and yet it’s not much different than me finding charm in medieval in renaissance history and culture.

On to the part I was looking forward to writing. I mainly gave this show a try because of Daniel Brühl. I watched Rush a few days ago, which is a formula one racing movie with him and Chris Hemsworth. Something about Daniel’s performance in that movie made me want to see what other work he is in. I knew him as Zemo from Captain America Civil War and The Falcon and Winter Soldier where he is a bad guy and as a diehard Bucky stan, I do not approve.

This show currently has me questioning that status as a diehard Bucky Barnes stan

Daniel Brühl is adorable, handsome and fine as hell in this. His character, as mentioned before is basically a mental health professional in a time knowledge about mental health was sparse. Dr. Kreizler has these very positive and non invasive methods working with his patients at his institute. The methods are very much reminiscent of the modern day mental health professionals I’ve seen in the 20 years of being diagnosed with ASD. I can’t really explain but his character and the development of his character within the series just set something off in me and I fell in love with his character. Maybe because he would understand me and my distressed mind? So I guess that makes me a Laszlo/Dr. Kreizler stan? 😂😅😍

Like just look at those eyes 😍

So in conclusion, The Alienist is a good show and Daniel Brühl is a great actor that is fine af.

I don’t fully know how to conclude a blog post

Happy Tuesday!

[violetwanderer]

Omg this is so sexy and so sweet and I love how soft Laszlo is in it 😍

Biology Lessons

Alpha!Modern!Laszlo Kreizler x Omega!Fem!Reader

My Masterlist

A/N: I was curious about the biology of A/B/O and ended up reading a lot of Wikipedia pages, 3000 words and a small Alpha Laszlo obsession later here we are

WARNINGS: 18+ content, unprotected smut, A/B/O dynamics, reader has female anatomy but no gender specific pronouns have been used (if there have been please let me know)

You and Laszlo had been together for two years. During this time you had been intimate on plenty of occasions, however you’d always ignored your secondary sex. When together, you were just two lovers, not an Alpha and Omega. You had limited experience with dealing with your biology and Laszlo had respected your decision to stay on your suppressants. He, in turn, had begun taking some of the weaker forms of suppressants. The kind that reduced his rut to a few days that he spent at John’s house. This situation worked well, until you reached the point where you changed your mind and wanted to come off your suppressants. You trusted Laszlo to help you through it and he was more than eager to take care of you.

“Have you ever had a heat?” Laszlo asks you. The two of you are sitting in his downstairs office at his house. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting a glow over Laszlo’s face as he watches you. Your eyes wander as you think about it.

“Once or twice when I first presented. But I started on suppressants pretty young.” He frowns a little, and you know his medical side disapproves. “We never learnt much about it in school.” You explain, trying to justify your decision. He nods immediately,

“Of course. The education system is curated for the success of Alphas. That, and sex education regarding Omegas is still often considered taboo.” He places a hand on your knee, “That’s not your fault, drágám.” You nod, keeping your focus on the hem of the robe you’re wearing - Laszlo’s bathrobe. “Would you like me to explain it to you?” Your face warms at the thought, and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to.”

“No, but I’d like to. I think you deserve to know about yourself.” You give him a small nod. He smiles kindly at you and beckons you closer. When you approach him, he pulls you into his lap. “What would you like to know?” He asks you. You shrug slightly, fiddling with your fingers.

“I don’t know.” You admit quietly. He hums in thought, before asking you,

“How would you describe my scent?” You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck as you inhale his scent. He smiles softly, his hand resting at the back of your neck, knowing that his scent will take the edge off your nerves. Your eyes flutter open as a small smile tugs at your lips.

“It’s like the citrus soap from my grandmother’s house, and the smell of new books, and your office, and like home.” You tell him and he squeezes the back of your neck affectionately.

“You smell like a field of fresh flowers, clean linen, and warm sugared tea. Soft and sweet, and safe.” He admits. You smile up at him as you lean your temple against his shoulder. He taps your nose gently with the tip of his finger. “The scent receptors in your nose pick up my scent and your body’s response depends on how appealing you find it.”

“Very appealing.” You admit against his neck and he hums affectionately.

“This is what helps you decide on my suitability as a mate. As well as other factors such as aesthetics, personality, and overall attraction.”

“That, and you’re one of the kindest, most loving men I’ve ever met.” He looks down, never used to the praise you always give him. His smile widens as he leans in to kiss your cheek.

“Enough flattery from you. It’s time for our lesson.” He tightens his hold on you as you smile at him, resting his weaker hand on your thigh. “Heat cycles occur once every season, so usually four in a year. The heat itself lasts between five and ten days, but that depends on the person.” His thumb skims across the skin of your bare legs lightly. “While Omegas can be sexually active outside of their heat, it is much more pleasurable during their cycle.” You’ve always loved listening to him talk, but hearing him explain all this to you has your body melting against his as your eyes remain fixed on his lips as he speaks. “Did you know that, as your mate, I may be able to trigger your heat?” You blink at him in surprise. You didn’t know that. “It isn’t always possible, but would you like me to try?” He asks, noticing your interest. You nod cautiously, and he takes your hands as he guides you off his lap, before pulling you towards the centre of his office. He sits you down on his desk with your legs parted, and he stands between them. He places his warm hands on your thighs, and nuzzles his nose against your neck. “You know where your scent glands are, yes?” You nod. You tap your finger against the ones on each side of your throat, then bare your wrists to him to show him the areas. You frown before mentioning,

“There’s another pair, I think, but I don’t know where they are.” He smiles proudly at you,

“Correct. There is one here, and here.” He tells you, trailing his fingers along each of your thighs. “They’re a little different from your other ones, which is why most people forget about them.” He squeezes your thighs tenderly as he continues his explanation. “Their main purpose is so that when you go into heat your slick will smell of your Alpha, and tell everyone that you’re taken.” You swallow the whine in your throat, but he knows the effect he’s having on you already. “How long have you been off your suppressants?” He asks you. He knows the answer of course, but he wants to see if your mind is still functioning.

“Around two weeks.” He nods,

“The perfect time to trigger your heat. That is of course if you want to?” You nod hurriedly,

“Please.” He steps closer,

“All I need to do is apply a little pressure here,” the pads of his fingers press against the glands in your thighs. He smiles at the sight of your head falling back, bearing your neck to him. “A little stimulus here.” His tongue moves across the pulse of your throat, sending a shudder down your spine. “And for you to take a nice deep breath.” You do as he says, your body responding instantly to his pheromones. He smells the change in your scent and smiles. “There you go, good Omega.” He coos. You whine at the warmth spreading slowly through your body as you cling to your Alpha. “You should be feeling rather warm now.” You nod your head a few times in agreement. He hums, “And I can smell your slick already.” He nuzzles his lips against your neck, and you whine for him. “By triggering your heat, we’ve skipped the pre-heat nesting stage. But don’t worry Omega, I’ve prepared the bed for you, and you can fix it up just how you like it tomorrow.” You’re beginning to pant and a shimmer of sweat is coating your skin as your fingers tug at his clothing. His words certainly aren’t helping either. He cups your face. “But right now, I think my Omega needs my knot, yes?” You nod hurriedly,

“Alpha, please.” You loop your arms around his neck, wrapping your legs around his torso, and he hooks his hands underneath your thighs. He lifts you from his desk and takes you up to the bed. When you see the bed set up, a large number of pillows at one end, blankets bunched up the sides, and the whole place smells of Laszlo’s cologne. “Laszlo.” You whisper softly, as the sight pulls on your heartstrings.

“I wanted everything to be perfect.” He admits, leaning in to kiss you.

“You’re here, it couldn’t be more perfect.” You tell him through the kiss. You can feel his grin as his mouth moves against yours, the back of your legs meeting the bed, and he guides you down carefully. He pulls at the belt of the bathrobe, letting it fall open and taking a moment to admire you. He pulls away to remove his clothes, and you whimper at the lack of contact. You take this moment as an opportunity to slip the robe from your body, abandoning it on the floor. You turn onto your stomach, hands smoothing up the bedsheets to rest above your head. Hips shifting needily, you arch your back, your knees digging into the mattress. Once he’s undressed, Laszlo looks back at you and his jaw nearly drops, though he’s quick to recover.

“Such a pretty picture, my beautiful Omega, already presenting for me.” He settles between your open thighs, leaning his body over yours. You rut your hips back against his, desperate for any sort of friction. You feel his smirk as his mouth moves across your shoulder. His hand descends between your thighs, fingers pressing against your warm folds. “And you’re so wet already, drágám.” He slips his finger deep into you, drawing a needy gasp from your lips.

“Laszlo, Alpha, please.”

“More?”

“Yes, yes please.” He removes his finger, leaving you whining, your hips chasing him. His hands curl around your waist, squeezing you gently as he tuts.

“Patience Omega.” But you don’t have to wait long, as he lines himself up to your entrance. In one fluid motion he’s filled you up, your eyes squeezed shut and your back arching against the mattress. “Such a perfect fit.” He moans against your neck, his accent getting thicker as you take in every inch of him. He kisses your shoulder delicately.

“Tell me when I can move, édesem.” You take a few gasping breaths, trying to become accustomed to the haze filling your mind. He notices your struggle. “Relax Omega. Let me take care of you.” A tiny whine catches in your throat, then you’re nodding.

“Please, Alpha.” His forehead presses between your shoulder blades as he moves in and out of you. Every single one of your moans and gasps has him nearing the edge of his restraint. Whilst Laszlo wants to focus on you, his need is slowly growing and he wants to ensure you want this.

“Drágám, darling Omega,” he rasps out. “I don’t think I can hold back for much longer.”

“Don’t, please. Don’t hold back.” That’s all it takes for his pace to increase. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs as he pushes you closer. You press your forehead hard against the plush of the mattress as you feel his knot pushing against your entrance. You whine, desperate for him to fill you completely. Growling against the skin of your back, nails gripping onto your hips, he drives his hips harder against yours. You don’t feel the thin red lines trailing down your thighs as you clench around him. “Are you ready for my knot, Omega? I know you’re close.” You can’t reply. Your mind is completely lost to the feeling of your Alpha taking you to pieces. “I need you to come, so my knot can stuff you full.” As soon as he knows you’re about to come he pushes his knot into you. Your eyes roll back, and you come hard with a broken cry. Only a moment later Laszlo comes as well, his lips grazing down your spine as he does. His knot swells, ensuring none of your slick escapes. Your body goes slack as the two of you attempt to catch your breath. You feel Laszlo’s breathing tickle the skin of your back as it slowly returns to normal. He shifts his weight slightly. “This may feel a little odd.” He warns you. He takes hold of your leg and moves it to the other side of him, effectively spinning you around and lying you down with your back to the mattress. You gasp a little at the change in position, his knot still holding deep inside you. “Now this is better.” He remarks, leaning down to kiss your lips. He takes your hands in his own, letting them run down your spent body. “Can you feel how full you are?” He pushes your hands over your abdomen, your fingers skimming over the bulge caused by his knot. “You did so well Omega, letting me fill you up like this.” He leans forward, nuzzling against your neck. “Such a brave Omega.” He coos. His praises and gentle touches soon have you coming back to your senses. Laszlo notices when the haze has cleared from your eyes, and gives you a soft smile.

“Hi.” You whisper.

“Hello.” The two of you stay in each other’s arms for a while, simply enjoying the close proximity to one another. You rub your fingers over his chest, before reaching up to curl them into the hair at the back of his neck.

“Laszlo,” you say softly, tilting your head back to bear your neck to him. “Can I have your mark?” He seems a little taken aback by your request.

“You- you want…”

“To be yours.” You watch his eyes darken slightly, and he claims your lips again. When he pulls away you’re breathless again.

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You tell him. “That is, of course, if you want me.”

“Édesem, you are my world.” You both share a tender smile. He cradles the side of your face before tilting your head back. He nuzzles his lips gently against your throat. “With your current level of endorphins you shouldn’t feel too much pain…”

“I love you.” You interrupt him, your smile wide.

“I love you too, drágám.” He presses a soft kiss to the mating gland at your throat, before sinking his teeth down. You clench your teeth, nails digging into the sheets at the sharp sting of your skin breaking. Then, a wave of pleasure rolls through you as your bond snaps into place. You feel Laszlo lapping at the small wound. “All good?” He asks you. You nod with a smile.

“Though, if you bring up that saliva is a natural healing agent I will kick you out of bed.” He chuckles.

“Before I get my own mark. How cruel.” You frown at him.

“What?”

“Alphas also have a mating gland.” You nod, your frown still present,

“I didn’t think- I’ve never seen-“

“Very few Alphas feel the need to wear their mate’s mark. However, I want the world to know I’m yours.” He smiles, watching the primal urge shimmer in your eyes, though he senses your lingering hesitance. “It won’t hurt me, drágám.” Your eyes flicker down to his neck, and he leans closer. “Right here.” He guides you to the spot against his throat. You cup his face carefully, taking a moment to nuzzle against his neck, breathing in his scent. “Don’t be scared Omega. Take what’s yours.” You sink your teeth into his throat, sucking gently at the break of his skin. You feel him shudder against you as your bond strengthens. You trace your tongue carefully along the wound. He leans down to kiss you again, your first kiss as a mated couple. You share a few more slow, loving kisses before Laszlo pulls away. He reaches down towards the bottom of the bed, pulling out a towel and lying it beneath your hips. You frown lightly at him. “Can’t have our nest getting dirty, can we?” Your face morphs into an affectionate smile. Your mate really does think of everything. You whimper when he pulls out, but he rubs your thighs reassuringly and presses kisses over your face. You giggle softly and he beams at you. He ensures the majority of the mess is soaked up by the towel before discarding it. He presses a kiss to your temple, “I’ll be right back Omega.” He’s gone for under thirty seconds, but you both feel the pull of your bond. When it’s fresh like this you can’t be parted for long. He returns with some wet wipes, and begins to clean the two of you up. The coolness soothes you, pushing the heat symptoms even further away. You smile softly at Laszlo and he shares your smile as the two of you spend a moment admiring one another. He throws the wipes away and settles down by your side. You nuzzle against him, purring contentedly. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep drágám.”

•*•*•*•

Early the next morning, Laszlo is stirred from his sleep by some sort of movement at his side. The bedroom is still in semi-darkness, the sun hasn’t quite risen into the sky yet, but there’s enough light to see by. The sight before him warms his heart. You’re adjusting a pillow beside you, tucking it under the quilt to secure the wall of your nest. You have one of his shirts tucked under your arm, and nuzzle into one of the pillows.

“What are you doing, Omega?” He asks, his voice still thick with sleep. He can feel your blush as you mumble,

“Just getting comfortable.” He chuckles softly, pulling himself closer to you. You immediately melt into his arms, your body lying flush against his chest. He trails a hand down your spine, and despite your shiver, he can feel your body heat increasing.

“Ready to go again?” He suggests. You pout, the tiredness behind your eyes creeping up on you despite the slick gathering between your thighs.

“M’ tired.” You mumble against his chest.

“I know you are.” He coos, guiding your hips towards his. “But all you need to do is be a good Omega and keep me warm.” You sigh in relief at the feeling of him filling you, eyes fluttering shut as he continues, his accent thickening. “Yes, that’s all your heat-ridden body’s good for, isn’t it?” He feels you tighten at his words and he groans against your neck. “Don’t worry Omega, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

[rumblelibrary]

Okay one last one for now, but I offer a mix of age gap and breeding kink with modern Laszlo 👀

Basic Needs (Modern! Laszlo Kreizler x Fem!Reader)

(You know how to keep me happy and horny, thank you for sending this amazing request <3)

Smutty Smut ahead!

Laszlo looked at you as you talked to him, your hands slightly moving as your eyes were drifting every now and then to remember details.

This was supposed to be serious, you were an active collaborator of the institute. Even worse, a volunteer, somebody there for free just to help with the kids. You were young. Too young, amazingly, intoxicatingly young and even too good with the kids.

You were talking about some boy with an aggressive behaviour toward other kids, you were being serious and passionate, yet he was only thinking about what you mean for him.

“I don’t know how to help about him”

You admitted it a bit defeated as you looked down, you come often to talk, to unleash, sometimes hurting too much of yourself in the process.

“You do love kids don’t you?" He couldn’t help by ask.

You looked up and smiled widely

“Yes, I mean, I am applying to study child welfare, I just love to see them grow and express themselves and their little quirks”

He smiled as his eyes fell on your hips, imagining them shift to welcome a baby bump “And what about your own? Are you afraid? Many women are afraid of pregnancies and delivery”

You were surprised but shrugged “no, I mean, a little but it is supposed to be natural, no?”

He smirked “Completely natural”

You looked down as he saw some bitterness in you, some shadow over you.

“What is on your mind?”

“I don’t have the money to pay your fee doctor” you joked and he smirked 

“I will think of some payment, now tell me”

His answer was so well balanced and you giggled softly leaning your head on side as your toyed with a little hole on your jeans, he couldn’t help but notice you looked ravishing in the white shirt with the logo of the institute on it.

“I broke up with my boyfriend” you said it, it was quite dry the way it came out, but only because you couldn’t help it anymore, you probably cried too much about it already, you rolled over the thought over and over.

“I am sorry” he said even though he wasn’t sorry at all “there’s a reason?”

He looked at you as you frowned visibly and let out a sad chuckle while you tried to hide the pain “He said he is not ready for a serous relationship, that he is not ready and he wants to…to enjoy life and not settle down yet”

“He wasn’t for you then, you deserve somebody that would appreciate your gifts”

His answer was easy, like it was clear as sunlight, but you chuckled as it seemed a bit of a common thing to say “And what are my gifts then?”

Laszlo smiled without wincing at that incredulity from you “You’re what somebody would call a serious girl, a safe one, somebody faithful, family oriented, made for a long term relationship, responsibility, commitment. All qualities that I find remarkable, if not attractive”

You blushed as he said so and smiled a bit

“Am I?”

He nodded “Very remarkable”

He pushed his chair back and waited, he stared at you from behind his desk waiting, a soft smile playing over him.

Was he implying that?

You licked your lips slowly standing up, it wan’t a gesture meant to seduce, only due by tension. You always liked him, you couldn’t speak in front of him before because of the amount of emotion it caused you, how his darling attitude with kids moved something inside you that you couldn’t explain.

Innocent.

He just realised that little adjective escaped him when he enlisted those for you, but that was probably for the better.

He watched you moved around the desk standing in front of him, he left you there for a moment, he knew the effect he had on you, he saw you and he took pleasure from being your little fantasy. He got it form the little side looks and soft smirks, the eyeing up, the way you reacted to the smallest mention of sexual topics.

You stood there as his eyes seemed to scan your soul, he stood slowly up not breaking eye contact and he did what predators do best: he waited.

You didn’t last long, your hands not knowing how to behave slowly rested on his chest as you leaned on your toes for a kiss.

He kissed you and pulled back, you seemed disoriented as he lowered himself again kissing you one more time. His hand moved onto your clothing tugging onto the belt that secured your jeans on your waist, his fingers undoing it one handedly showing a skill he had to learn for himself but that felt incredibly hot for you.

“Look at you, you can’t wait”

He smirked as his lips moved onto your neck “You can touch me” he assured as you begun undoing his shirt.

It wasn’t your first time, you had clear in your mind how it worked, but something in him pulled something different inside you, another level of excitement.

Excitement that he didn’t miss when his hand slipped into your open jeans and panties earning a moan faster than he expected.

“You’re so ready for me”

He smirked as the notion pleased him, his fingers started tracing your little bud nicely and you could barely focus onto his shirt so you moved down to his pants. “You don’t have to”

He murmured it as you stopped not understanding and it was really hard to understand anything with his hand playing tricks on you like that.

“I want to please you, it is not a give and take” he assured as he knows how young boys act, like if they have to put the effort to touch you before fucking you then you should at least do the same in some way.

He kissed onto your lips slowly as you parted them finding his tongue, he was so apparently calm but completely overbearing, he could control you without even attempting for it.

“I-I..”

You couldn’t speak, his fingers massaging you so good until his thumb rested over your clit while his index and middle finger buried themselves in your soaked pussy, the jeans still tangled to your ankles making you hate them as you wiggled your hips , the pleasure frantically running behind you, catching up with you and Doctor Kreizler with no intention to let you go unpleased.

You jerked against his touch, you moaned messily as your legs trembled and you his your face against his shoulder, your backbone resting against the desk.

He gave you few moments, he let you go down your height as it washed over you like that, his lips slowly resting on top of your forehead.

“Help me now darling, you want to get naked for me?”

You nodded immediately as you pulled your clothes off, jeans finally off your figure, that tempting white shirt too.

You were soaked and still a bit dizzy, he waited for you expectedly, he stared with an adoring look.

“You want me, Liebing?”

You nodded at him”I do, I do”

He smirked as he finished your job of undoing his pants and setting free his hard on, you raised onto his desk as you parted your legs feeling his tip brush against your entrance teasingly.

“I don’t know about your ex, but this will hurt a little, I will fill you up so good”

In the mouth of anyone else this phrase would be laughable, but not coming from him. You believed him and you whined in pain as his large cock pushed inside you like that. The wetness of your previous orgasm helping but your sensitiveness making everything even better.

A soft curse left your lips, you shivered as he caressed your cheek kissing you again, he gave you a moment, he waited, never you felt like your pleasure and safeness came first like this.

“Now, le me show you”

You blinked at him as he started to thrust inside you, his left hand around your waist while the right one rested onto you thigh, his hips snapping deliciously inside you while his lips grazed onto your neck.

You grabbed onto his shoulders moaning, you were a proper moaning mess, he was feeling safe but also powerful.

You soon realised, among your pleasure, how you could never deny him anything, ever.

His left hand slowly leaving your waist pressing onto your lower abdomen, you whined as it was almost painful but bringing you a weird kind of pleasure.

“Look at you, so young, so flexible” he smirked as you just realised how your legs tangled around his waist brought by pleasure.

“I am going to fill you up, you’ll be so full of me” He murmured at you as a shiver came over you, the times you argued your boyfriend every time he was careless about cumming inside you or you had to do a night trip to a pharmacy.

“Will you knock me up?”

His smirk grew wider “I will my little liebing, I will make you round with my kids, you’ll a young mommy, so good, do not expect me to stop after one, I will give you many many more”

You couldn’t help it but think how this was such an amazing idea.

“Yes, please Laszlo”

“Call my name, what do you want?” “I want to have your children Laszlo”

He never stopped thrusting inside you, he hovered you, his presence overbearing as your pleasure was around the corner once more, your moans erratic as he begun to trust order in you.

You lost yourself into that orgasm once more, you shivered resting against him as another moan escaped you when he came in your body, he filled you up as he promised.

You looked at him blinking softly as your legs fell off his hips.

“You’re so beautiful”

You blushed as you shifted lightly

“Don’t move” he murmured and you blinked at him surprised “Let’s make sure it will work”

His hand on your clit once more, your hands holding tight the desk.

The night was still young.

[lafemmedezemo]

You know, I was almost over my profesor au obsession but then @scuttle-buttle comes in and starts a new fic about modern professor Laszlo Kreizler that puts me right back where I started. So here’s another moodboard…

(The fic is “The Interpretation of Dreams” and it’s really good, go read it here!)

[lorna-d-m]

Chapter Six: Communication

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x fem!OC (Alice Greene)

Summary: Professor Laszlo Kreizler is a workaholic. Between teaching university courses, running the Kreizler Institute, and minding Stevie -his ward-, he does not have time for relationships. That is until he meets Ms. Greene, Stevie's English teacher, at open house. Can he open his heart to the possibility of love?

Word Count: 4,060

W: mentions of bullying/hazing, sexually suggestive content

A/N: I have been enduring unending struggle after struggle this semester, so I'm sorry this took a while.

previous chapter

Golden light filtered through Laszlo’s office window. One of Rachmaninov’s symphonies played softly over his computer speaker, and he graded student essays with a fine-tipped red pen. A soft knock on the door broke him from his focus which he did not mind given the poor quality of the writing. Alice stood in the doorway, two coffees in hand, and a smile a mile wide. 

“What a surprise.” He pushed the stack of papers away and leaned back in his chair. 

She shut the heavy door. Her hips shimmied in a way Laszlo knew was meant to entice him. It worked. “I thought you could use a little afternoon pick-me-up.” 

“From you? Always.”

Alice handed Laszlo his coffee, no cream or sugar, and sat on his desk. She crossed her legs, her skirt riding up her thighs, and took a sip from her drink. Laszlo looked up at her, admiring everything he saw, and set his coffee to the side. He didn’t need it when he had her. 

His hand ran along her calf prompting her to re-cross her legs. Laszlo’s eyes flicked back and forth, torn between the mischievous glint in her eye and her plush thighs. Alice leaned down, her chest eye level with him, and cupped one of his cheeks with her hand. Her fingers played with his beard, and he nuzzled into her touch. He took a deep breath smelling her floral perfume, his forgotten coffee, and the old books in his office. Divine.  

She kissed his forehead, and then she leaned back on the old oak desk. Entranced, Laszlo stood. He was a sunflower yearning for the sun. She spread her legs, and he stood between her thighs clasping her waist. Standing, he was a touch taller than her, changing the angle between them. He kissed her, tasting the cinnamon sweetness on her tongue, and searching for more. 

“Oh, Laszlo,” she pulled away from his kiss, but her hand laid on his chest over his heart. “Are you sure? Anyone could come into your office, and I would hate for us to be interrupted.” Alice played coy, but Laszlo knew better. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“Darling, you’ll be the only one coming in my office today. I promise.”

Laszlo pushed down the turtleneck of her sweater and kissed her neck. Impulsively, he wanted to leave a mark she would need to hide with another sweater. He cupped her breast, feeling the faint outline of lace under the knit, and he tugged on her sweater. It came loose from being tucked into her skirt, and he moved his hand under it. His thumb grazed the delicate lace, and he let out an appreciative chuckle.

“Please, Laszlo” she whispered in his ear, “more.”  

He clicked his tongue. “Greedy girl, aren’t you? Patience, and I will give you more.” Laszlo sank to his knees, and he guided her glorious thighs over his shoulders. He tugged at her lace underwear, and he wondered if it matched her bra. Alice giggled above him and wove her fingers into his hair, pulling him ever closer, not that he needed any encouragement. He lazily kissed each of her thighs, intent on leaving marks there too—

Laszlo woke with a start. Sweat clung to his flushed skin and shirt despite the late fall chill in his room. He was sticky with precome and tangled in the sheets. Laszlo groaned and ran a hand through his bedraggled hair. He didn’t need a doctorate in psychology to know the meaning of a sex dream. 

A cool breeze blew the long linen curtains, and a pale morning light filled the room. Glancing at his alarm clock, because he preferred the old-fashioned alarm clock to his phone, he knew he had a few minutes. For a moment, he thought about finishing the fantasy. Laszlo could easily imagine the ending, lapping at her until his beard was soaked with her, but he hesitated. 

With a groan that Stevie would certainly tease and call “an old man’s groan”, Laszlo left his comfortable bed. He rummaged through his bedside drawer for the pack of cigarettes he unsuccessfully hid from himself and shrugged on his warm robe. Laszlo didn’t have sex, but he still craved a cigarette. Only one, he promised himself, then he would shower and dress for the day. 

“Cheers!” Bitsy and Alice clinked their glasses together. Adorable, tiny rubber ducks floated in their mimosas, and despite the restaurant’s warning about a dollar charge for taking the ducklings, both women fully intended to slip them into their purses before leaving. 

“It feels like forever since I saw you! How was your trip?” Alice set her phone to the side and clasped her hands in front of her. A few weeks back during one of their planning periods, Bitsy booked the excursion. Alice joked she was planning, just not lessons or teaching. Over the three-day fall break, Bitsy and Lucius went upstate to a bed and breakfast, with the best reviews and amenities. 

“Amazing,” she sighed dramatically. “I’m so glad we did it. You know how everyone talks about going somewhere to see the leaves change colors and go apple picking?”

Alice grinned, imagining the leisurely autumnal weekend. “Yes, of course.”

Bitsy spilled all the details while they waited for their food. They took a gorgeous vintage-styled train upstate much to Lucius’s delight. She showed pictures and videos of the views and laughed recounting their apple-picking and cider-making misadventures. Apparently, both were more difficult than they seemed. Their bed and breakfast was a quaint cottage with a main hall for meals, and a precious elderly couple hosting. She raved about the cider donuts Linda made and passed the recipe along to Alice. 

“And you? How are things with the doctor? Or does he prefer the professor?”

“Please, you know I call him Laszlo.”

“Uh-huh, I just like to tease you, and by default him. So, how are things with you and Laszlo?” The waitress brought over their food, so Alice waited until they were settled to answer. 

“Well, without getting my hopes up,” Bitsy rolled her eyes, “it’s wonderful.” Alice blushed and not because of the mimosa. 

On their first date, he picked her up from her apartment with a bouquet of camellias. As soon as she commented they were cat-safe flowers, meaning she could place them on the coffee table without worrying about Georgie eating them, Laszlo produced a bag of cat treats from his coat pocket. He didn’t want Georgie to feel left out, he explained. Alice noted his thoughtfulness and attention to detail. 

Laszlo took her to dinner, as he promised at the conference, at Delmonico’s. Alice had never been, but Laszlo assured her it was his favorite restaurant. She could tell when the owner and the waitstaff greeted him by name, asking if he wanted his usual table, and bringing a complimentary bottle of wine. Alice was prepared to pay for her meal, but Laszlo insisted saying he should since he invited her.

Alice gently moved her drink from side to side to see the rubber duck move. “It feels silly to say, but I think we’re courting rather than dating.” 

“I guess that’s what happens when you date an older man,” Bitsy giggled, taking another sip of her drink.

“Shut up,” Alice couldn’t hold back a laugh either, “you know I have a type, but I’m serious. He’s been such a gentleman. Like he always brings me flowers or chocolates or coffee or something. And he brings something for Georgie too, I swear he has more toys and treats than I’ve ever bought him.”

“So how has he topped your first date?”

 Alice responded when she finished chewing her latest bite. Her sandwich was almost too good to put down, but she wanted to answer. “We’ve done a few more dinners, some after an event or some just because that’s what we could schedule. You know that cute little art museum a few blocks from here? We did that and had lunch last weekend, and he wants to go to the history museum soon too.”

“Wow, the history museum. Sexy.”

“You’re laughing, but it’s so sexy when he reads the little placards and stands there analyzing it, rubbing his beard in thought. Then he asks me what I think and we talk about it before moving on. And, Bits, museums mean he always dresses nice, too, like suits or sweaters.”

“Listen babe, I tease you, but you seem genuinely so happy. Better than I’ve seen you in months, easily. It sounds like he treats you well, and he should continue to do so if he knows what’s good for him.”

“He does, he really does. Did I tell you what happened when we left the art museum?”

“No, what?”

“Well, I stupidly didn’t check the weather that morning when I got ready, but obviously he did because he brought this giant umbrella. Laszlo left it in the lobby while we walked around, and of course when we went to leave it was an absolute downpour. The restaurant we wanted to try was only two blocks away, so we planned to walk.”

“Of course,” Bitsy commented between bites.

“So he gets out his umbrella, and it’s big enough for the both of us. Laszlo held it, and we walked arm in arm down the street in the rain. I felt like I was in an old Hollywood movie and we should start singing in the rain.”

“Adorable, and you should have.”

“Well,” Alice demurred, “we were so close together, arm in arm so you know we were kinda pressed against each other. I could smell his cologne, and Bits, I swear to God it felt like pheremones to me. We made out under that umbrella until the rain stopped.”

Laszlo knew he sounded like a technology-hating curmudgeon, but he preferred calling to texting. Of course, with their busy and ever-changing schedules, texting was far more convenient. However, Laszlo savored anytime Alice called him and he could hear her voice.

Typically, they talked after he ate dinner with Stevie and while she cooked her meal. Laszlo chided her for eating so late, but the timing was convenient. He could slip into his room or his office when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket without arousing undue suspicion. 

“What are you cooking tonight?” Laszlo heard the steady hum of a stovetop ventilation fan and a beeping timer. 

That was another advantage of the phone, or even better, FaceTime. There was so much more ambiance when he could hear or see. Sometimes he could spot Georgie or hear him meowing in the background. Laszlo felt he was there, despite the distance, and he could get a glimpse of her evening. It was almost domestic. 

“Pasta, hence the fan, and some chicken in the oven. I think it’s almost done, but I want to give it a few more minutes to be sure.”  

“Be careful,” he cautioned, “I know you’re worried about undercooking it, but you don’t want dry chicken either.”

“Yes chef,” she teased. “What about you? When are you going to cook for me instead of giving me advice?”

Laszlo leaned against the balcony railing and hummed in thought. He wondered that himself, but he didn’t have an easy answer. “I’m not sure, with Stevie, I-”

“-It’s okay. I would love to have you cook for me sometime, but I know with Stevie it’s more complicated. We can take our time.” 

“I appreciate it. Maybe I could cook for you in your apartment? We could have a nice night in.”

“I’d like that.” 

By now they had a routine. Laszlo would tell her about his day while she ate, and once she finished she would tell him about hers. They laughed at the similarities between her high school freshman and his college freshman. 

“Do you know what I heard today?” His students always assumed he couldn’t hear them, a fallacy of their youth. 

He could hear her setting her dishes in the sink. “What?”

“One of them said I must have ‘gotten laid recently because there wasn’t as much of a stick up my ass’.” Alice snorted, trying not to laugh. “It’s okay; it’s funny. You can laugh.”

“Mine told me something similar, but not like that. They said I must be in ‘looooove’ because I’m smiling more.” 

Laszlo rocked on his heels. “What do you think?”

“I-” she hesitated, and Laszlo instantly regretted his question. He was known for prying and pushing, and he feared it was too soon. 

“-You don’t have to answer that. I shouldn’t have asked-” Laszlo pinched the bridge of his nose and scrunched his eyebrows. 

“It’s okay, Laszlo. You didn’t push me too much.” He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “I wouldn’t say I’m in love, yet, but I know I’m happier. What about you?”

“I feel the same.” Laszlo was glad she couldn’t see his cheesy smile.

November was chilly, even with a proper jacket. Stevie shivered and waited outside by the car line for Laszlo. Being late was unusual, so after fifteen minutes Stevie texted him. No response. At half an hour, Stevie called him.

On the last ring before going to voicemail, Laszlo picked up the phone. He immediately apologized, saying he didn’t realize what time it was and he was in the middle of an important meeting. 

“Will you be here soon?” Stevie glanced at the already fading sunlight and emptying parking lot. Laszlo paused, and from that alone Stevie knew the truth. “If you can’t, can you send Mr. Moore or Ms. Howard?”

“I need to get back to my meeting. Try Moore first, and again, I’m sorry.” Laszlo hung up quickly, barely giving Stevie time to think. He huffed a sigh and pulled up Moore’s contact information. Stevie decided to text him first: Doc’s in a meeting. Can you pick me up?

As Stevie waited for a response, he rubbed up and down his arm to warm up. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he eagerly checked. I can, but it could be half an hour to forty-five minutes. Is that okay?

Stevie thought it was better than nothing. He texted back that it was alright, and he thanked him. Since there were still cars in the parking lot, Stevie bet there were still teachers or other staff inside the warm building. He wandered down the main hallway, wondering if he should sit right there, in the library, or find an empty classroom. As he debated this, someone called out his name. His head flicked up, trying to find them. 

Ms. Greene stood at the door of the teacher work room with a stack of papers in hand. Stevie relaxed, knowing she wouldn’t get onto him about loitering around the school like some of his other teachers would. 

“What are you still doing here?” She gestured to him with her pack of copy paper. 

“Waiting to be picked up. Doc’s in a meeting so…” Stevie trailed off, not wanting to admit he had been forgotten.

She nodded once, understanding what he said between the lines. “Why don’t you hang out in my room?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you if you were about to head out or anything.”

“Please,” she scoffed, “there’s always something I can be working on. Don’t worry about it.”

Ms. Greene set her stack of papers on her desk and sat at her desk. Stevie slung his backpack off and put it by his desk. He looked around thinking how rarely he saw the room empty. It was normally packed with people, every desk was taken, and Ms. Greene would have to dodge backpacks and lunchboxes to walk around the room. By the end of the day, the desks were crooked and out of place, so Stevie started straightening them up.

“When you finish, do you want to clean them?” Stevie froze, not realizing she was paying attention to him. “There’s Clorox wipes in that cabinet.” 

“Sure, yeah.” Stevie was used to tidying up at the Institue when he was bored or restless, so he continued in her classroom. They talked while he worked making the time pass quicker. She asked about school and what other assignments he was working on in the week. He had a history paper coming up, and they were supposed to do another lab soon in biology. Stevie wasn’t worried about the paper, Laszlo taught him how to write an essay over the summer, but he was nervous about the lab. Biology wasn’t his strongest subject, but he liked Ms. Sussman’s class. 

Stevie crouched to pick up an errant highlighter, and when he heard Coach Connor’s voice cut the momentary silence he stayed where he was. In the corner, behind a group of desks, he wasn’t immediately spotted. He moved so he could see between a crack in the desks and watched.

Ms. Green recoiled, almost retreating into her desk corner. Stevie recognized her discomfort as she crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. Her eyes flicked to where he hid and back to Coach Connor. “What are you doing here?” she questioned.

“I saw your car was still in the parking lot.” What is he stalking her? She stayed quiet prompting him to keep speaking. “I wanted to see if you’d changed your mind since the conferences.”

She sighed, clearly at her wit’s end with him, “Patrick, I said no, and I meant it.”

“Are you sure-”

“-I’m sure. I have a boyfriend now, and I don’t appreciate your insistence. It is not professional or appropriate, especially while at the school.” 

Boyfriend? Stevie wondered if it was Doc. They certainly seemed to hit it off at the open house, and it would explain his weird behavior and change in mood. He would keep observing.

Coach Connor’s face flushed red, he grumbled an apology under his breath, and he turned on his heels. Once assured he was gone, Stevie sheepishly stood up from behind the desks. 

Ms. Greene’s face was in her hands. “I am so sorry about that. I don’t even know what to say…” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Stevie shrugged. “Clearly, you didn’t want him here either.

“I noticed you stayed hidden there. Has he been bothering you, too?”

Stevie sat on the desk, fiddling with the highlighter in his hand. “Yeah, kind of. He’s harder on me in P.E., that kind of thing.” He was quick to reassure her. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Are you sure? He shouldn’t be treating you like that, and I know you don’t want to be a snitch or anything, but it’s important to speak up.”

Stevie knew he should, but he didn’t want to create any problems. Doc was happier, possibly because of Ms. Greene, but this afternoon was a reminder of how much he juggled. Stevie would feel guilty adding anything else. 

In the meantime, he could deal with Coach Connor yelling at him or making him run more laps. He could stomach the football players' stupid jokes and isolation, done on Coach Connor’s orders, no doubt. 

“I’m sure,” he answered.

While Alice tweaked her slides for the week, Stevie worked on his homework. He sat at his desk for class which she chuckled at. A classroom of empty desks and students will naturally pick their own desks. Alice enjoyed having Stevie there and providing a safe space for him to wait for his ride, but she also wanted to go home. She was tired and slightly cold, and she wanted to change into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. 

“Hello hello.” Alice looked up from her laptop. A tall, well-dressed man with dark hair paused in the doorway. “John Schuyler Moore, and you must be Ms. Greene if the sign outside your door is correct.” He extended his hand for her to shake, and she took it. 

“Yes, I am. You must be here for Stevie.”

“I am, and hopefully he hasn’t given you too much trouble,” John winked. 

“No, he’s been wonderful-”

“-Oh, you thought I meant Stevie, no, no, I meant Laszlo.” He laughed, and she bit her tongue to keep from doing the same. “You’re the one who has to deal with him as a concerned parent.”

Alice smiled. “He’s been wonderful, too. Very communicative.” 

Stevie packed up his bag slowly, keeping an eye and an ear on their conversation. Alice was conscientious that everything she said was being analyzed. 

“It was so polite of you to let him sit in your classroom. You could’ve gone home an hour ago, enjoyed your evening, and yet here you are.”

Alice didn’t miss the way he said enjoy your evening. It was a clear innuendo that she glossed over. “It was no trouble at all. Stevie’s a good kid, and you’re a good friend to come pick Stevie up.”

“I would do anything for a friend like Laszlo. I’ve known him for almost twenty years, and I know he would do anything for me in return. He’s like that, you know,” John shrugged, “he seems tough, but he would give someone the shirt off his back if they needed it.”

“I’m sure he would.” Heat rushed to her cheeks, briefly imagining Laszlo without a shirt and the dark chest hair she would find there, and she cleared her throat. “Stevie, please, don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything. And Mr. Moore, have a good afternoon.”

***

At around nine, Alice got a text from Laszlo. She had just laid down in bed, ready to get warm and comfy for the evening, with a book and a mug of tea. She set her book aside on her nightstand and checked her phone. 

Darling, I am sorry for being so inattentive today, and I want to thank you for letting Stevie stay in your room. I appreciate it. 

Alice’s thumb hesitated over the Facetime button. She hoped Laszlo would pick up and that he didn’t text her and immediately set his phone aside. She didn’t look her best, her hair was pulled back in a messy bun and her face was still red from washing it, but she wanted to see him. 

“Hey Laz,” she smiled at him, but she was concerned. He sat at his desk, dark circles under his eyes, and creases deep in his forehead. She could see a stack of papers spread out in front of him, and he held a fountain pen in his hand. 

Laszlo smiled back at her, and it made her heart skip a beat. “I missed you today,” he drawled. “An emergency case came up, and they needed me at the courthouse and at the juvenile facility, and I have to read all this paperwork for tomorrow morning… But I needed to hear your voice and see your face.”

“Aww,” she blushed, but she knew her face was already red and he probably couldn’t tell. “Thank you, baby. It’s okay to be busy and do what you need to do.” He took a sip of what she assumed was coffee. “I just appreciate a heads up or something if you’re going to be unavailable. I could even plan to keep Stevie for a while or something if you let me know.” 

“That’s very generous of you.”

“But I must say, it was nice to finally meet one of your friends.” Laszlo groaned in embarrassment, and Alice giggled. “He was very complimentary of you.”

Laszlo set down his pen and ran his fingers through his hair. It was nice to see him relax and not think about work for a moment. “What did he say? You know he’s never going to tell me.”

Alice mocked offense. “What makes you think I’m going to tell you either?” He huffed a sigh and chuckled. “It’s admirable, really, the way he spoke about you. He would make a good wingman if you weren’t already taken.”

“John means well, obviously, he just doesn’t know everything yet.” Yet. She wondered when she would meet his friends officially, and he would meet hers. They were still in the beginning of their relationship, but she assumed since she told Bitsy, Laszlo must have told his friends something. Soon, she thought, but hopefully not too soon. Alice liked existing in their secret little bubble.

taglist: @scuttle-buttle @fictionlandslanddreams @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @hardlyinteresting @sapphiredreamer26 @aedeluca @alycu1 @linkpk88 @rachreads @fandom-princess-forevermore @groovyponypatrollamp @to-fat-to-give-a-crap @kateris-world @eli-the-thinker

[scuttle-buttle]

I loved your modern Laszlo Kreizler, I just want to yank him out of the fic and into real life and marry him, but since I can’t (haven’t found the right witchcraft for that) I’ll settle for an ai bot for now, I would love to make one based on your take of your modern Laszlo, if you are alright with that

Thank you dear 🩷

Go for it, I'm curious with how it turns out so I'd love to see it 😊

[marvelmusing]

Playing Chess

Laszlo Kreizler x Reader

The Alienist Mafia AU

My Masterlist

A/N: this could be considered a kind of dark!fic because there is violence towards the reader and suggested manipulation (but it might not be?). Like there’s genuine feelings underneath for both Laszlo and the reader, and they’re both manipulating each other for the sake of their work in the long run.

Laszlo Kreizler is New York’s most ruthless mafia boss. He’s viciously smart, he knows what you’re thinking before you’ve even thought it. He doesn’t need to threaten someone, he’s brought some of the toughest criminals to tears with his psychoanalysis of them. He’s the kind of man who will sit at his desk as he takes apart your psyche as casually as discussing the weather. There’s lots of rumours concerning his arm, but no one dares to mention it in his presence. John Moore is his consigliere, and he has proven his loyalty to Kreizler countless times over the years. Sara Howard is the family’s underboss. She had worked in law enforcement for years, before Laszlo recruited her. He saw her as a brilliant mind, being underpaid and overlooked by her colleagues. It took very little persuasion to convince her to join the family. The reader works for the secret service, they’ve been given the impossible task to get close to the infamous Laszlo Kreizler.

Dealing with Laszlo Kreizler is a lot like playing chess.

“You know, I get it now.” His head tilts ever so slightly aside, as you continue. “Why the majority of your employees are from the Institute. It must make it easier for them to do their jobs. They can’t tell the difference between the traumas of their past, and the trauma you’ve given them.” The blow has you falling to your knees, the muscles in your neck straining as your face is thrown to the side. You lick your lips, trying to ignore the taste of blood slowly filling your mouth. So that’s clearly a sore spot for him. He shrugs off his blazer, his eyes fixed on yours, and the dangerous spark in them has a shudder running down your spine. He very rarely loses his temper enough to resort to violence at his own hands. Because of this, you often forget how strong he is. You watch him as he hangs his blazer over the back of his chair, circling around his desk before leaning against the front of it, his eyes still on you.

“Leave us.” He demands, and his men comply immediately. He unbuttons his right sleeve, rolling it up to his elbow. Your eyes follow his actions as he reveals his forearm, his leather gloves still clad around his fingers. He extends his left wrist towards you, nodding at the button at the base of his sleeve. You move forward, still on your knees, and begin to undo the cuff and roll up his sleeve. He watches you intently, and you know he notices how your fingers are shaking.

“I’m sorry sir.” You say quietly, your words small in the near silent room.

“Not yet. But you will be.” He reaches down to take your chin between his fingers. His face softens somewhat when he sees you flinch slightly, and he sighs gently, “I apologise for reacting so harshly towards you. I can assure you that I will control my temper, in return you will never speak to me so unkindly again. Am I understood?”

“You’re not going to hurt me?” You ask in an almost whisper. His fingers caress your jaw absentmindedly, and you begin to lean into his touch.

“No drágám, I’m not.” He assures you, in such a tender voice that you feel the ache of what you’ve done in your chest. You swallow hard, as shameful tears burn behind your eyes. Your gaze falls from his face as you try and stop the tears from falling. He tilts your face back up to meet his eyes. “Although I would like to know the reason why you said such a thing about my family.”

“I don’t know.” You breathe out shakily, as the tears begin to stream down your cheeks.

“You hurt my feelings drágám, you’re going to have to do a little better than ‘I don’t know’.” You flounder for an answer, all this back and forth, and the crying, is making your head ache. You continue to sniffle for a moment, avoiding his gaze, before he steps in. “I think I know what this is.” Panic races through you, he’s figured it out. “I’ve been spending too much time at the Institute, and you’ve felt neglected.” You look up at him, trying to look a mixture of guilty, surprised, and embarrassed. You open your mouth slightly, letting your chin wobble for a moment before closing it again, and nodding.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t even know-“ you break off as a sob shakes your shoulders. He shushes you softly.

“While it is sweet of you, to need my attention, acting out like this is not an effective means. Understood?” Sometimes you honestly can’t tell if he’s establishing healthy boundaries or just fully manipulating you. You nod, shaking a few more tears down your cheeks.

“Yes sir. I’m sorry.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. When he leans back he tilts your head aside, studying the mark he’s left on the side of your face. You can’t see his face at this angle, but his voice is a sorrowful half-murmur,

“Drágám, I’m so sorry.” You swallow hard, he does sound genuinely sorry, but you know you can’t trust anything he says. You tilt your head back to face him, and the two of you look at each other for a quiet moment. He trails his fingers against your uninjured cheek, and you do your best to look content with his gentle touch. “Why don’t you go upstairs and draw yourself a bath, hm? I’ll be with you in under ten minutes.” You let your smile widen and nod. He gives you a nod of permission to stand, and you go to retrieve his blazer before helping to slide it back over his shoulders. He smiles kindly at you as you do up his button, leaning down to press a kiss against the tip of your nose. “So good for me.” You try to ignore how genuine your reaction is to his praise. “Now drágám,” he says, a mischievous spark dancing in his eyes. “Remember to look extra sad for my men. I can’t have you ruining my reputation.” Your smile widens.

“Yes sir.” Once you’ve shut the door to his office, you ensure to hunch your shoulders slightly, hugging your arms close to your body. You don’t hold eye contact with any of the men for long, keeping your eyes wide and fearful, and the tear stains on your face certainly help. For good measure, you limp ever so slightly as you make your way down the corridor, feeling their eyes on you as you head towards your room. You know they were all exchanging smug looks at the sight of you. You know those looks will drop when the office door swings open, and he orders them to make use of themselves instead of lounging around his house.

°•. ✿ .•°

Your fingers shake a little, from the leftover adrenaline, as you mix the bath oil into the water. You’ve undressed, and sit perched on the edge of the tub while you trail your fingers through the warm soapy water. You don’t move when you hear Laszlo make his way up the stairs, or when he enters the bedroom, or when he leans against the door frame of the bathroom. Your eyes flicker to the mirror, which allows you to see nearly all of him as he watches you. Your eyes meet and you look down quickly, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m not mad at you, drágám.” You nod weakly,

“I’m still sorry, I shouldn’t have said something so-“ He steps forward, wrapping his arms around you.

“You’re forgiven. It’s alright now, I promise.” You look up at him with wide eyes.

“Really?”

“Yes.” He says tenderly. “Now, we’ve both had a long day.” He kisses you on the forehead before gesturing to the tub. “Get in.” He nudges you gently and you climb into the water as he removes his clothes. He retrieves a small container from his pocket and soon joins you in the bath. You look at what he has in his hand curiously. “Will you sit on my lap drágám?” You nod and move over to balance yourself on his thigh. He scoops up some water in his hand before carefully cleaning your face, ensuring he is particularly delicate over the skin of your injured cheek. You wince slightly at the contact and he shushes you soothingly and encourages you with small praises. He opens the container from his pocket to reveal some sort of cream, which he begins to apply to your cheek. You hum quietly at the coolness of the cream, and you finally relax in his arms. Once he’s done you rest your head against his shoulder and let him smooth his hands over your body.

Dealing with Laszlo Kreizler is a lot like playing chess. You have to overthink constantly, question his, and your own, intentions, and be wary of everyone. Although, when your opponent is tender and charming like this, you almost forget what it is that you’re playing.

[twwcs]

via chefharoldquitiann | instagram

[scuttle-buttle]

Strange Case of Dr. Kreizler and Mr. Brühl - Ch. 12: The End...?

A "Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde" AU Modern!Laszlo/Daniel x Fem!Reader Series

Series Master List

Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, hint of medical kink, reader stress & anxiety, mild body horror

Chapter Word Count: 4.2k

Quick A/N: Y'all have been amazing with this fic - thank you so much for reading!! Happy Halloween! 🎃

Chapter 12 -

“Laszlo, old man.” Dr. Markoe’s distinguished voice carried over the din of the annual New Year's Eve charity ball and low music. He flashed his tight smile between Laszlo and you. “Always a pleasure, and high time that you let your pretty, young lady out into the world."

"Yes, well," Laszlo bit off the sharp words, "she is very much her own person with a busy life, and I'm honored that she chose to spend part of it with me this evening. After all, one never can be sure about the quality of the crowd at this event."

If Laszlo hadn't warned you about the rivalry and history with Dr. Markoe in advance, the arrogant acidity of the conversation would have alarmed you. But instead you smiled warmly at the obviously older doctor with a receding hairline as you spoke. "A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Markoe. Laszlo's told me so much about you."

Markoe chuckled snidely. "And I'm sure none of it's true."

"Well, that's the fun thing about reputations," you said, holding your smile in place, "the element of mystery - after all, everyone is always more than just what others say."

"Delightful." He sounded bored as his gaze flickered to Laszlo before returning to you with a teasing grin. "Now, I do hope that you'll make an honest man of Laszlo tonight and spare him from yet another embarrassing year as a wallflower."

Of course, it made sense why Laszlo wouldn't be comfortable on a dance floor, and there was no need to press the issue. You continued to hold your head high and keep your smile personable, well practiced from years of working with difficult clients. "Regrettably, I'm quite possibly the clumsiest dancer, and no one here needs to see that." You said, turning to Laszlo, letting your smile warm with a flirty, nervous edge. “I did warn you in advance that I wanted to stay off the dance floor tonight.”

Adoration shone in Laszlo's gaze, gratitude crinkling the corners of his eyes and disappearing just as quick before he turned back to Markoe. “And I have no desire to disrespect her wishes, Dr. Markoe.”

“A pity.” Nothing in the older man’s dismissive tone supported it. “If I may offer my professional advice, my dear,” he stepped closer, bringing a surprisingly pleasant waft of cologne with him. “It’s unwise to find a partner who doesn’t challenge you to grow out of your comfort zones. Should you find yourself in a mood to venture out, consider the next dance yours.”

Your fingers tightened on Laszlo’s arm, both to keep your smile in place and reassure him. “Your concern is touching, but I promise you that Laszlo challenges me in all the best ways and to my satisfaction every time. And I know I’ll embarrass him here, but honestly - I don’t know how any other man could ever measure up, even one so distinguished as yourself.”

Markoe’s face fell with an equal mix of disgust and dismissal. “Then, my heartiest congratulations to you both.” He fixed his pointed expression on Laszlo. “To be honest in return, I never thought I’d see the day.”

Laszlo, of course, remained the consummate professional, ever aware of the crowd around him and those who might be in earshot or laying in wait for an ambush to besmirch his name or the institute. He tipped his head in polite acknowledgement. “Thank you. We are, at present, very happy together.”

You couldn’t stop genuine affection for the man you loved from shining through your smile.

“Yes, obviously,” Markoe intoned with no lack of innuendo, “if the bruising scar on her neck is any indication.”

You had to catch your gut reaction to his comment, forcing your smile not to falter despite the embarrassed heat crawling along your skin. The mark from Daniel's teeth had almost fully healed, but the crescent-moon scar would linger. When you discovered the bruising and broken skin the next morning, neither you or Laszlo were too surprised. In fact, despite how flustered and ashamed Laszlo had been to see it with his own eyes as h, a hint of pride and satisfaction had lurked in his gaze - and you caught his eyes straying to the mark with a fond edge more often than not whenever the mark was visible.

You'd honestly thought it would bother you more after that night in front of the fireplace - but even now you couldn't summon any complaints. Well, maybe you could have chosen a gown with a different neckline or you could have done a better good job with the concealer. At least no one else had commented on the mark or even strayed their gaze.

“Excuse me, sirs? Ma’am?” A pleasant-faced man distracted your thoughts as he waved a large camera for emphasis. "May I get a photo, please?" His press badge read 'Vogue' and you nearly did a double take.

Markoe sighed as if it was some great inconvenience but one that was willing to indulge anyway. “Of course.” He instantly straightened his tuxedo jacket and checked his crisp bow tie.

Laszlo looked at you with kind consideration. “Are you alright with the request? I’m sure the photographer would understand if you cared to step aside.”

You knew what he was asking, and you knew what the photograph would mean. But your relationship with Laszlo was no secret and everyone important in your life already knew. Potentially having your photograph in Vogue magazine made your head spin, but you had no reservations about being so public in your relationship with the director of the Kreizler Institute.

You smiled back at him, holding his gaze with warm reassurance. “Thanks for asking, but I don’t mind at all.”

For the briefest moment, Laszlo looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real, unmistakable pride and love suffusing his gaze. But then he turned back towards the waiting cameraman, schooling his expression, and you adjusted your posture, your right arm still interlaced through Laszlo’s left. Your doctor cut a dashingly handsome, old-world figure in his tailored tuxedo with a cream brocade waistcoat and matching bow tie. His gleaming silver pocket watch completed the look, and you couldn’t be more proud of the man on your arm. Of course, despite your objections, he saw to it that your gown for the annual New Year’s NYC Charity Ball was the perfect shade for your skin and the perfect cut for your figure.

With both men equally aware of their professional reputations, Markoe stood respectfully at your side as Laszlo kept your arm in his. The photographer snapped several shots in quick succession and your heart fluttered. Would the world wake tomorrow to photos of you and Laszlo on vogue.com? God, you’d never thought to troll Laszlo’s name on celebrity sites. Somehow, it seemed equal parts possible and impossible to think that he had been listed on some eligible bachelors list - but, then again, you could just picture the horrified look on his face at such a publication.

“Thank you, all.” The photographer said, lowering the camera, smiling pleasantly and stepping forward. “Though, ma’am, may I please get your name?”

Your breath caught in surprise. Unable to hold back a growing smile, you gave your name still holding onto Laszlo’s arm in the surreal moment. The photographer again offered his thanks before melting back into the crowd.

“Well, as lovely as that was and this has been,” Markoe commented, turning back to you and Laszlo with disinterest. “I think I shall go avail myself of more lively company. After all, this is a ball - and midnight is only minutes away now.”

Laszlo offered no words in parting and you followed his lead as the older doctor turned to weave through the crowd. You sighed in disbelief. “God, the nerve of that guy.”

“Liebling, please refrain from any such further commentary until we are in the privacy of our home.” He scanned the room as he spoke under his breath. “There are plenty here who would love to stir up further rumors of gossip and ill-will between Dr. Markoe and myself.”

Your heart leapt to your throat on his use of the words ‘our home.’ Your smile grew and you squeezed his arm gently, wondering if he fully realized what he'd said. “Sorry, I - I didn’t think.” You turned towards him, taking in his profile. “Admittedly, I’m not used to being seen in public with such a handsome celebrity.” But that still paled in comparison to hearing him refer to his house in the first-person plural when it came to you.

“I’m hardly a celebrity, but I’m sure that photo - if it makes it into the publication or the website - will cause some stir.” He reached his right hand with a measured movement to his pocket watch, deftly flipping open the pristine cover. “If it stirs more attention than you care for, however, we can discuss an official statement being issued by my office. But for the moment, Dr. Markoe was correct - we have a little less than two minutes until the new year.”

“Then, I guess we’d better get in line for champagne.”

“If you’ll allow it,” he smiled almost nervously, and the vulnerability of the expression floored you. “I would suggest that we delay champagne for the moment. I...I have something that I would prefer to give you in commemoration, instead.”

The breath caught in your chest as you mind spun on the implication. Was he...shit, was he going to...propose? You couldn’t deny that you had thought about it, and you hadn’t lied to Dr. Markoe - how could any man ever measure up to Dr. Laszlo Kreizler? If he asked, there was only one answer that you knew you could give.

As couples around you moved for the dance floor amid a flurry of popping champagne corks and the band’s singer announced just one minute to go, your eyes saw only Laszlo, and you waited on baited breath for his next words.

He closed his watch, easily slipping it back in his waistcoat pocket. “Shall we adjourn somewhere quieter?” He started to walk and you fell in step with him, breathless with anticipation. Skimming the edge of the distracted crowd, he led you over to the tall glass windows overlooking the balcony that commanded a view of the cityscape below. He looked at you. “If it’s not too frigid, perhaps we could step out?"

“Yes – I mean, no,” your cheeks flushed on your rushed words, hoping you didn’t sound too obviously excited. “I don’t think it’s too frigid out. Besides, we don’t have to be out there for long.” If you were indeed going to leave here tonight as the future Mrs. Kreizler, then your feet weren’t going to stay on the ground much longer anyway and the outside temperature didn’t matter.

His mouth pinched to a line indicative of suppressing amusement as he stepped up to the large glass door, pulling it open for the two of you to slip out into the night just as the countdown started on the dance floor. Winter’s chill pricked along your exposed skin, but Laszlo stayed close, settling a hand against the small of your back, his body heat both reassuring and exhilarating.

With the gentle pressure of his hand, he encouraged you to stop and turn in his close embrace. The distant echoes of bursting fireworks filled the air, throwing splashes of brilliant color across both of you over the ball's soft golden glow that filtered out the windows.

You couldn’t stop your head from turning to glance out at the fireworks, hearing the city come alive in celebration. “Midnight…,” your lips curled with an excited, happy smile before turning back to him. “Happy New Year, Laszlo.”

Your breath caught at the long, slim leather case that now rested in his left hand. It was certainly too big for a ring but you were far from disappointed. Your curiosity grew as his gaze sought yours, full of love and conviction.

“Happy New Year, Liebling.” He held the case out to you. “And the start of a new journey, should you still wish for it.”

Realization made your face fall slack as you took the proffered case. A shiver raced down your spine as you lifted the lid. Nestled on a bed of pristine purple velvet, a stainless and glass syringe gleamed back at you. The large, imposing barrel was empty, and the needle was quite possibly the thickest you’d ever seen - honestly, it looked vaguely antique but you couldn’t stop the question. “Is this…is this the needle that you use…?”

He hummed low in confirmation. “The serum is rather viscous and better received at a lower injection pressure.”

Your breathing quickened as you gingerly ran a fingertip over the glass barrel. God, you didn’t want to think about such a wide needle sliding into your arm, but now that the opportunity was literally in your hands? You turned your gaze back to his, still stunned. “You…this is real? You’ve decided?”

He stepped closer, his voice warm and enticing. “Despite my initial reaction, more born from the surprise of the moment rather than revulsion, your request has played endlessly in my mind.” His hand curved around yours against the chilly leather of the case. “Denying you the same freedom of self that I casually exploit is hardly recompense for all that you endure in return.”

“You don’t owe me for that, Laszlo. I knew what I signed up for before choosing to go to bed with you.” You shook your head. “If you’re only doing this to assuage some sense of guilt –”

“The guilt wars with my desire to meet the ‘real’ you as you have met the ‘real’ me…,” he leaned in, nuzzling his winter chilled nose against your cheek. “I can think of little else to rival the promise of such powerful intimacy - and I want to share it all with you, mein Liebling. Before it’s too late for either of us.”

You sighed a trembling breath, basking in the warm puff of his breath on your skin, in the strength of his hand wrapped around yours holding the syringe case. “That sounds awfully fatalistic, but…kind of heavenly.”

“I don’t claim that you’ll find heaven at the end of that needle. You’ve seen the mornings after, but the toll is exacted on more than just your physical being. Those dreams, those nightmares - they'll always be with you.”

“But that’s no different than just being any other person, or my own person. And so long as I have you at my side, I….” You didn’t know quite where to go with your words. It sounded too silly to say that you could fly because there were still practical realities, and feeling invincible was just tempting the fates. Instead, you closed the lid to the case and shifted to wrap your arms around him, dissolving in his embrace as the sounds of celebration continued to echo off the surrounding buildings. “Thank you - god, that doesn’t even begin to cover it, but just…I don’t know how else to say how much your gift means.”

His left arm curled around your shoulders, holding you close as his right settled gingerly to your hip. “Don’t be so quick to thank me yet, Liebling. You deserve a fair chance to curse my name before declaring that the offering is ‘a gift’.”

“It’s more than just the serum,” you countered gently, nuzzling into his neck. “It’s your trust, it’s your love, it’s your vulnerability. I…I don’t take the risks lightly, and now that I’ve seen it…? God, that needle is a thing of nightmares.”

He huffed an amused breath. “Epidural needles are far larger.”

Your heart clenched on his veiled reference to having children. “If we get there, we get there.” You clung tighter to him. “But I know there’s no other man that I’d rather have educate me on the differences.”

He tilted his head, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You leaned into his touch, turning until your lips found his. Of course, you were both aware how plainly in view of the ballroom you were, but still the kiss lingered, full of promise, full of hope, full of devotion.

A swirling breeze rippled goosebumps along your arms, making you shiver despite the warmth of his touch. He drew back, loving concern softening his chocolate eyes. “We can go back inside if you’re cold, Liebling.”

“I am a little, but not yet….” You leaned further into him, using him as a shield to ward off the chill. “I want you to myself for just a little longer, as only I get to see you.”

He hummed in contemplation but wasn’t able to banish the amusement from his face. “Perhaps you don’t need the serum – perhaps I’ve already created a monster.”

“A monster who knows that you’re far too good for everyone else in that room – and don’t you dare fight me on that, Dr. Kreizler.”

“I wouldn’t dream of trying to rid you of your delusions without your permission.”

You laughed softly, not wanting this private moment with him to end. Had both of your absences been noted from the ballroom? Could you just escape with him now? Or would photographers lurk just inside the door, waiting for a glimpse of any disheveled clothing or a shiny, new ring? Your grip tightened on the syringe case. “Do I need to deliberately wave this around so no one makes the wrong assumptions about our disappearance out here?”

“If it’s all the same to you, I would rather not have to explain why a syringe is the chosen token of my affection this evening. And if people choose to make assumptions, then we can amend or correct as needed.” He brushed another kiss to your cheek, drawing a hopeful breath. “But…perhaps next year, a specific token of my eternal affection may be more appropriate…if you’ll still have me.”

Your heart felt full to bursting. First with the promise of the serum ahead, and now the promise of an engagement to come. You held him with everything you had. “You…and...him." If you were going to join him on this twisted journey of self-discovery, then you knew there was only answer. "Both of you...always.”

And for weeks after, you floated on the high of such promises. Even when Laszlo drew multiple vials of your blood for analysis on several different occasions. Even as you left work each day wondering when the preparations would be complete. Even when you finally got your answer, and the date was set for today.

A Friday early-evening start time was by far the most reasonable. On average, Laszlo reported the serum to have a seven-to-eight-hour lifespan, and if he was going to be at your side the whole time, then you would both need a couple days to reset and allow for any unknown side-effects in your recovery before rejoining the world.

Anxious butterflies churned in your stomach as you stepped into the living room, meeting Laszlo’s gaze with a nervous smile. A stainless-steel surgical tray rested next to the couch, neatly arranged with various items – gauze pads, a tourniquet, band-aids, a blood-pressure cuff, a pad of paper. There was no sign of the large needle, but the sight of a medical grade cooler resting on the floor next to the tray did nothing to put you at ease. One of the wingback chairs had been positioned next to the couch for him to sit and the couch cushions were arranged to support a reclined position.

The corner of Laszlo’s mouth quirked in tender concern as he stepped away from the tray. A black stethoscope draped around the open collar of his white shirt and a frisson of heat rippled through you at the sight. His gaze, of course, missed nothing about your anxious state. “You are free to change your mind if you want, Liebling.”

You wet your suddenly dry lips as your heart raced. “No…I’m just…I’m not having second thoughts. But…I don’t like needles, and…will it hurt?” You bit your lip. “To…transform?”

He shook his head gently. “It’s…unlike anything you have ever felt before. There is some pain, yes, but also a sense of…release? Not in the sexual sense – the transformation won’t make you achieve orgasm,” his tone held a strictly clinical detachment that proved oddly comforting, “but more a…lightness of limb and loosening of muscle. As if you could run miles when you couldn’t before.”

You gulped, taking a deep breath. “Well, that would explain a thing or two….” You always had wondered what made Mr. Brühl capable of manhandling the larger, burlier man in the cemetery. You wrung your hands nervously, exhaling a sharp breath. “But no, I’m ready…at least, as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Proud affection shone in his eyes as he gestured towards the couch. “Then, lay back. And try to relax.”

A nervous laugh bubbled in your throat as your heart sped up and you dropped to the plush couch cushions. “Is that what you tell all your patients?”

“While I have the knowledge to administer vaccines, most of my patients are privileged to receive the far more practiced skills of the nursing staff. You, however,” he paused, reaching for the blood pressure cuff, “will just have to settle for me.”

You shook your head quickly against the pillow as he fit the cuff to your arm, deftly compensating for the limited function of his right arm. You sighed before speaking. “And there’s no one else I’d rather be with right now.”

“I’m glad.” His voice was soft and calming as he put the stethoscope to his ears, holding it to your pulse as he inflated the cuff with his left. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the jack-rabbit pace of your heart to limited success.

He pulled the stethoscope away, and reached for the cuff’s velcro. “Your heart rate is certainly high, and blood pressure is elevated – but not to dangerous levels.” He looped the stethoscope back around his neck before noting the values in your chart that he started after New Year’s Eve. He hadn't wanted to take any more chances than he already had to, and you appreciated his thorough consideration.

You summoned a weak smile. “Well, that’s not surprising. Weren’t you nervous before you tried it the first time?”

“Not for the same reasons.” He reached for the tourniquet strap, wrapping it above your right elbow. “Will you grasp the other end, please?”

You reached your left hand over, providing tension for him to secure the stuck knot. "If you don’t mind my asking,” you wet your lip, hoping he wouldn’t mind. You needed the distraction. “How do you tie the tourniquet off when you’re alone?”

“In that instance, my teeth prove a reasonable substitute for a second hand.” He examined your inner-elbow, confirming that your vein started to protrude before he leaned down to the cooler on the floor.

You instantly turned to follow his movements and he turned his head back to you with a gentle admonishing glance as he spoke. “Watching me isn’t going to help you not hyperventilate, Liebling.” He straightened without revealing anything from the cooler and you turned against the pillow to stare up at the ceiling. His left hand found yours against your stomach, squeezing it gently. “Just keep breathing,” his voice carried a soothing, hypnotic edge, “in through your nose, out through your mouth….” You took a deep breath, lulled by his words as he encouraged you to do so again. “If you’ve changed your mind…this can stop if you want.”

“No.” You reassured him, turning to meet his gaze, hoping yours conveyed your determination. “I want this.”

“Very well.” He gave your hand a last squeeze before withdrawing, and you heard him shuffle by to your side. “Just keep breathing, slowly in and slowly out.”

You released another trembling breath as you heard the distinct sound of glass and metal contact the surgical tray. Your left hand tensed against your stomach as you drew a sharp inhale.

“You’re about to feel an alcohol swab.” He said gently, giving you a couple seconds to process his words before the wet gauze descended. “I will apologize for the temperature of the serum. The monocane compound doesn’t respond well to room temperature warming."

Your heart rate skyrocketed at the audible sound of a plastic cap snapping loose. “D-does the temperature really matter?” Your words shook around a nervous exhale.

“It’s a little more unpleasant when the cold liquid meets your warm blood.”

You gulped, closing your eyes. “Just do it, Laszlo. The anticipation is really about to kill me….”

“And I’ll be right here the whole time. Here we go, on three….” His fingers withdrew, and you heard the sound of metal clinking before he spoke again. “One…two…three.”

The needle broke your skin, sliding home as icy lava filled your blood. You cried out at the foreign burn, barely registering the needle pulling free and the tourniquet falling away. Scorching wildfire shot through your body, scalding you raw from the inside out as you writhed and moaned, ensnared in the serum's all-consuming thrall. A strong, steadying hand landed on your shoulder, but it felt miles away as the chemicals lit up your brain, your body pulsing, humming and taught like a live wire.

Your eyes suddenly shot open, and you drew a deep breath as your body stilled. A new vitality coursed through you, and you glanced around with monstrous appetite.

A breathless, honey-warm voice sounded in your ear. “Liebling…?”

You slowly turned your electrified gaze, fixing it on the man who sat next to you as he spoke again and you listened with razor-sharp hearing.

“How do you feel?”

Fin

Series Master List

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[f1yogurt]

Ok but the amount that I need a disheveled modern Laszlo looking up at me like this

original gifs

[edencherries]

Modern dadtb Laszlo and being obsessed with you even MORE after you're pregnant. Having skin to skin contact as much as he can. Literally reading parenting books and scoffing and practically re writing them cause

"babe that's not how a baby's or parent's psychology works!!"

"Oh yeah? Then why are you reading them?"

".... I wanted to....see...just...look up stuff"

"You're scared you're gonna mess up"

" that too"

NOW YOU GOT ME ALL SOFT!!! he’d try to get as much information as possible, you never know when something may or may not work, and you can never be too prepared right??😭

[rumblelibrary]

V! V! V! It's loving Harry and Amelia hours for me so I was wondering... how's Modern!Laszlo with pets? Would he adopt one alone or maybe with his S/O motivation he would? Is he a cat or a dog person? (or a turtle person? I feel like he is a turtle person). Idk. Let's talk Lalo and pets! (happy bday, grandma! ily <3)

(thank you so much darling <3)

Modern! Laszlo Kreizler with Pets

(I love you Artemis, my grandma’s boy 💕)

- He has the attitude to be the one that doesn’t want pets, mostly because he can’t look after them and he doesn’t have time

- Sara gifted him Sigmund, his turtle. The green lad is one little bitch like his owner. Probably refusing food he doesn’t like and trying to escape whenever he manages to

- You’d be Sigmund favourite. Probably because you give him strawberries and watermelons and all the things he love. You also let him walk around the house, under your surveillance, when Laszlo is not around

- With your support he might get involved with a dog

- He seems much of a cat man, but with somebody to share the responsibility with he would be a dog person.

- He gets so much involved into educating the dog, teaching him tricks and he would dive himself into the books about how to educate a pup to make sure that it will grow to a strong and secure dog with no fears or unneeded traumas. I mean his psychologist side showing

- Probably going to rescue some big dog from being abandoned, imagine a big mix Labrador named Hannah, she would be his tail and always follow him around. Being a Labrador she would be particularly good with kids and he would use her to do some pet therapy. When she is a pup she will destroy his slippers and sleep with them.

- Hannah would be always sleeping on his lap and when she is too big rest her head there making soft snoring noises

- Long walks in the park, a thing that he used to dread, would be his favourite time, he would come back full of ideas and inspirations to write a new study or help some kid

- To bath the dog will be his nightmare and always paying to get somebody else to do it for him

- He would call the veterinarian when he gets worried for Hannah no matter the time of the day or night

- “Absolutely the dog won’t sleep on the bed”

- Eventually the dog will sleep on the bed when he feels like it

- He will probably advance the idea to get a second dog, maybe smaller in size, when Hannah is around 3/4 years old and her character has stabilised