#kreizler

[laszlo7007]

i miss them your honor 💔 The Alienist | S2 EP8 - Better Angels

[profeyandere]

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐙𝐋𝐎 𝐊. ─── ☾ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟ ʙʀᴜ̈ʜʟ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʟᴀꜱᴢʟᴏ ᴋʀᴇɪᴢʟᴇʀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋ, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀꜱ

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

That little building in New York no longer felt like the warm, sweet home he loved so much. Now, everything around him had been covered in a dark thick icy mist that had appeared once he had made sure that you were gone. He didn't expect to be able to blame you for it, either.

Laszlo, no matter how hard he tried to search his innermost thoughts, could not remember having felt such sharp and persistent pain in his life until he finally found the courage to return home and face the situation in which he had found himself. He had become immersed because he was unable to keep his mouth shut and the comments at bay, finding that tragic December night a home that was no longer what he had left that same morning. In the depths of his heart he hoped to see you in the living room, sitting in his armchair or on the soft sofa that characterized the room, with one of his many blankets in your lap while you tried to calm your usual nerves about meeting him again or doing one of the many activities you planned for the afternoons, perhaps reading one of the various astronomy books in which you had shown special interest in recent months with a cup of chamomile to soothe your headaches or trying to finish knitting the dark wool gloves for him with the excuse that even if you didn't like that activity, you wanted him to stay warm enough during the harsh winter that was lashing New York while investigating the latest case he had been involved in, even if he knew that your disgust for the last mentioned activity was a little lie that you had developed over the years and that he had discovered by having seen you smile on more than one occasion while you practiced with Mary a new type of stitch; you always showed a particular distaste for activities that were characteristic of women, but he had learned to observe that you were actually quite content with them and that you could come to appreciate them even if you claimed otherwise.

But now that he had returned home, he felt an emptiness in him, not hearing your playful laugh resonate because of some joke that Stevie had told you, nor could he distinguish your quick and agile steps becoming louder and closer that indicated that you had heard him home, much less was he able to feel the warmth that enveloped his home when you were in it. He noticed the lack of your presence, and it was not necessary to be very intelligent or have a university degree to make sure of it because he only had to analyze himself to realize it; Anguish had been the feeling that had taken over his body, then eliminating the anger that had been controlling him for much of the day.

Laszlo hadn't wanted you to get involved in the case of the missing children, the same ones that days later turned up murdered wherever the maniac who ended their lives wanted to show them. He assumed from the beginning that the scenarios in which he would be involved would be dangerous, after all, they were looking for a murderer, and he knew that the places they would visit would be quite unpleasant judging by what John Moore, his dear friend, had previously described. He just wanted to keep you safe, in the comfort of his home, while he and the small team he had assembled took it upon themselves to put an end to the wave of murders that was causing so much fear in the inhabitants of the splendid American city.

All he did was try to keep you away from the monsters beyond the gates of his home, but he didn't make sure that the most horrible being you had at your side. You had him, and he wasn't able to protect you then.

Tension, nerves, and anxiety had taken over his body, being felt that he was unable to control for not finding a solution to the case on which he was working so hard. He felt devastated for not finding a solution to such a problem, being forced to constantly search and review the same psychology books that he had read so many times and that, on this occasion, were not providing him with the required help. Barely a few days had passed since the death of the first young people belonging to rather unfortunate families was announced, but the desire to end it became more palpable as the hours passed; The only thing the doctor wanted was to end the case with a happy ending, return home as he usually did and hug you, thus eliminating the intrusive thoughts that crowded his mind and that prevented him on many occasions from resting as it should. You, being aware of the latter, had decided to visit Laszlo at his usual place of work to check his state of health.

He would have appreciated your visit on other occasions, he would have felt a familiar tingle once he had seen you open the door of his office to greet him with your loving smile, and he would have watched your bright eyes that would light up more and more as the seconds passed, and you watched him, but at that moment all he saw in you was a distraction he didn't want to deal with; he didn't want to be with you at that moment, and he wanted you to leave as soon as possible. You greeted him excitedly, asking about his day, and soon after you started talking about how worried you were that he was so deep in the case that he wasn't even taking care of himself, which you assumed all along and which is why you asked John and Sarah to take care of him while you weren't around; Although your innocence, concern, and dedication to the doctor could be seen as a blessing in most cases, he just wanted you to shut up at that moment, turn around and go home, he just wanted you to understand what his cold look wanted to tell you, but it was not like that.

You didn't understand him, or you didn't want to, and Laszlo took it out on you.

You saw his shoulders tense as you approached him and his desk, this time lowering your tone of voice as you presumed that a new wave of emotional headaches was at work again in his head. You sighed softly and walked around his desk, positioning yourself on one side of him with the intention of easing that pain by massaging his temples. It was when you finally placed one of your delicate hands on top of his, gently stroking the knuckles of his left hand to calm him down and show your support, that you finally saw how the beast he seemed to have kept hidden finally came out to unleash its full wrath on you. He quickly withdrew his hand from yours, surprising you with the movement and causing you to take a step back to give him some space, then raised your head to meet his gaze with yours, his being the one that flashed with feelings of anger and rage that ran through his body and that was impossible to control. He raised his voice at you in a way you didn't expect, ordering you to get out of his office, leaving you completely shocked by what had just happened and by what you had heard. You tried to refute what he had just told you, asking and begging him to let you stay and letting him know that you wouldn't speak anymore if he required it, but then he started to hurt you with the words that you would have least imagined. You had always had certain limitations in learning, you always recognized that obvious fact, and many times you doubted that your intelligence was the same as that of an average person your age, you had even felt bad enough on several occasions to question yourself if it was enough for Laszlo for that small impairment, but it was his words of encouragement, full of affection and always sincere that made those intrusive thoughts disappear, but now he brought out that insecurity to make you see that perhaps your assumptions were correct; He pointed out how stupid you looked around him and how you tried to keep people from seeing that big flaw of yours through the kindness you showed, trying to make witty comments but only making others laugh at how silly you seemed and that The fact that people were so sweet to you was because they found you as silly as a 3-year-old.

In short: Laszlo confirmed your biggest fear.

From the moment the doctor began to bring up that insecurity, placing special emphasis on what others thought of you, you felt how you stopped hearing from one moment to the next. You could perfectly see your fiancé open and close his mouth, and move his hands to express himself more freely, but it was impossible for you to understand what he was saying due to the feeling of sadness and anxiety that had begun to devastate you. You had heard of anxiety attacks, Laszlo had explained them to you after you had had to calm down one of the many children at school who had sought refuge in you the first time he attended the doctor's therapy, and, now if you were suffering it in the same way that young man suffered then, he made you understand that Laszlo was no longer a safe place for you; he was the one who was causing that to you, and you didn't want that to happen again, you refused.

When Laszlo watched you leave with teary eyes, your chest rising and falling at an alarming rate, and your hands slightly trembling, he knew he hadn't been able to protect you the way he wanted. He had failed you.

Now that he was home, remembering those agonizing minutes you'd suffered, he couldn't help but grit his teeth at the rage he felt at himself, letting out a snort to calm the anxiety that had begun to take over him. With his heart in a fist, he began to walk slowly towards the living room while he prayed that you were waiting for him there, just as he had previously imagined when he had entered his house, but it was not like that. Stopping on the threshold that separated the living room from the hall, he made sure that the vibrant colors that were always in that room were just a product of his imagination because now that you weren't there; everything had taken on grayer and sadder colors, only having a small flash of crimson in the small ring that was on the coffee table in front of the sofa that you always occupied to talk about your busy mornings and afternoons, both of you using that precise moment to appreciate to the other in the way you longed for, but now you weren't there, just the reminder that you were once there.

Laszlo realized that he had lost you forever and there would be no way to get you back.

The house felt cold again and as lonely as it had before I met you.

[krazykiki05]

Imagine....

Taking a walk with Kreizler in a park

[baronzemosbxtch]

I can’t unsee this resemblance

It’s the same thing

[journalbye]

the only reason i keep going:

[loveofafangirl]

In the Quiet

[Laszlo Kreizler Masterlist]

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x Reader (no gender, race, or body type given)* *reader is an aristocrat who has aspirations of being an artist

Synopsis: You and Laszlo spend a quiet moment together while you reflect on how you met. *Fluff* Meet-Cute*

Word Count: ~1,250

A/N: This is my first time writing Laszlo. I hope you enjoy it!

Your fingers weave through his silky hair, his head resting in your lap as the two of you recline on a picnic blanket. The soft melody of the babbling brook beside you is amplified by the quiet stillness surrounding you. The warm breeze off of the water tousles your hair and tickles your features. The occasional bird chirps a melody just for the two of you.

You breathe easier away from the city. You know he does as well, even though he thrives in the unruly environment. He needs this break, away from the darkness and melancholy that he lets consume him. Here, he can find peace without distraction. Of course, it wasn't easy. Each small town had its own history, and with it, its own tragic stories to analyze.

Laszlo saw the potential for psychopathy everywhere. His mind raced with ideas of what might be, and more importantly, why. He had a thirst for knowledge and understanding, unlike anyone you had ever known—one that could not easily be quenched. There was always more: more to learn, more to observe, more to understand.

You found that Laszlo appreciated the subtle details often overlooked by others. You were the same in that way. It was what had brought you together—the details—just, not the same ones. Where he saw despair and pain, you saw the possibility of hope and promise.

"What do you see?" His confident voice questions behind you.

Your body tenses at the intrusion. You were so focused on your work you hadn't noticed his appearance.

"Sir?" Your gaze settles on the curious man, now standing beside you. You observe how his hands rest casually on his walking stick before him, but his focus is not on you, rather your subject.

"Please, pray tell me if you would, what is it that you observe." He gestures to the woman on the bench across the path that you had been drawing.

You run your charcoal-covered fingers nervously over the cloth you had beside you. His polished appearance reminded you how your current state reflected poorly on your status. It was why you had come to this park, away from the aristocracy uptown, away from those that told you art was a skill to possess but not suitable for more than a mere hobby to entertain and impress those of importance.

Your already straight spine lengthens as you attempt to reclaim your station. Your gaze shifts between the woman and your canvas. "I see loss."

"Very astute." He interrupts the rest of your thoughts. "I observe the same. I surmise the young woman has suffered a great deal. The loss of a child, perchance."

"A husband," you correct, quite confidently. The look on his face tells you he is not used to being challenged. You turn your drawing toward him, pointing out the simple metal ring the woman held in her hand. It was no longer visible at present, but you had captured it earlier as she turned it between her fingers.

"You have a tremendous eye for detail." He offers with a raise of his brow and a simple nod, impressed with your deduction. "May I?"

He takes the seat beside you, and you hand him your portrait. He carefully accepts it and studies it more closely. His gaze shifts between the drawing and the subject, "It is very good. Howbeit, might I still offer a suggestion?"

"If you wish." You nod anxiously, your fingers twisting the cloth in your hands. You knew accepting feedback from strangers was something you would have to learn to endure if you wanted to show your work at a gallery one day. You just hadn't expected it so soon.

He hands the portrait back to you. "The eyes—they're not quite correct."

The corners of your lip pull up, certain you had been careful in your interpretation. "They are," you insist. "Or, they will be."

His lips press together, and his head shifts to the sides in contemplation, not quite understanding your meaning.

"Life is filled with consequences: some good, many bad." You grab a stick of charcoal and continue sketching. You no longer felt unsettled by his presence; in fact, you felt a boost in your confidence. He seemed genuinely interested in how you perceived the world. You did not feel any judgment on his part for your enjoyment of this work. "This woman may have suffered, yet she presses on. She sits in the quiet here instead of satisfying her pain in weeping or, perhaps, indulging in less savory means. She has hope. I saw just a glimmer of it earlier as the scent of the blossoms in the breeze caught her attention, pulling her momentarily from the melancholy. Although finite, the spark will grow until she is whole. That is what I chose to capture."

"The loss of another—a paramour—is not so easily overcome." His voice is more distant now, heavier. You sense he speaks from experience.

"Nothing worthwhile is easy, good Sir. However, in time, perspectives can change as long as one holds onto hope."

"Perhaps."

The soft sounds of your charcoal etching across the canvas fill the comfortable quiet that settles between the two of you.

Your fingers brush the strands of chocolate hair off of his forehead, as you press your soft lips to his skin. You could never have imagined how that chance meeting would change your life. You chew your lower lip as you pull away.

His warm brown eyes meet yours. His mouth opens to speak but closes, leaving only a warm smile in reply to your touch.

You scratch lightly over his lush beard, savoring the coarse texture against the pads of your fingertips. Your own smile spreads as your gazes lock together.

This was good for him. He needed this break in the country as much as you did. It had become somewhat of a retreat for you. Your family was not thrilled with your choice of partner. Despite his status and education, as an Alienist, he was considered a less than ideal match. Your parents had even offered to support your wild pursuits to become an artist to dissuade your interest in him, but it was too late. Neither of you cared much what others thought about your pairing. The world was changing, and so were you. You and Laszlo would press forward carving a path that fit your ideals, not that of the masses.

The two of you needed each other more than you could have realized. You needed his understanding, disregard for conventions, and the way he challenged you in ways society could not. He needed your kindness, generosity, but most of all, light.

The details had brought you together, but it was in these quiet moments when the two of you could just be that your love blossomed. It was where your relationship developed and spoke louder than words ever could.

Laszlo captures your hand in his good one and brings it to his lips, brushing feathery kisses on your skin. Your eyes close, relishing his tender affection. It wasn't often you had him all to yourself, so you treasured moments like this.

Your free hand continues stroking gently through his hair, letting him rest in your care. The glow of the sun bathes you in its warmth as the gentle breeze wraps you in its comfort. You stay nestled together, just the two of you, in the quiet, letting your adoration speak for itself.

A/N#2: Thank you so much for reading! I'm not sure how often I will write Kreizler, but if you liked this and are interested in more, please like, comment, and/or reblog. I truly appreciate every interaction. Also, if you'd like to be tagged in future fics, let me know.

[alexversenaberrie]

Bucky and Doctor Kreizler-Zemo ~

Trauma is strong, thankfully there is someone, who wants to help... or does he?

[brellhal96]

Being married to Laszlo Kreizler would be like:

- In the morning I would bring you a cup of hot tea while you wake up after a long sleepless investigation with the cases.

- You would take walks together while discussing theories and hypotheses of the books they are reading or the articles they plan to write.

- You would play chess while debating any random topic you randomly decide.

- On weekends you would play the piano while he contemplates you as the most beautiful being in the universe and you just dedicate the notes to him with your gaze.

- You have jokes that only the two of you understand.

-At night before going to sleep they would talk about the banalities of life, but at the same time he would tell you how much he loves you and you would confirm it with a kiss.

-Sometimes you'd ask him to dance even though you both suck at homework, but it's fun to laugh as you stumble and lay your face on his chest smelling his perfume deeply.

- Sometimes you would be the one who brings him breakfast in bed when he needs your care.

- Both would confess their darkest secrets and their greatest fears, sometimes with tears sometimes with laughter but feeling loved and loved each other.

- You are for each other, and the facts prove it.

Sorry if I don't write English well, it's not my mother tongue.

Image credits to whom it may concern.