do you suppose we could have some headcanons where the reader is Lazlo and Nadja’s new familiar and has this amazing ability to avoid danger by a hair?
please and thank you 🦇
I have never done headcanons before; but I would love to step out of my comfort zone and try something new. I have also never written a Laszlo x familiar/ Nadja x familiar, so this is entirely new. I hope you enjoy and if you have any other ideas, please don't hesitate to shout out. I will always try to write when I can. (Sorry it's so short and sweet. :)
In all honesty Laszlo and Nadja have very little hope that any new familiar that they get won't die. After the history they have had they just except fat and move on, however when it comes to them. Their cute little familiar who is too clumsy for their own good.
When they are taking their evening stroll and their familiar is out scouting for food, they would watch as they would trip over small rocks. They would watch as they blatantly not watch were their going. One time They tripped over a rock and nearly hit their head on a well, but thanks to Laszlo's reflects they were caught and quickly put to safety. Not before being chastised all the way home.
On another occasion, they really needed to dust the chandelier, so their decided that the climb and reach method was best. Soon they lost their footing and fell to the ground and Nadja swooped in and caught them, "you must be careful my little blood sausage." She tsks, lifting them in the air and holding them as they dust the Chandelier by themselves.
Soon Laszlo and Nadja couldn't understand why they felt a need to watch over their familiar. They watched them put away Laszlos gardening tools in admiration. "You know they are kind of a cute little dumb thing." Nadja mumbles crossing her arms, Laszlo nods with a smile putting a hand on the small of his wife's back. "I agree they might be a clumsy little thing, but they are a lovely one. My darling, I think we should keep them a while."
Summary: Feelings for the Alienist starts to bloom and when Laszlo decides to make a move, where will that lead the two of you?
Reader: Gender Neutral
Word Count: ~1500
Warnings: Minor angst towards the end, but mostly fluff
Note: My first Laszlo fic ☺️ so they’re probably most definitely be more to come
Why him?
The esteemed, well-known, yet reclusive social outcast that was Doctor Laszlo Kreizler managed to capture your pitiful heart. And why may you ask? Oh, there were many reasons why.
From the way he conducted himself, to his intellect, to his kind heart even if it was hidden by his more reserved exterior, to his eyes. Yes, his eyes. Eyes that still managed a childlike wonder in them despite the harsh times. To you, Laszlo was still like a child. Child who was constantly learning from the world around him, the ever changing and ever evolving world. Not to mention he had an edge of innocence to him, a pure childlike innocence still buried within him that you wished to protect.
Within the first handful of days of being introduced to Dr. Kreizler, you understood what the faint flutter in your chest meant. You without any doubt was absolutely infatuated with the alienist.
You, of course, was never sure if he shared those feelings in return. But, he did something that changed your way of thinking.
It began at a party. A dull event which he believed was unnecessary and unwanted on his part, however, it was John’s brilliant idea to get out and get away from those gruesome murders. Even for a short moment. If Laszlo remembered correctly John said it was ‘to relax the mind and to start refreshed tomorrow’. Laszlo scoffed under his breath. Refreshed? Hardly.
“Having fun, Doctor?”
A smug voice rang from his side. Laszlo flinched, but quickly recovered. He glanced to his right to find you smiling at him, a certain teasing smile you only wore around him.
Laszlo shook his head, “Not entirely.”
“Then you and I are in the same boat.” You stood next to him staring out to the sea of people and sipped your champagne. “Care to have another passenger on your lone ship of one?”
Laszlo peered over to you. You didn’t stare at him, only watched the people mingling. His eyes wondered downward to your free hand at your side.
Laszlo couldn’t deny the rush of attraction he felt towards you, and by spending more and more time with you he couldn’t push it aside any longer.
Love was chemicals and products of our upbringings; at least that was Laszlo told himself. Chemicals that influenced the brain and made practically anyone lose any sense of self. But he learned early on, he would gladly plead insanity when in your presence.
As those familiar chemicals coursed through him, his hand twitched towards yours. He didn’t dare stop himself, it may be his only chance. Carefully, almost afraid you may burn him in some way, he grabbed your hand.
You jumped at the touch as all the air was knocked out of your lungs. Swallowing down the instinct to run, you maintained a level-head to not arouse any suspicion. You gently maneuvered your hand around to slip your fingers between his. You squeezed his hand and he returned it.
“I would gladly allow you on my ship,” he whispered.
Ever since the exchange, whenever and wherever you found yourself by Laszlo’s side, his hand found itself intertwined with yours. However, it never went any farther than that. Neither of you spoke of it, nor did you have the courage to bring it up.
Luckily, a chance would arise.
After a long night scouring over old clues, John finally declared everyone should return home to rest. Sara agreed along with yourself, Laszlo however only hummed in response. You doubt he was truly listening. John and Sara left, they offered to wait for you, but you said you will leave in a few minutes saying they didn’t need to. They shared a glance, but left together none the less.
That was moments ago.
Laszlo continued to stand over the table filled with books and stacks of notes as he ruffled through them hoping to find an overlooked clue.
He sighed then glanced up surprised to find you still here, despite clearly hearing the door shut. You always managed to do that. His enigma. The way you could disappear and reappear out of his vision without a trace, the way he could never truly understand what you were thinking behind those beautiful eyes, the way you spoke you mind without any cares, the way he never knew where you were but somehow you were always by his side, and most of all the way his hand managed to fit perfectly in yours.
He cleared his throat, “Is there something I can help you with, Mx. (Y/L/N).”
You cocked an eyebrow as a smile graced over your lips. “I’ve repeated myself far too many times for you to call me, (Y/N), Laszlo.”
“Right,” he bowed his head with an amused grin tugging on his lips. When he lifted his head back up he was greeted with your dazzling smile. “Is there something I can help you with, (Y/N)?”
“I was simply about to ask you the same.” You strolled closer standing directly on the other side of the table. “John and Sara left minutes ago to rest for the night, even if it’ll be minor, but you still manage to be working.”
Laszlo’s eyes widened a fraction. Have you been standing there for that long?
“You need to rest yourself, Doctor.” You glanced down at the notes and papers. The flash of red caught your eye. Moving aside a piece of paper, you found one of John’s illustration of a poor boy slashed apart. You frowned, “It’s not healthy to be up so late.”
Laszlo huffed through his nose. “Ridiculing a doctor? How ironic.”
You laughed once. “I suppose you are right, but I wouldn’t have too if you listened.”
Laszlo chuckled.
There.
Something pushed you, something demanded you to take those steps you desperately wanted to take so long ago. You strolled around the table to Laszlo’s side. He watched your every move. Almost afraid if he blinked, you would vanish. He turned facing you directly as you stopped in front of him.
Slowly, you reached out. Your right hand found its perch within his. Like always. Your eyes connected with his in an asking way. He nodded, a miniscule nod. Carefully, you intertwined your left hand with his. He had to suppress a shiver, one with a mixture of disgust and pleasure.
“Laszlo?”
He didn’t realize he closed his eyes. Opening them, he was once again greeted with your soft smile.
“Can you answer something for me?” you asked.
“To the best of my abilities.”
“What am I to you?”
He blinked in shock. “Pardon?”
“What am I to you? What is this?” You lifted his hands up to your face showing him. Not wanting fear to hold you back any longer, you brought his hands to your lips. You pressed a gentle kiss to them. A dozen butterfly kisses over his knuckles. He let out a shaky sigh as his heart leapt at each delicate kiss. You whispered against them, “What can I do for this to be more?”
He was at a loss for words.
You stared at him with begging eyes, “Laszlo, please, answer me. I’ll do anything.”
“… anything?” He whispered in disbelief.
“Yes, anything.”
He pondered for a moment. His thoughts raced and raced until it was all a blur, until he was left with only raw emotions and no practical or logical reasonings. Yes, more than on one occasion he has imagined a life with you if the two of you more was involved, such as moving in together or possibly marriage, but –
Ah. There it was again.
A ‘but’ that always halted those wondrous fantasies, a ‘but’ that called towards his doubts and insecurities.
He yanked his hands from your own. A flash of pain crossed your face. He spun around from you keeping his head bowed. He finally offered you his answer, “Then leave.”
“Excuse me?” You stepped back horrified.
“I cannot give you what you desire, (Y/N). I am not the man you should seek.”
“Why is that?”
Laszlo looked over at you. His eyebrows furrowed together. “Why? You ask why when I know you know the answer. I am not a good man, nor a great one. I am an outcast of society, labeled insane much like my patients. If you choose to be by my side, I cannot save you from rumors and gossip. I –“
“All I ask for is a decent man, Laszlo, and you are,” you cut him off.
He promptly shut his mouth.
You stepped back into his space. Gently, you reached up and cupped his face so he could stare at you directly unable to look away. “You may not see yourself as good or great, but most people are not. Very few are great. And if you care so much, then I see you as great. No, more than great, you are a fantastic man with a massive heart. And do you think I truly care about all of those dull rumors? Let them talk about utter nonsense. Just let me be a social outcast with you.”
He sighed bring up his right hand to rest over top of yours.
“Besides,” you whispered, “you already let me onto your boat. It would be quite rude to let me drown now.”
He chuckled. “You are relentless.”
“I know.” You kissed his forehead. “You were in my grasp and I was not about to let you go without a fight.”
He closed his eyes relaxing into your touch, “And I thank you for that, Liebling.”
Summary - Laszlo tells Nandor that Holiday is coming, and Nadja has to warn her friend, from her idiot of roommate and husband.
Masterlist
"Nandor! Nandor!" Laszlo calls running through the halls briskly, catching himself on the door frame. Y/n and Nandor watch him with furrowed brows, "what?" Nandor asked slightly annoyed his conversation was interrupted. With a small smile, and false sweetness Laszlo says, "may I speak with but a moment?"
"Can't it wait I am speaking with Y/n." Nandor dismisses turning back to Y/n with a content. "Afraid not, come along now!" Laszlo calls leaving for his study, Nandor sighs, "would you excuse me." Y/n nods and he leaves walking into Laszlo study the camera crew falling behind them silently. "What could be so important?" Nandor groaned, once seeing Laszlo's serious expression sobered up. "I am afraid that Doc Holliday is coming to take back Y/n."
Nandor's eyes widened, "What! why would he be coming!"
"I am afraid someone told him Y/n location, and he is on his way, but if she is already with someone then he cannot be with her." Laszlo explains expectantly, but Nandor can't get the hint. "So, you need to court her soon."
"I can't do that! She wouldn't never! I would never!"
"Oh please, you two have been flirty for centuries! Do you want to lose the only women that could ever be with you." Nandor looked down, "no."
"Good, now he comes tomorrow evening, and we have to prepare."
---------------------------------------------
Nandja sits in her armchair facing the camera with a scowl. "Their fucking idiots." she sighs leaning her head on her palm. "I mean why in hell would he think this is going to work! Let's be honest that Doc guy is charming, and Nandor is well Nandor. Y/n would have no choice but that gambling ape." Nandja sighs leaving the interview heading for the living room. "Hello Y/n."
"Hello Nadja." Y/n sets her book down as Nadja sits awkwardly. "So, you and Nandor," Nadja started but gagged a little. "Are in ...l -ove with each other?"
"What!" Nadja rolls her eyes, "don't try do deny it, I have eyes. Look you should know that, that pig of an ex is coming tomorrow, and you have to be prepared."
"For what?"
"I don't know what ever Laszlo has up his sleeve," Y/n looks toward Nadja expectantly, "why would Laszlo have anything to do with this?"
"I don't know!"
"Nadja!?"
"It doesn't matter, just be prepared, ok?" Y/n nods anxiously, "Great! I'll leave you back to whatever the fuck this was." Nadja leaves and gives a thumbs up to the camera, with an accomplished smile.
Summary - Doc is here and he is as charming as ever. He introduces himself, says his hellos to old friends and we can finally get the answer to how Y/n got to be a part of the group.
Masterlist
Night falls upon the house and everyone sits anxiously in the living room glancing at each other. "So, I take it everyone has heard about our soon to be guest," Colin Robinson started as the group glared at him. "Did you know that Doc Holliday was a trained dentist. He had a practice in Atlanta." Y/n scoffs, "since I was married to him yes, yes Colin I knew that." He stutters, "well did you know that he was in love with his cousin Mattie Holliday?"
"Yes, I know how my ex-husband wanted to fuck his cousin!"
"She became a nun." He mumbled, "fuck off Colin Robinson!" The doorbell silenced the room, echoing through the halls. Guillermo went to open the door grudgingly, a smirking man in old west styled clothes smiles at him. Although it was almost hidden under his moustache, "hello how are you now?" He asks tilting his hat, "I'm fine would you like to come in."
"It would be my pleasure, thank you." He sticks his hand out for Guillermo to shake, taking him off guard. "Doc Holliday, at your service." Guillermo introduces himself, leading Doc into the living room. He stopped in his tracks when seeing Y/n, he tilts his hat. "Well, hello there darlin, you miss me?" He said sweetly with a fanged smile, "hardly." Y/n muttered looking away.
"Well that just breaks my heart darlin. Laszlo good to see you again," He leans down and kisses Nadja hands who rolled her eyes. "Nadja a pleasure," he glances at Nandor before mumbling an annoyed, "Nandor." Nandor crosses his arms in a pouty manner, "Holliday." Doc steps closer to Y/n, kneeling down in front of her. One hand is holding hers, as the other caresses her leg. "I thought you would be happier to see me?" Y/n scoffed, "After what you did! You have some nerve."
"I'm sorry darlin, I know did some bad things."
"You gambled me away to Laszlo!"
Laszlo looks toward the camera and whispers, "I played Holliday in a game of poker, and won. Well, after he lost everything, he betted Y/n as the prize. Which is where we met our darling Y/n, and where Nadja turned her into a vampire."
"Cause he is a piece of shit," Nadja sneers spitting towards him. "What she said," Nandor mumbles making Holliday glance at him. "Nandor, I forgot your here, tell me how is pawning over my wife going?"
"She is not your wife!" Nandor yelled, "No, I suppose not. She doesn't want me anymore. Do you Darlin." Y/n kicks away his hand making him scoff. "I am not your darlin!"
"No, you're his now! Aren't you!?"
"I am no one's!" She yelled back making Nandor look down, "besides if I was that wouldn't concern you." She added looking toward Nandor, Holliday scoffs "this is pitiful." He mumbled to himself. He stood up to leave before looking back at Y/n, "and here I thought you still love me."
Summary - The final chapter - Y/n puts a stop to the game once and for all. The group finally gets rid of Doc for good and love is in the air in this final chapter.
masterlist
"What the hell have you done now!" She yells striding toward the table, "ah, Y/n you are just in time to see your love lose." Doc taunts, "Shut it, Doc!" She looks down at the table and see's that Nandor only has two chips left. "Oh, Nandor why are you doing this?" She asks picking up his cards seeing how bad they are. "I can't have him take you." He mumbles turning back to Doc determined. She turns his chair towards her, her right arm leaning on the back of it. "You listen here, I am not going with him. He's a pig. He was deal that my father struck when I was eighteen. I don't even like him."
Nandor looked at her with sorrowful eyes, "but he was still your husband. More than I can ever be for you." Y/n voice goes quiet as she cups his cheeks, "you are more to me than he will ever be. I hate him, I love you. Please stop with this, it is pointless."
Doc stands up abruptly making his chair fall back. "Now wait a damn minute we had a deal, and I expect it to be uphold!" Nandor stands up shielding Y/n behind him, "the deal is off." Doc growls as he flips over the table. "Now, Doc let's be gentlemen about this. You know that a lady's heart has to be won." Laszlo say stepping back next to Nandor. "Fuck you Laszlo!"
Guillermo sneaks behind Doc making the groups eyes light up, then quickly widen in shock. "Now Doc I say, I do agree with Y/n when I say you are nothing more than a worthless cousin banger." Doc steps forward making the group step back. "Although if you would like to step out of the way I think it would be beneficial." Nandor and Y/n nod slightly as Doc scoffs launching at them. They all flinch as Guillermo stabs him in the back before he could get off the ground. They watch as he falls to dust.
"Dammit Guillermo again!" Nadja screams from the stairs, Colin Robinson stops in the door frame. "We have to stop meeting like this." He says chuckling at himself, "shut up Colin Robinson." Guillermo Mumbled dropping the stake. "Well don't just stand there get rid of him!" Laszlo screams to Guillermo who is already going to go get the vacuum. Nandor and Y/n turn to each other, Nandor cups her cheeks. "You love me?"
"Yes, I have always loved you. You were my first love Nandor." She whispers leaning closer, "I intend too also be your last." He says kissing her passionately, making Laslo and Nadja gag. "We were never that bad right?" Nadja asks meeting Laslo at the middle of the stairs, "Never my sweet sugar pie." Kissing his wife gently, as Guillermo vacuums Doc interrupting all of them. "Really Guillermo now!?" Nandor asks looking down at Y/n "I love you."
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.
Strange Case of Dr. Kreizler and Mr. Brühl - Ch. 11
A "Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde" AU
Modern!Laszlo/Daniel x Fem!Reader Series
Series Master List
Chapter Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW smut (including oral f!receiving, overstimulation, hints of dom/sub, praise kink kinda, possessiveness), dubcon-ish vibes (but not really), explicit language, Laszlo’s questionable experimentation methods, use of actor's name not meant to reflect anything about him as himself
Chapter Word Count: 4.9k
Chapter 11 -
Loathe as you were to admit it, Daniel Brühl’s question lingered in your mind. Why couldn’t you ask Laszlo if you could try the serum...?
Of course, there were at least a dozen reasons why you shouldn’t ask him, but would he really rebuke your curiosity? How could he without being a hypocrite? Especially if you were under his clinical supervision and watchful care during your trial - how bad could it possibly be?
Laszlo gaped back at you in fierce displeasure behind his square, black-frame glasses that rested low on his nose. “How bad could it possibly be?” He parroted your question, sitting straighter at his home office desk. “Your heart could stop, your mind could be lost, your nervous system could overload - a whole array of things.”
“None of those things have happened to you.” You countered gently. “Is it...just a question of adjusting the dosage?”
He leaned back in his plush leather chair, folding his hands in his lap as his face hardened. “Dosage can be adjusted for any medication when blood work is considered, and there would be blood work required before any hypothetical dosing took place.”
Your heart leapt at the prospect. “Then that…we should be able to mitigate those risks, right?”
“Risk takes many different forms.”
“But all of those risks were acceptable for you the first time you injected yourself.”
“That’s entirely different,” he shook his head in brusque dismissal. “If I cannot accept the risks of my own work, then how could I ever ask anyone else to accept them? In this case, it’s a moot point as that serum will never be fit for prescription.”
“Ok, wow,” you shook your head. “There are so many things wrong with that….”
“In your opinion.” He calmly responded, tilting his head to coolly regard you across his office, still wearing those glasses that you loved so much. “But I do not have to defend my past life choices to you, Liebling.”
Ok, so maybe it wasn’t your place to call him out. Maybe it wasn’t entirely your place to judge, and maybe you could have picked a better time than a late evening in his home office as he reviewed peer comments on his medical journal submission. But your concern lingered just the same as you stepped more into the warm room lit with soft, yellow light. “No, I’m not saying that you have to,” you wet your dry top lip, “but does that mean the next time you need to develop a psychopharmacological aid for something else, that you’re going to inject yourself with it first, too? And what’s to keep that drug from stopping your heart, or breaking your brain, instead of just turning you into Mr. Brühl?”
He did, at least, have the decency to look a little scolded in the wake of your words. He folded his left hand over his right in a defensive, protective gesture that you recognized as he returned his eyes to yours over the dark rim of his glasses. “Admittedly, things have changed, and I will have to be more mindful of my approach in future cases.”
You froze on his words, brow furrowing. “I don’t like how you said that, Laszlo….” Crossing the room, you stepped up to the other side of his desk. “What’s changed now?”
He paused, the struggle visible on his face. He projected such strength and surety in his position as head of the institute, and even in the privacy of his own home with you, you knew he didn’t like being vulnerable. His gaze fell to the notebook that rested next to his laptop as he spoke quietly. “You, at present, but Mary was.... The night before she died, she…,” his words stalled as a visible swallow worked his throat. “She made me realize that, perhaps despite all my imperfections, there were those who cared about me more than I had previously believed.”
You didn’t even think as you rounded the desk, wrapping your arms around him and tucking his head against your chest. His left hand wrapped around your forearm as he leaned into you with a heavy sigh.
You tenderly rubbed his shoulder through the fine fabric of his dress shirt. “I won’t lie - it bothers the hell out of me that you were so convinced no one would have been upset if you hurt or killed yourself on a new experiment, and I’m so glad that you had Mary in your life.” You stooped to press a kiss to the top of his head. “And I’m sorry that I trivialized the question - or didn’t phrase it right…I didn’t mean to make light of your testing methods or wanting to try the serum.”
He nuzzled against you, nudging the edge of his glasses. His chest expanded with the heavy weight of a sigh. “I...I can’t take the risk with you, Liebling.”
“That’s the best part, though, right?” You tried a different approach. “You’re familiar with the serum, you know what it can do - it’s hardly unproven. And who knows, it….” Honestly, you didn’t even know where to begin, and that was the whole crux of it. A new challenge, a new answer to seek.
He sighed again, tilting his head back to regard you warily above his clear lenses. “I’m not guaranteeing the outcome that you want, but I will at least promise to give your question fair consideration beyond tonight.”
Hopeful fear burst in your chest. “Does...does that mean you’ll think about it?”
“Yes,” he said, his hand coaxing you down as he leaned back in his chair. “It means I’ll think about it.”
Your lips curled to a smile as you drew in close, inhaling his day-worn cologne and cradling his cheek to let your thumb skim along the frame of his glasses. “Thank you, Laszlo.
He pressed his lips to yours, silencing any more thoughts either of you had for quite some time.
Even now, you still blushed to think about how he spread you across his desk, how his facial hair burned your inner thighs before you begged him to turn you over and finally fuck you. But even then, he did so at his own pace, on his own time - reminding you how much he loved you with each strong, full thrust of his hips.
But now was probably not the best time for those memories. Not when you needed to watch your step on the icy sidewalk. Your office building’s antiquated heater was inadequate for modern demands, and after a thirteen hour day preparing for a client presentation, you looked forward to finally getting warm and losing yourself in the steamy heat of Laszlo’s spacious shower. Hopefully he might even be able to join you once he got his publication to a suitable place for the night.
After your casual interruption three weeks ago derailed his focus for the rest of the night, he made a deal with you that if his upstairs office door was closed, you wouldn’t disturb him unless it was a true emergency. Crossing up his front steps, you could see the telltale golden glow from his office. Once you shed your coat and boots, you sent him a quick text to let him know you were here before heading down to the kitchen. You wolfed down a quick sandwich, idly scrolling your internet trails as you flicked off the foyer lights, leaving the downstairs just as dark as you found it.
Pale light filtered out from under the office door and you ran your fingers lightly along the wood before venturing into his bedroom. Abandoning your phone on the bedside table, you disappeared into the bathroom, stripping off layers as you went. The shower heated quickly, throwing wisps of steam around the room as you luxuriated under the hot spray. Pleasant warmth suffused your skin by the time you finished, drying off with your unbelievably soft towel that lived next to Laszlo’s.
Honestly, the domesticity of the whole situation made your heart sing. Despite Laszlo’s unusual facets, you’d never known such comfortable ease sharing someone else’s living space. On several occasions, it brought you dangerously close to saying ‘our place’ or ‘our home’ - and each time you caught yourself, you also had to catch the goofy grin that threatened to split your face in half.
The thought made you remember that his publication deadline was two weeks away. Not that Laszlo saw it as a big achievement - he already had several author credits to his name - but you still wanted to celebrate the occasion. Some time back, he mentioned that Delmonico’s was one of his favorites, and it sounded like just the ticket for a nice surprise celebratory dinner. Wrapping the towel around yourself, the nightly chill nipped at your cheeks as you stepped into the bedroom to retrieve your phone and make a reservation.
You frowned at the bedside table, confused not to see your phone resting against the wooden surface. Had you just imagined leaving it there? Or, for some inexplicable reason, had Laszlo borrowed it? After a quick scan of the room to confirm that you hadn’t just misplaced it, you returned your towel to the bathroom and shrugged on his plush, luxurious robe. Of course, it was too large for your frame, but you loved feeling so close to him. Besides, if he was finished for the night, you couldn’t wait to see his reaction to discover you wearing only his robe.
Combing your fingers through your wet hair, you did see the office door ajar and the room dark as you entered the hallway. The sight did nothing to ease your confusion as you noticed the downstairs was also still dark. Had Laszlo gone down to the kitchen and turned all the lights off as he went? But, surely, you hadn’t left your phone down there - in fact, you knew that you hadn’t. You pursed your lips in growing irritation and confusion as you took the softly creaking stairs down to the main level.
Your brow knit to see flickering firelight emanating from the living room. Just what the hell was Laszlo playing at? Double-checking the knot in the robe sash, you crept forward and poked your head around the door frame, tensing at the sight.
Daniel Brühl stood silhouetted against a raging fire. Both of his hands braced against the mantle, his dress-shirt clad back towards you with his unmistakable shorter hair as he stared into the fire’s glow. It was the only light source in the room, but you could distinctly see the familiar shape of your phone resting on the mantle next to his left hand. You gulped nervously even as you confusion multiplied. Laszlo hadn’t said anything about transforming tonight, but you couldn’t deny the proof before your eyes.
All too late, you wondered if he had heard you coming down the stairs, if he knew that you stood here staring at him. You took a breath, steeling yourself. “...Daniel? Is...is everything alright?”
He remained motionless, the room’s silence broken only by the crackling fire. Your breath quickened as you debated asking again, but how had he not heard you? At last, he slowly turned his head, his handsome profile haloed in firelight. “I’m proud of you, Herzblatt.”
You folded your arms across your chest. “And that entitles you to steal my phone?”
His mouth curled with a wicked smirk in the dancing light as his fingers skimmed over the black screen. “I needed to ensure that you came back downstairs.”
Something about his tone raced a shiver down your spine and you hated that it wasn’t completely born of fear. Did you dare ask the obvious question? You shook your head, deciding not to fall into his trap so easily. “Well, may I have it back, please?”
“Not yet.” He pushed off the mantle, straightening to his full height. “I have a promise to keep first.” The dark outline of his body turned towards you, glimmers of light playing in his molten chocolate eyes. “I told you that when you least expected it, you would learn the truth.” He started to cross the room. “And now that Kreizler cannot stop turning your question over in his mind, we need you to know the truth.”
Your heart started to race, forbidden heat sparking in your veins as you instinctively tried to get away from him. You moved in an arc opposite his, careful to keep the sofa and coffee table between you. As you glimpsed his face half-lit with fire and half-masked with shadow, the breath punched from your chest to see the raw, unbridled desire that burned in his gaze. Your body responded in kind, remembering everything about his touch in the cemetery, fueled by the knowledge of the pleasure that Laszlo’s body had repeatedly brought you.
You swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth, trying to keep him talking. “I-I’m glad to hear that he is still thinking about it,” you forced a weak smile, “not that I was worried that he lied to me. But...I knew he wouldn’t like the idea of me trying the serum.”
“Even after all this time, you know him so little. You should learn to listen more carefully.” He shook his head in slow admonishment. “His hesitation is for the exact opposite reason.”
You cocked your head in confusion, trying to recall just what Laszlo had said that night in his office.
“Risk takes many different forms.”
You blinked back at Daniel. “The opposite reason...? You mean that he does...like the idea?” A different form of risk, indeed - but god, did that make sense? Was Laszlo not really so concerned with the possible physical harm that you could suffer, but that he would enjoy seeing you at your extreme, at your worst self - to have a kindred spirit in facing the worst version of himself...?
Daniel’s rumbling chuckle shook you from your thoughts, igniting sparks in your lower belly. “The chance for him to see you like me...? The chance for us to take the world by storm…? Again, I ask you - what’s not to love?” He slowly continued to advance around the furniture and you tried to maintain the distance from him.
“Well, that’s good to know, I guess. But...but shouldn’t you be out dealing with whatever reason Laszlo became you tonight?” You shook your head, firelight warming your skin as you neared the hearth. “Aren’t there priorities, right?” You tried to use the words that he had used that first night in your kitchen, something that might distract him despite the traitorous arousal welling within you.
His smile darkened with a wolfish edge as his face hardened with focused purpose. “You opened his mind's door to the forbidden possibilities of dark temptation. His raging torrent is my obsession - and we’ve let you live in denial for too long.”
You exhaled shakily as everything in your body responded to the presence of this dangerous, alluring predator closing in on you. “And what…,” you tried a last ditch effort, “what if I say no...?”
He hummed a low noise, more a growl than anything. “Still fighting to the bitter end. But make no mistake - this is the end, Herzblatt.” The silly pet name rolled off his tongue with sinful promise as his heavy gaze dragged over the thick robe. “You were honest with him about your desire. Now, it’s my turn to be honest with you - and time to be honest with yourself.”
You didn’t realize how close you’d let him get until the delicious scent of his cologne washed over you. The scorching heat of his hand fell against the small of your back as he stood so close - so hot, so inviting, so intoxicating. Your thighs pressed together, trying to relieve the building ache, but your body wouldn’t be fooled. Your hand raised to his chest, uncertain if you meant to push him away or pull him closer.
His gaze swept your face in careful examination as his other hand settled to your neck, fingertips skimming your raging pulse. “Increased heart rate, elevated respiration, dilated pupils…,” he murmured, his hand skimming down your throat, over the outside of the robe and the curve of your breast as his voice dropped to a low register. “So beautiful.” His hand continued its downward path to tug at the sash around your waist as he leaned in. “Shall we see if the rest of you is just as willing?”
Your breath trembled as the robe fell slack and strong, sure fingers teased inside. Sparks lit on your skin as he trailed up your stomach, tracing the underside of your breast and circling up to tease your peaked nipple. A whimper pitched high your throat as pleasure lanced through you, the hardened nub already so sensitive.
The rumbling groan in his chest made your core clench in needy anticipation as his fingers continued to rub and pinch. You bit your lip against another traitorous sound even as you instinctively arched into his touch. His lips pressed to the soft skin beneath your ear and your other hand rose to grip his arm as any objection you could summon abandoned you.
His mouth teased along the line of your jaw as his hand moved away, leaving your other breast achingly bereft to skim back down your stomach. Your legs widened of their own volition and your moan deafened you as his warm fingers dragged through your gathered slick. Fuck, you were so wet - and now, he knew it, too.
He teased your wetness around, exhaling a shuddering breath. “Oh, Liebchen….” His teeth scraped your skin, closing around the junction of your neck and shoulder.
Another moan escaped you, dizzy from the hunger of his words and the suction of his mouth. His tongue soothed over the bruising mark as he growled, swiftly pulling his hand from between your legs. He wrapped you in his arms, crushing you against him as he drew you down to the plush rug bathed in firelight.
You blindly clawed at the buttons of his shirt, wanting him just as bare as you. The robe parted under his hands, exposing the whole of your naked skin to the open appreciation of his ravenous gaze. His shirt fell away and you traced the muscles of his chest, surprised to still see the familiar pattern of moles decorating his skin.
You didn’t have long to look before his head dipped, blazing a scorching trail of kisses and licks down to your breast. He closed his mouth around a stiff bud, driving you wild with strokes of his tongue and suckling pressure. A soft cry left you as your fingers wove through his hair. He groaned with primal satisfaction, nipping with enough force to make you tug on his lush locks as your hips twitched against the carpet and slick heat further soaked your center.
You whimpered a needy sound as he shifted his body, widening the spread of your legs to an obscene angle. His mouth re-traced the path that his fingers had earlier, pausing to suck a bruise on the inside of your hip. Your breath caught at the slight sting, heart galloping to watch him hook a leg over his shoulder, settling his head between your thighs. His eyes lit with wicked promise as he took in your glistening arousal and leaned down.
The warmth of his tongue moved between your swollen folds, savoring your taste with maddening, teasing strokes. You didn’t even try to restrain your moan as the flat of his tongue dragged up to your clit and the heat of his mouth descended. Your nails raked the plush carpet, gasping for breath as your world reduced to the exquisite pressure building in your core.
He devoured you with focused intent, his gaze impossibly dark as he watched you writhe. The circular patterns of his tongue and the scrape of his short facial hair brought you to the edge with alarming speed. Your back arched off the floor with a ragged cry as the dam spilled over and euphoric release rolled through you. His tongue continued to coax you through your orgasm and refused to let up, even as the pleasure turned to twinges of oversensitized discomfort. You whimpered, twitching against the floor to relieve the pressure of his mouth, but his hand tightened on your hip in bruising warning.
“Please…,” you moaned, fingers twisting in his hair, “t-too much...please!” Your body tensed on a sharp inhale, overwhelmed as he suckled your clit.
He wedged his shoulders further between your thighs, forcing you to stay open for him as the motions of his tongue continued unhurried. With one hand firmly planted on your hip, his other edged under the seal of his mouth to rub against the outside of your folds. Slowly, his fingers crooked against your sensitive skin to create a pulsing rhythm that sent shockwaves through you.
A sobbing cry tore from your lips as your nerves burned, still overloaded but already recharging. The motion of his fingers combined with his tongue to stir a roiling, tense heat inside you. Your heart hammered as your mind short-circuited from the overpowering surge of sensation. Liquid heat melted your core as a second climax erupted with blinding flurry and choked a moan high in your throat. White spots danced in your vision, numb to everything but the ache in your center that throbbed with empty satisfaction.
His eyes sparkled with fiendish glee as he held the flat plane of his tongue against your clit in a moment of stationary reprieve. The rhythm of his fingers hadn’t ceased, still teasing against skin that you’d never imagined could be so stimulating. His mouth retreated the slightest bit, gusting a hot, heavy breath against your wet skin as his fingers slipped down to your drenched opening, circling with obvious intent.
You bit your lip, trying to form words, but only a high-pitched gasp escaped when his thumb eased inside. The digit crooked at a shallow depth, brushing a spongy spot along the inside of your back wall. A new, slow-rolling intensity ignited in your core, stirred to life by the steady rhythm of his thumb. You moaned and squirmed under his touch, perspiration forming on your skin in the relentless heat of the fire as your mind reeled. How was it fucking possible for him to know your body better than you did?
He chuckled, low and indulgent, making you clench around his thumb. “I told you that I would find each and every secret inside you. Just because he chooses not to leverage the full extent of his medical knowledge doesn't mean that I have any such reservations.”
Oh, shit - had you asked that question aloud?
His thumb continued with its sweeping strokes and you could feel yourself growing impossibly wetter, edging towards yet another orgasm as his voice rolled over you in a dark wave. “After all, hysterical paroxysms used to be administered by physicians - with hysterical coming from the Greek word ‘hyster’ which, of course, means ‘uterus’.”
Fuck, nothing about his words should make your blood run hotter, but your body was beyond your control. You clawed at his shoulder, muscles tensing as demanding need torqued your body higher. You needed more pressure, more friction, more speed - but he just let you twist against the maddeningly even pace of his thumb.
“I-I can’t,” you whimpered through heavy breaths, “I need more.”
“Amazing how little you know of your own body.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss over your clit, sucking lightly and you cried out at the sudden tremor of pleasure before he retreated. “Consider that a gift. Otherwise, you’ll come for me again with nothing more than the press of my thumb...it just takes time.”
Your heart would surely stop before then. You’d never experienced such foreign pleasure driving you crazy, slowing eating at your sanity. Your hips continued their feeble thrusts against the firm restraint of his hand, but you were powerless against his strength. The thought ratcheted your desire higher as your core clenched around his thumb, so desperate, so fucking close. The gentle scrape of his thumbnail tipped you over the smoldering edge and you didn’t recognize the raw cry in your throat as your body convulsed around him. Release rippled through you, your muscles seizing with delicious ache.
He groaned in carnal satisfaction, his eyes unbearably smug. “Good girl.” He lowered his lips back to your clit as his thumb slipped free. “My very good girl.”
You tried to calm the rapid pace of your heart, but the lingering tendrils of orgasm met the new sensations stirred by his mouth, and you sobbed. “Please - I...I can’t-”
“Yes, you can,” his words deformed against your slick, oversensitized skin, “and you will.” Without warning, two long fingers pushed inside you, stretching as they twisted deep.
Your voice found a whole new octave as you jolted against the delicious intrusion and the return of his tongue. His gaze smoldered with unrelenting hunger and he gave you no reprieve. His fingers moved like a man possessed, curling against your inner front wall only to retreat and surge forward again. He worked his tongue over you with a heightened intensity that would surely drive you insane.
Your mindless cries echoed off the fire-drenched walls as he took everything from you. The coils of pleasure wound impossibly tighter, and you sobbed against his overwhelming touch as your hands clawed feebly against anything you could reach. He hummed his hungry approval against your slick skin as his fingers crooked with new determination. Sensation subsumed you as rapture engulfed you, black haze eating at the edge of your consciousness as climax overtook you.
When you finally blinked your eyes open, it took a minute to collect your breath and your bearings. Your heart hammered as you came down from the intense high, your body boneless against the floor as sweat glistened on your skin. The solid weight of him had shifted, and your overworked thigh muscles relaxed, making you wince at the dull ache.
He teased kisses along your belly and around your navel, smearing the slick on his lips as he went.
“Just like I promised,” his words caressed your skin as he continued to move up your body, drawing a nipple between his lips, “a gorgeous wreck in my arms.”
You whimpered as his tongue brushed a hardened bud, feeling distant heat insatiably pulse in your center. His hand found your thigh, coaxing your leg to bend, spreading you open to accommodate the press of his hips - his naked hips. You couldn’t piece together how or when he had removed his trousers, helpless to only arch into him as he loomed over you, his tongue tangling with yours in the heat of your mouth. The leaking tip of his cock slid against your soaked, aching entrance and you gasped into the kiss.
He purred an amused chuckle. “My good girl.” His hips pushed forward and met no resistance from your body. You fell into delirium at the full, thick press of him stretching you open, clinging to him for some semblance of sanity.
His hips rocked a solid, fluid motion as he groaned against your clavicle. “You fit me so perfectly, like you were made just for me.” The hard tip of his cock found your secret nerve, tearing a hoarse cry from you that he easily recognized.
He hummed with satisfaction, rutting into you with harder purpose to strike that burning place as he growled. “Like you were made to be all ours.” His mouth closed over the sensitive skin at the crook of your neck and shoulder, and you existed with him in mindless bliss.
More of your raw cries filled the room as he owned your body with his, wringing every last spark from your overstrung nerves. The inferno built within you, stoked with each commanding thrust, and your nails dug half-moons into his shoulders as his mouth continued to mark your skin. You shattered in a brilliant stab of pleasure, muscles convulsing around him in the rush of blissful release. He groaned a ragged sound, teeth sinking into your skin and hips flush against yours as his release flooded deep in you.
Only then did he finally relent. Only then did he finally let you slump against the floor. Delicious numbness spread through your body, singing with newly discovered contentment as your mind drifted somewhere apart from your body. His teeth slowly relinquished their hold, but you couldn’t feel any discomfort through the surge of endorphins overloading your system.
He drifted sloppy, open-mouthed kisses up your damp neck, trailing his tongue along your jawline to capture the salty taste. “My very good, gorgeous girl.” His nose brushed your cheek and you realized they were wet from tears. How long had you been crying…?
You unclenched your hands from around his shoulders, letting them fall slack against the thick rug beneath you. A bone-deep exhaustion overtook you, muscles and mind overworked from his onslaught. You whimpered as he withdrew from you, sore muscles protesting the gentle movement and your eyes slipped closed.
His soft voice drifted over you as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Rest now, Liebchen. I’ve got you.”
You drifted off, letting the waves of sleep pull you under.
Strange Case of Dr. Kreizler and Mr. Brühl - Ch. 10
A "Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde" AU
Modern!Laszlo/Daniel x Fem!Reader Series
Series Master List
Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, physical hurt/comfort, intoxicated character, use of actor's name not meant to reflect anything about him as himself
Chapter Word Count: 2.4k
Chapter 10 -
You tended to the faded bruises on Laszlo’s left knuckles in the morning. You didn’t know what else Mr. Brühl had done last night, but it wasn’t a question that you needed to ask.
Of course, you objectively knew the kind of things that he did, but to see him in action had been something different. The speed with which he moved, the effortless strength he displayed, the way he hadn't even paused before smashing in that man's nose. Would Mr. Brühl have really killed that man with no real provocation if you weren't there?
The memories roiled uneasily in your stomach, as did his parting words. But as the days passed and the memories continued to turn over in your mind - as much as it had been shocking and a few minutes of fearful nerves - you couldn't deny that it had been exhilarating and not entirely...off-putting. On some base level, it touched some survival instinct to feel protected, to be guarded by the most powerful strength. Even despite his initial suggestion to leave you in the open grave instead of that ex-cop, your body certainly didn’t have any physical qualms with Mr. Brühl, and you'd fallen back under his spell all too easily.
Nothing about that, though, brought you any peace or eased your worry the next time Laszlo...transformed. Especially as sleepless hours kept you awake, waiting and wondering who would walk through the bedroom door. Laszlo's last text only indicated another late night without any further hints. But in the end, you just found Laszlo in the morning, sporting a split lip and angry scratches on his cheek as he stumbled out of his main floor half-bath, pale but very much himself again.
You tipped more isopropyl alcohol onto the cloth, pressing it to the red, congealing scratch marks. “These look like they were made by...someone’s nails.”
Laszlo blinked against the bright kitchen light. “They were.”
Despite your exhaustion, the concern that had plagued you all night multiplied. Your mouth pinched to a thin line as you dabbed at the weeping blood. “Next time...when you become him - will you tell me, please?”
You didn’t think it was an unreasonable request, but he sighed heavily before speaking. “You shouldn’t have to be subjected to the ugly truths of my days.”
“The ugly truths of your days are a part of us being together,” you said tersely before softening your voice, “and if you’re going to be out all night...I’d just like to not be awake wondering if something happened to keep you legitimately late at the institute, or if you’re just him….”
He shook his head with gentle self-reproach as you pulled the cloth back. “The last thing I want you to do is worry about me.”
“Too late for that.” Your words caught on a yawn as you turned his chin to get a better look at his split lip. “I love you, I worry about you - simple as that.”
He exhaled another heavy breath, clearly not convinced but still accepting as his bloodshot, chocolate eyes connected with yours. “Then, I will try to be more forthcoming to let you know before I...change.”
“Thank you.” You tipped the rubbing alcohol bottle to a clean corner of the cloth. “This may sting worse.”
He didn’t flinch as you pressed the cloth against the dark red gash in his bottom lip. Again, you thought about asking what had happened, but you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted to know. The whole situation still broke your heart on some level, but at least after Halloween night, you could begrudgingly admit that you understood more about Mr. Brühl.
But was he right, though? Did Laszlo already know himself so well that he would never be able to let Mr. Brühl go? You didn't have the first clue about what the serum felt like, but you'd seen the clarity of thought and unassuming strength that it brought Mr. Brühl. He explained the world as you'd never heard, and maybe that was why it was Laszlo's chosen coping mechanism. However messed up that still sounded.
Still, at its core, the serum that Laszlo used was a drug, and all drugs carried a risk of addiction. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was to have such profound power surge through your veins, altering your body and mind. But if there was a rush, if there was a high, it didn’t seem to be something that Laszlo actively chased. At least, not yet.
Pulling the cloth away, you lowered your gaze to the tabletop. “What does it feel like?” You asked softly. “When you...change?”
He tensed against the chair, and you felt the full force of those always sharp, always perceptive eyes on you as he spoke. “An odd question.”
“Well, I’m…curious, I guess. You’re breaking the laws of nature as no one ever has - and the moral implications of Mr. Brühl notwithstanding, it’s really a remarkable achievement.” You shook your head as you fiddled with the alcohol bottle lid to ease your sudden nerves. “But to put yourself through that transformation…I’ve seen your rebirth. But to be born as him…?”
His hand found yours atop the bottle, pulling it against the warmth of his chest. He widened the spread of his legs, pulling you down to sit in his lap, wrapped in the strong embrace of his left arm. Echos of Mr. Brühl’s sandalwood cologne filled the air beneath astringent alcohol as you rested your forehead against his temple, turning so his lips rested by your ear.
His words singed your skin. “The experience is…electrifying. The world sharpens, colors are otherworldly – and everything becomes so clear.” He whispered for you alone. “No fear, no doubt, just…being and feeling – and doing.”
“That sounds frightening.”
“The first time, certainly. I…of course, I didn’t know what was happening.” He paused, shaking his head minutely. “The second time was the product of profound curiosity – and proved infinitely more enlightening.”
“Enlightening…? I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
“Every time that I’m him, I’m confronted with the worst version of myself – and yet, the experience is…liberating.”
You basked in his embrace for the space of a breath as the kitchen continued to shrink around you. “I suppose there’s an argument to be made for your bravery in continually confronting the worst of yourself…not only just confronting, but embracing.”
He shook his head in sudden, sharp denial. “True bravery would be taking a stronger stance as my own man.”
Your mouth curled with an unbidden smile. “You already give so much of yourself – it is alright to lean on others for support. I just –” You bit your lip to stop yourself, not wanting to add to his concern.
“Don’t hide from me now, Liebling.” He encouraged softly, rubbing his bearded cheek against your skin in a rasping caress.
You wrapped your arms tighter around him. “I just...I’ve already told you that I wish he didn’t put you at such personal risk, but,” you sighed, "I just hope that...if he ever becomes a problem, that you'll solve it before he truly hurts you. Or us."
His arm tightened around you with warm reassurance. “Rest assured, if he ever does present a credible threat…I will see that it is dealt with.” He pressed his lips carefully to your cheek, the kiss full of promise. “You have my word.”
And you trusted him to keep it. About everything.
So, when the text arrived a few weeks later, well…. At least, he did as you asked. At least, you knew that he prowled the night as Mr. Brühl and all you could do was wait. It did make you instantly drain the rest of your brandy snifter, though, as you tried to keep focused on your book and relax against his living room couch.
As the hours passed, you wondered if maybe you should just go back to your apartment. Ever since Laszlo insisted that you keep the spare key, you’d found yourself quite accustomed to thinking of his home as your place together - but maybe you should let him have tonight for himself. Or, now that you knew what tomorrow morning would look like, would he appreciate you staying anyway? Maybe it wasn’t the most desirable job to care for him in Mr. Brühl’s aftermath, but you knew the routine and you wanted to be there for the man you loved.
The heavy wood and glass front doors crashed open, making you jump against the couch. You stared in open shocked, confusion as Mr. Brühl’s dark-suit clad form stumbled in with uncoordinated movements. His arms swung wildly for the door, trying to close it and succeeding after a few tries. He grumbled in German, hiccuping as he leaned against the closed doors.
Your face fell, stupefied as you heard him hiccup again and watched him slide to the floor. Abandoning your book, you rose from the couch and approached the foyer on cautious steps. Was this...some sort of joke? You’d never even heard Laszlo hiccup, so just what the hell?
You glared down at him, taking in his prone form stretched out on the polished hardwood floor. He wore the familiar dark sunglasses as he reclined, looking unfairly graceful with his ankles crossed and hands resting on his stomach. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear that he’d been laying here all night. Silence filled the air as you continued to stare down at his motionless form - until he hiccuped again.
You crossed your arms, shaking your head. “You’re a fucking mess.”
His eyebrow arched over a dark lens, words slurring together. “Lov’ya, too, babe.”
“I’m not your babe.”
Raising his left hand, he balled it in a fist as he brought it clumsily down over his chest. “Righ'through the heart.”
“Hmm, somehow I think you’ll live.”
He snorted, the sound distorted by another hiccup. “Thank you, doctor.”
You rolled your eyes before glancing over your shoulder at the stairs down to the kitchen. “You need water.”
Another unusually inelegant noise left him, his mouth curling with a wide grin. “Dis-gushting. Gin, please.”
“I think you’ve had more than enough.
“Don’t let...let these pesky...hic...fool you.” He wagged a scolding finger. “Didcha know hiccup is from the Latin word ‘singultus’ with ‘shin-gult’, of course, meaning ‘to catch one’s breath while sobbing’?”
You arched a teasing brow, unable to completely keep the smile from your face as he slurred his words. “And how did ‘hiccup’ evolve from ‘singultus’, hmm? They sound nothing alike.”
“It’s all part of the mysh-tery.”
Your smile grew despite your wary irritation as you glanced at your watch. “The only mystery here is why you’re totally wasted and it’s not even 11 pm yet…. Shouldn’t you be out, you know...ignoring the moral line with a dash of violence and a sprinkle of murder?”
His bottom lip puffed out. “Pffff, it’s not always abou’murder. And that’s no mysh-tery - I know exactly how I got here.” He tilted his head back to pointedly regard you, and you swore you could feel the penetrating stare of his molten-chocolate eyes through the tinted lenses. “The only real mysh-tery here...is why you haven’t asked him...if you can try the serum yet.”
You froze, stunned at his words. “Why in the world would I want to do such a reckless thing?”
“Because he heard the curious-nessh in your voice...and I heard your envy, Herzblatt. And because,” he snorted his amusement, gesturing at himself. “Jus’ look at me. Like those fake workout ads, ‘you, too, can look like this’ - except, you know…,” his right hand raised, tracing some swirl in the air that vaguely resembled an hourglass, “more feminine-ine.”
You bit your lip, unable to deny that there was some truth in his words. Ever since Laszlo described the serum experience to you, the question had lurked in the back of your mind despite everything that you'd seen. What would it feel like to see the world so freely vivid? To exist as your own self and learn the raw truth of who you were?
He cackled with a sudden, sharp sound. “See?! You have thought about it.” He shrugged a hand. “Now, will you sh-top believing that I’m a liar?”
You sighed, feeling a flush rise in your cheeks. “I never said you were a liar.”
“Doesn’mean that you don’t think I’m truthful…err, untruthful,” he shook his head dismissively. “But jus’imagine if I had a friend…a lady like me….”
His words took you back to Halloween night in the cemetery. When his outstretched hand enticed you to enter his world of blood and appetite. And, now, as he lay sprawled on the wood floor before you, still unfairly dignified in his crisp black suit, hunter green dress shirt, and sunglasses that complimented the angles of his face – he oozed forbidden seduction even in his drunken state. The longer you looked at him swathed in the cover of night, hidden from the rest of the world, drowning under his intense gaze – you suddenly wanted to say yes.
You wanted to believe his wicked words, wanted to eat his forbidden fruit. You wanted to know how it felt to be so electrified, to see the world with such radiant clarity. You wanted to fall with him and never resurface.
The force of your thoughts shook you, racing a shiver down your spine. You knew that you should know better – your mother had surely raised you to know better. You knew the story of the Devil’s temptation, and there was no doubt that a devil relaxed against the polished wood, his mouth curled with a beckoning grin.
But did this devil offer your salvation or damnation?
You blinked from your thoughts, knowing that you needed to change the topic of conversation. Slowly, you shook your head. “Maybe, someday - but before that, you need a first name.”
A startling laugh punched from him, a wide grin splitting his face. “Sh-poiling my fun’s not fun, Herzblatt.” He gave a gentle shake of his head as he sighed, falling still.
At first, you thought maybe he had passed out. It would be impossible to know for sure through the sunglasses. But then another hiccup shook his frame and he sighed in defeat before speaking. “Daniel, I think. Should do nicely.”
“Daniel?” You tilted your head. “And what makes you think that?”
“Daniel 12:3, ‘those who are wise will shine like the brightness of the heavens, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars for ever and ever.’” He wet his top lip with a smug air. “Sounds like me, amiright? Aren’tcha proud?”
“You are not wise, or a righteous leader.” Your face pinched with disbelief. “And why on earth do you have that bible verse memorized anyway?”
“I saw it at...at that orphanage...on that priest’s wall.” He raised his fingers to mimic a gun, pointing at his temple. “Mind like a sh-teel traa-p!” He popped the ‘p’ sound as private amusement suffused his face.
You shook your head, biting your lip. This conversation was going nowhere good. “Ok, fine - Daniel.” You exhaled deeply as you turned for the kitchen stairs. “I’ll get you some water.”
His dark chuckle echoed off the wood paneled walls. “Don’think you can run away s’easily! And you didn'distract me!” Another chuckle followed you down the hallway. “You don’t have to admit it to me, butcha can’t lie to yourself, Herzblatt.”
