#alex garel x reader

[radioactivebearz]

Calling all my Daniel Brühl fanssssss

Do any of you guys use character ai? If so would you be interested in characters with specific character role plays? Like modern!laszlokreizler or Zemo in an apocalypse/post apocalyptic world type thing?

[lafemmedezemo]

when álex garel lost everyone he ever loved, it was no surprise that he turned to science… after all when had the modern prometheus ever known when to stop?

[babybluebex]

what do you see...? [álex garel x fem!reader]

summary | eight years after eva's passing, álex learns how to love again, and how to forgive himself. pairing | álex garel (eva, 2011) x fem!reader (y/n) word count | 4.6k warnings | god, so much angst. spoilers for eva (2011), mentions of death, álex being the best girl dad ever, hard conversations author’s note | alright so... this is so sad. i'm not even gonna sugar coat it. i cried the entire time writing it. so, make sure to thank @monsieurbruhl, who really is the inventor of sofía isabella, and enjoy (and also i am on standby to pay your therapy bills lol)

You first met Álex Garel when you were a student, back in 2043. You had been attending university for several years and, in your last year, you heard the rumors of a hot, young professor that had started teaching at the robotics school. You remembered the way your friends would titter whenever they encountered him in the halls, but none of you ever truly knew Dr. Garel. You were a simple literature student at the university, trying to get your science credit in order to graduate and move onto graduate school. Your one biology class coincided with Dr. Garel’s lectures and, sometimes, you would sneak in the back and catch the last five minutes of his lecture. If he ever noticed you, he didn’t give any indication, but he always found a way to give you a crooked smirk in the halls and say hello.

You graduated, and went on to graduate school in the fall. There, you became more acquainted with Dr. Garel; his office was situated next to your advisor’s, and you found yourself bumping into him once a week when you came in for an appointment. He seemed different than when you used to sneak into his lectures: He kept the blinds of his office closed, he didn’t accept visitors, his office hours were short and only by appointment, and his lectures were so empty. The life, the light, that he had had before was gone. He was, by all accounts, a shell of a man. He was always in the same place, sitting outside, smoking a cigarette, a small collection of ash and dead cigarette butts at his side. One day in the winter, when you had shared a few tight smiles with him, you dared to say, “Can I bum a smoke?”

Álex Garel had looked up from the book in his lap and squinted in the sunlight, and he had chuckled in recognition. “You,” he said. “Are you even old enough to smoke?”

“I’m a grad student,” you told him. “I just left mine at home.” Technically, that was the truth, but you weren’t about to admit to him that you had quit smoking and was only using the request as a way to start a conversation.

Álex shrugged and gave you a cigarette from his pack, and you sat beside him as he lit it for you. “You know,” you started, taking a drag. “Smoking enough of these will kill you.”

Álex scoffed. “I know,” he said. “I’m trying to speed up the process here, shit’s taking too long naturally.”

The admission was so blatant and sharp that you laughed, because it had to be a joke, right? But Álex’s honey-colored eyes sobered you. Shit, you realized. He wasn’t joking. You ended up being late to your advising appointment because you were simply talking with Álex, and he left you with his number loaded into your phone. Still, you couldn’t get rid of the depressed, chain-smoking professor from your mind. You called him the next day and, on that ensuing Friday, he met you for a drink. Naturally, the drink turned into two, then three, then a kiss, then another, and, the next day, you were waking up in Álex’s bed. Technicalities were your friend, because, technically, your relationship with Dr. Garel was allowed. He was a professor at your university, but he wasn’t your professor. There were no broken rules.

As important as technicalities were to your relationship, omissions were just as important.

You were guilty of your own omissions. After a month of dating, you happened across an old news article that featured your boyfriend, along with another woman. The article, housed in the university archives, stated that, two days prior, a woman named Lana Garel had died, along with her young daughter Eva. Álex had been interviewed and, although the article made sure to note how rude and sour Álex was, he said that he, along with his brother’s wife and daughter, had been hiking when an avalanche had swept Lana away and hurt Eva. He said that Eva later died at home, and added to not bother his family any more. You spotted the date of the article: December 8, 2041. A year and some change ago. That meant that, the day you met Álex and asked for the cigarette, December 6th, he had been mourning a year since his family died. You never told Álex what you had accidentally learned.

When you graduated with your master’s degree two years later, Álex asked you to marry him. It was a quiet affair, taking you to dinner the night of the graduation ceremony and presenting you with the ring that you had a hand in designing. You and Álex had talked about getting married, but the proposal still shocked you. You were married within the year; but, with marriages and nosy family members, came the question of children. Álex always clammed up whenever the question came about, swiftly polished off his drink and went in pursuit of another, and left you to explain that, well, Álex and I haven’t really talked about it yet, but it might be a while, we’re waiting to see if he’s granted tenure or not.

Finally, after a year of marriage, the pot boiled over. Your family had learned to stop asking questions about children, but you still wanted to know. “Al, I deserve this,” you told him. Álex was stalking around the house, ignoring you, and you followed him. “Ever since we fuckin’ met, you’ve been weird about having kids. Like, I get it, it’s a scary thing, but you won’t even tell me why you don’t want them. I mean, do you want kids? I don’t even know!”

FInally, Álex stopped his lumbering, and he shoved open the door to a coat closet. He rummaged around in it for a moment, still ignoring you, and finally he threw something at your feet. It was a book, big and thick, bound in worn red leather. It landed on the floor with a heavy thud, and your words escaped you with hurt. He said nothing to you; he grabbed his coat from the hook and left the house. You sank down to the floor and gently cradled the book, and you opened it carefully. The spine popped and cracked with age and disuse, and, on the first page, you saw a picture of a little girl. Her skin was flushed, her hair hanging in a bob at her chin, her eyes bright and happy. There was a small handwritten title under the girl’s picture, handwriting that you didn’t recognize. It said Eva.

The scrapbook was full of pictures and videos of Álex’s niece. The videos were embedded in the pages, a small blinking dot in the corner, and you tapped twice to watch them. One video was of Eva walking outside a car, the camera situated inside, and, at the end, there was a flash of your husband’s smiling face. There were pictures and videos from when Eva was little, a toddling little thing holding a woman’s hand. There was only one picture of only Álex and Eva, taken from afar; the two were ice-skating, and Álex was looking at Eva with the utmost love and adoration. The caption at the bottom of the page was in the unfamiliar handwriting, and it said Álex and Eva. The very last picture was of Eva asleep in a bed, curled up, her cheeks ruddy with life. Álex’s handwriting declared it December 5- Eva’s Last Day with Papa.

You cried. You couldn’t help yourself. Eva was Álex’s daughter, not his niece. Álex had a little girl that had died, a little girl named Eva that had his nose and bright eyes. Your tears fell from your eyelashes and onto the pictures of young Eva Garel, and you wiped them up with your thumb. Old Gris, the little robotic cat that Álex had had for years, gave a soft yowl and butted his head into your knee, and you smoothed your hand down his metal body.

When Álex returned later, you were still on the floor, crying. When he joined you on the floor, you saw his face pale and streaked with his own tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he began softly. “It’s still hard for me. Lana and I had had a thing years ago, before she was with David, and I never really let go of it. When I finally learned she was mine, it felt... It felt like the stars had aligned. But me and Eva and Lana went hiking one day, and there was an avalanche. Nobody knew it was coming, but, by the time it reached us, it was too late… We never found Lana’s body, and Eva was hurt. I had only just found out she was mine earlier that day… I brought her home, and she died that night... I can’t have another kid, querida. It would kill me. I already lost the greatest thing I ever had… I can’t do that again.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, chasing out your tears, and you pulled Álex’s head onto your shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked softly, kissing your husband’s hair.

Álex’s answer had the coveted technicality, and the requisite omission: “Because I killed her.”

It would take a while for you to get an answer on what that really meant. You never worried that Álex had been malicious towards Eva; rather, you were concerned that he simply had nothing to do with it but blamed himself. To you, it seemed that Álex suffered from survivor’s guilt, and that he seemed to wish that he could have done more to save Lana and Eva. You could never understand why Álex thought the way that he did, but you didn’t need to. Any answer was enough, and you forgave him.

Later that year, you discovered that you were pregnant. Álex was pleased— of course he was— but he also didn’t hide his sadness. He didn’t have to, and you didn’t want him to. He had every right to be upset over having another baby, but, as he told you on the way to the doctor’s appointment, he was a little thrilled. “I wasn’t around for Eva’s early years,” he told you. “I didn’t even know she existed until she was ten. I had such a short time with her, and I want to be better. I have to be.” The doctor told you that day that you were having a little girl and, when they showed you and Álex the image of her inside you, just a little squirming shape of a thing, Álex had to leave the room. When he came back, he smelled of cigarettes, and he was sniffling as he pressed his head to your belly. That became a normal thing for him: every night, he would put his head on your belly and would listen for any sign of life. Thankfully, it was always there. A kick, or a faint heartbeat. Álex cried nightly about your sweet little girl, and he named her Sofía Isabella.

Eventually, the omissions came to an end. It was abrupt and unpleasant, and it made you feel sick. You were at dinner with David, Álex’s older brother, whom Álex had told you had chiefly raised Eva, alongside Lana. David had been drinking a little, the old Garel family curse of addiction, and he said, “Y’know, now Álex will finally have a daughter he didn’t build in a lab.”

“What?” you asked with a confused chuckle. Álex was out of the room, doing something in the back garden (probably smoking a cigarette that he had promised you that he would stop but had yet to fully quit), and you were sorta glad that he wasn’t around for the conversation.

“Has he never…?” David asked, and you shook your head. “Eva was a robot. Highly advanced, probably the most advanced thing in the world. I dunno what happened, but Álex shut her down when she was about ten or so. I mean, yeah, Lana had died and he was pretty broken up about that, so maybe… I don’t know. I guess Eva’s tech was just too outdated or something, and the accident made her unrepairable.”

The car ride home was quiet, and you reached over and took Álex’s hand when he pulled into the driveway. “Al,” you whispered. He loved when you called him that. “Was Eva… How did Eva die? You’ve never told me.”

Álex lowered his eyes. “She was injured,” he said simply. “From the avalanche.”

“Injured how?” you pressed.

Álex sighed. “Querida—”

“I-I know you don’t like to talk about her,” you said quickly. “But please. I won’t ask about her again.”

“What did David say?” he asked sharply. “David told you something, didn’t he?”

You swallowed thickly, and you traced your finger along the back of Álex’s hand. “He told me that she wasn’t… That you… That-That she…”

Álex sucked in a deep breath. “She was a robot,” he said. “Yes. Her mother, Lana… We were colleagues years ago, and maybe even more at one point. But I left the project and assumed that Lana quit as well, but Eva… I’m not really her father, it’s more of a sentimental title, but she… I had a hand in creating her.”

The air was heavy, and your heart ached. “Why did you shut Eva down?” you asked. “Was her tech outdated, or…?”

“She killed Lana,” Álex said. “She didn’t kill her, exactly… Didn’t actively hurt her, but she was involved in her death. Asimov’s laws say that a robot can’t allow a human to be harmed, even through inaction. There was no avalanche. That was a story I made up to try to protect them… All of us. The world couldn’t know about Eva. Nobody could. She wasn’t supposed to exist in the first place.”

Your chest felt tight, and you tried to take a deep breath. The only thing you could manage to say was your husband’s name. Álex made you promise to keep the secret, and he said that only he, David, and Julia, the head of the robotics school at the university, knew the truth of what had happened. You agreed and, with a heavy heart, promised Álex not to ever tell Sofía. Not just about Álex’s missteps as an inventor, though; “She can’t ever know about Eva being a robot. She can know that she had a sister and everything, but Sofía can never know the truth about Eva.”

Álex couldn’t have lost count, even if he wanted to. It had been eight years since he had lost them. He could still recall the cold nip in the December air as he found his little girl in the snow, and he could still feel the soreness in his arms as he carried her back home and set her to sleep. The warmth of her body had astounded him; of course, Gris was a warm little thing, but Eva was different. Eva was his daughter, even if that wasn’t entirely true. Eva was warm and smelled like her mother, and Álex had to hold back tears when he remembered the way that life had fizzled from her eyes and she fell still when he mumbled those words. He hated them. He couldn’t even bring himself to say them, even in his own thoughts. To a point, he supposed, he hated himself. If he had simply not been so selfish, if he had protected his daughter, she might still be alive.

But eight years had passed, and the statute of limitations on raising the dead had long since expired. Álex hated to use that word for Eva: dead. It sounded so wrong, so dirty. Too tragic. But it was tragic. She was his greatest invention, the best thing he had ever made. He barely knew her for a week, and it was hardly even a day that he knew himself as her father, but he missed her. She would be eighteen now. He wondered what the small cottage in the mountains would look like if Eva was still around. In his head, he saw that Eva had brought that feminine touch that he sought, the blankets and pillows and warmth.

But now Álex had you for that feminine touch. Not just you, either, but little Sofía Isabella. She was a stunning thing, and Álex would lay awake at night and wonder just how this bundle of warm flesh and blood had managed to come from him. He was used to creating life, but not like her. Not like his little princessa. The nickname was apt; Sofía was a princess. She was so loved and so incredibly spoiled, but Álex could hardly fathom her being any other way.

The little princess had a routine that she had to adhere to, even on the worst of days. She required Papa (the first time she had called Álex that, he had to leave the room because it was Eva, not Sofía, Eva called him Papa, there was no way Sofía was calling him that) to wake her up and hold her, and she required to be carried to Mama, still in bed by that time, and she required snuggles from her parents before the day could begin. So, even though an astute chill filled Álex’s bones at the tragedy of the day, he carefully entered Sofía’s bedroom. His little girl was still asleep, her petite mouth open as she cuddled her pink blankie. Álex sat down beside her on her tiny bed and watched the three-year-old sleep for a few moments more before he settled a soft hand on her arm. Sofía stirred a bit at her father’s touch, and she opened her eyes with a sleepy smile. “Papa,” she mumbled, wriggling up into Álex’s lap, and he kissed the top of her head.

“Good morning, princessa,” he whispered. “Did you have nice dreams?”

“Mhm,” Sofía said, mashing her cheek into Álex’s chest as he stood up. His free hand went to hers, and Sofía pushed his thumb into her mouth. Sofía, even though being a healthy three year old, still had an affinity for her pacies, and you and Álex were trying to curb that by only allowing her to suck on Álex’s thumb. If Papa wasn’t around, she couldn’t have it. The tactic worked surprisingly well, and Sofía only sought Papa’s thumb in the morning and after naps.

Álex made sure to nab Sofía’s blankie as he rose from the bed, and he carried the little creature back to your bedroom. Sofía gave a tiny yawn around her father’s finger, and her light eyelashes fluttered as she started to fall asleep against Álex’s chest. She only opened her eyes when Álex laid back on the bed, and Sofía slowly crawled from his lap and went to you. Sofía was such a gentle thing and it surprised Álex whenever he saw it in action, and he watched with a melting heart as Sofía settled herself on top of you, lightly resting her head on your breasts. She reached out for Álex’s hand, and he turned on his side as Sofía resumed her little routine.

It didn’t take long for you to wake up, and you groaned a bit. Your eyes found Álex first, watching his two girls, and you knew what he was thinking. You knew what today was, and you knew that Álex would only be thinking of Eva all day. You reached out carefully and took Álex’s hand, and you tugged him close, until his head laid next to his daughter’s. “‘Morning, Papa,” you mumbled, brushing Álex’s wheat-colored hair from his forehead.

“‘Morning, Mommy,” Álex whispered, and Sofía gave a little squeal as she wiggled herself back into Álex’s warmth.

“And good morning to you, princess,” you chuckled lightly. “Oh, you’re just the sweetest thing.”

Sofía continued her happy little wiggling, and your gaze caught Álex’s. Already, the day seemed to be weighing on him, and your arm fell around his shoulders. You two had been talking for a while, and it was only the night before that you had agreed that Sofía should know about her sister. “Princessa?” Álex said. “Mommy and Papa wanna tell you something.”

“Okay,” Sofía said, holding Álex’s hand around his wrist as she continued to suck his thumb. “Tell me wha’?”

Álex drew in a deep breath and, when he sighed, you could hear his watery emotions. “Today is a very special day for me,” he started softly. “I get really sad today, and I want you to know why…” He paused, and his honey-colored eyes searched your face for a moment before he sat up and leaned against the headboard. Carefully, he tugged his daughter into his lap and gently stroked her hair, and you watched his eyes fill with tears. “Baby, I… Before you were born, before I even met your mommy… I had a little girl. Just like you.”

“Huh?” Sofía mumbled. There was a little tap against the ajar bedroom door, and Gris gave a purr as he pushed himself in and jumped onto the bed.

Álex sighed again. “You know how me and Mommy made you?” he asked. “How you grew in Mommy’s belly and everything?” Sofía nodded, and Álex said, “You had a sister, princessa. She grew in a different mommy, but I was her papa, just like I’m yours.” You admired how Álex only told her enough; Eva did grow in Lana’s mind, after all.

“A sister?” Sofía mumbled around Álex’s thumb. “Where’s she?”

You had never really ever had to explain the concept of death to Sofía, so Álex’s hesitancy didn’t surprise you much. “She… She died,” he said softly. “She had to go away for a really, really long time. And she… She’s not coming back. Her name was Eva. But today is a sad day for me, because Eva died eight years ago today… She would have been eighteen, if she…”

“Why did she have to go away?” Sofía asked, wriggling in her father’s lap. She seemed totally enamored with his story, and you tried to hide how you were drying your tears. Álex, though, didn’t miss a beat, and he reached out for your hand.

“She got hurt,” you said softly. “There was an accident… Eva’s mommy had to go away too.”

“Hurt?” Sofía repeated. “Like when I get an owie on my knee?”

“Sorta like that,” Álex mumbled.

“But you always make it better, Papa,” Sofía whimpered. “You couldn’t make Eva better?”

“There’s some things…” Álex started, and he bit his bottom lip as he tried to control himself. “There’s some things that Papa can’t make better, and this was one of them. I tried everything I could, baby, but Eva still had to go. But she wasn’t upset. She didn’t cry. She wasn’t scared.”

“Why didn’t you go with her?” Sofía asked carefully. “Were you hurt too, Papa?”

“I wasn’t hurt,” Álex said. “You-You know those really scary snowstorms we get sometimes? Where the snow falls down the mountains and we can’t go into the town because there’s so much snow on the roads?” Sofía nodded, and Álex swallowed thickly. “Me and Eva and Eva’s mommy were taking a walk one day, and one of those storms snuck up on us. It hurt Eva and her mommy really badly, but I didn’t get hurt. I was able to bring Eva home, and I knew that she had to go away. I knew that she wasn’t meant to stay here. But I sat next to her and kissed her and told her a bedtime story, and she… She died. I did everything I could, princessa, but sometimes people just aren’t meant to stay with us.”

“What story did you tell her?” Sofía asked, pressing her head into Álex’s chest.

“Well,” Álex started. “She asked if I could tell her a story that her mommy used to tell her, and the same story I told you last night. The one about the princess who tells a story to a prince for a thousand and one nights, but the prince ends up letting the princess tell the stories forever. It was Eva’s favorite. But I didn’t tell her that one; I told her a different one.”

“What one, Papa?” Sofía asked.

You listened as intently as your daughter did. You had never heard Álex talk about the very moment when he had to shut Eva down— it was simply too upsetting, and you understood that— and you watched his red cheeks streak with tears. His arms went tight around Sofía, cradling her head to his chest, and he kissed her messy hair. “What do you see when you close your eyes?” Álex whispered, and he finally let a strangled sob escape him when Sofía shifted in his lap. You watched as years of regret and sadness and fear dissolved from your husband. He didn’t have to be afraid of the words anymore. He could say them to his daughter and not hurt her.

“You, Papa,” Sofía said, and Álex sniffled. “I see you and Mommy.”

Álex nodded, and he moved to have Sofía’s face between his hands. His palms almost entirely covered her head, and he pressed his forehead against hers. “I love you so much, princessa,” he whispered. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You hear me? The best.”

“I love you too, Papa,” Sofía said quietly. “Can I have toast?”

Álex chuckled, sniffling and trying to dry his tears. You didn’t anticipate Sofía really getting it immediately, and you didn’t expect for her to understand until she was older. But, until then, you could manage a smile at how easily she accepted it. “Yes, baby,” Álex said. “I think toast would be nice.”

“Did Sissy like toast?” Sofía asked, shuffling around to find the corner of her blankie as Álex situated her on his hip.

You watched as Álex’s shoulders heaved with a sigh, and he got up from the bed, Sofía in his arms. “No, she hated it,” he said softly. “I… I like when you call her that.”

“Would she’ve liked me?” Sofía asked next, and Álex nodded instantly.

“Oh, princessa,” he said. “Eva would have loved you.”

You listened to your daughter’s babbling questions and your husband’s patient responses, and you leaned back and closed your own eyes. What do you see when you close your eyes? It was a simple question, nonsensical, but all-powerful. When you closed your eyes, you saw Álex. You saw him smiling, laying in the snow. You saw two young girls laying in their father’s arms, each more stunning than the next. You saw Álex gazing at Eva and Sofía with wonder and love in his eyes, and you watched him bury a kiss in Eva’s short hair before doing the same to Sofía’s thin curls. You heard your youngest daughter giggle, and you watched Eva stand up from the snow and dash off, and you heard Sofía’s calls of “Sissy, wait for me!” You saw Álex sit up as his girls ran and played, and you saw him look up at you. You saw him smiling. You saw him happy.

Maybe Álex didn’t admit everything to Sofía. But that was okay. Small steps had to be taken, especially with an admission like that, and you knew that, when Sofía was older, she would likely put the pieces together before either you or Álex could tell her. In fact, you could count on it. Sofía was so smart, the sharpest little knife in your drawer. It was a necessary omission. Maybe one day she would come to know Eva the way you had, with a sort of shining reverence that made pictures and videos of her glow with life. But for now, it was okay for Sofía to know Eva simply as her sissy who had to go away. There would be time for her to know the truth.

[sub-danny]

Kinkmas #21 - Electrostimulation - Alex Garel

You leant against the door to his office, watching as Alex swirled around on his chair, using it to hurry from one side of the room to another, gathering up parts to work on his new robot. You always loved to watch him work, to see how fascinated he was in his robots and how dedicated he was to them, but what you didn’t enjoy was how much time he would give to them, till you could go days without seeing him as he would stay in his office.

Even now, he hadn’t even noticed you staring at him, so engrossed in his work. Nor did he hear your footsteps slowly descending the stairs into his office. Only when you wrapped your arm around his torso did he jump and his head snaps to you.

“Y/n! I’m sorry I must have not heard you,”

“Too busy concentrating on your work,” you muse, looking down at the bits and bobs covering his work desk.

“What even are these?” you ask, picking up one clip and turning it around in your hand to examine it.

“An electrostimulation. With the robots running on electricity, these are placed on them as an additional source of electricity. If their main battery dies, it sends shocks of electricity around their body from the press of a button!” Alex starts to eagerly explain. You twist the object in your hand, your eyes lighting up in delight as you think over all the possibilities with this little contraption.

“So say if I was to place this little thing on you….” you say, pressing the disk onto the side of Alex’s neck, and instantly it latches onto his skin. You press the button in the middle of the disk, and immediately his back straightens, and he shudders as a few bolts of electricity shoot through his spine.

“F-fuck y/n,” he gasps when the zapping stops, collapsing against his work table, panting from the stimulation.

“Did you enjoy that?” you ask him, pressing kisses to the side of his face as you wrap your arms around him.

“I- well I- uh, yes y/n,” he replies meekly, flushing and looking away from you.

“I thought you would,”

Gently you cox Alex off his seat, and as he stands up and turns to face you, you push his shoulders till he hits the table. Getting the hint, Alex jumps onto the table, sitting down on the surface. Instantly you are at his neck, covering him in kisses as you lift his jumper, pulling away to pull his jumper and then shirt off. You were back on his neck as your fingers messed with the buttons on his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles, his boxers quickly following, leaving him stark naked on his desk.

Alex’s eyes were closed as he immersed himself in the feeling of your lips on his neck, that he didn’t see you pick up more of those disks, and it was only when he felt you start to place them on his body did his eyes open in shock again.

“Y-y/n?”

You didn’t respond, but in a second, he let out a loud gasp, the breath being stolen from his throat as he felt the electricity course through him, making his cock instantly harden. You had placed one over the tip of his cock, the most sensitive place, then two more on his base, another one on his balls, two on his nipples and a few aligning his back. All of them are in the perfect place to stimulate him, making his body shake from all the energy coursing through him.

“Fuck oh fuck y/n it’s it’s it’s so good,”

You had found a remote that controlled with them all and so played with the settings, seeing how long you could keep them on for, or quickly flicker from on to off to watch him jolt with surprise every time the electricity hit him.

“I knew you loved robots and all things technical, but it seems I had underestimated how much,” you murmur.

His hands clasped onto the edge of the table tightly as he bit his lip, trying to fight back either a moan or a scream from the stimulation. You had only been teasing them for a minute, and already he felt like exploding.

“I’m-I’m going to cum,” he gasped out, his hips twitching.

“Already? So needy,” you say, running your fingers gently up and down his shaft to hear him groan.

“Please, can I cum? I need it,”

“Go on then, be a good boy and cum for me,”

As you gave him permission, you let the electricity go up to the highest safe voltage, and Alex let out a scream, shaking as he came, his cum leaking out from the sides of the disk on the tip of his cock. His hips rocked as his face went bright red, and finally, when the last rope of cum came out of him, you turned off the electricity and slowly prised them off his body as he panted and came down from his high.

Taglist: @i-am-dead-inside-666, @scuttle-buttle, @fictionlandslanddreams, @lieutenantn, @greeneyedblondie44, @lov3vivian, @edencherries, @theartbooshlr, @somethingthatsaysbubbles @rumblelibrary @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @idkwhat-my-name-should-be @bruhlpng @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @foolishroach @belle82devart @anteroom-of-death @lorna-d-m @littleevilme13 @danielcmgbruhld @janine007 @creme-bruhlee @t-r-i-s-h-a-w @panickinanakin1 @droppdeadredd @wonderwoman292 @archangelproperty

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[scuttle-buttle]

Sweater Weather

Pairing: Alex Garel (Eva) x GN Reader

WC: 405

Rated: G

Tags: domestic, thievery!

❄

Alex chewed on the tip of his pencil as he stared at the screen absentmindedly. He'd been down in his little basement office for hours, making virtually no progress whatsoever. By this point his eyes burned from the screen’s glare. It wasn't until he accidentally bit the eraser clean off that he finally called it quits, sputtering out the rubber from his tongue.

He stretched his back. The muscles protested as he moved. Shuffling his way up the staircase he figured a cup of coffee was in order. Gris, his robotic cat, circled his ankles as he entered the kitchen. While the coffee brewed Alex watched the falling snow. He’d missed this while he had been gone for all those years - the gentleness and quiet that the blanket of white created. It was so simple, so opposite of the intricate coding and mechanics he surrounded himself with constantly. 

Coffee finished and fixed to his liking, he went to find you. He didn’t have to look far. Peeking his head into the den he saw you perched on the couch, book in hand. You looked comfortable, your legs resting along the span of the loveseat. The blanket that was normally in your bedroom covered you. 

Looking closer, he noticed that you were in one of his sweaters. The large grey turtleneck engulfs your frame. Alex grins. “I think that’s my sweater.”

You hadn’t noticed him. At his comment you break from your text to look at him as his words register. “Oh” - you look down at yourself then back at him - “I got cold and I didn’t think you would mind.” You snuggle your face into the knit of the thick collar.

“I don’t. It looks better on you than it does me.” He leans on the doorframe, a content smile on his face. The scrunch of your face suggests you disagree.

“How is the project coming?” Alex shrugs. “Well you’re always welcome to join me if you need a break. Then maybe you can keep me warm instead of me stealing your sweaters,” you laugh.

He chuckles and shakes his head at you, but still makes his way to the couch. You move your legs so that he can sit before placing them atop his own. He stretches his arm along the back of the couch.

“So, what’s this one about?” he tilts your book so that he can read the title.

“Well,” you begin.

Tag list: @ay0nha @apparrio @livvyshmiv @fictionlandslanddreams @vinylrosess @typical-bistander @ntlmundy @mymagicsuitcase @anteroom-of-death @somethingthatsaysbubbles @lieutenantn @multiversemarielle @trashbin2 @whatawildone @metalbreakfast @laura-naruto-fan1998 @greeneyedblondie44 @godidontevenknowwhat @marchingicenotes7 @loliissmut 

[tnystrk-exe]

Post a paragraph from every current work you have.

God damn it, we’re exposing my inability to chill with one thing

Alex garel: Though you didn’t receive any answers. Neither one of you made any moves to learn more about each other anymore than quick hellos in passing and an exchange of names. Even that was rare considering he’d only come out sparingly, mostly for a smoke in the mornings as he drank his coffee before he returned to whatever he did to occupy all of his time. You doubted it was anything of a real break from his work since he was often talking to the cat about different possibilities and theories.

Otto Octavius: Since you, his hand did very little to relieve anything. It used to be so simple. Maybe a quick toss when work got frustrating. Something easy to do when the numbers and letters all got jumbled and needed clearing. Usually done just when he was stuck on something. It wasn’t something he had to resort to a lot, he wasn’t a teenager anymore after all. That was until he had you. After that he was fucked.

Continuation of Any other lifetime: Ernst Schmidt: He led you up to bed. Laying you down, he took off his shirt and joined you. Pulling you to his chest, he hummed quietly, relaxing into the covers as your hand mindlessly drew lines across his freckles. Funny thing how much he used to hate being covered in them, now he was grateful. He chuckled as he followed the lines in his head figuring out the picture you were painting on him. Orion.

Estocolmo: “I know, but all you really need to do is be a good girl and keep me warm,” he persuaded, his thumb caressing your jaw lightly, “And you so do love being a good girl, don’t you?” His hand gripped your jaw gently, making you nod at his question.

[pondering-and-wondering]

When Daniel Brühl is being himself while partially having the look of his characters going feral isn't a choice, its a natural reaction

[boneheadduluc]

Danny bunch being possessive?

YES YES YES HERE WE GO *SQUEALS* (this is gender netural btw!!)

Laszlo Kreizler

Laszlo was so petty- it could get to be unbelievable at times. They way he would get so possessive and jealous over you. The first time it happened, you found it endearing. You were at a dinner to discuss the case and excused yourself to the bar, a man hit on you, and honestly you were perfectly fine on your own but when Laszlo realized what was taking place he almost lost his mind. Coming up to you and fending the man off with a sharp tongue and fast mind. He eyed the man until he sat back down and pulled you close. You giggled realizing how jealous he got. But soon after this would happen many times, even if it wasn't jealously based, it would be he wanted you with him on simple errands, or maybe staying in bed longer so you could hold him and run your fingers through his hair or just sitting in the study with him while he worked. Few times he'd actually get upset if you were busy, but when he would get in a bad mood you would set him straight and he'd apologize for being short with you almost immediately, but in the end it was nice feeling wanted and loved by him. 

Helmut Zemo

SUPER SUPER POSSESIVE but not in a red flag way- well- I mean he would kill for you 100% but still not a red flag :) Zemo is just the madly in love kind of type. He would realize how much he needs you and misses you whenever you are gone. He would take you EVERYWHERE with him as well. And yes could be very jealous even when Bucky would be talking to you, pulling you aside and promising to make sure that James is not a thought in your head by tonight. And even though you never thought of James in that way, you would give Zemo a smirk, knowing what he would give you tonight. And that night he would constantly call you his. Groaning into your ear. “Tell me you’re mine (y/n)- please.” he would whisper holding you close to his body, face flushed out and hair messy, it really was a tough act up until then, because once he was begging you, you realized how much he needed you- and honestly anytime a man or woman flirted with you, this was usually always his response. To either be a drama queen or fuck you multiple times in one night, leaving marks all over your neck as well. 

Andrea Marowski

Andrea wasn't known for his temper, sure he was possessive of you, but only ever showed it when he was in the mood for cuddles or attention. At least that's what you were used to. And you would always hold him, kiss his head, hum songs as he slowly fell asleep in your arms and you were always the big spoon, but at times when he would feel jealous, he really didn't know how to express it, other than pouting and crossing his arms if he felt someone was getting to close to you at the local pub. He could get rather insecure at times, not knowing whether or not you still loved him or got tired of him, especially since he couldn't speak his mind always with his language barrier. But when you looked to him, his expression gave it away -the fact he was upset- and you would go to comfort him immediately. And it didn't take a lot for Andrea to realize you are all his but still, even when you’d go home that night he whine and plead for you to love on him and of course you’d give in ;)

Ernst Schmidt

Oh boy- Ernst has quite a temper when it comes to you and when he feels you slipping away from him. You’d be talking to the other crew mates, and if banter turned more physical ( a fake punch to the arm or nudge or even pulling you close as you laughed) Ernst would get tense. He hated seeing it, but of course knew that you were happy and it was just banter, but still he couldn't help but get all squirmy at the fact you were at someone else side. Someone other than him, that night he’d excuse himself and go to bed early. And you had to go after him of course, everyone knew the two of you were together now so it was understandable. But when you found Ernst he looked at you up and down, coldly in a way before a smirk appeared on his lips. “did you have a good time with all your friends (y/n)?” He leaned against the bed frame, a book in hand, shirtless, staring at you like you were his prey. After a bit of dialogue you ended up pinned against the bed, Ernst fuckin into you, demanding you to scream his name,  “Scream for me, Schatz. So everyone knows who you belong to. So everyone knows whose cock is fucking your tight, little hole-” he’d grunt in your ear- that was his way of being possessive over you, filling you up with his warm seed, breeding you and making you scream. The next morning no one really made banter with you, you eyed Ernst, he looked back at you- smirking as he lifted his coffee cup to his lips. 

Alex Garel

He usually was calm, he would pull you to his side, hold you a little closer, kiss you a little longer. But sometimes- it wouldn't click for you and you’d go off to do your own thing, sometimes focusing was hard for you. But he was understanding and let you go off. But it was also hard for Alex not to get eaten alive by thoughts of he wasn't good enough for you. He would end up burying himself in work usually. Making him self busy until you would find him in the basement, doing shit he didn't even need to do really if you were being perfectly honest. So you’d come up behind him hugging him. “Whatcha doing love?” you’d whisper into his neck, smiling against the warmth of his skin. Alex would sigh- “Working.” he simply answered. “Take a break- please? Come to bed.” It would take a lot of convincing, but eventually you’d pull him up the stairs, his cheeks warm as he grinned at you laughing as you stuck out your tongue, you’d hold him close that night, reminding him how he was the love of your life no matter what.  )BTW KUDOS TO @amyowl470 for giving me perfect ideas for certain parts of dialouge in this- so helpful!!)

[babybluebex]

if anyone can point me in the direction of some good álex garel fics, please do bc i can't find any and i'm about to do it my damn self and torture myself with ANOTHER wip

help pls

(gif cred to @dailyworldcinema )

[tnystrk-exe]

Describe the current fanfic you’re working on.

Me fan service bc I fell in love with this character and he has no demand 😌 but he is my husband and I adore him.

[pondering-and-wondering]

Hot Take: Daniel Brühl does not have a “Dad Bod,” he just doesn't have shredded abs and a flat stomach. Stop saying he has a dad bod.

[babybluebex]

work fucjing sucks tonight, send me some alex garel headcanons to help me recover once i get off; i’ll share my favs with y’all 🤗

gif cred to @sonyarebecchi )