#Alan Grant Reader Insert

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Alan grant - nodding off

A/n: I hate that tumblr never notifies me.

It wasn’t often that Alan had a chance to rest or take a break, know matter how much you begged the man to do so. So when he came slinking into the office you were a little surprised he didn’t pass out right in front of you.

Instead, he sat down in the seat next to you. A tired sigh escaping his lips.

“Rough day.”

A snort, followed by an exhale was his only response until you notice that he was nodding off.

“Alan.”

The man jolted away only for his body to sway and before you knew it his head was resting on your shoulder, a sloth snore escaping his lips.

Chucking for a moment, you adjusted your body so he would be more comfortable. His arms then snaking around your waist tugging you close.

“Get some sleep Alan, you deserve it.”

[chaostheoryy]

Safe and Sound [Alan Grant X GN!Reader]

Summary: After returning home from the Jurassic Park catastrophe, Alan finds himself gravitating towards you. It’s subtle and sweet and the more time passes, the more you realize that there may be something unfamiliar brewing in his head. Could the infamous Dinosaur Man actually be falling for you?

Rating: General

Warnings: Nothing serious. Just canon-typical references to the events on Isla Nublar and kissing/making out (nothing too heated, just pure intimacy).

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: This takes place somewhere between Jurassic Park and Jurassic Park III. It’s just a fluffy exploration of post-Isla Nublar life and a chance for me to shower my comfort character with much needed love. (As always, no beta.)

The failure of Jurassic Park was a turning point. Not just in terms of scientific advancement and bioengineering ambition, but in your relationship with Alan Grant as well.

When he returned from Isla Nublar, it was obvious that he’d never be quite the same. Sure he went right back to his usual quiet, studious self and spent most of his days in the dirt or at his desk but something was still...off. He said very little, showed minuscule interest in anything other than work, and made it a point to avoid lectures as often as possible. That tiny social battery that made it difficult for him to maintain relationships prior to the overseas disaster had only grown smaller. He grew distant from friends and family. His weekly phone calls with Dr. Sattler turned to monthly chats before they stopped altogether. Day by day, the world started to see less and less of the infamous Dinosaur Man.

You, however, only saw him more.

As the main site admin and manager of his dig crew, you spent more time collaborating with Alan than anyone. If there was ever a change in schedule, a need for funding, or even just a print out of the latest field publications, you were the one he went to. It was a partnership that had been established long before the events on Isla Nublar; he trusted you wholeheartedly to keep him and his team afloat.

After he returned from Jurassic Park, you found yourself all but shadowed by him. Whether it was lingering in your trailer after a meeting or asking if you would join him for lunch, you became closer to him than ever. He started to brew you coffee in the mornings and made it a point to stop by your desk whenever he could, even if it was just to ask how things were going on the flyers for grad student outreach programs. Things he had no real need to be familiar with became topics of conversations that he initiated.

A few months of this subtle orbiting passed before you finally found the courage to broach the subject. Confronting Alan Grant was like trying to wrangle a startled deer: either he was going to spring from your grasp and disappear into the wilderness or he was going freeze up and retreat inward. You didn’t want to frighten him or make him feel like he’d done something wrong but you needed to understand what he was dealing with.

“Alan?”

“Hm?”

“What’s going on with you?” You asked one morning when he decided to bring his newest research project into your work trailer rather than his own tent.

Brow furrowed, he looked up from his hoard of books and notes. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“What’s going on with you emotionally, I mean. This past week, you’ve spent more time in here with me than out in the field with the crew. Don’t get me wrong, I love the company. I do. I just don’t understand why you’d rather listen to me vent about website organization than get your hands dirty.”

He blinked. The way he seemed puzzled by your words made it clear that he wasn’t even aware of this shift. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that his sudden desire to be around someone that often was so out of the ordinary.

“Oh. I don’t know. I guess it’s just become a bit of a habit.”

“Don’t the constant phone calls and clacking keyboard sounds annoy you?”

“Not really.”

“You actually enjoy being around me?”

“I do. Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

You chuckled and leaned back in your chair. “Not any specifics I can think of. I’m just surprised you’d even wanna hang around. It’s not exactly exciting work,” you said, “Plus, you don’t normally like spending time with people as it is.”

He pondered your observation. It’s true. Alan was far cry from being a socialite. Until he returned from Isla Nublar, every meal and break had been taken in the privacy of his own tent. If any of the team members threw a get together to celebrate a birthday or anniversary, he would only have one beer before retiring for the evening. Bars were a no-go. Dating wasn’t even an afterthought. No one in the world was more content flying solo than him.

“There’s something comforting about you. I can’t put my finger on it but I just…I feel safe here.”

“Safe from what?”

“From my thoughts. When I’m alone, it’s hard not to think about Jurassic Park. I’ll hear the crickets outside and remember the forests on the island. A warm breeze will blow at just the right angle and make my skin crawl because it feels exactly like the muggy breath of the Tyrannosaur. Tools will hit stone with a soft click and sound just like the raptors’ claws tapping the floor outside my door…”

He slammed his eyes closed, immediately trying to shake the image from his mind. Both his jaw and his fist clenched as he let out a shaky exhale. Even from across the room you could see a shudder roll through his body.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring all that up…”

“It’s alright,” he reassured you with a tight smile, “It can’t be helped. Some nightmares choose to follow you when you wake up. But having you around…It makes it easier to leave them on the pillow.”

Something tugged at your heartstrings. It was impossible to overlook the power of his words and the implications of what they meant. You had become Alan’s comfort person. He was clinging to every opportunity to be around you because your presence kept him grounded to reality. Nightmares and flashbacks didn’t plague his mind when he was by your side. Instead he was able to focus on the things in life that brought him peace and happiness.

While he didn’t say it with words, it was clear to you that he was revealing something else to you in that moment: he loved you. Your connection with him had grown from a respectful, professional relationship into something new and beautiful. He wanted to know your thoughts and opinions on certain things not because he needed a second opinion but because they actually mattered to him. He wanted to truly know you, to understand the things that made you, well, you.

You wanted to reply and tell him how glad you were to know that you could help him grow past the trauma but, before you could even gather your thoughts into a concise remark, the door to your trailer opened. One of the bright-eyed grad students poked his head in. He scanned your desk briefly until movement at the table in the corner drew his attention.

“Ah, Dr. Grant! We’ve been looking all over for you,” the student said excitedly, “We’ve found something you’ll wanna see.”

“What is it?”

“Utahraptor eggs. Billy’s still working on digging them out but we’re pretty sure we’ve got have almost half a dozen fossilized together.”

There was a gleam in Alan’s eye. It was that look of childish glee that you only saw when he made a particularly good find or got lost in a presentation about raptor social behaviors. Little moments like those made you smile, made you forget just how badly Jurassic Park had shaken him up. Fossils still held the innocence of discovery and theory. They gave him the reigns to imagine the world before his own.

“Tell Billy to put the brush down,” he said as he hurriedly started closing up the books in front of him, “I want to be there for the final reveal.”

“You got it.”

The grad student slipped outside once again. You watched as Alan fumbled with his paperwork and publications, a laugh vibrating in your chest when he started mumbling under his breath.

“Alan, just leave it there. I’ll take care of it.”

“I don’t want to leave you with a mess. I’ve already intruded on your space enough.”

You rose from your desk and walked over to him. Smiling, you grabbed the books already in his arms.

“Relax,” you said softly as you placed them back on the table, “I don’t mind holding onto your stuff for a while.”

Once your hands were free again, you reached up to fix the collar of his shirt. While your observational skills were far from those of a renowned detective or psychiatrist, you immediately noted a change in his demeanor when your fingers grabbed onto his shirt. His breath caught in his throat. His jaw tightened. His posture became straighter, more restrained. Every muscle in his body seemed to freeze while his eyes danced across your face.

It was the closest you’d every really gotten to him before. With the requirements of the job and the tight spaces in which you often had to work, it was impossible not to come into contact with one another from time to time. Shoulders bumped every now and then, hands brushed against each other during a handoff of notes or morning coffee. Every touch was fleeting and unintentional. This, however, was all your choice. You were placing yourself in his space with purpose and, if you were being honest with yourself, pure intimacy.

“There. Much better.”

He blinked, eyelashes fluttering over his cheek when the sound of your voice pulled him out of his daze. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Whatever air he had instinctively been holding at the back of his throat came out in a quiet exhale and the taut muscles in his shoulders loosened.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, “For that. And for watching over my work.”

“You’re welcome. Now go before Billy gets impatient and finishes the dig himself.”

A small chuckle rumbled in his throat. “He keeps us all on our toes, doesn’t he?”

The two of you exchanged glances, gentle smiles painted across both of your faces and heavy air of unspoken attraction between you. Then, with a small nod of farewell, he stepped out of the trailer into the afternoon sun.

***

The next morning, the new daily routine kicked right back in. You showered, dressed, and checked in with all of the team members before returning to the office trailer. Sure enough, Alan was there with a fresh pot of coffee in hand.

“Morning,” he greeted as he started pouring the scorching beverage into your favorite mug.

“Good morning to you too. Sleep well?”

“As well as any man can after spending several hours in the heat arguing with Billy Brennan. I don’t know where he developed that attitude. He’s even more stubborn now than the day we hired him.”

You sat down at the table where you had organized his work from yesterday into a neat pile.

“He’s passionate about field work and far more devoted to his studies than cultivating a social life. Sounds like someone I know,” you said playfully.

Grabbing the mugs of coffee from the counter, he walked over to join you. He placed your cup in front of you before taking his seat directly across the table. An amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe he is learning something from me after all.”

The next half hour or so was spent discussing the previous day’s find. The Utahraptor eggs had been uncovered in stellar condition. A few had been cracked and tarnished by millions of years worth of sediment but, overall, it was an ideal discovery worthy of academically supported display. As much as Alan enjoyed taunting Billy for his sub-par professional personality, the boy had done an exceptional job leading the dig.

After enjoying a second cup of coffee each, the subject shifted from work to personal dealings. He inquired about your upcoming trip home to visit family and told you about his plans to spend a few weeks in Colorado to work on his next book. Bit by bit, he was continuing to build upon your relationship by letting you venture deeper into the jungles of his heart.

“What are you doing tonight?”

The question caught you completely by surprise. There wasn’t any real sexual implication behind it but it shocked you nonetheless simply because he was so explicitly looking to spend time with you.

“Nothing really,” you replied, “I’m ahead on upcoming schedules and fundraiser planning so my evenings are pretty free.”

“Good. I’m happy to hear it. I, uh—“ He cleared his throat, shifting nervously in his seat. “I was planning on driving up the mountain to watch the meteor showers tonight if you want to join me. The skies are supposed to be very clear and the weather’s been quite mild so I thought maybe we could take the truck and put some blankets in the bed to lay on. Nothing too extravagant just—“

“I’d love to.”

He perked up. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Perfect,” he sighed in relief, “That’s…Great. I’ll, um…Is five alright? To leave, I mean.”

“Five works for me.”

A boyish smile curled at his lips. “Five it is.”

***

The sun had just set beyond the horizon when the truck finally parked on a cliffside overlooking the drylands where your team was camped out for the next few weeks. Not a cloud obscured your view of the beautiful sky. Pastel pinks and oranges blended with baby blues and lush violets as the afternoon gave way to the night.

It only took a few minutes to set up your little star-gazing nest in the bed of the truck. Pillows and blankets were placed neatly on top of a thick quilt. A cooler of drinks and snacks sat at the head of your open-air hovel with an old lantern sitting on its lid to provide a soft light source other than the moon and stars. It was a humble but wholesome set up.

By the time you were finished, the last bit of daylight was starting to fade from the sky. You both climbed up the hitch to settle amongst to blankets. You laid down first; he followed shortly after, leaving a small gap between you out of courtesy. Even still you felt yourself warmed by the proximity of his body.

The showers began not long after darkness took control of the horizon. Little balls of light gleamed and danced across the sky like celestial teardrops. You watched them with childish glee, pointing skyward every time you saw a particularly beautiful ribbon of glittering luminescence. He would laugh softly and occasionally direct your attention to certain constellations or planets.

Like magnets slowly being pulled toward one another, your bodies inched closer and closer until your shoulders were pressed together and the back of your hand was brushing his forearm. The more time passed, the more you became aware of his wandering gaze. He was spending just as much time looking at you as he was looking at the stars. There was an aura of fascination surrounding him, as if watching you were as satisfying as any vision the constellations could conjure.

As odd as it was to have someone stare at you like that, you didn’t feel uncomfortable by any means. In fact, it made you feel wonderful. It made you feel wanted and made you realize that he was seeing you in ways that maybe he didn’t even expect or understand.

Turning your head to the side just enough to meet his gaze, you brushed the back of your fingers along the smooth skin just below his wrist. His eyebrows twitched upward slightly at the contact and his eyes scanned your face in search of answers to a question only he could hear. A soft breath ghosted past his lips.

Moving cautiously, he hooked his arm beneath yours and tangled both of your hands together. His fingers melded between yours while his thumb experimentally stroked your skin. A small fire sparked to life in your chest, warming every inch of your body. Holding hands was such a simple act of affection but coming from Alan Grant, it spoke louder and more poetically than any love song ever written.

“I thought we came all this way to watch the meteor shower not have you stare at me.”

He blushed at the comment, his throat clearing roughly before he replied, “Sorry. I’m not trying to be rude. I just…The way your eyes reflect the stars…They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. It’s very hard to look away.”

Your heart leaped in your chest. It was the first time he’d ever really talked about you like that. Over the past few months, he’d occasionally make comments praising your outfit or pointing out your new haircut but he never made a direct remark about your looks. Never before had he called you beautiful.

“I hope I’m not being too forward,” he hurriedly added, “If I’m making you uncomfortable or involuntarily pressuring you into something you don’t want, please tell me. It’s been a long time and I’m not very good at this kind of stuff as it is so don’t be afraid to—“

You cut him off. “Alan, relax. You’re not being rude or making me uncomfortable, I promise.”

“Okay good. The last thing I want is to push you away before I’ve even gotten the chance to get close to you.”

“Can I ask you something? And I need you to be completely honest with me. Sugar-coating the answer is only going to make things complicated.”

“Of course.”

“Do you want to go out with me?”

“Are you asking if I’m interested in dating?”

“Yeah, I am. Because if you are, I want to continue whatever this is,” you said as you nodded toward your intertwined hands, “But if you’re just looking for something physical, I don’t think this is going to work...”

“God, no, I could never do something like that. Especially not with you. You’re too important.”

He sighed, taking a moment to study your face as he tried to shuffle through his thoughts.

“I want to be with you any way I can,” he continued, “If that translates to dating in whatever guide to modern romance people subscribe to these days, then yes, I want that.”

You smiled and squeezed his hand. “Then we’re on the same page.”

“Can I ask you something in return?”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s going to sound silly and I’m begging you not to taunt me when I pose the question, but I have to ask it before I do something stupid.”

“What is it?”

“Is it too soon to kiss you?” He asked shyly, “I don’t want to rush this or make you feel like that’s all I’m after but I just…I can’t stop thinking about what your lips would feel like against mine.”

The innocence of the question made it very difficult to get lost in the excitement that came with knowing what he wanted. It was a genuine inquiry, one that reminded you just how old fashioned he was. He gave you complete control, granting you the ability to set the pace and establish boundaries so that he could keep himself in check. Clearly it had been a very long time since he’d last pursued someone like this.

“No, it’s not to soon. I’d actually like to. Hell, I’d love to kiss you.”

His eyes flicked down to your lips. Then, with the hesitation of a high schooler going in for their very first kiss, he leaned over to ghost his mouth over yours. You kissed back. It was a slow dance of lips and tongue, one driven by child-like curiosity and immeasurable tenderness. Neither of you wanted to push too far or ask for something that the other wasn’t ready to give. Instead, you allowed yourself to completely soak yourself in his affection.

The stars overhead were practically forgotten. You didn’t care about the meteor showers or the constellations that hovered in the sky. All you wanted to see and feel and taste was Alan. With his hand wrapped around yours and his mouth capturing your lips in the gentlest of kisses, it was easy to say that it was one of, if not the most, romantic encounter of your life.

“That meet your expectations?” You murmured quietly when he finally pulled back.

“Exceeded them, actually.”

“Dammit, now I’m gonna feel like every kiss from now on is just gonna be a let down in comparison.”

“I don’t think it’s possible for any kiss to be a let down if it’s from you.”

“Y’know, for someone who really doesn’t like spending time with other people, you are shockingly romantic. I’m impressed.”

He let out a soft huff of laughter. “Spend years focusing on your career instead of pursuing lackluster relationships and you’ll turn yourself into a bargain bin romance novelist too.”

“Bargain bin? Sorry, but I’d happily pay full price for a kiss like that.”

“Just consider how lucky you are to have it for free,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

“I thought you didn’t believe in luck.”

“I don’t. But maybe there’s something else at play. I hate for the thought to even cross my mind but chaos theory does help connect dots otherwise left untouched…Jokes aside, please don’t ever tell Ian Malcolm I said that or it’ll go right to his head. It’s already big enough.”

“And make him think you actually like him enough to reminisce about his leather-bound ass?” You said playfully, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Another hour passed before exhaustion came to sink its teeth into both of you. Even when it became clear that sleep was just on the other side of the curtain, neither of you had any intention of separating. Instead, you grew closer. Your head came to rest upon his shoulder and your arm draped over his torso. A blanket was pulled over your bodies to shield you from the gentle evening breeze.

Under milky moonlight and dancing stars, Alan Grant slept peacefully. No nightmares plagued him, no terrifying memories clawed at his mind. With you in his arms, he was safe and sound. With you in his life, he was happy.

[fanfic-she-wrote]

Imagine Ian Malcolm and Alan Grant both falling in love with you

[deliriousgeek]

She’s the Alpha (Owen Grady x Reader) .1

Chapter 1:

Struggle of an Author Paleontologist

July 15th, 2001. On a Beach of Isla Sorna.

Alan Grant was breathless as he stood with the Kirby's. A man stood at the edge of the beach in a black suit. In his hand a megaphone. The image would have been found ironic if not for the current situation.

"Doctor Grant? Doctor Alan Grant?" He spoke through the megaphone.

Instantly Paul and Amanda Kirby ran towards the man yelling, 'That's a very bad idea', not wanting to attract more predators than necessary. They stopped as soon as they saw the Marine and ARMY vehicles swarm the beach.

As the vehicles stopped,  ARMY men jumped out and started calling out commands.

The sight of rescue pushed through like a wave, dousing Amanda, Paul, Alan, and Eric in relief.

"Wow. You have to thank her now. She sent the ARMY and the Marines!" Eric Kirby said, smiling.

Alan smiled in gratitude. "God bless you Ellie."

13 years later.

July 15th, 2014. Dayton, Ohio.

BANG!

(Y/n)'s journal slammed shut as her head swelled with the irritation of no ideas or inspiration. She sat at her desk as the sunset rays coming in from the window danced across her face. A groan escaped from her mouth. Her head drooped from her balled up fists  to the cover of her journal. Three nonchalant raps on the door resonated through the quiet office room.

"Come in." She said.

As the door opened it revealed none other than the former paleobotanist Ellie Degler(ñee Sattler). With a smile she said, "Hey. You're dad wanted me to tell you that dinner's ready."

The blonde entering the room somewhat surprised (Y/n). (Y/n) raised her head.

"You're dad invited over a couple family friends for dinner. He said you could use some friendly faces to destress from work." Ellie explained.

(Y/n) nodded and put her head back down on her journal in frustration. Noticing (Y/n)'s rather gloomy state Ellie let herself in and leaned against the door.

"What's been botherin' you?"

(Y/n) groaned at the cause of her poor work outcome. Normally she would say that everything was fine and dismiss the person who asked, but this topic was really getting on her nerves.

Raising her head she said. "I can't write! There's no inspiration. I have nothing to say or conclude about the latest fossil dig." Her face contorted to a frustrated sight.

There was a pause and the room was quiet, as if (Y/n) had something more to say but couldn't get the words out. Ellie knew there was something else. For the most part (Y/n) was an emotionally reserved person. She wouldn't allow the things that really got to her escape their cell in her mind unless it was damaging to her mental health. That much Ellie knew about the girl she practically helped raised.

Ellie looked at her with an inquisitive face as a mother would to her stubborn child . "Is there something else?"

(Y/n) looked at Ellie, her frustration dissolving. After a brief moment of silence a "No." came from her lips. Ellie was still suspicious, but nonetheless nodded and opened the door.

"If you say so," Ellie turned before closing the door. "Don't let your father see that face. Or else he'll bug you about it till he finds out what's wrong." With that she closed the door and proceeded down the stairs.

(Y/n) knew she couldn't hide the real reason frustration. It would be let out eventually. So she stood up and glanced at the letter laying on her desk, the InGen seal was vibrant on the white paper it sat on. With a sigh she place it in her journal, to hide it if someone were to come in, and left the room to enter an eventful dinner.

...

Dinner was perfect. The cheerful atmosphere, the laughter filling the room, the company from all of the guests was perfect. It was all perfect, except for (Y/n)'s mood. While the others around the table reminisced at the stories that were being told (Y/n) picked at her plate and occasionally nodded or smile at the tales only to throw the attention away from her sad aura.

Everyone at the table took note that (Y/n) wasn't very talkative tonight. Her face displayed a look that confirmed she was in deep contemplation. Whenever (Y/n) had that look, everyone knew that it meant something mind boggling consumed her thoughts. The laughter died down to slight chuckles. Around the table sat the smartest people known to the paleontology world. Alan Grant sat at the head of table. Next to him his good friend and once student Ellie Degler (Sattler), next to her sat her husband Mark Degler, then their son Charlie Degler. On the other side of Alan sat Ian Malcolm, Sarah Malcolm, and Kelly Malcolm. Finally at the end of the table, opposite her father, sat (Y/n).

"Why are you so quiet?" Kelly leaned in and whispered to her friend.

(Y/n) blinked. "What?"

Kelly rolled her eyes. In a hushed tone she said, "You're really quiet and you have that face on."

"Face? I don't have a 'face'. You're imagining it."

"Don't lie to me. I know that face. It's the 'I'm-(Y/n)-I'm-independent-and-emotionally-mature-so-I-won't-tell-anyone-what's-bothering-me' face." Kelly said in a mock tone. "Also, you're picking at your food. You don't do that. You love food." Kelly said matter of factly as (Y/n) wouldn't meet her eyes.

(Y/n) absentmindedly let her right hand rest on the table, the utensil resting on the edge of her plate. It was a subliminal sign of defeat. Kelly's gloating features softened and she placed her left hand atop (Y/n)'s right hand.

"What's wrong?" It wasn't Kelly's voice that asked the question but none other than Kelly's father, Ian Malcolm.

With his voice shooting right across the table to (Y/n) everyone turned their attention to her. Both young ladies' eyes darted to him. An alertness spread through (Y/n)'s body. Her eyes shifted from Ian's intent gaze to her father's puzzled and concerned stare. To which she quickly averted.

Charlie raised a brow. "(N/n) 'you good?"

(Y/n) took in a breath and nodded while saying, "Yeah I'm fine. 'Just frustrated over my book."

As if.

The real reason (Y/n) was so caught up in her thoughts was because of that letter from InGen. Merely a couple days ago she had received a letter saying the CEO of InGen, Simon Masrani wanted to extend his welcome to her. He had welcomed her to not only see, but if she enjoyed her visit possibly endorse InGen's latest attraction, Jurassic World.

Hope y’all enjoyed it :) lemme know your thoughts!

[orderofthefanfic]

Masterlist

Supernatural:

Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked Part 1 Dean x reader x Sam {First ever writing. It kinda sucks and I will probably not continue it}

9 Crimes Dean x Reader

I Have Never Loved Someone The Way I Love You Sam x Sister!Reader

Imagine: Being Sam and Dean’s Little Sister Sam x Reader x Dean

Star Wars:

Imagine: Luke rescuing you from your crashed ship Luke Skywalker x Reader

Imagine: Luke catching you singing Luke Skywalker x Reader

Imagine: Being Luke’s daughter Luke Skywalker x Reader

Imagine: Luke being over-protective of you Luke Skywalker x Reader

The Force Is Strong With This One Luke Skywalker x reader

Because I Love You Han solo x reader

Jurassic World:

I Thought I Was The Alpha Owen Grady x reader

Jurassic Park:

Imagine: Being in the first Jurassic Park (slight) Alan Grant x Niece!Reader

Marvel:

Rise From Thine Ashes

Recovery Isn’t Easy Imagine: Being a former Hydra experiment; You’re only comfortable at the Tower around Bucky Bucky Barnes x reader

-The Past Will Catch Up Part two 

-But I Will Run Away Freely Part three

-Till Thy Sun Rises Up Part Four

A Little Case of Frostbite 

A Little Case of Frostbite Bucky Barnes x reader

-Part 2

-Part 3

-Part 4

-Drabble: The Closest Thing to Comfort

-Part 5

-Part 6

-Drabble: Lessons From the Flames

Happy Birthday, Steve Rogers! Steve Rogers x (platonic) Reader

Gone but Never Forgotten Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt request #1 Bucky x reader

Request: Tom gushing about you during an interview Tom Holland x Reader

The Winter’s Shadow Series Bucky x OC 

Joker:

It’s All Over But The Laughing Arthur Fleck x Platonic!Reader

-Part 2

-Part 3

-Part 4

[pinkiepiebones]

tagged by @anxietylord so blame him

-Name: Zombie. Just Zombie. Except when I’m not. Like when I’m SparkleZombie on AO3.

-Fandoms: I write agonisingly specific headcanon-based fics for the Swedish metal pop band Ghost and for the D-list Batman villain Victor Zsasz. Thousands of years ago I wrote Hannibal fic and fucking Tron fic.

Two-shot: I don’t know what this means!

Most popular multi-chapter: I only have, like, two fics you could call multi-chapter, and only one of them is more than three chapters- “Dichotomy,” a brisk 13 chapter contemplation on an AU meeting between Doctor Harleen Quinzel and Victor Zsasz, borne largely out of the fact that the two characters were introduced to the world in the same year. Please read it and PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTARY GOOD LORD A NICE NOTE DOES SO MUCH FOR ME THESE DAYS

Actual worst part of writing: That feeling when you feel the frenzy and type as fast as your sausage fingers can keep up with your fevered mind and you post so proud of yourself… only to get, like, two likes. Ever. Also when no one sends prompts no matter how much you beg and insist that anything helps. The ego crushers.

I’m also bad at spelling the big fancy words I like to use LOL

How you choose your titles: Sometimes words just come to me. Other times I’m really into a song. I am not a clever man.

Do you outline: Oh goodness no. If I ever got feedback about story structure (feedback beyond “this is good”) I might attempt planning things but until then we type in the Tumblr post window and throw the raw un-betad story on the altar slab like MEN

Ideas you probably won’t get around to but wouldn’t it be nice:

-Wacky crossovers

-A sappy simple self-insert wherein I make a confort character tell me how cool I am and such

-Just more Zsasz interacting with other Rogues. I feel I know him very well, and interactions with others have a potential for good fun, but it would require also a modicum of knowledge of the other Rogues, which I lack

Callouts @ yourself: Maybe give up and just write popular fanon? You want readers, don’t you? Also, maybe finish Naive Meoldy, you started it, what, THREE YEARS AGO???

Best writing traits: I am the only person aside from Alan Grant who is legally permitted to write Victor Zsasz. I feel confident, extremely so, in this one arena. I mean, I RPed as Zsasz and have been building headcanon sandcastles around him for a fucking decade now, I think I’ve damn well earned the title of “The Only Good Zsasz Writer”

Spicy tangential opinion: Comments save lives. Reblogs >>>>>>>>>>> Likes.

[arecomicsevengood]

Alan Grant and Norm Breyfogle’s Batman: The Dark Knight Detective, Volume 2

I know it’s probably immoral to buy DC Comics but there was a sale at the comic shop I stopped in to buy the new League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen and they were sold out of Hellboy In Hell, so I bought a collection of Norm Breyfogle’s Batman comics the other day. The publication format is pretty dumb, and honestly disrespectful: Collecting the earliest Alan Grant/Norm Breyfogle comics as “volume 2” of a series called “The Dark Knight Detective,” after a volume 1 of stuff by different creators, (primarily Mike Barr and Alan Davis) and existing essentially in parallel to a series called “The Caped Crusader” reprinting the stuff Jim Starlin and Jim Aparo were doing in Batman at the same time. The Breyfogle stuff is so dynamic, and the plotting is so straightforward that publishing it alongside an annual by different people and a 16-page “Bonus book” that tried out new creators is basically only useful as a point of contrast, but everyone reading this collection will be immediately aware of much better the Grant/Breyfogle stuff is compared to pretty much everything else without needing any help. (Good lord, imagine someone who willingly reads the Batman comics DC currently puts out monthly reading this!)

Dennis O’Neil did a pretty great job of editing the Batman line at this time but he writes the annual and it’s a total slog through a bunch of stuff Alan Grant casually sidesteps. Once I realized basically every “Legends Of The Dark Knight” arc contained a flashback scene depicting Bruce Wayne watching his parents get murdered, and the reasoning for including such scenes is because it’s in The Dark Knight Returns and Batman: Year One, I never needed to see it again, but O’Neil inserts it alongside other shit I never needed to read again, like Batman crying because of his inability to find happiness in the arms of the daughter of his enemy, and a martial arts master delivering a buddhist proverb.

By contrast, Alan Grant kicks off his run introducing The Ventriloquist and Scarface, and while later comics would introduce psychology to that character, here the climax is Batman being dosed with drugs and throwing a knife at the puppet, which then goes through the Ventriloquist’s hand, and that’s perfect! Like, Grant and Breyfogle GET that their audience read The Dark Knight Returns and liked it, but they also get that they liked it because they were fourteen years old, and they’re totally fine competing with Frank Miller on those terms and maybe winning some of the time.

Still, that approach is so rare that it’s a total bummer to see comics this good presented essentially as part of a dump of nostalgic product: They don’t need to be honored as masterpieces but it would be cool if it felt like the rationale for reprinting them wasn’t just “we reprint everything!” The Alan Grant stories aim for and attain this self-contained purity, creating new villains for every story, and here they run alongside these stories other people wrote which all have a ton of narrative baggage and expect readers to be familiar with a bevy of characters and continuity they won’t receive from this book. The book ends with “Who’s Who” entries, in a totally unnecessary move: The two with Breyfogle art summarize comics you just read, because they were the characters’ only appearances at the time those issues of Who’s Who were published. There’s also one for Poison Ivy, because that’s who shows up in the 16-page story drawn by Dean Haspiel that absolutely did not need to be reprinted.

The reason for the Alan Grant and Norm Breyfogle stuff to be in print in book form is because they’re super-accessible. It makes sense to read them if you read and enjoyed Batman: Year One or saw the Tim Burton movies or The Animated Series. It’s not just for people nostalgic for their youth, though many remember it fondly because they understood it when they were the first Batman comics they read. While this work has been released fairly recently in a series of hardcovers called “Legends Of The Dark Knight: Norm Breyfogle,” those are both more expensive than this, start off with some bad comics by a different writer, and for some reason reuse a twenty-year-old title as a branding exercise now meaning a completely different thing. Similarly, I don’t get why these trades don’t use a classic hand-lettered Batman logo, and instead just say “BATMAN” in a big font. But while most complaints about older comics involve recoloring, I have no issues on that front: It’s reproduced brighter than the original newsprint comics but is in keeping with how Adrienne Roy’s color palettes looked on other paper at the time. Enough of the most important presentational choices made are the right ones that I still generally enjoyed the bulk of the work here, but it’s weird that a few slightly different choices could’ve made this book basically a perennial seller at any store.

[chaostheoryy]

The Illusion of Control [Alan Grant X GN!Reader]

Summary: Several years after escaping the nightmares of Isla Sorna, Alan Grant finds himself face to face with the one person he swore would be better off without him. Turns out there’s a lot more catching up that needs to be done than he thought.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: Here it is, the Alan Grant reader insert that no one but my subconscious asked for. This takes place somewhere between the events of Jurassic Park III and Jurassic World: Dominion so while the timeline in the story is vague, just know that this is definitely post-Isla Sorna. Also, no beta. We die like men.

“Dr. Grant?”

Alan pried himself away from the paperwork in front of him and turned around. His mouth had just begun to open and form around the question, “how can I help you”, when his jaw went slack and his heart stilled in his chest. His eyes widened.

“I’ll be damned…”

The last thing Alan Grant ever expected when he rolled out of bed to return to the dig that morning was to have you standing in the entryway of his work tent. And yet, there you were, body framed beautifully by the desert and a gentle smile painted across your face. It was so surreal, so unbelievable that, for the briefest moment, he considered the possibility that the blistering heat had finally gotten to him.

But the soft chuckle that came from your throat reassured him that this was no hallucination. The one person he had desperately tried to leave in the past without considering the damage it would inflict on his own heart had actually returned. The one that he let get away out of sheer doubt and fear had found their way back like salmon returning to their breeding grounds upstream.

“Surprised to see me?” You asked with a slight tilt of the head.

A huff of laughter escaped his throat. “Is it that obvious?”

“I’m sorry, I probably should have called or at least sent your team an email. Hell, I kind of just barged my way in here.”

“It’s fine, really. I just…”

He trailed off for a moment, soaking in the image and the sensation of seeing you standing before him again. It had been years since he last saw you and yet it looked as if time had barely grazed its fingers over your skin. You were just as gorgeous as the day he’d met you, your smile still as disarming as the first time he watched it grace your lips. If there was ever going to be a textbook image to accompany the phrase, “some things never change”, it would have to be you.

“I never thought I would be so lucky as to see you again,” he admitted.

Alan straightened as you crossed the space between you. Each step you took seemed to trigger a thrum in his chest. The closer you got, the harder his heart beat until suddenly your arms were around his torso and the silly little fist-sized organ behind his sternum ceased to function altogether. His breath caught in his throat.

“I’ve missed you too,” you murmured, breath tickling the skin above his collar.

His hands hovered behind your back for the briefest moment as he debated his right to touch. You were the most delicate and beloved thing in his life, more fragile and worthy of care than even the oldest of fossils. If he ever miscalculated the strength of his words or the placement of his hands and shattered the bone of your trust, he would never be able to forgive himself.

But this momentary embrace was something he couldn’t pass up just because he was afraid. He’d been thinking about you for years, wondering if he had done the wrong thing by swallowing his emotions and burying himself in his work. So much time had passed but still you lingered in his mind like the scent of a candle long since burnt down to the wick.

His hands found their place on your back, one between your shoulder blades and the other on the small of your back. With a soft exhale, he pulled you closer. Some nights he had dreamed of holding you and every single one of those dream had soothed the ache in his chest just enough to make it through another day. But this…this was so much more. This was like coming home.

***

That night, the two of you went out to dinner. Years of catch up were crammed into one evening and, by the end of the meal, it felt as if he had pieced together the entire puzzle that was the mystery of your life without him. And God was he proud of how far you’d come.

The last time he’d seen you, you were a bright eyed grad student determined to know everything there was to learn about theropods. You attended every one of his lectures at the local university, engaged in every discussion group he headed, and constantly made it a point to go out of your way to see him. Since then you had taken everything you learned from him and your studies and applied it to your own teaching. You were now a full-blown tenured professor teaching the ins and outs of theropod behaviors and biology just like your mentor had taught you. He had sworn back when you were exchanging theories in crowded college libraries that there was nothing that could make him adore you more. Hearing about your successes like this, however, he quickly realized he was dead wrong. You had only grown more perfect in your time apart.

“What’s that look for?”

Alan wasn’t even aware that he was staring until you spoke. He sat up tall in his chair, grip tightening around the beer bottle in his hand. He cleared his throat.

“What look?”

“The one where it seems like you have so much you want to say but you can’t find the words,” you replied. “Or maybe you just don’t want to find them.”

You could have stripped him down to his briefs and thrown him in the middle of Times Square on a Friday night and he would have felt less exposed than he did in that moment. Back then you always knew when something was off. You saw through his masks and forced him to admit when he was burnt out or struggling with the countless things on his plate. The fact that you still peered straight through the facade after all this time was both terrifying and impressive.

He lowered his head slightly, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “I’m that easy to read?”

“Only if you know which pages to flip to.”

A silence fell over the table. Part of him wanted to turn tail and run, to bury every last bit of his emotions in the sands he had been digging through for the last two weeks. It would be the safest choice. If he ran, he eliminated every risk of making the wrong move and crossing a line so thin it was barely legible.

But the other part of him that wanted to kick open the gate and roam free in the wilds of emotion roared just as loud. He knew better than to think he could just forget you or ignore the way you made him feel. That approach had already failed miserably. Why make the same mistake and push away the one person that made him feel so seen? Was the idea of being vulnerable really so terrifying?

Before the two beasts in his head could finish their battle, the waiter returned with the check and your focus was drawn away from his warring stare of mind. He sighed at the momentary relief but couldn’t bring himself to celebrate. Time never left any stone untouched.

***

After dinner, he drove you back to your hotel. You had taken time out of a busy convention schedule to take a taxi out to the bluffs and say hello; the least he could do was make sure you made it back to your temporary homestead safe and sound. And hey, if part of the reason he wanted to do so was because he just couldn’t say goodbye so quickly, how were you to know?

“I had a great time tonight,” you said with a smile when the two of you reached your room, “I almost didn’t make my way out to the site today but I’m so glad I did.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Why almost?”

For the first time that night, he watched you hesitate. He could see that you were calculating, debating not only what you wanted to say but the words you absolutely didn’t dare speak. Maybe he wasn’t the only one with a mind at war.

“I don’t know. I just… I guess I was afraid to get in your way. I know how important these digs are to you and how exhausting it is after spending hours upon hours in the sun just to find a femur the size of tv remote.” You let out a small laugh that made his heart do a sloppy cartwheel in his chest before you continued, “The last thing I wanted was to bother you. Especially after everything you’ve been through. You deserve peace.”

He blinked at the statement. It caught him completely off guard, forcing his brain to run through a thousand different scenarios and questions before he even really understood what he was feeling. Of course he was happy to have returned to a reserved life where dinosaurs were just fragments of old bone rather than frightening monsters dead set on eating him for lunch. But did you truly believe that a life of peace was impossible with you in it? Had he actually made you think that he was better off without you?

“You could never be a bother,” he said quietly, “Hell, you could wake me up in the middle of the night just to tell me you’d hidden my toolbox somewhere in the desert and I’d probably be just fine with it.”

Another laugh slipped from your lips, drawing a soft smile to his face. Oh how he’d missed that laugh. If he could bottle up one sound and keep it on his shelf ‘til the end of time, it would have been just that. Nothing made him feel more special than being the one to draw even the briefest chuckle out of you.

For a moment, the two of you lingered there, soaking in the carefree sensation of sharing a laugh with one another again. Slowly that sensation dissipated and gave way to something else entirely. Alan watched as your smile faded. The cogs in your head were turning again, your eyes shifting away from him as you weighed the pros and cons of whatever decision had been placed at your feet. Finally, a daunting question broke the silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded. “Certainly.”

The pause that followed only made the tension worsen. He was terrified just being alone with you again. Knowing whatever was clawing at the back of your mind was complicated enough to tangle the webs of your own decision making skills made him consider whether or not he should have even made it back from Isla Sorna.

The grip you had on the strap of your messenger bag tightened as you searched for the words you had lost in the muddle of your thoughts.

“Did I do something wrong? Back in grad school, I mean. You and I were so close and you always seemed so happy to be around me. But before you left, before Isla Sorna, you just…” You let out a pained exhale. “Something changed that made you want to stay away from me and I never understood why. To this day, I still don’t. If I did something to hurt you, I really want to know.”

Alan’s breath caught in his throat. The agony behind your words and the sheer innocence in your eyes stung like a knife. You were hurting because of him and God did that make him want to drop to his knees and beg for your forgiveness.

“No, I promise you did nothing wrong. I…”

He hesitantly reached for you, fingers instinctively seeking the opportunity to touch you and bring you the reassurance you so desperately needed. But before they could even brush your arm, he forced his hand into the pocket of his jeans.

“I did what I thought was best for you and stepped away.”

“‘Stepped away?’ How could cutting me off possibly be what was best for me?” You shook your head. “Alan, you were the person I trusted most. I wanted nothing more than to be there for you. I started to believe in myself because you saw the best in me. Watching you fade out of my life only to disappear entirely and never look back…I got lucky that I could see that the version of myself you showed me was still there.”

“It’s difficult to explain but believe me, I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to stay.”

The response that came was so quick, so pointed that felt like he’d been shoved into a corner with a hunting rifle aimed at the space between his eyes. “Then tell me why you couldn’t.”

Alan’s heart was racing at this point. Fear and adrenaline were coursing through his veins like a dangerous drug. He had spent his entire life trying to stay in control of his emotions. But after pushing you away and spending years regretting the pain he had inflicted upon, it became increasingly clear that Ellie Sattler was right about control: control was just an illusion.

“I left because I wanted more,” he blurted before his brain could stop him from giving in to the illusion of control.

Something inside of him ruptured. The cracked, worn-down dam holding back his feelings finally gave way and every little sensation he had kept inside came gushing out in a great flood. He wanted to cry and scream and go quiet all at once.

Lowering his head, he continued, his voice barely above a murmur. “I was terrified of being around you because I didn’t want you to see through me. I thought that if you pulled back that curtain the way you always did and saw how I really felt, then you would want nothing to do with me anymore. There’s a reason that men like me don’t get to be with someone like you.”

The last thing he expected was for you to get closer. In fact, he had been anticipating something along the lines of a slap to the face or a disgusted scoff. But neither of those instances found their footing in his reality. Instead, he found himself being warmed by the proximity of your body and felt a soothing hand curl around the side of his neck.

He slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze. Up close once again, he got lost in the beauty of your eyes. Even when they were flooded with emotion, even when he was crippled by fear and doubt, he was drawn to them like moths to a flame. If it had been physically possible to drown himself in them, there was a good chance that’s how he’d choose to go out.

“And what kind of person do you think I am, Dr. Grant?”

Your voice was low, soft yet sultry. It danced across the space between you and slipped into his ear in a way that was so enticing he nearly shivered. Like a siren’s song, your words drew him back in from the violent waves of his emotions and he found himself focusing solely on the way your lips formed around each end every syllable in the sentence.

“The kind of person that, no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about them,” he murmured, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips, “Someone so incredibly beautiful and inspiring that you’d do anything to make them see you…Someone you’d never stop loving until the day you were laid to rest…”

His words faded out completely as he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours. Closing his eyes, he let himself melt into your touch. Words could never properly describe the way your kiss made him feel. It took his breath away and yet, at the same time, it was as if you were breathing life into his aching soul. He had spent so many years yearning for you and now that he had you in his grasp, he didn’t want to let go.

When he felt your mouth begin to move slowly against his, inviting him to go further and dig deeper into the hills of satisfaction, he brought one hand up to cup your cheek. The gentle movements of his mouth descended into something primal when your tongue brushed against his bottom lip. In an instant, his inhibitions broke free from their restraints and threw his body into a frenzy. He kissed you hard and deep, drawing a quiet moan from somewhere within your chest. The sound made his stomach twist with pleasure. What other noises could he procure from these lips? What ungodly sounds would he make himself if he continued to expel several years’ worth of yearning and regret?

“Alan…”

He swallowed his name like a starving animal and used his other hand to grapple at your waist and pull you in tighter. The weight and heat of your body pressed against his made him feel a sense of comfort he never thought possible. Here with you, he was safe. Here with you, he would never be afraid of the ancient demons that lurked in the forests of Isla Nublar and Isla Sorna. Here with you, he was home.

His hips instinctively ground against yours as he let himself drown in the taste of your lips. There was a desperation in his movements that he didn’t even know could exist. Too many years, too little touch. And now here you were giving him something he’d only ever dreamed of.

“Alan.”

The sternness of your voice drew him back to reality in an instant, his self-restraint kicking back into overdrive and forcing him to pull away. If his cheeks weren’t already flush from the heat of it all, there was no doubt that he was burning an embarrassing shade of red.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured breathlessly, “I shouldn’t have—“

You interjected immediately, hand holding his jaw in place so he couldn’t look away. “No. Don’t apologize. I want this. I want you,” you reassured him, “You really think I’d drive all the way out to the dunes just to see you if I didn’t want this?”

His brow raised slightly, eyes studying your face with the same scrutiny he placed into his work. When it came to fossils, he could read every crack and curve of bone like a book and piece together everything that ever happened to an animal that had died millions of years ago. If he could learn to read you the same way, he’d die a very happy man.

“I just don’t really need a hallway full of strangers to hear what we’re doing,” you added with a sheepish grin.

It was at that moment that his spacial awareness returned. While his enamored brain had convinced itself that the two of you were tucked away in your own little world, you were still standing outside the door to your hotel room with a seemingly endless line of identical doors stretching out in either direction.

“Oh.”

You chuckled and brought your other hand up to hold his scruffy jaw, pulling him down to give him a soft kiss. He accepted it without any hesitation.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

The question reignited a spark in his stomach. His eyes scanned your face some more, almost hurriedly trying to verify that your expression coincided with the words he was hearing. Sure enough, the two pieces matched perfectly and any doubt he had of your intentions was wiped out by a meteor of certainty.

He nodded, ghosting his lips over yours again as he muttered, “Of course.”

Your hands fell from his face as you stepped back. While he had no trouble waiting patiently for you to find your key card and unlock the door, there was no way he could ignore the pounding in his chest. His heart was beating unbearably fast, hopped up on adrenaline and a whole concoction of other emotions he didn’t yet have the strength to unpack. There was still a tiny voice in his head trying to convince him that he didn’t deserve this. It wanted him to remember his fears, to consider the fact that the world was populated by millions of people who were better suited to stand at your side.

But when your fingers laced between his to pull you forward and he heard the hotel door click shut behind him, that tiny voice fell silent. From then on, the only thing he wanted to hear was you.

[chaostheoryy]

Since my mature Cobb Vanth pieces have turned out pretty good, I really wanna write smut pieces for Din Djarin and Alan Grant. Just lacking in the idea realm right now. Anyone have any ideas for Din X Reader or Alan X Reader fics? 👀

[fanfic-she-wrote]

Imagine getting a crush on Alan Grant during one of his lectures at your college

[chaostheoryy]

Good Boy [Alan Grant X M!Reader]

Summary: After weeks of stolen glances and lingering touches, you finally get the chance to find out what it’s like to truly take Alan Grant’s breath away.

Word Count: 1.3K

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Sexual content (including: male-receiving oral sex, dirty talk, fantasies)

A/N: Shoutout to the anon who sent in this request! Hope this is what you were looking for. (Also, no beta. Still should not be a surprise nor should it be something I’m proud of.)

Honestly, you never saw this coming. All the stolen glances and brushing hands never prepared you for it. Hell even when you were out right flirting with him and saw that amused, crooked smile grace his lips, you never actually believed anything would come of it.

And yet, here you are. On your knees between Alan Grant’s open legs. 

It’s surreal. Even when you feel his fingers card through your hair and urge you closer, you can’t help but feel like you’re caught in a daydream. 

Maybe it is a dream. Maybe you’d spent a little too much time out in the sun burying your nose in the dirt to unearth fragments of long lost animals. It wouldn’t be the first time a paleontologist in Snakewater, Montana suffered from hallucinations. Then again, you’re pretty sure none of the other team members were inflicted with wet dreams about Dr. Grant.

“You know you don’t have to do this,” Alan says, pulling you from the river of your thoughts. “If you’re not comfortable with it, I’m not gonna—“

You place your hands on his thighs in the hopes of reassuring him with gentle touch. “No, that’s not what’s happening, I promise you.”

“Are you sure? You seem…withdrawn.”

“Just got lost in thought, that’s all.”

“About what?”

A huff of laughter escapes your throat. Of course he wants to know every thought that goes through your head. 

“About you.” 

There’s a new warmth in your cheeks—one fueled by embarrassment rather than pure lust. Why you’re embarrassed, you’re not entirely sure. Could be the age gap. Could be the fact that you’re about to give the world renowned “Dinosaur Man” a blowjob in his tent. Either way, you’re blushing and there’s not much you can do about it.

Like a dog whose curiosity has just been piqued, Alan’s head tilts ever so slightly. His expression doesn’t change much but you can tell he’s dying to hear you share your fantasies.

“What about me?”

“I was thinking about how bad I want you. And about how crazy it is that I’m here right now.” You feel your heart twitch with excitement in your chest. “‘Cause I’ve been wanting nothing more than to get on my knees for you.”

“Well, here you are. What’s next?”

“Whatever you let me do.”

“Really? There’s nothing in particular you want?” 

He shifts in place a little, hips angling forward to draw your attention to the obvious tent in his khakis. Your mouth is almost watering just looking at it.

“There is.”

“Tell me.”

“I want to taste you,” you murmur quietly, “I want to drive you crazy and let you fuck my mouth ‘til you cum so I can swallow every last drop.”

“Then why don’t you ask for it?”

In all honesty, you’ve never really expected Alan Grant to be a dominant person. He’s always been incredibly awkward in social interactions, favoring the methodical clicks and clacks of brushes and picks over the sound of other people’s voices. But the way he’s looking at you with hooded eyes as he coaxes you along…It’s impossible not to feel like putty in his hands.

“Will you let me suck your cock? Please?”

He exhales contently—the sound tiptoeing the line between a sigh and a hum. The corner of his mouth curls upward slightly. 

“Good boy. Go ahead.”

Far too hungry to draw this out, you unzip his khakis and coax his cock out from beneath his briefs. You lick your lips. While the length of his dick isn’t anything remarkable, the sheer girth of it is sinful. Today may not be the day, but you swear to every deity in the history of mankind that you’re going to ride that thing until you scream.

With one hand wrapped around him at the base, you lean forward and press your lips to the tip in a reverent kiss before you lap at the sensitive flesh where the head meets shaft. As soon as your tongue makes contact, a quiet groan rumbles in Alan’s throat. Weeks upon weeks of senseless flirting and hungry glances have undoubtedly made him desperate.

Before he even has time to gather himself, you wrap your lips around his thick cock and glide down until you feel your thumb pressed against your chin. He’s hot and heavy on your tongue and, God, do you feel like a madman with how eager you are to have his dick in your mouth.

You start to bob your head. Instantly, his fingers are tightening their grip on your hair but he doesn’t buck or squirm. Patience seems to be on his side, even when you tighten your grip at the base and moan hungrily as a line of pre-cum smears against the roof of your mouth.

“That’s good,” he hums, “Just like that.”

His voice acts like a match being tossed into the gasoline puddle of your desire. Just hearing him praise you like that is enough to make you feral. 

Hollowing your cheeks, you quicken the pace and suck as if your life depends on it. You feel like a sinner. You feel like you should be ashamed for your lust. 

But you’re not. 

There’s a rush in this; a shot of adrenaline jabbed right into your heart. It almost feels like a challenge. How soon can you make him cum? What will it taste like when he does? And what delicious noise will make its way from his lips as he reaches the peak of pleasure?

Alan tugs gently on your hair, drawing a low, pathetic whimper from your own chest. The sound must tickle the right part of his brain because his dick twitches in your mouth and his hamstrings have tightened with the intention to spread his knees wider.

And spread them he does. The new positioning of his feet gives him more leverage to push his hips skyward and drive himself deep into your throat. It’s just what you’ve been wanting. 

“Oh God, yeah…Keep going. That’s it…” 

His voice is so breathy it’s almost reverent. But with that animalistic darkness in his eyes and his cock shamelessly fucking your mouth, this is as far from holy as can be. It’s nature’s most beautiful violence.

Within moments, his bucking grows harder and more erratic. The hairs in his grasp are pulled tighter. Words are lost to the incoherence of whimpers and moans. He’s losing control. A few more bobs of the head and the taste you’ve been craving will finally be yours.

“You’re going to be a good boy and swallow, aren’t you?”

The question is so lewd it makes you whine. With his cock still wedged between your lips, you nod.

He hums in response a closes his eyes for the final thrusts. The sound he makes when he does cum shoots a spark of electricity straight to your groin. It’s an obscene mix of a groan, a sigh, and a whimper—something so guttural that he’s practically choking on his own vocal cords.

You bob your head right on through his orgasm, sucking every last bit of cum from his cock like a desert wanderer finding water for the first time in days. There’s no choking. No gagging. Just the pure satisfaction of following through on a filthy promise.

Alan’s cock slips from your mouth with an obscene pop. The sight of your lips all swollen and red draws his hand to your chin. His thumb swipes across your bottom lip. You kiss the wandering digit in reverence as you gaze up at him from behind delicate lashes. 

“Such a good boy,” he sighs. “You deserve a reward.”

He sits up straight, tucking his cock back into his khakis. Then he gently pats his thigh. Your brow raises. It’s an invitation to climb in his lap and you certainly don’t need to be told twice.

Your knees nearly buckle underneath you as you clamber to your feet. You have no clue what this man intends to do with you and, to be frank, you don’t care. All you can think about is the taste of his cum on the back of your tongue and the pure ecstasy of hearing Alan Grant praise you for your shameless lust.

[chaostheoryy]

The Masterlist of Reader Inserts

Remember, not all readers identify as women or use she/her pronouns (myself included). In order to make stories more accessible to people of all gender identities, I ask that you try to keep your requests gender neutral whenever possible. Obviously, there will be specific situations that require more gendered language but, if the idea can be applied to more than one gender identity, keep it inclusive!

Characters I’m Currently Writing For

Steven Grant (Marvel)

Walter (Alien: Covenant)

Benedict Bridgerton (Bridgerton)

Cal Kestis (Star Wars)

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw (Top Gun)

Din Djarin (Star Wars)

Key Labels

GN! = gender neutral reader, either they/them or no pronouns in use

F! = female reader (implied or stated), she/her pronouns

AFAB! = reader is described as having female genitalia but she/her pronouns are not used, can be read as transmasc or cis female

M! = male reader (implied or stated), he/him pronouns

+ = mature content, NSFW

* = author favorites/recommendations

(List below the cut. Updated: 9/17/2024)

Top Gun

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Like Father, Like Son (GN!Reader)

Duly Noted (GN!Reader College AU)

Wedding Crashers (GN!Reader) *

In My Darkest Hour (GN!Reader) *

Jurassic Park

Alan Grant

The Illusion of Control (GN!Reader) *

Safe and Sound (GN!Reader)

Daze at Dawn (GN!Reader)+

Good Boy (M!Reader)+

Alien

Walter One

No Survivors in Love (GN!Reader)*

Touch Me (GN!Reader)

Star Wars

Cobb Vanth

Take Good Care (GN!Reader) +*

Place Your Bets (GN! Reader) *

Under the Light of the Desert Moon (GN!Reader) *

Crawlin’ Back To You (AFAB!Reader) +

The Beauty of the Beast (AFAB!Reader) +

Take Me Home Tonight (GN!Reader)

Din Djarin

Until the Stars Burn Out (GN!Reader) *

Caressed by Firelight (GN!Reader) *

General Hux

A Personal Call (GN!Reader)

Something to Miss (F!Reader) +

Under the Weather (GN!Reader)

Maybe I’m Amazed (F!Reader) +

General Misconduct (GN!Reader)

A Big Mistake and a Bigger Fight (GN!Reader)

One Blast, Two Broken Bones (F!Reader) *

The Set Up (GN!Reader)

The Pleasure is Mine (GN!Reader)

General Tarkin (GN!Reader --TWO PARTS)

Never Again (GN!Reader)

Tell Me (GN!Reader)

Relax (GN!Reader)

The Gift (GN!Reader) *

To Ease the Temper (GN!Reader)

Ms. Dameron (F!Reader)

Thank You (GN!Reader)

Kylo Ren

A New Path (F!Reader)

Broken (GN!Reader)

The Showdown (GN!Reader)

In Our Italian Restaurant (GN!Reader Modern AU)

I’m Sorry (GN!Reader)

Weaknesses (F!Reader) +

Keep Him Safe (F!Reader)

Learn to Love (F!Reader)

Truly Special (GN!Reader) *

I Feel It Too (GN!Reader)

With Everything I Have (GN!Reader)

Two Can Play Dirty (GN!Reader) *

You’re a Fool (F!Reader)

Han Solo

The Virus (GN!Reader) *

No Man Left Behind (GN!Reader) *

Out of Luck (GN!Reader) *

Somebody Missed You (GN!Reader)

Promises (F!Reader)

Ben Solo

Caught (GN!Reader) *

Master’s Secret (GN!Reader)

Stories (F!Reader Werewolf AU)

Big News (F!Reader Modern AU)

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Be Careful (GN!Reader)

I Will Return (GN!Reader)

Secret (GN!Reader)

Matt the Radar Technician

No Such Thing as a Sick Day (GN!Reader)

Bullies (F!Reader)

Master and Technician (GN!Reader) *

Guardian Angel with a Blaster (F!Reader)

Lending a Hand (GN!Reader)

Marvel (MCU)

Scott Lang

Bar Fight (F!Reader)

Peter Quill

Gunslinger (GN!Reader)

Carol Danvers

Hiding (F!Reader)

T’Challa

Kingly Duties (F!Reader)

Civil War (GN!Reader)

The Bounty Hunter (GN!Reader)

Mission Impossible

August Walker

Loving a Ghost (GN!Reader)

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

Nick Stokes

The Jealous Are Troublesome (GN!Reader) +*

Three Bodies and a Breakfast Burrito (GN!Reader)

Your Lucky Day (GN!Reader)

Undercover (F!Reader)

Popping the Cherry (F!Reader)

Competition (GN!Reader)

Indiana Jones (Movie Series)

Indiana Jones

How Many Times? (GN! or F!Reader) *

Morning Sunlight (GN!Reader)

No Hands (F!Reader)

[chaostheoryy]

Reader Insert Requests?

Shoot your shot, fam. Send me gender neutral (or AFAB if requesting smut) reader insert requests and get my nerdy ass writing again. See the list below for characters and content restrictions.

Characters

Alan Grant X Reader (Jurassic Park)

Obi-Wan Kenobi X Reader (Star Wars)

Din Djarin X Reader (Star Wars)

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Reader (Top Gun)

John Pruitt/Paul Hill X Reader (Midnight Mass)

Ali Hassan X Reader (Midnight Mass)

Do NOT Request

Non-con of any kind

Pregnant reader

Song-based prompts

Incest

Inappropriate age gap (i.e.: teen reader with adult character)

[chaostheoryy]

Reader Insert Prompts Wanted

As some people have seen, I’m getting back in the swing of writing reader inserts again. I’ve managed to crank out two this past week and am very pleased with how they turned out so I’m eagerly looking for more ideas.

If you have ideas for gender neutral reader inserts (and maybe gendered ones as well given the specifics of the idea) for the following characters, please send them my way. Ratings may vary but please avoid suggesting anything that involves r*pe/sexual assault/non-con actions. Also, as a personal preference, please no pregnancy/parent or song fic prompts. These are just not my thing at all.

Here’s who I’m looking to write for (in priority order with the top three being the most desired by far):

Alan Grant (Jurassic Park)

Cobb Vanth (Star Wars)

Din Djarin (Star Wars)

Obi-Wan Kenobi (Star Wars)

Tobey! or Andrew!Peter Parker (Marvel)

Matt Murdock (Marvel)

Otto Octavius (Marvel)

There’s a lot of beautiful minds out there so show me what you’ve got!

[fanfic-she-wrote]

Imagine Alan Grant flirting with you while digging up dinosaur bones

[chaostheoryy]

Reader Insert Requests Please!

I’ve blasted through most of my reader insert requests/prompts which means I’m looking for more ideas. Got something in mind? Send me an ask with prompt(s) for the following characters:

Cobb Vanth

Din Djarin

Alan Grant

Gender neutral reader pieces are preferred along with AFAB reader for explicit smut pieces (just because that’s what I’m familiar with) but I will always consider other options as well.

Please avoid sending generic prompts like “Cobb smut”. Specificity and detailed ideas are so much easier to work with.

Thanks, y’all!