#ryan erzahler fluff
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✧ 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗦𝗠
how ryan erzahler shows love !!
tags: love languages, fluff, headcanons
QUALITY TIME — Preferred over most everything else, Ryan likes to spend time with you, alone if he gets the chance. He's the type of person that indulges in comfortable silence far more than he probably should. Even when you're both doing your own thing, paying little attention to the other, he treasures that time spent together. He might deny it, but he's constantly catching glimpses of you when you're in your own world, the way you get all focused on the task at hand makes his heart melt. He might invite you over some days, solely in pursuit of completing some chores he's been meaning to get to. Ryan claims your presence has helped him get more done than any other technique (aside from Chris' badgering). Wouldn't mind if you wanted to join in when he listens to Bizarre yet Bonafide ; it'd give him a rare opportunity to talk about everything they investigate on the podcast.
ACTS OF SERVICE — During the summer when camp is in session, he gives you some of his phone privileges to listen to music or play the games he's previously installed for his sister. Always gets the door for you, any and every door you might encounter when you're with him. Definitely doesn't do it just to hear the simple praise you're bound to give him. Notices the small stuff. Largely apparent in the way he catches sight that your shoes are untied, admittedly faster than you would've. He takes no time in dropping to the ground, fingers swiftly making loops with the laces. More than willing to give you hand massages, he takes the time to trace the lines of your palms, something he knows both you and him are fond of.
PHYSICAL TOUCH — Ryan's family isn't a very (physically) affectionate one, to say the least. By reason, he pretty much keeps his hands to himself unless you tell him not to. He really warms up to the whole ordeal after a month or two together, he'll reach out first instead of waiting for you to initiate contact. Still, he remains hesitant with his touches, the unpredictability of your reaction directly clashes with his unwavering lack of confidence in romance. Be that as it may, simple reassurances on your end are enough encouragement for him to keep going. His favorite acts include: interlocking pinky fingers, soft rubs on the back, kisses on the cheek, and an overdue embrace after a long day.
WORDS OF AFFIRMATION — Truthfully, he's not the best at expressing how he feels, oftentime seeing a challenge in finding the right words. He's not the most social individual, communication is something he's still actively working on. Talking with vulnerability, specifically about how he feels, is something Ryan's never been accustomed to. For your sake, though, he tries to express his feelings as best as he can. Mostly resorts to using amateur compliments, but some nights he'll rest his forehead against yours and whisper that he loves you. In terms of receiving, Ryan absolutely adores words of affirmation. He just wants to be told that he's doing good, that you like him just as much as he likes you. It doesn't take more than a simple 'Good job!' from you to make him a little weak in the knees.
GIVING/RECEIVING GIFTS — Not the type to go all out on physical gifts. He's someone who doesn't hold a lot of value in material possessions (besides his phone), rather opting to take you out somewhere as a present. If he happens to come across a keychain or plushie that reminds him of you while shopping, it'll turn into a little something extra after a night together/date. When it's the other way around, he can hardly hold back the excitement that sprints across his face when you present him with a gift. Presumably, it'll end up displayed on his desk at home or in a specially marked box (full of your other presents) to preserve the condition of what you've given him.
— ♡☆
#ryan erzahler#ryan erzahler x reader#ryan erzahler headcanons#ryan erzahler fluff#ryan erzahler imagine#ryan erzahler x you#the quarry#the quarry x reader#the quarry headcanons#the quarry fluff#the quarry imagine
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last request of the day before i have to leave my break (i hate customer service)
no thoughts, head absolutely empty, just you and character of your choosing consistently being teased by your friends that you like each other since you basically act like a married couple (light hearted bickering, randomly bringing each other pick me ups throughout the day) before basically at the same time realizing shit i do like this person and instead of it being a normal confession the two end up arguing about who fell in love first-
thank you for your service of satisfying my brainrot, i will be back again soon-
Domestic Bliss
Pairing: Ryan Erzahler x reader
Word Count: ~1.6k
Warnings: Detailed conversation on different ways to die but no actual violence, swear words, mentions of kids getting into a fight but no description of it. A lot of bickering lmao
A/N: The way I IMMEDIATELY thought of Ryan— fan behavior
It’s early in the morning, way too early. One of the downsides of working at a summer camp is that you have to be awake hours before the campers are. You and the other counselors gather in a room of the lodge that has been deemed the unofficial staff lounge. Mr. H didn’t actually give you guys permission for this, but he doesn’t care.
When you enter, Ryan is already sitting in one of the plush armchairs looking dead tired. He has his earbuds in and his eyes closed. You almost think he’s asleep until you see one of his hands rub over his face. Gently approaching the chair, you set a cup on the table in front of him. Ryan opens his eyes only a few seconds later, beckoned by the smell of fresh coffee. He looks at the cup for a moment before looking up at you, giving you a tired smile.
“Thanks, Y/N.” His voice comes out as a low rumble, obviously effected by his fatigue. Ryan picks up the cup and takes a large gulp, not hesitating at all. You know how he likes his coffee by heart, and that showed Ryan that he can trust anything you give him.
“No problem.” You take a seat on the arm of Ryan’s chair. There are plenty of available seats, but you don’t want any of them. “What are you listening to?”
“Bizarre Yet Bonafide.”
You chuckle, “Of course. What are they talking about this time?”
Ryan takes one of his earbuds out and holds it out for you. Once you take it and set it comfortably in your ear, he answers “Bigfoot.”
“Ugh, he’s gotta be my least favorite.” You grumble.
Ryan shakes his head slightly. “How dare you?”
“What? He’s not scary, he’s just a big animal in the woods. Like a bear.”
“Bears are scary.”
“But not in a supernatural way, just in a this-thing-could-kill-me way.”
Ryan scoffs. “And that’s not scary?”
“No. There are lots of things that can kill me, what makes bears so special?”
“Being mauled to death by a bear would be, like, super painful.”
“So would burning to death. Like I said: Bears aren’t special.”
Ryan points a finger at you, “But Bigfoot is not a bear.”
“He basically is. He’s not gonna curse me or cast a spell, he might chase me but that’s about it.”
“And if he catches you he’ll brutally murder you.”
“So would a bear.”
“Oh my god— You’re missing the point!” Ryan sighs, almost spilling his coffee as he throws his hands up in annoyance.
“The point is that Bigfoot isn’t as scary as other supernatural beings because he’s basically a bear walking upright.”
“Holy shit, it is way too early for you two to start this!” Kaitlyn shouts from across the room. “Please, for the sake of my sanity, change the topic.”
“Fine.” Ryan frowns, but quickly returns to his neutral expression as he reaches into his bag. “Oh, I got this for you.”
In a ziplock bag is a couple of your favorite cookies. He hands it to you. “I checked the kitchen this morning and they had the ones that you like. Mrs. Edwards told me to grab one, but I took these when she went to grab something from the freezer.”
You giggle at his story, taking one of the cookies out of the bag before breaking it into two halves and offering one of them to Ryan. He accepts it and you both nibble your cookies contently while listening to the podcast (even if Bigfoot isn’t that cool).
—————
“You cannot be serious right now, Y/N! That is such bullshit!” Emma rolls her eyes, not believing a word you’re saying. Some of your fellow counselors are sitting around the campfire with you. But not all. Ryan, Dylan, and Abi are conveniently absent.
You huff. “I’m completely serious. Ryan and I are not together.” Honestly, you’re getting tired of it at this point. Constantly being teased for your friendship with Ryan messes with your head.
Kaitlyn nods at you, a knowing look in her eye. “You’ve gotta admit though, you two are super domestic. It’s adorable. Disgusting, but adorable.”
“But that doesn’t mean we’re together.”
Emma frowns, “No, it means that you should be! Can you honestly say that you don’t have feelings for Ryan?”
You go to shoot back your response but stop in your tracks. The three missing counselors walk over to the bonfire, blissfully unaware of the conversation taking place. Ryan sits next to you automatically. “You okay?”
“Yeah— Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You don’t know why you’re suddenly so nervous. Ryan hearing the conversation shouldn’t be so nerve wracking… Unless you do actually have feelings for him. Shit.
“I heard your class got really rowdy today. I was gonna come over, but Mr. H couldn’t cover my group.”
You give him a tired smile. “Yeah, some of the older kids started fighting. Trashed the room. And my walkie died, so I couldn’t radio anyone.”
“So what happened?” Ryan shifts in his spot, looking a little worried.
“I got into mean counselor mode. Shouted at them to make them stop. Jacob was next door, so he came over to help.”
From across the bonfire, Jacob chuckles. “She didn’t need help. When I walked in, the boys were already separated. I asked what was going on and she just said “These three are just about to clean up their mess. And then they’ll march up to the lodge so they can call their parents and explain why they have to sit out of swim time later.” Every kid in that room went dead silent.”
“Y/N can be scary when she wants to,” Abi pipes up.
Ryan gives the group a small grin. “I’d like to think she learned it from me.”
“Oh, no way.” You shake your head at him. “You’re not scary, you’re creepy. There’s a difference.”
“Rude.”
“Is it though?”
Before Ryan can say anything, Emma leans forward. “Before you two start squabbling like an old married couple; Ryan, I have a question for you.”
“Uh… Okay?” He looks off put by this, clearly unsure of what Emma could want.
You have a bad feeling about this. Your feeling turns out to be accurate when you see Emma smirk mischievously. “What’s your relationship with Y/N really?”
Ryan tenses up next to you, “We’re friends.”
“Just friends? You’re sure? Because you two act like more than that.” Emma presses. Ryan looks like he’s deep in thought for a moment before he blinks out of it.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’re just friends.”
Kaitlyn raises a brow. “Pretty sure? So you’re not positive?”
“Well, I mean— I don’t…” Ryan stumbles over his words and his eyes shift around, never landing on you.
You stay silent, not knowing what to say. How are you supposed to help him in this situation? “We’re leaving camp in three days so right now both of you are coming clean. Total honesty. Have either of you, at any point this summer, wanted to be more than friends?”
The words are on the tip of your tongue, but Ryan beats you to it. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess?” It slips out before you can stop it. “What does that mean?!”
“It means I guess.”
“When did you want to be more than friends?!”
“Why do you care? It doesn’t matter.” Ryan still won’t look at you.
Your heart feels like it stops beating for a moment. “Why wouldn’t it matter?”
“Because you never wanted us to be more than friends! And I respect that, so the only thing that saying that would do is make this awkward.” Ryan shouts a little in annoyance, but you aren’t startled.
“I never said that I didn’t want to be more than friends.”
You can physically see Ryan freeze like a deer in headlights. “Wait— When was that?”
“Oh, so now it matters!”
“Just answer the damn question.” Ryan rolls his eyes at you.
“I don’t know… Early into the summer, I guess.”
Your confession shocks Ryan, causing him to turn his entire body to face you. “Bullshit. I’ve liked you since the start of the summer.”
“Do you still like me?” Your heart is in your throat right now with how nervous you are.
“Yeah, of course I do. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, I couldn’t just stop loving you.”
Now you fully freeze. Your brain stops and starts for a moment or two as you try to collect your thoughts. “I still like you too.”
“Holy shit— Really? You’re not messing with me right now? ‘Cuz if you are, that’s really shitty.”
“I’m not messing with you.” You can’t stop the pure happy smile that comes to your face.
The two of you had totally forgot that all of the other counselors were there with you, listening to this entire conversation.
“That’s adorable,” Emma coos. “But can you guys save the rest of this conversation for later, because it’s not the vibe we’re going for here.”
Kaitlyn quickly turns to her. “You’re the one who was bugging Y/N about this. Now you wanna take it back?”
“I didn’t say that, I said that they should finish this talk later.”
“Yeah, you guys are turning your love confession into another lovers quarrel. I don’t know how you did it, but you did.” Nick adds his thoughts to the mix, causing you and Ryan to sigh.
“Fine…” Ryan leans over to whisper in your ear. “For the record, I fell for you first.”
You frown. “No, you didn’t. I did.”
“No, I was definitely first. It’s been since like… week three.”
“Well I’ve liked you since week two.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not—“ Ryan gets cut off when you hear a shout from Kaitlyn.
“Oh my god, shut the fuck up!”
—————
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#nel writes#the quarry#the quarry game#the quarry ryan#the quarry x reader#ryan erzahler x reader#the quarry ryan x reader#ryan erzahler#the quarry fanfic#the quarry fanfiction#ryan erzahler fanfic#ryan erzahler fanfiction#ryan erzahler fic#ryan erzahler x reader fic#ryan erzahler x reader fanfic#ryan erzahler x reader fluff#ryan erzahler fluff
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OVERHEARD
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WARNINGS: Mutual H*ndjob; Gr*ping; Voyeurism; Anxiety; Gentle!Dom!Jacob; F*ngering; Internalized Hom*phobia; Hints of Ab*se; Sweet Talk
Male Reader x Jacob Custos
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I shrieked as a familiar bicep coiled around my neck, forcing me to bend over as his knuckles rubbed against my scalp. Squirming, I tugged at his arms and whined, eventually resorting to kicking him in the shin. He yelped and backed away quickly, leaning down to rub his shin with a pout.
"Um, ow!" He huffed, dark eyes glaring at me, though there was still humor on his face. I stuck my tongue out in reply, ruffling my (h/c) hair gently and popping my neck.
"You started it, shithead!" I squealed as he lunged at me, dodging to the side. Taking off at a sprint, I barreled through the forest behind the boathouse, screaming with joy. "Jacob, you're a dick!"
"I know!" Holy shit, he's right on my ass! I yelped as his muscular arms embraced my waist, the force of his tackle carrying us both to the dirt. I gasped from the force, cradling my head as it had smacked the ground pretty hard.
"F-Fuck, shit, I'm sorry, (Y/N)!" Jacob stammered, sitting upright to get a better look at my head. "Dammit, okay, t-there's no blood, at least." I blinked and light rubbed the bump already forming on the back of my skull, pushing myself up onto my elbows. As I did so, my face was suddenly inches away from Jacobs broad chest, the boy leaning over me slightly to worry over my bruising skull.
Completely oblivious to my predicament, Jacob caressed my hair gently, attempting to assess the damage. My eyes raked slowly down his torso, hesitating on his wide, strong hips and his powerful thighs that straddled my hips. Straddled. Holy fuck, Jacob's on top of me right now.
Every hormone in my body immediately reacted, blood rushing to my shorts and causing a tent to begin to form. My heart raced and my breathing staggered, (e/c) eyes wide with shock. My skin flushed a bright red and I yelped, quickly forcing the guy off me with both hands to his chest.
He gasped as he fell back, resting on his elbows as he glared at me. "Dude, what the hell—" Jacob's exclamation fell short as his brows furrowed, eyes settling on my red face and flustered expression. "Dude? You good?"
I didn't respond, my brain short circuiting as I attempted to rid myself of the dirty thoughts lingering behind my eyelids. What would it be like to have those thick, muscular thighs wrapped around my skull, those strong hands smacking my ass—I groaned and covered my face, lifting my knees in an attempt to shield my crotch from view.
"Dude, (Y/N), what's wrong?" Jacob leaned forward, brushing my hair to the side. He was worried, that much was obvious, but whether or not he noticed what was really happening to me was unknown.
"N-Nothing!" My voice cracked and I winced, squirming away from him. "I-I'm fine." My awkward demeanor was a common thing as I had severe social anxiety, especially around attractive or outgoing people. Though I was normally quite comfortable around Jacob, the crush I'd slowly developed over the past month on the guy made me flustered and provided me with more than just one problem. Problems I, unfortunately, had to deal with alone.
Shifting in place, I pushed myself back against a tree, my gaze flitting around rapidly. I could see his larger form moving closer to my thin self, kneeling over me as his shadow cast over my face. "(Y/N), dude, look at me." I shook my head, keeping my face buried in my knees. His firm hands squeezed my calves and I gasped softly, recoiling at the unintentionally intimate gesture. "Dude, let me see your face, c'mon—"
"N-No, Jake—!" My face grew ever warmer as he pulled my legs down, his eyes immediately flicking to the little problem I'd developed. I whimpered slightly at the wide eyed stare he'd given me upon noticing, tears pricking at my eyes. "D-Don't look at me like that."
His gaze snapped back up to meet mine, (e/c) clashing with deep charcoal. I squeezed my eyes shut and sniffled softly, hiccuping. "G-Go ahead. F-Fuckin' hate me, l-like everyone at home—"
"Woah, woah, woah! Dude, why would I hate you?" I snapped my jaw shut, eyes still screwed shut as my fingers dug into the dirt. "D-Did...did I...?" With a swift, but hesitant nod from me, Jacob inhaled sharply, his hands leaving my bare calves as he leaned back. I felt my heart sink and had to bite back a sob, the sound a choked whimper in my throat as I covered my face with my hands.
The dark thoughts invaded, memories of my fathers drunken anger and the abuse I suffered at home lingering behind my minds eye. I could feel the glass shattering on my skin, hear the angry slurs and threats, the banging of his fist on a door. Without realizing it, I began to hyperventilate, my breathing staggered and my heart rate accelerated as I struggled to focus. Ugly. Evil. Stupid. Weak. Pathetic. Useless. Disgusting. Disgraceful.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Warm hands cupped my jaw, two thumbs wiping the tears trickling down my skin. "It's okay. You're beautiful. You're kind. You're funny. You're smart. So beautiful. So brilliant." I hadn’t realized I’d spoken my thoughts aloud. His sweet words slowly calmed my thunderous thoughts, my breathing slowing to an even pattern. Blinking my eyes slowly, I leaned into his palm, exhaling softly as my hands fell to my lap.
"'M sorry." Jacob shushed me, petting my cheeks as he moved to sit beside me. Maneuvering my body, he placed me between his legs, head resting against his chest and my own legs draped over his left thigh. He cradled me close for a moment—obviously he was used to my anxiety attacks, having helped me through them more than once before so far this summer—and gently caressed my spine lightly.
"You're okay, (N/N). Seriously, you don't have to be so worked up." Jacob hummed after a moment. "I meant what I said, okay? I could never hate you just for being gay...your dad’s a dick, dude." I snorted softly and nuzzled his chest, exhaling as his heart thumped loudly beneath my ear.
"Thanks Jake. You're my best friend, you know that?" Jacob smiled and rested his hands on my back and thigh, hugging me closer.
"Well, duh, but I think I'm more than just your best friend if you just popped a boner for me—"
"Oh my god, shut up!" His boisterous laugh was infectious, a wide grin on both our lips as the tenseness of the previous situation died down with ease. His eyes sparkled with mirth and adoration as they examined my happy expression, lingering for a moment longer on my lips. "What...?"
"Nothing. You're just hot." His cheeky grin had me groaning, falling backwards over his lap as he snorted.
"Woooooow, so smooth, Jake." I huffed, despite the pink hue painting the apples of my cheeks again. I reached up and poked his shoulder, the guy smiling down at me.
"What? I can't flirt with you?" I deadpannned and pursed my lips, narrowing my gaze as I sat up.
"You're fucking with me."
He gaped at my blatant accusation, lifting his hands up in defense. "Um, no? Why would I do that?"
"Don't be a dick."
"I'm not! Wha—(Y/N)!" I moved to stand up, shuffling onto my knees with slight discomfort due to the semi-hard-on I still sported. Before I could move any further, Jacob's hands grasped my waist, pulling me back and forcing me to face him, straddling his hips. His expression was that of a kicked puppy as he held me in place, genuinely hurt by my accusation. "I'm not fucking with you."
Pursing my lips, I hesitated, searching his charcoal gaze for a sign of any deceit or deviousness. When I found none, I caved, placing my hands on his chest gently. "Promise?"
"Yeah, I promise." Jacobs hands squeezed my sides lightly, my body shuddering as his thumbs brushed under the hem of shirt my slightly. His eyes flickered down, watching my hips twitch in his lap, before flickering up to gauge my reaction. His hands slid lower, warm fingers threading under my shirt and tickling my cool skin lightly. I sat up straighter, suddenly aware of how close we really were, our noses practically brushing as our breathes mingled.
"Jake..." I mumbled, eyes flicking to his lips as my heart hammered in my chest. He swallowed thickly, leaning forward so our lips brushed.
"Yeah..." Jacob closed the gap, pulling me closer as his hips brushed up against mine. I mewled softly against his mouth, feeling his hand slide down to palm my crotch, squeezing the length and rubbing the head with his thumb.
"J-Jacob—" He shushed me with another kiss, his fingers digging into my waist and his hand squeezing my crotch lightly. His tongue slipped past my parted lips, losing itself against mine while his knees bent slightly, rolling our hips together. Soft mewls and whines escaped me between kisses, my hands grabbing at his defined chest and broad shoulders, squeezing and kneading the muscled flesh.
He chuckled slightly, soft grunts pressed against my lips as I groped the athlete, his hands guiding my ass over his lap. I could feel him pressing against my rear, the thick outline of his cock tented in his khakis. I pulled away with a breathless gasp, a string of saliva bonding our lips as we panted and gazed at each other, pupils blown. "I-I thought you were—"
"Interested in Emma? She's hot but she's not you."
My heart warmed at his words and I found myself grinding over his lap, pressing down against his cock whilst his fingers squeezed my waist. "F-Fuck..." He groaned and let his eyes flutter shut, cupping my ass in his large palms with a nice squeeze. "You keep doing that and I'm gonna lose it, (N/N)." He warned, eyes dark as they opened to settle on my hips, watching me roll them.
"Jacob..." His name came out as a breathless whine, his eyes meeting mine with surprise and lust as he took in my expression of utter submission. My nails dug into his shoulders as I leaned back against his bent legs, lips parted and slightly swollen from our kisses whilst my pupils consumed the ring of (e/c) that once rested there. "I want you. Jacob, please." I begged, disheveled (h/c) locks falling loosely in my vision. A deep groan left his throat and his hands moved further down my ass, grabbing firmly at the plush clothed flesh. His lips found my neck and sucked at the skin, tongue swirling lightly over my pulse point. As his teeth nipped at my pulse, I cried out and bucked my hips hard, slamming my ass back against his hard clothed cock.
"Jesus Fucking—!" Gripping my ass tightly, he lifted me up onto my knees, shuffling to remove his belt. Popping the button, he slid his khakis and boxers down just enough to let his cock stand, the bulbous red tip bounding against his clothed abs with a harsh smack.!I swallowed thickly and struggled to remove my own shorts, tossing them along with my briefs to the side. My shirt still present on my body helped me relax slightly, feeling incredibly shy as my smaller length lifted the hem with its pulsing. "You're beautiful." The ravenette mumbled against my throat, licking his fingers lightly. That hand made its way down my spine, slipping between my cheeks and prodding at my entrance.
I gasped and gripped his shoulders, whimpering as he slipped his middle finger in to the first knuckle. It felt different with his hand, his digits thicker than my own. Despite the temporary discomfort, I felt extremely satisfied by just the one in my ass, keening as he buried it deeper. "Is that good?" Jacob asked, genuinely curious as he'd most likely never fucked another guy before. I nodded, unable to find words in the moment, and let my head rest on his shoulder. His ring finger slipped past the rim, following the first as deep as two knuckles, then he slowly pulled them back out only to push them back in just as slow.
"Faster..." I murmured, tightly gripping at his shirt as I did so. He made a soft noise of confirmation, his fingers moving faster as his freehand slid to my front. Between my legs, he grasped my cock in his left hand, my muffled yelp of surprise pressed against his skin. Rubbing the tip with his thumb, he stroked me lightly, other hand still thrusting into my ass as he held me. "O-Oh fuck, J-Jake...!"
"Say my name again." His voice was hoarse from lust and pleasure, leaning back to watch my expressions as he toyed with my body. His cock throbbed against his abdomen, a bead of precum forming at the tip.
"Jake!" I all but whined, head tossed back as I rolled my hips against his hands. His breath hitched and he bit his lip, dark eyes watching me with awe. Deciding to return the favor, one of my hands slipped down his chest and enveloped his length, his size much larger than my hand. I stroked him in time with his movements, watching his brows furrow and his jaw clench.
"F-Fuck, (Y/N)..." He grunted, voice cracking. I perked up slightly and moved my hand a bit faster, still rolling my hips into his hands. My thumb swiped over his tip, spreading his precum, and I squeezed the base lightly, earning a whine of pleasured protest from him. "Fuck yeah, ah..."
I leaned forward as he rushed his movements, thrusting his fingers in my ass rapidly as he fisted my cock. His lips brushed over mine as we both moaned, his hand replacing mine on his own cock and pressing our two lengths together. I mewled and thrusted into his fist, coiling my arms around his neck and threading my fingers through his hair. He kissed me aggressively, stroking faster as he dipped three fingers into my ass, altering the angle and brushing my prostate. I screamed against his mouth, his lips pulling into a smile as his tongue swallowed my cry, fingers aiming for that bundle of nerves on every thrust in. His strokes grew sloppy, our cocks rubbing together as they throbbed and our balls clenched, climax growing near.
"So beautiful. So sweet." Jacob cooed against my lips, his eyes half lidded as he gazed at me with such adoration and love, chest heaving. I whimpered softly and bit my lip, back arching as I cried out once more, my vision a blinding white. I could hear him groan, his hips bucking against mine as we both came, the warm stickiness of our release mixed between our shirts and dampening the soft cotton cloth. Panting, I rested my head on his shoulder, wincing as his fingers slipped from my ass and tugged my shirt hem down to cover it.
"Holy shit, you guys are loud." I yelped and scrambled to hide myself further, Jacobs hands wiping themselves clean on his shirt before coiling around me protectively. Nick snickered as he stood nearby, hands on his hips whilst Kaitlyn hailed a disapproving expression, her arms folded over her chest. "You guys need to clean the fuck up and thank Ryan for taking all the kiddos canoeing."
"Yes ma'am." Jacob mock saluted the short woman, receiving a roll of the eyes and a scoff before she turned on her heel. Nick waved, a coy smirk on his face as he followed after her, disappearing beyond the treeline. Jacob chuckled lowly and pressed a kiss to my temple, hugging me gently.
"We really should get cleaned up." I nodded, my face ablaze, but the dopey smile I carried had yet to fade. Even though we'd been caught, I didn't regret a thing.
#jacob custos#dylan lenivy#max brinly#the quarry#smut#ryan erzahler#nick furcillo#kaitlyn ka#reader#male x male#fluff#angst with a happy ending#laura kearney#emma mountebank#abigail blyg#werewolf#hacketts quarry#travis hackett#my stuff#apocalypticnova#request#oneshot
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So I just finished the quarry and fell in love max brinly 😅 do you think you can do a max brinly x reader? Weather they were already in a relationship or met at camp, but max makes it to camp and is there the whole summer. Something happens to where the reader get attacked/bit that night and he does whatever he can to save her? Preferably a happy ending together, but your discretion! Thank you for whatever you can do!!
I WOULD DIE FOR HER
༊*·˚ summary: [ in request ]
༊*·˚ pairing: max brinly x fem! reader
༊*·˚ warnings: werewolf attack? injury, guns, blood & curse words
༊*·˚ word count: 1180
༊*·˚ author note: it's been a while since i played the quarry. canon divergent
masterlist.
"A werewolf? Great! What's next? Dracula?" It was the last day of summer camp. They were suppose to be on the road already but their car didn't start. Instead of eating junk food and belting songs, they were stuck here. At best until tomorrow morning.
And now, apparently a wolf or werewolf attacked Nick and Abby. Max didn't doubt Abby or Nick's words but a werewolf is something harder to believe in. An escaped science experiment would have been more believable.
No matter how believable it is or not. One thing was for certain, something was out there to get them. Dylan and Ryan try to get help via the radio shack as the others stay back in the lodge, including Max and you. But while there you hear something on the roof.
Sounding way too heavy to be a bird. Then Abby and Nick's statement proves to be right as a werewolf crashes through the roof. It starts chasing each of you, trying to see which one will catch it first. Right as you think you managed to find a good place to hide.
It charges at your hiding place. It's claws sinking into your shoulder. Max rips the gun out of Kaitlyn's arms and aims it for the creature. Shoot it in the arm then stomach. It turns its attention away from you and to Max as shots it in the head. It backs off running into the woods.
"How did you know how to do that?" Max hands the gun back to Kaitlyn and rushes over to you. "It's a gun. It's not that difficult," he assesses the wound. It's deep and without some treatment you could bleed out. He refuses to show any panic. Knowing it'll only make the situation worse.
Max knows there's some medical stuff in the lodge 'just in case something happens'. This is something. He tells Kaitlyn to keep you awake as he goes to find the supplies. He's not a medical student or anything but he will try his best.
"Don't let her die," is all Max could think about and when he gets back he makes quick work of the wound with the help of Kaitlyn. He has you bite on a cloth as they sow up the wound and wrap a lot of gauze around it. It's not perfect but it's the best they could do.
By the time they are done. Ryan and Dylan are back. They bombard them with questions on what happened. You look pale and Max, the worried boyfriend that he is, keeps sending you concerned looks. The first time you try to take a step, you almost faceplant.
But you need to leave the lodge as there is now a hole in the roof. The group decided to go to the pool house and hunker down there. Max helps you walk all the way there. Once you arrive, Nick starts acting really weird. Max and you separate from the group.
He lets you rest but does everything so you don't close your eyes. He goes back to check on the others. The next thing you hear is a lot of yelling and the sound of a gunshot. Max comes rushing back. He's in a state of shock. That much is obvious.
Quickly picks you up bridal style and runs out of the pool house. On your way out you notice the room was drenched in blood. You're left in the dark as to what happened. What you do notice is Laura, one of Max's friends and a counsellor that went missing, showed up.
She explains where she'd been this whole time. The group makes the ultimate decision to split up again. Laura and Ryan go to the Heckett's house, Emma and Abby to the basement of the lodge and Dylan, Kaitlyn, Max and you try to find a spare part to fix the car.
Even Laura suggested that Max go with her but he declined. Refusing to leave your side. Cute, considering you'll turn into one of those creatures before the night is over. At the junkyard, Dylan and Kaitlyn are working on the crane.
Dylan starts rapidly honking the horn. "There's something coming!" Max and you find a hiding place hoping that the creature doesn't find you. That hope is squashed as it's now only a few feet away from you. You feel anger bubbling up in you.
You've been through shit this whole night. Two of your friends could be dead and Max's missing ex girlfriend is now back. Is he going to dump you and get back together with her? Were you just a summer fling to him? You feel as if your insides are being ripped out.
Were you dying? Max jumps from the hiding place and shoots the creature. He aims to take another shot but the gun's empty. It runs to your hiding place. You feel as if something is trying to burst out of your chest. Excruciating pain as your bones break than a burst of blood.
You can't control your movements anymore. Attack the werewolf charging at you, killing it. Max can't believe what he's seeing. He knew it was a matter of time before you turned but this is terrifying. If he is to die by your hand so be it but to his surprise you run away.
Leaving the junkyard to go to God knows where. He goes to find Kaitlyn and Dylan, tells them what had happened. All three of them go back to the lodge with the part in hand to meet up with the other counsellors. Laura and Ryan return with Travis Hackett.
"It's over. We killed Silas," the first thought in Max's head is 'Who?' and the second how the hell is he going to find you. Laura offers to go with him and this time he obliges. If there's a possibility they find your dead body, he needs someone he trust there when he breaks down.
Instead of finding a dead body, they find you walking. Probably trying to find a way back to the lodge. Max is overwhelmed with relife and envelopes you in a bone crushing hug. "You're okay. Thank God! You're okay." He peppers your face with kisses.
"Never do that again," he rests his head on your shoulder. "What do you mean? I turn into a werewolf on a regular basis," he laughs but soon tears start falling from his eyes. Laura interrupts the moment.
"We should get back. I don't wanna spend another second in this forest," she starts walking. "Laura's back. So, when's your date planned?" Max's back straightens and his eyes look as if they'll fall out of his sockets. "What?"
"With Laura. I would assume you guys will pick up where you left off." He aggressively shakes his head. "No! I mean we didn't break up but the night before she left we realised we're just not working. To me you're like a breath of fresh air. Okay that's a cheesy metaphor but I love you and nothing will change that."
Thanks for reading!
#the quarry#max brinly#the quarry fanfic#the quarry x reader#kaitlyn ka#nick furcillo#abigail blyg#emma mountebank#ryan erzahler#dylan lenivy#dylan lenivy x reader#laura kearney#x reader#x female reader#x fem!reader#x female y/n#werewolf#werewolves#fluff#the quarry game#the quarry dylan
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Please yall i just want a fic of ryan and dylans relationship during the two months of camp😤😔🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
#drylan#rylan#dylan leviny#ryan erzahler#The Quarry#fluff#pinning#fanfiction#fanfic recommendation#Please i cant with angst
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Lost Time
Ryan Erzahler x AFAB reader
💕College AU💕
AN: This hasn’t been proofread, edited, NOTHING. Just my thought dump. I love Ryan so much. I promise I’ll write for the others! He’s just my Hyperfixation rn 😅😅. Warnings: 18+ only! Minors DNI! Hair pulling, biting, cowgirl position, unprotected sex. Word Count: 732 (it’s a short little one shot🤧) Fluff if you squint!
The stress of college life was putting you a bit on edge. So this car ride home with your boyfriend is just what you needed. His large hand was resting comfortably on your full thighs, head bobbing along to the music. It’s moments like these where you learn to take time to appreciate it. Doin Time by Lana Del Rey softly playing in the background. You could’ve sworn you heard him singing along to the chorus, but you weren’t sure. So, you opted to smile softly to yourself. Internally thanking Dylan for making a playlist for you. The more time you spent together, the more your music tastes began to meld together.
“What?” His smile widens as he glances over atyou. “Nothing, you just look happy.”
He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “Okay? I’m always happy when I’m with you.” As long as you both have been together, and as many times as he says it, you always get butterflies. The rest of the drive to your apartment you shared with Emma and Abi was spent with you both singing along to whatever song was playing. He hold his hand palm up in your thigh, signaling for you to take it. “Oh, if I must,” you roll your eyes playfully at his small pout.
It wasn’t too long before you were pulling up to the complex. The short, but relaxing journey has come to an end. “I kinda don’t want you to go yet,” Ryan cups your cheek in his hand. Pulling you in for a gentle kiss. You both hum at the pacing of the kisses. Speeding up just enough to build some tension. “It doesn’t have to,” you reply in between kisses. “Yeah? Wanna take this to the backseat?”
All you had to do was bat your lashes at him and he was putty in your hands. He unbuckles his seatbelt and follows you to the back. Of course, not before letting your seats up to make room. Always the gentleman, he is. The return to the kiss as also met with sweaty palms this time. Though there was no need to be nervous, he felt a bit guilt. Breaking the kiss he interjects, “actually, do you wanna take this to a b-bed? I feel kinda bad.”
“No baby, it’s fine. This’ll be fun.”
He couldn’t argue with you while you had those plump, glossy lips. Straddling him with those pretty thighs that we’re getting him to knead at them. He quickly pulls his jeans down just below his waist. You both moving as if there wasn’t enough time, you pull your panties to the side.
Eye contact doesn’t break as you slowly lower yourself onto his length. You both hiss in tandem. You a mix of pain and pleasure. As for Ryan, he was trying not to cum right then and there. He hurries his face into your neck to control himself. “Look at me while I ride you, baby.” And he did just that. His calloused hands were lazily placed on your hips as you rocked back and forth. Effectively rubbing your clit against his pelvis. He throws his head back in pleasure as you begin to move up and down. “F-fuck baby,” he cups your face once again, only this time, he puts his thumb in your mouth. Which you accept eagerly. You control your steady pace, every once in a while, moving your hips again. He removes his thumb from your mouth, only to place it gently on your clit. Obscene curses and moans leave both of your lips as you ride him. He puts his face back into your neck, breathing heavily and panting. Your pleasure always came before his. Your hands instinctively pulling at his curls as his canines graze your neck. “You can pull my hair baby, don’t be shy.” He moans as your tugging on his curls get harder. “Harder Baby,” he wraps both arms around your waist. Feeling himself getting closer to the edge. The coil in your lower belly winding and tightening until it snaps. Making you cum around his cock. Him grip on your waist doesn’t falter as he bucks his hips up into you. Letting you ride out your orgasm as he, no doubt, finishes himself. He has a goofy smile plastered onto his face as he looks up at you, “thank you baby. I needed that.” “Me too, makin up for lost time.”
#the quarry#ryan erzhaler smut#the quarry smut#ryan erzahler#justice smith#smut#Justice smith smut#college au#Ryan erzhaler x reader#Ryan erzhaler x reader smut#fluff#Ryan erzhaler fluff#imagines
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the boyssss 💞💞
#text#my art#the quarry#rylan#ryan erzahler#dylan lenivy#the boyfriends ever 💕💞#feeling blehh so here's this#i didn't feel like coloring/shading so u get a messy scribble :)#dylans half asleep and ryans tryna get kissies before getting to class :3c#soft for fluff/domestic rylan after talk to a moot abt it sjfkrjfn
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I have an ‘amazing’ request for how the quarry counsellors would react to a S/O who’s got insomnia or paranoia directed towards later hours of the day (:
i actually love the both of these ideas sm that I might write both, but for now- one!!
The camp counselors reacting: s/o w/insomnia
(camp counselors minus nick & jacob; sorry!!)
— gn reader, fluff w/a tiny bit of pain? not proofread, maybe ooc counselors??? that's it I think
note: I had no idea how to write this so I went with the fluffy path; hope that's okay!
— Laura K.
if you told her, she'd simply thank you, saying that if you needed anything; she's there.
however; if you didn't tell her, leaving her to figure it out. she'd be upset when she realized, scolding herself before once again saying that she'd be willing to help you in any way she can.
she'd always be willing to stay up with you if you can't sleep at all, taking you out for a midnight drive to a restaurant or onto the roof to stargaze.
if you ever got too tired and couldn't fall asleep on your own, she would gladly hold you whihle laying in bed with you.
either that or she'd simply talk to you while playing with your hair until you fall asleep.
— Max B.
let's just be honest: he'd notice it but never bring it up until you did.
he'd almost instantly pull you in for a hug once you brought it up.
he'd beg you to come to him if you ever needed anything from him; gently kissing your forehead.
he'd always be willing to cuddle with you; especially if it'd help you sleep (he'd gladly be the little spoon)
if not he'd take you out on a drive to a lake, where you two could watch the stars, or swim according to him.
— Kaitlyn K.
she's pretty observant, so she'd realize it faster than you think.
she'd never bring it up with you until you were ready, and when you do she'd ask if there's anything you want from her (or for her to do, more like.)
she'd never go to sleep until you did, it makes her feel better.
occasionally, she'll take you out for a small midnight walk, telling you about the one time jacob tried to do a backflip but ended up landing on his ass.
— Dylan L.
he'd realize it early on in the relationship, coming to you one day to ask about it.
he'd do literally anything to help.
you want cuddles, kisses, even space? of course.
sometimes you'd wake up to him holding you to his chest, arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you gently.
— Ryan E.
he'd noticed it very early on, asking about it when he had the chance.
he'd gently grab your hand, rubbing circles on it gently after you told him.
he'll do just about anything to help you sleep better.
he's really warm, and is surprising comfortable. he doesn't mind if you lay on him either.
10/10 would be the most comfortable pillow.
— Abigail B.
she'd notice something was wrong, she would never bring it up on her own though.
when you told her, she just hugged you tightly and said that she was there for you.
she insists on going to bed early, as she thinks it will help
she will always snuggle up with you with heavy, fluffy, and warm blankets.
she will be there until 7-8 in the morning, so enjoy how she snuggles up with you.
— Emma M.
lets just be honest, she'd notice immediately; it's either she sees bags under your eyes, or she sees how sluggish you tend to be.
she would bring it up and insist upon knowing what is wrong; so when you told her she felt pretty bad.
she just said that she wouldn't treat you any different, and would be there to help.
that being said, she always ends up bringing popcorn, fluffy blankets, and a movie for you two to watch.
by the end of it, you're both fast asleep.
— the end.
#the quarry#laura kearney#max brinly#kaitlyn ka#dylan lenivy#ryan erzahler#abigail blyg#emma mountebank#fluff#it’s just so fluffy
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The First... Chapter 3: The First...(Of Many) Late Night Talks
Pairings: Dylan Lenivy/Ryan Erzahler
Chapter Word Count: 7,458
Overall Word Count: 19,178
Status: Multi-Chapter - In Progress (3/?)
Chapter Preview:
It was three in the morning. Just because he can’t sleep from his nightmares doesn’t mean he should interrupt Ryan’s… That wasn’t fair to him. And Ryan’s probably feeling just as exhausted as he is after all those interviews…
Dylan’s fingers twitch by his side, still wanting to just reach forward and knock, but kept held back. He just… He just wanted to see him. Hear his voice. He just…
Wanted to be with Ryan.
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“Oh, crap… It pulled the wire…”
Dylan stared up at the ceiling of the hut, clouds of dust raining down from… whatever the hell that thing is walking across the roof, kicking it loose with every booming step. He could see the wire in question hanging free from the wall, so close yet seeming so very, very far…
“Fix it. I’ll cover you.” Ryan was glancing out the window to the hut, shotgun held in hand, looking for any signs of the beast prowling outside the cabin. “Do it now! Go, quickly!”
Dylan scrambled up onto the desk at Ryan’s frantic words, the knowledge that he was stood right next to him and keeping a careful eye out giving Dylan that extra little boost of bravery. He winces with the effort as he stretches up to the wire, barely able to reach it despite his tall frame. He couldn’t quite see it, having to go by feel instead, patting around at where the wire should be…
Hold on… He’s… He’s been here before. He’s experienced this. This… This already happened. Any second now, he’ll be feeling the sharp pain of teeth sinking into his palm. He’ll feel himself be slammed into the roof over and over again as the creature tries to pull him through, desperate to get a taste of the rest of him, barely able to hear Ryan yelling his name past his own screams.
But it doesn’t happen.
The wire brushes against Dylan’s fingertips and he finally gets a good grip on it, plugging it back into the socket it had slipped out of. He sighs from the exertion, muscles relaxing as he drops his hand back down. Ryan lowers the shotgun down, barrel pointed to the ground as he asks, “What now? What else do you need to do—”
The roof collapses with a deafening cacophony of splintering wood, the beast crashing straight through. Dylan just about manages to leap back out of the way of the falling debris, collapsing down onto the desk and knocking most of the radio equipment off in the process. There’s nothing he can do but sit there mouth agape in horror as the creature lands on Ryan, sending them both careening to the ground.
“RYAN!” He isn’t even able to finish screaming Ryan’s name before it happens. Through the haze of dust in the air, Dylan is forced to watch as the beast gives one big swipe of its claws… and it’s all over. Those razor-sharp daggers slice clean through his throat, and Ryan’s shocked yelp turns to a strangled sound of him choking, drowning as his windpipe is flooded with his own blood. There’s a sickening sound of bones crunching as the thing on top of him sinks its teeth into Ryan’s ribcage, ripping out chunks of flesh and feasting upon him.
The creature takes a pause from its meal, snout raised in the air as it takes a few deep inhales, sniffing the air. It plucks what remains of Ryan from the floor with unnatural strength, flinging him to the other side of the room like a ragdoll. Then, slowly, it cranes its head around, piercing red eyes meeting Dylan’s tear-filled ones. It opens its mouth to snarl at him, yellowed teeth and pale skin stained red with Ryan’s blood, and that’s the last thing Dylan see’s before it’s lunging at him—
Dylan wakes with a strangled gasp, shooting upright in the hotel bed. He had managed to kick the sheets off of him completely, leaving the bare skin of his legs and arms exposed to the AC just above his head. The cold air blowing out of it caressed his clammy skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface. It also makes him aware of a trail of wetness on his face, bringing up trembling fingers to his eyes and wiping away the tears he found there.
He blows out a shaky breath from his mouth, pulling his legs towards him and burying his face into his hand. A sharp and painful twinge of pain in his left arm makes it twitch, pulling his face out of his hands with a wince. He looks down at it like he’s expecting to see something that would be causing it pain, but… funnily enough, there isn’t. It’s kind of the fact that nothing’s there that’s causing the pain.
The room was pitch black thanks to the blackout curtains pulled across the windows, blocking out any light from the street lamps and cars below. The windows weren’t soundproof though, but it wasn’t much of a problem. The soft murmur of engines was more of a background noise than a hindrance, kind of like white noise that had helped lull him to sleep.
Dylan reaches out his good hand over to the side table, patting at the wooden surface to find his phone. He pulls it towards him, charger cable still connected, and proceeds to blind himself as he unlocks the screen. Probably shouldn't have left it on full brightness before going to sleep. He squints past the sharp eye ache the glaring light instantaneously gave him, quickly lowering the brightness so he could actually see what the time was instead of just a wall of piercing light.
The numbers ‘3:17AM’ stare right back at him, and Dylan chucks his phone back onto the nightstand with a groan that was half relief and half annoyance. Half annoyance because this was becoming a common theme now that he wasn’t too fond of — waking up repeatedly throughout the night either due to his stub acting up or because of the nightmares. Then again, he supposed they could be connected… Perhaps the pain in his arm was manifesting itself as nightmares in his unconscious mind…?
Either way, the only relief he got in seeing that he was awake at this god-awful time was that enough time had passed that he could take another dosage of painkillers. Dylan pulls himself out of bed, wearily heading to the bathroom — in particular to the mirror cabinet where he was currently storing what felt like the pharmacy’s entire stock of drugs the doctors had prescribed for him. He slaps the light switch, turning on the annoyingly bright lights with a grimace. It takes his tired mind a moment to find the right bottle, shaking out a few of the miracle pills and popping them into his mouth. He forgoes getting a glass, instead just sticking his face under the tap and getting a mouthful of water to swallow the pills down that way.
Dylan turns the lights back out, nearly tripping over one of the room’s chairs he didn’t remember pulling out of place as he makes his way back to the bed in the dark. He flops down onto the bed with an exhausted groan, hoping this time he might fall into a dreamless sleep. But the moment he closes his eyes, those awful images are projected on the back of his eyelids. Back in the radio hut. Ryan, falling to the ground with that werewolf on top of him. Ryan, letting out a gurgled scream as it tears his throat apart. Ryan, laid out on the ground, eyes empty and lifeless as the wolf makes a meal out of him--
Dylan’s eyes pop back open, not finding much comfort in the dark of the room. This was pointless… No way was he going to be able to get back to sleep. But… God, was he exhausted. And turning on the shitty TV box in the corner of the room and flipping through channel upon channels of garbage didn’t sound too appealing either. He should sleep. He needs to sleep. The doctors had pounded it into his head, ‘sleep was the biggest step towards recovery’.
They were just nightmares… That’s all. All fake. Just his mind creating images to scare him as he sleeps. None of that actually happened… Ryan wasn’t killed by that thing. He’s alive.
He… He is alive… right…?
No, no, this was stupid. He knew Ryan was okay. He had talked to him in the hospital. He was right there with him, while he was…
High off his ass on drugs…
Wait… Was Ryan there? Like, actually there, and not a hallucination? He hadn’t… he hadn’t been imagining him, had he? He couldn’t have… No, he… he saw him back in the lodge, too. Before the cops and the ambulances had arrived. And - oh, he’s an idiot; he even knew the number of the room Ryan was staying in. Ryan was fine.
He’s fine.
…Unless?
“Dammit—” Dylan pulls himself out of bed yet again. He yanks the charger cable out of his phone, snatching it up from the table — alongside his key card to the room.
This was ridiculous… It hadn’t been that long since he last talked to Ryan. Less than a week, really. Sure, he’d rather that not been the case, but when you’ve got the cops holding a murder charge over your head and telling you not to speak to each other until the investigation is concluded, you tend to follow those orders.
But that was all over now. Finally, finally, the nightmare was over. It had been the last day… The last round of interviews. Now, they were free.
For the time being, anyway…
Dylan softly pads down the carpeted hallways of the hotel, thankful for the dimmed sconces along the wall lighting his way. He probably should have put on some shoes or at least some socks before leaving his room, but his brain wasn’t exactly making the most sound of decisions right now. If anyone took a glance through the peep-hole in their door, they’d probably think he was a sleepwalker making his way up and down the halls, clad in his soft gray cotton pajama bottoms and tee his parents had brought with them on the flight over. Well, except for the fact they would see he was very much awake, looking right back at every door he walked past, silently counting the number attached to them in his head.
It was almost a form of torture, having Ryan’s room so close to his own, and still be unable to see him. Now here he was, stood outside room 258, good hand raised up to rap his knuckles against the door.
He doesn’t knock.
Dylan drops his hand back down with a sigh. It was three in the morning. Just because he can’t sleep from his nightmares doesn’t mean he should interrupt Ryan’s… That wasn’t fair to him. And Ryan’s probably feeling just as exhausted as he is after all those interviews…
Dylan’s fingers twitch by his side, still wanting to just reach forward and knock, but kept held back. He just… He just wanted to see him. Hear his voice. He just…
Wanted to be with Ryan.
Dylan raises his hand again, about to knock when the door swings open. He manages to stop his fist from moving forward before effectively punching Ryan in the face, arm freezing in place as the both of them startle back, not expecting to see the other. Dylan’s gaze immediately dropped down to Ryan’s apparel, not finding pajamas but a pair of darkly colored boxes and a plain black shirt, long sleeves covering his arms.
“Jesus--” Ryan closed his eyes, taking a breath to recover from the mini heart attack he just had.
“Oop…Sorry, I--” Dylan’s eyes shifted between his raised fist and Ryan, slowly lowering his hand back down. “I… I couldn’t sleep.”
Ryan gave a nod of his head, clearing his throat. “Yeah, uh… Neither could I.”
“Were you…” Dylan paused, glancing to the side and down the empty hallway. “Were you going somewhere?”
“Um… Yeah. Yeah, actually, I was…” Ryan gave Dylan somewhat of an awkward smile, briefly raising a hand in Dylan’s direction. “I was… looking for you, actually.”
“Oh,” Dylan blanched, not knowing where to look now Ryan was staring at the ground. “Well… You found me.”
Ryan huffed, tipping his head in agreement. He manages to meet Dylan’s gaze again, stepping to the side of the door frame and gesturing into his room. “Did you wanna… come in, or…?”
Dylan shuffled into the room, near identical to his own — although, perhaps a little tidier than his. Ryan was not a fan of the ‘the floors fine’ method of putting away clothes, it seemed. That’s not to say that he had left the cabins back at camp a complete pig sty, (he’s not that big of an asshole) but in his own space, he liked to be a little more… lax.
Ryan softly closed the door behind him, watching Dylan as he carried out a little inspection of his room. “You can sit down if you want.”
Dylan nodded, heading over to Ryan’s bed and taking a seat on the end. Same mattress too, it seemed. By which he means, rock solid and about as good as a slab of concrete for comfort. Although, this one doesn’t have a spring poking him in the ass, so… Dylan guessed this one was slightly better.
Dylan let out a tired sigh, glancing up at Ryan from his perch on the bed. “You gonna take a seat too, or do you wanna keep up this trend of standing there awkwardly whenever one of us enters a room?”
Ryan bit back a smile at the strangely accurate comment, rolling his eyes at Dylan’s sleepy but satisfied smile. He walked over to Dylan, the bed dipping down as Ryan sat down next to him. “So… You couldn’t sleep either, huh?”
“Nope.” Dylan popped the ‘p’. “Kinda expected it, but… not like this. I think maybe it’s… I dunno, it’s the interviews? Having to constantly retell the night over and over in detail, it’s just… It’s fucking with my head or something.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean…” Ryan mumbled. “So, you haven’t been able to sleep at all?”
“Uh, y’know… Small amounts every now and then. Actually managed to get to sleep tonight, but…” Dylan trailed off, huffing in laughter. “How do I say ‘I had a nightmare’ without sounding like a little kid?”
Ryan’s lips twitched, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t need to be a kid to have nightmares. And you don’t need to be a kid for them to mess you up sometimes…”
“Yeah… Never thought I’d say this, but I miss the nightmares where you’re just… suddenly in your underwear during that big presentation you were dreading. I mean… you go your whole childhood being told not to be scared of the dark, but now we know the kind of shit that’s actually out there, y’know?”
“Werewolves… Ghosts…” Ryan shook his head, looking to the lamp that kept the room alight in a soothing golden glow with gratitude. It had been left running every night without fail. Wouldn’t be too surprising if the hotel added an extra charge for all the electricity he’s been using… “I don’t think I even want to know what else is out there.”
“Probably for the best.”
Ryan looks away from the lamp, directing his gaze back over to Dylan. “Did you wanna talk about it? Your nightmare, I mean. You don’t have to, but, uh — well, you were trying to get away from the whole ‘sounding like a kid thing’ — but whenever my sister has bad nightmares, she likes to come find me and tell me about them. Sounds counterproductive, but I think it helps get it out of your mind to say it out loud, if that makes sense?”
“I guess…” Dylan slouched over with a sigh, rubbing his hand across his eyes. “As you can probably guess, it was about camp… Back at the, uh… Back at the radio hut.”
Ryan’s eyes soften, watching as Dylan unconsciously finds his hand drifting over to his stub. The doctors had given him a sleeve to go over it, but for now it was covered in layers of gauze and medical dressings. “You… dream about that often?”
Dylan shook his head. “You’d think I would, wouldn’t you? I don’t get it either. But no, this was the first nightmare I had of it. Except… It didn’t play out the way it actually happened.”
Ryan raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t get bit?”
“Nope. I fixed the wire instead.”
“So… You didn’t lose your hand?”
“No,” Dylan answers, eyes focused on his fingers as they pick at a loose corner of dressing on his stump. “I lost you, instead.”
Ryan’s brows fly up, unable to say anything in response. Dylan continued to play with the gauze around his arm, his foot repeatedly tapping up and down in place. “Fucking thing just… came right through the roof. It was on you, then… you were gone. I had to--” Dylan’s voice catches, the light from the lamp next to them reflecting the glossy sheen in his eyes. “I had to watch you die, man. Had to see your throat get sliced open… Had to hear you fucking scream…”
Dylan closed his eyes, shaking his head before lowering it. Ryan still didn’t know what to say — what he could say — as Dylan quickly wiped his face on the sleeve of his shoulder. “I wasn’t exactly getting much sleep after that. I know it’s dumb, but after I woke up, I… I needed to see that you were okay. Still… here, y’know? I mean, I knew you were fine, but in my minds… mind, the last time we saw you was bleeding out and half eaten on the floor of the radio hut, so…”
“I get it,” Ryan finally manages to get some words out. “I’m sorry to be… a cause of suffering? I guess?”
Dylan actually had to laugh at that, glancing over to Ryan with a baffled frown. “It’s not like you have control over my dreams, dude. Besides, the fact that I’m having nightmares about losing you just means you’ve become an important enough part of my life to worry over that, so… I’m almost glad, in a way. I mean, I’d rather not see you be disemboweled by a werewolf in my dreams, but…”
Ryan chuckled softly, the room falling into a comfortable silence not long after. It was something easy, they found. Enjoying each other's company. Sometimes it wasn’t words that were needed to comfort, but simply the other's presence. Almost like an anchor, or… or a life preserve. Something to hold onto through this storm. Keep you grounded.
“How’s your hand?” Ryan broke the silence.
“Oh, my hand?” Dylan glanced down at his stub, raising it up. “Still detached from my body, I believe.”
Ryan snorted, the sound bringing out a grin from Dylan. “Alright. How’s your arm?”
“Good. I think.” Dylan raised his arm up even higher, bringing it up to eye level as he looks it over. “I mean… It still hurts every now and then. But that’s what the painkillers are for.”
“Are you getting any, uh… Phantom pains?” Ryan asked, timidly, like he wasn’t sure whether it was something he should mention. “I read that it’s pretty common, especially right after you lose the… limb.”
Dylan sighed, slowly lowering his arm back down, eyes cast down towards the ground. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell where the pains coming from. Doc said there’s gonna be some pain and soreness from the surgery site for a while and… Yeah, he warned me about phantom pain, too. It’s weird, I… I can be looking right at it. Right at where my hand is no longer there, and… I can still feel it. Even right now, I can try and flex my fingers — fingers that aren’t there — and it feels like it’s happening.”
“But… no pain?” Ryan asked.
Dylan’s silence answered Ryan’s question before his eventual words did. “Like I said… Sometimes it’s hard to tell if it’s just pain from the surgery or… that. But the painkillers help. They help a lot. It’s just… something I’ll have to get used to, I guess.”
“The, uh… The website I was on said it usually gets better with time,” Ryan tried to offer some consolation. “Apparently they used to think it was like… only psychological? But now they know it’s actually a mix-up in the signals between your brain and the amputated limb, so it’s…” Ryan slowly trailed off at Dylan’s combo of amused smile and raised eyebrow, dropping his hands that had been flailing about as he spoke. “…I’m not helping, am I?”
“More than you could know,” Dylan answered, voice warm and soft. “Are you… doing research on all of this?”
“Uh… Yeah?” Ryan said, like it shouldn’t have been surprising to Dylan that he had. “I feel like I’d be a pretty shitty friend if I didn’t at least find some stuff out that could… help, I guess. Especially given the fact that I’m the one that did this to you…”
“Ryan…” Dylan leaned back as he signed Ryan’s name. “We’ve been over this, remember? I mean, you should more so than me given I was drugged at the time. This isn’t your fault. I asked, you did it. End of story.”
“Yeah, but—”
“And secondly, ‘friend’, huh?" Dylan asked with a teasing grin before Ryan could argue back. “That what we are?”
“Uh…” Heat instantly flushed Ryan’s face, mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words. “It’s, uh… We… I didn’t want to like… Push anything onto you, or… assume anything…”
“Fairly certain I was the one being pushy,” Dylan said. “Speaking of, I… I should probably say sorry for, uh… back at the hospital. You were obviously uncomfortable and my dumb-slash-high-ass was pushing you for a kiss, and that just… was not cool of me--”
“Don’t… Don’t apologize for that, man,” Ryan cut off Dylan’s ‘apology’ with a hint of a laugh. “Like you said: You asked, I did. Except, unlike when I dismembered you… I wanted to.”
“Oh…” Dylan blinked in surprise, glancing away with a disbelieving smile. “So… Friends that… happen to know what each other's mouth tastes like? And happen to both ‘want’ to kiss each other? Unless… I’m reading that wrong?”
“Yeah, I- uh… I guess I’m not denying that.” Ryan’s face continued to flush, missing Dylan’s piercing gaze as he stared down at his own hands. “I’m… not great at this.”
“That’s okay,” Dylan assured him. Dylan’s hand on his leg forced Ryan’s eyes up to meet his, finding nothing but the reassurance and kindness he had just heard. “I don’t want to push anything on you, either. If this is too much for you—”
“No!” Ryan blurted out, the mini outburst taking both of them by surprise. “No, it’s, uh… It’s not that. Sometimes things can get a little overwhelming for me, but it’s not that I don’t want that. That I don’t want… this. I’m not sure what this is, or even if we need to define what this, or… or what we are, but…” Ryan exhaled softly, timid eyes meeting Dylan’s. In this moment, they were one of the same. Both desperate for that connection… yet equally as terrified of rejection from the one they long to connect with.
Dylan wasn’t sure which one of them leaned in first, or whether they both moved at the same time. But it was as they shifted, as Ryan turned towards him for a better angle, that his arm lightly caught Dylan’s stub. Dylan couldn’t help but hiss in pain, flinching back as the sharp pain shoots up his arm from the slightest of touches.
Ryan’s face falls, guilt shining in his eyes as he quickly pulls away from Dylan, not wanting to hurt him any more than he has. “Shit, I… Fuck, I’m sorry, Dylan, I--”
“I’m okay…” Dylan is quick to assure him, though the wince pulling at his face doesn’t help much with that. “Trust me, it’s fine. I’ve already smacked it into so many door frames, this was nothing. Earlier today? I tried to turn on a light switch with it. Was on the floor for a good five minutes after that.”
Ryan’s face quite clearly said this was not helping. “Do you… Do you need more painkillers, or…?”
“Nah, I’m fine,” Dylan waved him off, admittedly looking less pained than he did a moment ago. “I took some not long ago anyway. They’ll kick in soon, and I’ll be pain-free before you know it. I mean, the strength of these things? You could probably kick me in the nuts and I wouldn’t feel a thing. Don’t test that theory, but I’m just saying.”
Ryan shook his head, barely resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. “I... Won't?”
“My balls appreciate that,” Dylan said so sincerely that Ryan could only stare blankly back at him. “Seriously though, I’m good. Doc’s got me on a strict regime of painkillers and checks.”
“...Checks?”
“Yeah, checks I gotta do on myself.” Dylan twitches his stub up. “Just basic ones, twice a day. Undress it, check for infection, then redress it in new gauze. Once in the morning, and once in the evening…” Dylan trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as he looked away in thought. “…Which… I forgot to do tonight…”
“That’s… not great,” Ryan noted. “So… When you said ‘strict regime--”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get sassy with me,” Dylan grumbled. He regretfully stood from Ryan’s bed, stretching out his shoulders and popping the kinks out of his neck. “I should probably… Go do that…”
Ryan too jumped up from the bed, Dylan still stretching with his back to him as he asks, “Do you want me to do it?”
Dylan freezes mid-arm stretch, right arm caught in the crook of his left as he turned to face Ryan. “You… Want to help change the dressings on my arm?”
Ryan shrugged, looking a little confused by Dylan’s surprise at his offer. “…Yeah? It’s… good practice, y’know?”
Dylan tilted his head, flashing Ryan a giddy grin that only confused Ryan even more. “Aw… Sounds like you’re planning on hanging around, Ryan.”
Ryan rolled his eyes at him, stepping closer with a hand outstretched. “Just… give me your damn key card and I’ll go get the stuff.”
“Oh. Yeah, it’s just…” Dylan muttered, the sudden awkwardness he was displaying making Ryan drop his hand.
“Do you… not want me to help?” Ryan asked, joining Dylan in the awkwardness. “Oh, is… Is it something, like… intimate? Seeing your arm like that? Sorry, I didn’t… Didn’t think of it that way.”
It… kind of was, strangely. It shouldn’t be, given that Ryan’s technically seen the inside of his arm as he tried to stop him from bleeding out on the floor of the radio hut, which was just… all kinds of ‘ew’. It was beyond gross that he now knows what his bones look like, which ideally is something you should never have to see in your life. Generally speaking, bones are supposed to stay inside your body and not be visible. Wait… Were teeth bones?
Anyway, he’s getting off-topic. He wasn’t sure why the thought of Ryan seeing his naked, bare stub was tripping him up, but… it was. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of; he knew that. But there was something so… private about it. And, as much as he wants to be brave about it… It’s not the prettiest of things to see. Especially so fresh after surgery… Perhaps it’s because he still had to get used to it himself. It was still as much of a shock for him to see as it is for others. Even now, he occasionally catches sight of it and it startles him, like… ‘Oh shit… Where did my hand go?’
But… he doesn’t want to push Ryan away. And yeah, past the thrill of knowing Ryan actually plans to be in his life enough to help him get through this, it does make sense that Ryan will see it eventually. So… Why not now? Why not accept the help?
Dylan dug his hand into his back pocket, pulling out his rooms key card and holding it out to Ryan. “Excuse the mess that is my room. I like to turn my floor into a fun game of ‘What the fuck did I trip over this time?’ ”
Ryan tries and fails to hold back his smile, plucking the key card out of Dylan’s hand. “Where’s the stuff I need?”
“Uh… Cabinet in the bathroom.”
“Got it.” Ryan flicked the key card in acknowledgment before heading towards the door to his room. “If I’m not back in five minutes, assume that fun game of ‘What the fuck did I trip over?’ turned into a not-so-fun game of ‘What the fuck did I trip over and knock myself out on?’ ”
“Try not to do that, but… I will take a picture of you and send it to everyone if you do.”
The last thing Dylan saw of Ryan as he slipped past the door was his hand flipping him the bird, before that too was gone, and the door gently shut behind him. Dylan chortled quietly to himself in the stillness of the room, turning back towards the main part of the room with a thoughtful sigh. What now? Take a look around? Doesn’t seem like there’d be much point; Ryan did not treat hotel rooms with the same disregard as him, and had quite clearly placed his belongings where they were supposed to be — out of sight and behind closed doors. He was never much of a snooper, anyway. Privacy was important — and so was the respect of others’ privacy.
The buzz of his phone in his pocket gave Dylan the distraction he was looking for. He pulls out his phone, flopping back down onto Ryan’s bed as he checks his new incoming message.
***Sent 4:12AM***
Ryan: Room 252, right?
***Received 4:12AM***
Dylan: Yup, that’s the one
I’m now imagining you stood there like an idiot trying to use the key card on the wrong door
The use of the middle finger emoji from Ryan brought out another grin from Dylan.
***Sent 4:13AM***
Ryan: Alright, I’m in
***Received 4:13AM***
Dylan: Ok, Mr. Robot
***Sent 4:13AM***
Ryan: ?
***Received 4:14AM***
Dylan: The show?
It’s a hacking reference, Ryan. ‘I’m in?’ You must have heard that before?
***Sent 4:14AM***
Ryan: Oh
I never watched that show
***Received 4:15AM***
Dylan: I’d be mad, but now I’m compiling a list of stuff in my head we can watch together, so it takes away the sting a little bit.
…Up for some Netflix and Chill, Ryan?
***Sent 4:15AM***
Ryan: Stop distracting me before I actually DO trip over something in here and break my neck
***Received 4:16AM***
Dylan: Mmm… No
Plus you’ve just given me the power of knowledge, Ryan.
The knowledge that I can say stuff like that and have it work on you
You Fool…
***Sent 4:17AM***
Ryan: Got it. I’ll be sure not to respond to any future attempts at flirting via text
***Received 4:18AM***
Dylan: Wait, no--
Actually, um, excuse you? ‘Attempts’ at flirting?
There was no ‘attempt’, Ryan. I flirted; you succumbed to my charms
I bet you’re blushing like a school girl in my room rn
The door to the room swinging open nearly made Dylan jump out of his skin, head snapping up to see Ryan stood in the door frame, juggling both his phone and the supplies for Dylan’s arm as he gives Dylan a rather pointed look, lips pressed tightly together as the heat pulsing in his cheeks only served to prove Dylan right — except for the location.
“You’re thinking about retracting that offer to help, huh?” Dylan asked, smiling unashamedly up at Ryan’s mostly playful glare.
Mostly.
Ryan looked like he was resisting the urge to throw the bandages in his hands directly at Dylan’s self-satisfied smile, closing the door perhaps a little harder than he should do at this time of night. Morning. Whatever.
“I should block your number…” Ryan suggested, chucking his phone towards the head of the bed before taking a seat next to Dylan.
Dylan gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Ryan agreed with a hint of a smile. He carefully placed the bandages and gauze down on the empty bit of bed next to him and turned to Dylan, face turning serious. “You sure you’re okay with me doing this? If you don’t want me to--”
“No, I do,” Dylan insisted, letting out a shaky breath as he looked at his arm. “I want your help. Just… might be a little weird, is all.”
Ryan’s mouth twitched in sympathy. Then, his eyes lit up in realization, bouncing up from the bed and grabbing something from the supplies with such urgency that Dylan thought a werewolf had suddenly entered the room or something. Ryan shot towards the bathroom, and Dylan’s question of whatever the hell Ryan was doing was answered with the sound of running water. Ryan came back into the room not long after, hands now thoroughly washed and adorned in sterile, latex gloves.
“You ready?” Ryan asked, gloved hands held in the air.
Dylan bit down on his lip so hard that he was sure it’d bleed. “...I’d love to make a sexy doctor joke here about a prostate check--”
“Stop confusing porn with real life.” Ryan sat back down next to Dylan. He reached out towards Dylan’s arm, then paused, looking up at Dylan with an eyebrow raised in question. He waited for Dylan’s nod before placing his hand on Dylan’s arm with the tenderest of touches, so light Dylan couldn’t even feel it.
Nimble yet delicate fingers began the painstaking effort of removing the multiple layers of bandages wrapped around Dylan’s stump, Ryan’s eyes laser focused as he worked. Meanwhile, Dylan wasn’t looking at his arm in the slightest. He just… He couldn’t look away from Ryan. And sure, that had been a common theme since he first laid eyes on the guy, but in this moment especially…
Man… He was really screwed, wasn’t he?
“Tell me if I hurt you…” said Ryan, words barely above a mumble, most of his focus diverted towards what his hands were doing than his mouth.
“Sure. Will an ‘ow’ do, or should I like… scream at the top of my lungs? Which will get your attention more?”
“The first,” Ryan answers, not even glancing up at Dylan for his comment. “The second would probably make me jump, which would probably hurt you more. Not to mention make everyone on this floor think I’m murdering you in here.”
“...Or they could think it’s the other kind of screams.”
Ryan’s hands stilled, bandages half hanging off Dylan’s arm. Funnily enough, this was the comment that got Ryan to look up at him. “I’m… not sure how given you’d be screaming in pain. Unless… Do you… Do you usually make screams of pain during sex?”
Dylan clicked his tongue. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”
Ryan bit down hard on his tongue, eyes dropping back down to Dylan’s arm as he cleared his throat. “I… Don’t think that line worked the way you were hoping it would.”
“Yeah, I tried to save it and made it so much worse…”
Ryan unwrapped the last bit of bandage left, delicately sliding it off the healing skin. He kept a tentative hand loosely held around Dylan’s arm as he shot Dylan a half smile. “It’s okay. I knew what you were trying to get at.”
Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was just because Ryan was quickly falling into this sense of comfort with Dylan that made it easier; easier to say the things that he wanted to say but often held back, unsure what others would think of him if he freely said such things. Not wanting to… well, fuck things up, Ryan supposed. But as he said, Dylan just made it easier. Enough to gather the confidence to say, “And in that case… I do intend to find out.”
That was all it took for Dylan, it seemed. The slightest of flirting back from Ryan, and boom — mouth dry, brain switched off. Not a thought. Just Ryan’s words bouncing around in an empty skull as he stares wide-eyed at Ryan like some sort of creep.
It also did a very good job of distracting him from the fact that Ryan was now looking at his exposed stub. For about… five seconds, anyway. Then it was a case of being sat here not knowing what to say or where to look as Ryan looked so meticulously over his injury that Dylan was starting to think he was trying to memorize it or something.
“It’s, uh… Not a pretty sight,” Dylan tried to joke, but the delivery fell flat, along with his lopsided smile. It was true, though. At least in his eyes. It was… swollen, skin bruised and flushed pink, near red. Haggard stitches ran along the curvature of the stump, their dark black marks dug into his skin.
Ryan’s eyes flicked up to Dylan, to his downtrodden gaze, and he didn’t like that one bit. “You know what I see?”
“Hopefully not a sign of infection?”
“No—” Ryan blew right past that. “—I see the proof that you faced hell head-on and came through the other side. I see someone who knows he’s still got a long road ahead of him but is ready to face that just the same. You wear this like a badge of honor, Dylan. Because that’s what it is. This, is you. Be proud.”
Okay, so maybe this was how Dylan’s brain fully malfunctions.
“And it’s a part of a very pretty person,” Ryan added on like it was nothing more than an afterthought, not even looking at Dylan as he reached for the fresh gauze. “So, yes. It is a pretty sight.”
Nope. That did it. Right there.
“Sweet Jesus, what are you doing to me?” Dylan whispered as Ryan cautiously placed the back of his against the flushed skin of his stump, doing his best to avoid the stitches as he feels for any excessive heat from him.
“Um… Nothing?” Ryan answered, seemingly deeming his temperature to be okay as he begins applying a fresh layer of gauze over his arm. “I’m just being ‘Ryan Ryan’. ”
“Ohhh, that’s not fair,” Dylan complained, his drawing out of the ‘oh’ bringing out a quiet chuckle from Ryan. “You can’t do that to me…”
“Why not…?” Ryan asked in reply, still not looking at Dylan but keeping his focus purely on the task at hand, and man... He was doing a good job, but Dylan just wanted to see his goddamn eyes—
"Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you keep bringing out ‘Ryan Ryan’ and I fall in love with you in like, three days. It’ll happen. I will cling to you, and you will regret it.”
Finally, finally, those rich encompassing brown eyes meet with his. “Safe to say I have a few regrets. From that night especially…” Dylan wasn’t sure if the tingles shooting up his arm were from the tightness of the new bandages being secured, or from the feather-touch brushes of Ryan’s fingers as they worked. “The only regret I’ll have with you? Is not kissing you long before that night by the fire.”
“Oh,” Dylan squeaks, having to fight down the urge to punch himself in the face. Oh? Oh?! What kind of a response was ‘oh?’
“All done,” Ryan snaps Dylan out of his self-hating thoughts, only struggling a little bit as he pinches and pulls at the latex gloves on his hands to get them off. “Looks good from what I can tell.”
“Oh - uh, y-yeah, looks good,” Dylan stammers out in agreement. “Hey, so quick question: When the hell did you get so good at flirting?”
Ryan looked in very clear disagreement to that, head jolting back with an affronted frown. “I always was.”
“Alright, let me change the question: Where the hell is all this flirting coming from?”
Ryan balls up the gloves in his hands, chucking them into the trash can in the corner of the room with surprising ease. “Do you want me to stop?”
“God no.”
Ryan snorted. “I wouldn’t really call any of that flirting, anyway. I’m just… saying what’s true.”
“Well, it’s working a little too well on me, so I’d class it as flirting.”
“If you say so.” Ryan found it easier to just agree. “I also haven’t slept in like, forty hours? So that’s probably affecting my filter a little bit.”
“Forty—?!” Dylan spluttered. “Jesus, Ryan, when you said you couldn’t sleep--”
“I’m fine--”
“No, you’re not. Christ, you… you should have kicked me out man, try and get some sleep--”
“I won’t. Sleep, I mean. Or kick you out, for that matter.”
“Then… Shit. I’d say I’d try and help, but I’m not sure how…” Dylan looked over to the pile of medical supplies Ryan had brought over, wading his good hand through them to get a better look. “ I might have some sleeping pills somewhere…”
“Got my own,” Ryan shot down the idea and a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t work.”
Dylan blew a long puff of air from his mouth, glancing over to the old digital alarm clock collecting dust on Ryan’s bedside cabinet, the numbers and letters blinking ‘4:24 AM’ at him. “Okay… Then let’s switch roles.”
“...I… Don’t know what that means…”
“You helped me, now I help you,” Dylan answers, gesturing with his thumb behind his shoulder to the head of the bed. “Go lay down.”
“I don’t think that’s gonna--”
“Go lay down.” Dylan’s commanding tone caught Ryan by surprise, mouth swinging shut as he blinked in shock. “Please…” Dylan added as an afterthought.
“Alright…” Ryan conceded, moving up the bed. He laid back against the bed’s headboard, hands in his lap and legs stretched out in front of him as he watched Dylan fumble with the medical supplies, trying to move them from the bed over to the empty space on the room’s desk. “You could have just asked me to do that--”
“I got it!” Dylan insisted, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on not dropping everything. He beamed with success once everything had been moved, heading back over to Ryan’s bed, proud smile switching to a frown at the sight of Ryan's plank-like posture. “You don’t look very comfortable.”
“Not really,” Ryan had to admit.
“Alright, possibly embarrassing question for you coming up, but one I feel is fairly important.” Dylan clambered onto the bed next to Ryan, leaning back with a sigh as he turned his head to face him. “So, for me, I slept like a baby when we, uh… When we shared a bed back in the hospital. Granted, I slept like a baby that was on a lot of drugs, but it wasn’t just that. You made me feel…” Dylan trailed off, admittedly finding himself a little embarrassed to be saying this out loud.
“Safe,” Ryan finished for him, a timid smile almost impossible to see pulling at his lips. “Yeah, I… I slept pretty well, too.”
“Okay, so… What’dya say?” Dylan offered. “Wanna test the theory again?”
“Sounds like you’re asking me for a sleepover,” Ryan teased, much to Dylan’s delight.
“Sure. But maybe without the pillow fight? There’s only so much I can do with one hand.”
“I’m not even gonna comment on that…” Ryan reached over Dylan, flipping the small light switch on the wall next to the bed. The little lamp by him was extinguished, room plunging into darkness, and Ryan froze. He hadn’t been expecting it — that sudden wash of fear, ice cold and gripping tight around his chest, ripping away the air in his lungs.
But then Dylan’s hand is softly curling into his shirt, guiding him back down to the bed, and just like that, the warmth returns. Ryan lets Dylan pull him down, and they settle together like they had been doing this for years: Ryan curled into Dylan’s side, his head rested atop Dylan’s chest, Dylan’s good arm wrapped him, fingers tracing soothing paths up and down his sleeved arm. Dylan didn’t use any more words, and he didn’t need to. All of a sudden, with the gentle ‘thuds’ of Dylan’s heart under his ear, his deep, soft breaths, and the warmth of his skin bleeding into Ryan’s… the dark almost felt soothing.
And with Dylan’s hold around him… Ryan let himself sink into it.
#dylan/ryan#ryan x dylan#dylan x ryan#radioheads#the quarry#the quarry game#dylan lenivy#ryan erzahler#fluff#fluff and humor#occasional angst#basically a timeline of their relationship
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Rising moon
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
warning : little angst , little emotional , fluff & comfort
Fandom : The Quarry
Dylan x Ryan
masterlist
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The moon was setting, it was over. The most terrible night of his entire life was over. All the blood and the pain. The torture and the psychological and physical suffering. The weapons, the gunshots, and the bouncing when a shot was fired. The running and hiding. The holding your breath and waiting until you could safely run away. All that was over and everyone was happy. But it had not gone without a little bloodshed. Kayle was dead Chris was dead he had shot him so the bloodline would end. At least that's what they thought at the time.
Silas was a poor creature who had not survived all this. The single shot of Laura. With this shot it seemed as if the sun would shine again through the woods, everything was in order. So it seemed at first glance-does it not always. The sound of sirens as the help called by Dylan arrived at the camp. Seemed to bring the distant reality back to them. The sirens of the approaching ambulance that tended to all their wounds as best it could before taking them all to the hospital. The Hacketts being questioned and taken to the police station. What happened to them they would all know days later. It was an experience none of them would forget. At one point, even Ryan thought he could handle it, but he had to admit to himself that he could not.
He had to stay in the hospital for a week because of his stab wound. When he was exhausted with pain pills home he was glad to have his small apartment for himself. The key turned in the lock and for an infinity he was back home. His dark home greeted him and he was alone again. He was no longer with him. A dull pain ran through his partially healed but not fully healed wound. He turned on the light and as the door closed he let out a sigh that seemed far too long ago.
He was so tired and exhausted. He had already slept badly in the hospital. He had tossed and turned. He was in pain and always left the light on. The darkness was one of the worst things after the events. It always reminded him of the night. All the horror, he hated it.
He looked at the pain pills in his hand and more frantic and faster than necessary he opened the box and took out two of the pills. He went to his kitchen, took a glass and swallowed the pills with water. Please act fast he thought before going to his room. He had to get out of his clothes in which he had sweated himself to death. When he slept or could sleep he was plagued by nightmares. Horrible nightmares that left him sweaty and with a fast beating heart awake in the dark. In his room he groped for the light switch even faster than necessary. But this thought that in the darkness that every second a beast was just waiting for him was almost too real. In his closet he took out a new shirt and slipped into a pair of sweatpants. His eyes lingered on the picture of his family. It had been a trip together a few years ago. He would give anything to be there again. Although there was one exception. He would never give Dylan away. He could have stayed with his parents for a few days, but at the time he was convinced he could do it on his own. He had always managed on his own until now.
But none of them had really talked to the others. Now and then in the hospital a few words but all seemed to fight with themselves.
He considered whether he should ncoh something to eat but he did not know whether his stomach would not have regurgitated it. He was so tired and exhausted. The compress on the wound was strong and the bandage seemed to crush him. But he was glad that the wound had not reopened. For healing, he would have endured this oppressive trepidation. Should he try to sleep or stay awake?
Ryan didn't know and yet he was so powerlessly exhausted that his bed seemed the only option. Despite the fact that the room was bright, he did not turn off the light to sleep. He couldn't do it even when he closed his eyes, there was always that watched feeling. The blanket wrapped around him gave him a little security.
Slowly and with an anxious feeling he slowly drifted off. And the darkness had him in its clutches.
Forest meters high forest seemed to surround him everywhere he looked everything was full of risieger trees. Frightened, he became aware of his surroundings. His eyes traveled to every sound he heard. Fear of being too slow to avoid the fangs.
He looked up but only the moon shone down on him through the treetops. But the longer he looked through the forest the darker everything seemed to become. He had to get away from it all as fast as he could. Ryan ran, his lungs burned and his heartbeat seemed to drown out everything. But it didn't matter, none of it mattered, he had to get out of here. Fear and panic had overshadowed his senses. Survival was the only goal. He cringed as a howl broke through his loud heartbeat. ,, Oh no-no," he said as he became aware of what was waiting for him in the darkness. He ran faster than he actually could, but it was all the same. He could not see the beast again. He would not be able to.
He looked behind him, trying to see something, but nothing but darkness confronted him. A nightmare, a terrible nightmare.
He looked forward again but at that moment he got stuck on one of the big tree roots. He hit the forest floor, which was covered with leaves and earth, hard. Dizziness ran through his vision as he struggled to get up. His leg hurt but he ignored it. But the blood he tasted in his mudn was abnormal. He must have bitten his tongue, otherwise he could not explain it. He stood again and wanted to run further when he heard a rustling in front of him. Tense he stopped when it comes hard on hard he would jump to the side. So he hoped at least.
Then something came out of the dark in front of him.
It was not a werewolf or Silas no it was a severed bloody hand. It was thrown in front of his feet by something or someone. It was fresh and the blood was still dripping from the severed part of the body.
He knew immediately who it belonged to. He himself had cut it off. He himself had held the chainsaw and cut the bone. His heart skipped a beat. ,, Dylan!" he shouted into the darkness, hoping to find his friend. He could not be too late. He was about to reach for his hand when he looked up as something leapt out of the darkness toward him.
The werewolf. The hairless beast with the rice teeth jumped out and its mouth with the bloody fangs tore his flesh.
All at once Ryan was awake again and sitting upright in his lit room. Despite the nightmare, it took him a few moments to adjust to his surroundings, but what he couldn't control was the rapid beating of his heart and the frantic gaze that looked for the wolf. He was about to get out of bed and lock himself in the bathroom somewhere safe when he made a painful noise. He looked down at himself and to his shock his top was covered in blood. He pulled up the shirt and saw that his stab wound had reopened. His fingers trembled as he carefully tightened the bandage and hissed. Tears had formed in his eyes and he had never felt so helpless. He glanced at his cell phone and maybe it was their bidding or maybe it was their love that tempted him to call Dylan.
It rang and Ryan, who had wiped away his tears to get his eyesight back, nervously played with his shirt. ,, Ryan hey how are you?" Dylan's voice sounded cheerful and a little surprised. He startled himself slightly as he said, ,, Dylan please just come here...I need you". Not because he was asking his friend for help, but because his voice sounded incredibly broken, as if he would start crying again any second. ,, Everything will be alright, I'll be right there," Dylan replied, apparently having heard Ryan's voice, which indicated that something was wrong.
Should he venture out of his room? Lock himself in the bathroom ? Stay here ?
But he knew that at the latest when Dylan was here he would have to open the door for him. The fear of the dream had him in its grip. Only slowly and with a tight grip on his bloody top did he venture out of his room. With each step he took, his breathing seemed to become more labored. As if at any moment the forest would reappear or the beast...or the bloody severed hand. How many minutes had passed since he had called Dylan? One, two, five, or ten, it didn't matter and yet it seemed so long before there was a knock at the door. ,, Ryan, it is me, Dylan!" he heard his friend's voice. Slowly, but with need behind him, he walked to the door and opened it. The dark brown haired man was wearing a pink and purple hoodie and simple jeans, yet he was the complete opposite of himself. The two of them were so dissimilar that it fit again. Maybe that was the reason why they fell in love.
That or Dylan's attempts at flirting with the truth or dare in which they had kissed. ,, Ryan" said his boyfriend and was about to pull him into his arms when he stopped in a panic. ,, What happened?" he asked, taking Ryan's hands in his to calm him down a bit. ,, I-I don't know, I had...a nightmare and-" Ryan couldn't get past the thought of the werewolf and Dylan's hand were too much. The tears rolled down his cheek again. ,, It's going to be okay, I'm here Ryan," Dylan said, wiping away the tears with his hoodie sleeve. ,, Is your first aid kit in the bathroom?". ,, Yes" Ryan replied and Dylan took him by the hand before they went into the small bathroom. Ryan was put on the toilet by Dylan before Ryan pulled his white shirt over his body. ,, I'm not a doctor, but shouldn't you go to the hospital?" Dylan asked, seeing the panic in Ryan's eyes. ,, No, that can wait, please just stay with me," Ryan said quickly, holding Dylan's wrist tightly. ,, All right, I understand, everything will be fine. I'll just fix you up," Dylan said and reached for the first aid kit. Ryan meanwhile painfully removed the bandage and the compress. ,, Your hand" said Ryan who distracted himself by watching Dylan. What was left was covered by a white bandage. Dylan paused for a moment and looked at his blunt. ,, Oh, it's healed fine, don't worry. The doctors said I would get a protesis soon. Then I'll be back to well, complete," he admitted and gave Ryan a smile. ,, This is going to hurt, just hold on tight," he warned Ryan before disinfecting the wound. Ryan yelped loudly and clung to Dylan's colorful hoodie as he disinfected the wound. ,, I know, I'm sorry, it'll be better in a minute," Dylan said soothingly, hoping it would help his friend.
After cleaning the wound, he took a compress and applied it to the wound. He was about to let go when he remembered that he couldn't put a bandage on because of his missing hand. ,, Would you please hold on?" he asked and Ryan needed a moment before he understood. Dylan took the bandage and tied it around the compress. ,, I hope it holds," Dylan mumbled, though it was more directed at himself. ,, Thank you," Ryan said softly and looked down. ,, Hey, it's all right. It's over, I'm here," Dylan said as he knelt in front of Ryan and took his face in his hands. Dylan gave his friend a kiss on the cheek before taking his hands in his again. ,, Come on, let's find something comfortable," Dylan said and pulled the suffering man behind him into the bedroom. The light was still on and Dylan understood that it should stay that way. ,, I'm sorry," said Ryan, who had sat down on the bed as Dylan searched in the closet. ,, What?" asked Dylan and turned to the black-haired man. ,, I'm sorry...I thought I could handle it on my own but I-" Ryan broke off and tears rolled down his cheeks. ,, When I close my eyes I see everything. Dylan I see the blood, the werewolves the moment I took your hand-" he broke off again and hid his face in his hands.
Again he knelt in front of him and took Ryan's hands from his face. ,, It's normal, you've been through a lot. We all have, I mean I don't have a hand anymore. But I promise you, Ryan, it's over and you're not alone," Dylan said and gave his friend a soft kiss. ,, I'm here for you Ryan," came softly from the brown-haired man. Ryan slowly loosened up and he put on his black sweater. Dylan rose and retreated with Ryan on his bed. He wrapped him in his arms and they just held each other tightly for a while. It was a way of saying I'm here for you. ,, You're not alone Ryan, I'm here," he whispered to his friend. They detached and Dylan laid his head gently against Ryan's. They held each other and felt each other's love. They held each other and felt their love. And slowly, very slowly, Ryan felt the panic leave him and the moon slowly rose and drove away the shadows. Because their love would get through the trauma, because they had experienced too much together. ,, Thank you Dylan," Ryan whispered and received a soft kiss that made him forget all the suffering.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
#the quarry#dylan x ryan#the quarry ryan#the quarry dylan#rylan#ryan erzahler#dylan lenivy#fluff#male x male#comfort#big comfort#light angst#angst#nightmare#holding#each other#big fluff
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help I kinda wanna write a Quarry AU fic. Will I have the motivation...only time will tell.
#I have been reading a lot of college AUs and am having so many thoughts#brain rot honey#also I have recently been missing my old coffee job and I'm interested in opening a cafe in the near future but not 100% sure yet#but I wanna design a cafe in the fic that I feel would be similar to the kind I wanna open#also cute gay cuddle fluff ya know?#ok finished my rambling I love a good tag ramble#the quarry#dylan lenivy#ryan erzahler
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THE QUARRY MASTERLIST
JACOB CUSTOS
You get stuck with Jacob in the Hackett’s basement
Being a counsellor and dating Jacob
You think Emma likes Jacob so you back off
Jacob x platonic reader, dealing with the aftermath
Pet names
shy reader
love languages
Tall reader
KAITLYN KA
it is a lovely night at Hacketts quarry and you are a useless romantic
reader leading the werewolf away at the radio shack
Tall reader
NICK FURCILLO
childhood best friends to lovers
confession fluff
You and Nick working together well in the kitchen and developing feelings
Nick taking care of you on your period
Nick teaching you to cook
Pet names
DYLAN LENIVY (gn! pronouns used but I will absolutely not write for a female reader)
Dylan using cheesy pick-up lines to try and win you over
reuniting with Dylan years after the events of summer camp
Dylan taking an interest in your books to learn more about you
Being Dylan’s s/o and the kid's favourite counsellors
Dylan x shy nurse reader
Dylan x short reader: moving your stuff so he has to grab things for you
Reader freaking out when Dylan cuts off his hand
Dylan protecting you from wolf Emma
Pet names
What he looks for in an s/o and what dating him is like
RYAN ERZAHLER
Ryan always shows up to help when you need it
You hate being a counsellor but maybe meeting Ryan makes up for it
Secretly dating Ryan
Cooking for Ryan
Sneaking off with Ryan to listen to podcasts
Love languages
MAX BRINLY
Teaching Max to play chess
love languages
tall reader
dating him
EMMA MOUNTEBANK
Confessing to Emma by giving her a portrait and love letter
ABIGAIL BLYG
Creative writer reader and Abi swapping art pieces
LAURA KEARNEY
Love languages
CYOA: JACOB V NICK
Prologue
NICK ROUTE
Go with Nick
Truth or dare
Kiss Nick
Kissed Nick and ran off
Console Nick after kissing Jacob
Console Jacob after kissing Nick
JACOB ROUTE
Go with Jacob
Truth or dare
Kiss Jacob
Kissed Jacob and ran off by yourself
Console Jacob after kissing Nick
Console Nick after kissing Jacob
#the quarry#the quarry masterlist#nick furcillo x reader#max brinly x reader#ryan erzahler x reader#jacob custos x reader#kaitlyn ka x reader#dylan lenivy x reader
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A gift from @insertlovelyperson to @sargeantsarmy!!!!
Text under the cut
Title: Asleep or Dead
Rating: Explicit (for explicit sexual content)
Pairing: Dylan Lenivy/ Ryan Erzahler
Tags: Hurt/comfort, Domestic fluff, Smut, 5+1
From: @insertlovelyperson To: @sargeantsarmy
Summary: The five times Ryan has a nightmare after the events of Hackett’s Quarry, and the one time he doesn’t.
The nightmares weren’t always this bad. It varied. Most nights, Ryan could crawl into bed, fall asleep thirty minutes to an hour later, and remain dead to the world until morning. And most nights, his dreams were nothing more than abstract imaginings and bizarre happenings that he’d forget upon awakening.
Not tonight.
He by no means considered himself a lucid dreamer, lacking too much control in his dreamscape for that to be the case. But that didn’t mean he didn’t maintain some semblance of consciousness when it happened, especially when it was so familiar:
Ryan stood panting in exertion and fear at the center of the dining room, shotgun still smoking as he looked down at Chris Hackett’s mangled corpse. Staring at the man’s exposed ribcage and pulverized organs, his hands began to tremble at the realization of what he’d done. Of what he’d lost. The rest of the dead Hackett’s littered the room, corpses in various states of dismemberment. Jed with his head caved in, Bobby with his neck torn out, Constance with her face blown off, and Kaylee covered with a white sheet on the dining room table. And as Ryan took it all in with dawning horror—that this massacre had, in part, been his doing—he heard the sound of Laura’s ragged gasping in the corner behind him.
With a shuddering breath that made the wound in his side ache, he opened his mouth to ask, ‘What now?’ But when he turned to face her... she was gone, leaving a broken mirror and Travis Hackett’s torn open corpse in her absence. However, it was when he turned back around that things really started taking a turn...
Chris Hackett stood before him. Naked, chest torn open, covered in blood... and Ryan had never been looked at with so much visceral hatred in his life. All he could do was stare back at the man’s heart weakly thumping in his shattered rib cage, spitting out blood and shrapnel with each stuttering beat.
Chris only stared at him in return, condemning him without uttering a single word. And when he finally spoke, it wasn’t any kinder than his expression, “For her? I treated you like my own son—Caleb and Kaylee thought of you as their own fucking brother. And you sold us out. For her.” He took a shambling step forth, radiating vicious malice and intent.
And Ryan wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and beg for a forgiveness he wasn’t owed. I didn’t want to kill you, he would’ve sobbed. But I didn’t want to die either. Instead, he raised the gun again, aiming it directly at the man’s exposed heart as he felt his own begin to break.
Chris froze, head tilting in cold consideration as he assessed the situation. Face twisting in rage, he ignored the shotgun and advanced.
“Stop,” Ryan pleaded, fingers grazing the trigger, “Chris... please.”
But the man never wavered, cornering Ryan further and further until he felt his back press into the wall behind him. That was, until, he was actually forced to glance behind him, and it wasn’t the wall. It was Bobby Hackett. Head hanging onto his neck by a thread and wearing the same enraged expression as his brother.
A strangled, fearful noise tore its way from Ryan’s throat as he narrowly dodged the large man attempting to grapple onto him. It wasn’t until he backed himself against a wall—for sure this time—that he attempted to take stock of his deteriorating circumstances. But of course... that was the exact moment that things went from bad to worse. Chest huffing each breath as quick, painful bursts, he watched as the rest of the dead Hackett family rose to their feet, turning their sights on him and him alone.
Now knowing that the only thing his hesitation would accomplish was getting him killed, Ryan held the gun with firmer hands. Taking a deep breath, steeling himself, he aimed it at Chris and pulled the trigger.
CLICK. Blinking down in surprise, Ryan pulled the trigger again. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. Nothing happened.
In the end, Kaylee was the first on him, crossing the room faster than he could react and pummeling him to the ground with the wild swing of her fists. Shotgun clattering uselessly across the floor, Ryan didn’t even have time to blink before the rest of the Hacketts followed. Constance and her exposed brain, Jed and his broken jaw, Travis and his clumps of missing flesh... they were on him in seconds. Ignoring his sobbed pleas as they snarled their venomous words, digging their fingers into his flesh and tearing him apart. And no matter how much he screamed and begged, they didn’t stop until they reached the bone.
Squeezing his eyes shut and thrashing hard enough to get a mangled arm away from them, Ryan swung at whoever was currently holding him by his shoulder.
Someone yelped in pain as a loud SMACK reverberated through the room, and when Ryan finally managed to pry his eyes open, he was lying in bed in the dark. Something quickly shuffled from next to him, and soon enough, he was wincing from the sudden burst of light flooding his vision.
Dylan stared back at him—stunned—hand still hovering over the switch of the lamp on his bedside table. Holding what remained of his left arm up to his face, Ryan could clearly make out the red welt from underneath the stub. Even without it, the context clues would’ve been enough to tell him everything he needed to know.
With dawning horror, all Ryan could do was stare in shock as he tried to get his breathing back under control.
“I-it’s ok,” his boyfriend said unconvincingly, bottom lip quivering as he tried not to cry, “it didn’t even hurt.”
And despite the rapid beating in his chest and the painful squeezing of his lungs, Ryan was already out of bed and sprinting to the bathroom. Grabbing the cleanest washrag he could find, he ran it under the cold water of the sink before rushing back.
Dylan was fully sat up in bed at this point, rubbing the soreness from his jaw and wiping away the few tears that’d managed to well up in his eyes. When he caught sight of Ryan holding the rag, probably looking as dejected and guilty as he felt... Dylan laughed. “You’ve got,” he drawled as he took the cool cloth, pressing it onto his cheek, “a hell of a right hook.”
At the foot of the bed, Ryan didn’t respond, spine stiff and unsure of how to proceed, because... oh, God. I hurt him. I hurt Dylan. And he couldn’t stop shaking upon the damning realization.
Brow furrowed in concern, Dylan set the rag aside. “Hey,” he coaxed, pushing himself off the bed, “it’s alright, you didn’t mean to.”
But that wasn’t good enough. It didn’t make what Ryan did any more forgivable. Not to him, at least. Honestly, it kind of made it worse. The fact that Ryan had lost control like that from a nightmare... he’d posed a danger without even trying, and that was perhaps what scared him the most.
Dylan didn’t see it like that. At all. Closing the remaining distance, he wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on the top of Ryan’s head.
And when Ryan could finally bring himself to relax into the embrace, he returned it in kind. Curling his arms around the other, he rested his head on his chest, murmuring a quiet, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Dylan whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the other’s forehead, “I think a big, red welt on my face was just what I needed to look a little more rugged.”
Ryan groaned, holding him even tighter.
Chuckling, Dylan took him by the arm and led them both back to bed. Settling down together beneath the sheets, they were already wriggling back into each other’s arms. Once they were more or less comfortable, Dylan finally asked, “Bad dream?”
To put it mildly. “Yeah,” Ryan breathed, chest still tight with lingering fear, “kinda.”
After a brief pause, the other carefully ventured, “Wanna talk about it?”
In all honesty... not really. It was bad enough experiencing it once, and the idea of any subsequent retellings was enough to make Ryan grimace. He burrowed his head further into his boyfriend’s chest to try and avoid the question.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Dylan sighed, rubbing a soothing circle into the small of the other’s back, “but it might help.”
Despite the fact he knew he was right, Ryan still hesitated. And yet... Dylan didn’t mind. Not in the slightest. He was more than ready to stay up with the other all night if needed, and it only made Ryan feel worse. So, exhaling a weary sigh, “I was back in the Hackett’s mansion with Laura.”
Humming a quiet acknowledgment, Dylan didn’t interrupt. Giving him all the time he needed to say his piece.
“Laura was gone, and the Hackett’s had... reanimated?” Yeah. He supposed that was the word for it, “It was right after I killed Chris. He just stood up and kept telling me how it was all my fault that he died. That they all died.”
Shoulders tensing and lips pressed into a thin line, Dylan only held him tighter.
“My gun wouldn’t fire, and then I think they ate me? I don’t know. The ending was kind of vague,” Ryan finished, fully relaxing in the other’s hold. The admission had lifted a burden he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying. And it was... nice. It was always nice.
“It wasn’t your fault, for the record,” Dylan murmured, sentence tapering off with a long yawn, “just in case the zombies forgot to mention it.”
Ryan appreciated the gesture, but he already knew that. It had been a long, painful road to understanding, but he’d ultimately reached it with the help of friends, family, and therapy. It had also been two years, so if he hadn’t known that by now, he probably never would. But still... the reminder had been kind—Dylan had been kind. Which was the exact reason he’d felt so fucking guilty right now... “Sorry for keeping you up.”
Feeling the way the young man’s chest rose and fell with a deep sigh, it was no surprise when he shifted his weight, face hovering inches above Ryan's. “You’re silly...” he muttered, leaning down to give him a kiss on the lips. It was sweet, and gentle, and it ended a lot sooner than maybe Ryan would’ve liked. Smiling, Dylan asked, “Need me to leave the light on for tonight?”
“No,” Ryan shook his head, face flushed, “I think I’m good.”
Pulling away to switch off the lamp, Dylan returned as quickly as he’d left, bringing his body heat with him. Ryan grabbed him, pulling him flush against his body and stealing his warmth.
“You gonna be ok?” Dylan yawned again, absentmindedly playing with Ryan’s hair.
“Yeah,” Ryan replied, smile hidden by the darkness of the room, “I think I will be.”
All fell silent save for the room’s overhead fan and their own breathing. And as the two held each other beneath the sheets—shielding the other with their arms—it wasn’t long until Ryan felt safe enough to close his eyes, peacefully drifting off to sleep.
The weight next to him shifted uncomfortably. Then, voice apologetic and whispering, “... I think I have to pee, actually.”
Groaning, Ryan rolled over to let Dylan up.
The next time it happened, Dylan had found him in the kitchen. Scrambling eggs. At four in the morning. Ryan had been looming over the stovetop, watching the eggs slowly burn as he tried to will the lingering tremors from his hands. That’s when he heard the telltale sound of the joints in someone’s feet popping as they walked across the kitchen tile. And as he felt an arm snake around his waist, sliding a hand under the front of his shirt and brushing across his abdomen... he instinctually relaxed into the embrace.
“Whatcha doing?” Dylan murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, rubbing a soothing hand up and down his stomach.
The shaking in his hands still refusing to subside, Ryan released a shuddering breath: “Eggs.”
Humming an acknowledgment, Dylan rested his head on his shoulder, peeking over to take a look. The ‘eggs’ in question were just one big mass in the center of the skillet, edges scorched black. Snorting at the sight, he surmised, “I think they’re done.”
Managing a stiff nod, and a quick, “Mhm,” Ryan turned his attention back to the eggs he was getting ready to send through the nine circles of hell.
Eyes flickering between his boyfriend and the skillet, Dylan extracted his hand from his shirt, flicking off the stove stop. He used that same hand to gently take the one Ryan was using to hold the spatula, steadying the trembling before lowering the utensil to the counter. “I’m gonna brew us some coffee,” he said, moving his grip to Ryan’s waist as he gently guided him toward their living room, “why don’t you lay down for a bit, yeah?”
Ryan didn’t have it in him to argue. With a weary sigh, he shuffled over to the couch, plopping down as he tried to shake the enduring stress from his dream:
Like most of his nightmares, it’d been about that night. He’d been in the woods with Laura and Travis in search of Silas. They found the wolf-boy in the burnt remains of Harum Scarum, trembling from his injuries within the ruined cage. He was hurt, and defenseless... and Ryan had no desire to kill him. But that wasn’t his choice; it was Laura’s. However, that didn’t stop him from voicing his opinion: “Are we sure about this?” But unlike the night when it’d happened, she had actually stopped to listen, completely ignoring Travis who had argued the contrary... and she really shouldn’t have. Silas was on them in seconds, decapitating Travis and Laura as Ryan watched. Then, the white wolf was on him too, ripping his jaw from his face before sinking its teeth into the rest of him.
The new weight sinking onto the couch took Ryan’s mind off of those thoughts, and he mumbled a quiet—but earnest—‘thanks’ as a warm mug of coffee was pressed into his hands.
Concern flooding his eyes and lips pulled into a hesitant, placating smile, Dylan asked, “Couldn’t sleep?”
Taking a long sip as he ignored the way it scalded his tongue, Ryan eventually replied, “Yeah.”
Expression grim but knowing, “Nightmare?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, “I was back in the woods with Silas. Laura didn’t shoot, and it was... bad.” And while the retelling had been brief, leaving out plenty of details... it had been enough. Dylan already knew the bits and pieces of what happened when Ryan had run off with Laura, just like Ryan knew the bits and pieces of what happened when Dylan ran off with Kaitlyn. Maybe they didn’t know all of it, but they knew the important parts, and that would always be enough.
Another weight jumped up on the couch next to Ryan, nuzzling its wet nose into his arm. Lifting his hand, he placed it on top of the cat’s head, giving it a good scritch. Schrödinger trilled, happily making biscuits on his leg before finally settling down, head resting on his thigh.
Watching the exchange with a grin, Dylan grabbed the remote. Flicking on the television, he cycled through channels until he got to some old reruns of a cartoon the both of them watched when they were younger.
“What time do you have class?” Ryan asked, guilt already beginning to eat away at him. Dylan had to wake up early enough as is. He didn’t need Ryan making it worse.
“Four... maybe five hours,” Dylan said, stretching his arms over his head until he heard his shoulders pop, “think I’m gonna go ahead and jump in the shower. See if I can wake myself up a bit.”
There it was again. That guilt panging in Ryan’s chest. “You can go back to bed if you want,” he said, trying and failing to soothe that dull aching in his chest, “don’t let me keep you up.”
Face softening, Dylan shook his head, “Nah, I need to stay up anyways. Fucked up my sleep schedule with a couple late-nighters—this’ll help me get back on track.”
Unconvinced, Ryan drawled, “If you’re sure...”
Wrapping an arm around his boyfriend and drawing him close, Dylan smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple: “I am.” Rising from the sofa, he leaned over Ryan to scratch his cat’s chin, “you good keeping an eye on him, Schrödie?”
The cat only purred, shifting its head to receive more pets.
With that, Dylan headed for the bathroom. But before he reached the door, he took a detour to the kitchen, leaning over the counter, preoccupied with... something.
“What’re you doing?” Ryan asked, craning his neck to get a better look.
“Hm? Oh,” something clattered against the counter as Dylan attempted to look innocent. It didn’t work. “Just checking something on my phone.”
Ryan was willing to let it slide. After all: he trusted him. Leaning back on the couch and watching the other disappear through the door, he gave the cat a good few pets as he half-heartedly tried to watch the television. He was only partially paying attention to the cartoon before his phone vibrated in the pocket of his sweatpants. Fishing it out of the pant leg, he saw that he had three unread text messages, and they were all from Laura:
‘still alive’
‘lol’
‘wanna talk about it?’
Ryan stared at his phone trying to mentally process what he was reading. When he finally did, it was like a lightbulb had gone off. Sighing, he texted back:
‘You’re up early. What did Dylan send you?’
A few seconds later, she sent him a screenshot of a text conversation with Dylan’s name as the sender:
‘are you up? can you text ryan and tell him you’re alive? bad dream’
Turning his head to look at the bathroom, Ryan could hear the water of the shower hitting the tile as Dylan bathed. He was starting to understand what that little detour was about... shaking his head:
‘I’m fine, thanks. Everything alright with you?’
Laura’s reply was near instantaneous, firing off four more messages in rapid succession:
‘yep’
‘bad dream too lol’
‘up with max rn everythings good’
‘you guys still on for bowling friday?’
Mouth pressed into a thin line, Ryan couldn’t help but worry about the first part of that message. Disregarding that, however, he texted back:
‘We should be. I’ll double check with Dylan.’
‘You can call me if you ever need to talk too. You know that, right?’
Because Ryan knew he wasn’t special. He knew he wasn’t the only one plagued by nightmares of that night. And perhaps there was comfort to be found in knowing that he wasn’t the only one, but mostly... he hated knowing that all of them still suffered. After a minute or so, Laura sent another message:
┏( ゜)ਊ゜)┛
Brow furrowing as he stared at his screen, Ryan eventually texted back:
‘... how the fuck did you type that?’
But Laura never responded. It felt rather smug. Rolling his eyes, Ryan cast his phone aside on the couch, turning his attention back to the TV. Schrödinger was fast asleep at his side, having readjusted herself to lay on a nearby pillow rather than his thigh, and he was only mildly offended.
The door to the bathroom opened, steam billowing out. Walking out was Dylan, wearing nothing but the towel wrapped around his waist. Leaning against the open door frame and trying to sound seductive... “Come here often, handsome?”
“Hm,” Ryan hummed, taking another sip of his coffee, “Laura texted.”
“Oh,” the other said, spine straightening. Eyes shifting between his boyfriend and the phone on the couch, “what’d she want?”
Ryan just looked at him. Unimpressed.
Sighing, Dylan crossed their living room before plopping down next to him, looking guilty, “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just thought you might wanna talk to her after everything. I know we all technically survived the same thing, but you two actually survived the same thing. And your dream was about her, so...”
Now that he thought about it... Ryan’s mind was a little more at ease after their conversation. “I’m not mad,” he said, shifting to be closer to the other, “thanks. For texting her, I mean. I probably wouldn’t have talked to her if you hadn’t.”
Brow pinching and head tilting in confusion, Dylan ventured, “Why not?”
Feeling adequately pinned under the other’s sharpened gaze, all Ryan could do was shrug as he tried to explain, “I don’t like bothering people with my problems.”
Stricken by the admission, Dylan gave a sad shake off his head, “You’re not ‘bothering’ anyone by asking for help when you need it. And I know you wouldn’t think anyone was bothering you if they reached out if they were struggling,” lips down turned into a frown, “I wish you’d be kinder to yourself, sometimes.”
Exhaling a tired breath, Ryan couldn’t help but hang his head in shame, “I know. I’m sorry.”
Eyes softening and no longer frowning, Dylan spoke, “Don’t apologize, just... something to think about, is all.” Giving the other a pat on the shoulder, “Alright, I’m gonna go get dressed. Take in the gun show while you still can,” standing in front of the couch, he struck a dramatic pose.
Chuckling, Ryan watched him head for their bedroom. But before he could disappear through the door, he remembered to ask, “We still going bowling with Laura and Max Friday night?”
“Yep! We’re trying the old one downtown; Emma says the drinks at concessions will fuck you up for under five dollars. You’ll be bowling in the wrong lane,” he laughed, popping his head out of the doorway, “and don’t worry! I called ahead and made sure they had bumpers rails for you.”
Bristling, Ryan grumbled, “That was one time.”
“And you still came in last.”
“Because Laura was cheating.”
“You both had the bumpers up.”
“She used the bowling ramp!”
“You did too! You just stopped because you got embarrassed after you still missed the pins with it.”
Groaning, Ryan was already rethinking the venue for date night. Laura was one of—if not the most—competitive person he’d ever met, and ever since they’d started doing double dates at the bowling alley after getting banned from the miniature golf course (for life), she’d rubbed off on him. Every time without fail, it devolved into smack talk and harsh digs as they tried to get the other to flub their shot. And the worst part was... they both sucked! Neither of them were good at bowling—they were lucky if they even broke into the triple digits! The only thing they were competing for was third place; Dylan and Max—without fail—always had at least a hundred points on them. Max had literally been captain of his high school bowling team, and Dylan was just... Dylan.
“Hey,” Dylan whispered from the doorway, just loud enough to get Ryan’s attention.
Turning his head, he raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “Yeah?”
“Wanna...” Dylan began, shiftily eyeing something in their bedroom, “do stuff?” The bed. He was eyeing the bed.
It took a moment for Ryan to process the request. But when he did, all he could do was stare in incredulity: “At 4:36 in the morning?”
Dylan shrugged, wearing an expression that radiated false innocence and sullied intentions. “4:37, actually. But suit yourself,” he singsonged, ducking back into their bedroom. But after a long pause—just when Ryan thought that was that—he called out once more, “oh, wait... what’s this? Oh. Oh. Oh nooo, my towel—it’s... it’s slipping! What a disaster! I hope no one comes in and capitalizes on this opportunity while I’m naked and unaware!”
Huffing a breathy chuckle, Ryan rolled his eyes and rose to his feet, heading for the bedroom.
This time, Dylan had been waiting for him in the kitchen. Sitting at the table, he had his mug of coffee already brewed with another mug placed directly across from him. Upon catching a glimpse of Ryan lingering hesitantly in the doorway, he beckoned him over with a gentle wave of his hand.
Ryan obliged, crossing the distance to take the seat across from him. Taking the cup of coffee so thoughtfully prepared for him, he held it firmly in his hands as if it were a lifeline. He’d had another dream, and he was still trying to shake the effects of it with little success. His efforts hadn’t been helped by the empty bed upon his awakening, but seeing the reason as to why that might’ve been the case... Ryan was grateful.
Unlike his usual dreamscape, this nightmare hadn’t taken place at Hackett’s Quarry. No. It had taken center-stage in his parent’s living room... the day his dad had died. He’d been on the couch with his sister watching an old movie he couldn’t even remember the name of when they’d gotten the knock on the door. His mother had answered only to be greeted by two police officers. Ryan hadn’t heard what they said, but he remembered the sound of his mother’s wails as she collapsed to the floor, begging for them to stop lying to her. To tell her the fucking truth.
It had been a hit and run. A drunk driver that they had later found miles down the road, throwing up in a ditch after crashing his car into a tree; his dad’s blood still painting the crumpled grill. The man would later be tried and convicted of felony DUI and sentenced to prison for fifteen years. But despite that, it never felt like justice. Ryan’s dad was dead, and no amount of prison time would ever bring him back.
The funeral had been just as awful as he’d remembered. Just droves of people who’d known their family offering hollow condolences and empty prayers. Like it’d do anything. Forced to go through the motions, nothing that day had felt real to Ryan. Not until they lowered the casket into the ground, and he said his final goodbyes. The next day he’d woken up, his mom was gone. Just... picked up and left without saying a word to him, his sister, or anybody. Fortunately, Ryan had known how to dial his grandma’s phone number.
With this dream, he hadn’t woken up screaming, or thrashing, or even crying. This time, he’d simply awoke to that unbearable aching in his chest he’d failed time and time again to be completely rid of. Because even ten years later, it still managed to return in the quiet moments of the night, burrowing into the cavity of his chest like it were home.
He didn’t notice Dylan approaching him until the man was at his side, wrapping an arm around him, gently drawing his head against the softness of his stomach. Holding him. “Heard you mumbling in your sleep,” he said, “didn’t know if I should wake you.”
And given what happened the last time he tried... that was fair.
“Bad dream?” Though, it sounded like Dylan already knew the answer.
“Yeah,” Ryan sighed, still leaning into the touch. Taking solace in it.
Humming a quiet acknowledgement, Dylan then asked, “Anything I can do?”
You do enough already. “I’ll be fine,” he shook his head before pulling away to say, “I think I’m gonna drop by my grandparent's house later today. Maybe take Sarah to lunch. It’s been a while.”
“Oh, sweet! Can I come?” Dylan said before almost immediately thinking better of it. Expression turning meek as he continued, “I mean... unless you just wanted it to be a family thing. I totally get that. Don’t feel pressured—”
Rising from his seat, Ryan placed a quick kiss on the other’s cheek, having to stand on his toes to do so. “Of course you can come,” he said, meaning it.
And as Dylan smiled back at him, that ache in Ryan’s chest finally began to dull.
Dylan had been out late taking a final. He hadn’t come home immediately after, instead, going out for drinks with Nick and Jacob in celebration of the semester’s conclusion. Ryan had been extended an invitation too, of course, but it was declined in favor of finishing up some last minute commissions...and he was seriously rethinking that decision. He must’ve fallen asleep while animating, because upon his near violent awakening, he’d almost launched his tablet clean off his desk—laptop included.
He'd been back in the radio hut. The wire to the PA system had been pulled by the white wolf—by Silas. Dylan, of course, had been the one to try and fix it... and it ended badly. Very, very badly. Silas had clamped down on his hand in an instant, dangling him from the ceiling as his teeth sliced through tendons and pierced the bone. When Silas had finally released him, Dylan fell and hit the ground. Hard. And the screams—oh, God—the fucking screams. Ryan knew they’d haunt him for the rest of his life. “It’s spreading, you have to cut it off!” He still remembered how heavy the chainsaw had felt in his hands. How Dylan’s wrist had felt pinned under his foot. How the teeth had caught on bone, sawing through his arm as it cleaved the limb in twain. He remembered how it felt because it wasn’t just a nightmare.
It was real.
Dylan hadn’t been there to talk him through the aftermath like he usually was, but... maybe that was for the best. This wasn’t the first time he’d had that particular dream, and sometimes, seeing the source of that specific pain didn’t always help. But fuck it. Ryan couldn’t help it—he wanted Dylan. He wanted his boyfriend there with him no matter how selfish it might’ve been. But as he clutched his phone in a vice grip, one text message away from getting what he needed, he just... couldn’t. Dylan had been working so fucking hard recently, and he deserved a night to himself. Ryan refused to be the one to ruin that. So, that’s how he remained. Hunched over, clutching his phone as he trembled in his desk chair, waiting for Dylan to get home.
It could’ve been minutes, or it could’ve been hours, but eventually, that familiar jingle of a keyring sounded from the other side of their apartment. And soon enough, the door was swinging open as someone drunkenly tripped on their way inside, giggling to themself as they locked it behind them. “Honey, I’m home!” Dylan slurred, and Ryan could hear him struggling to take his shoes off. Stumbling further into their apartment, heading for the bedroom, “God, Ryan, you should’ve been there. Jacob was shooting the shit with this girl at the bar thinking he was about to get her number, and then this seven foot, jacked looking dude comes running over, and it’s her boyfriend! You could see it on his face the exact moment his asshole retracted into his spine—"and as he finally rounded the corner into their room, he froze at the sight; face dropping and noticeably sobering, “... Ryan?”
Sucking in another sharp breath, Ryan held up a shaky hand in the barest display of acknowledgement. Curling in on himself and still unable to look at the other, he just focused on breathing with his hands planted firmly on his knees. And it was working out just fine until the figure in front of him approached, kneeling down to force himself into his line of sight.
“Hey,” Dylan tried, speaking at a tone one might reserve for a wounded animal, “what’s wrong?” His eyes were blurry and unfocused, like someone who was very drunk but trying not to be.
Full body shuddering with his next breath, Ryan barely managed a reply, “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” But it wasn’t nothing. It had happened. He had done it, and Dylan would have to live the rest of his life with it. And he didn’t even need to; Laura killed Silas, curing the remaining infected. And it would’ve cured Dylan too, rendering what they’d done completely pointless in the end.
Dylan scoffed in a way that made Ryan flinch, “‘Don’t worry,’ he says—unbelievable...” pulling the other up from his chair, he led him to the bed where he plopped the both of them down, expression hardening as he tried once more, “what’s wrong?”
And no matter how much he may have wanted to fight it, Ryan relented near instantaneously: “Bad dream.”
His face softened as his expression became nothing but understanding, and without a moment to lose, Dylan was pulling the other into a crushing hug. And as he nuzzled his face into his boyfriend’s, Ryan wondered how much of it was due to the effects of alcohol. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, sounding impossibly sad, “I wish I could stop them from happening but I can’t. But I want to so fucking bad—fuck, Ryan...”
Returning the hug as he rested his head on the other’s shoulder, Ryan said, “I know. It’s ok.”
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
“No,” came Ryan’s near instant reply, as was often the case with this particular dream. Perhaps that’s what gave him away so easily...
Even in his drunken state, Dylan clocked it immediately: “Oh... was it another one about the hand thing?”
“Yeah, Dylan,” Ryan gave a bitter scoff, pulling away from the other’s embrace as a discrete form of self-flagellation, “it was about the ‘hand thing.’” And although the two only sat inches apart, that simple act alone had the space feeling like miles.
Lips pulling into a frown and brown eyes welling up in sorrow, Dylan shook his head. Then, so quiet Ryan almost missed it, “I’ve never held that against you... you know that, right? I’ve never blamed you.”
And Ryan had no clue why he struggled so much with that simple truth: “How?”
“Because I asked you to,” Dylan said like it was the easiest thing in the world, “and if you hadn’t, I might’ve turned and hurt someone. And I think that would’ve been a lot harder to live with than missing some dumb hand.”
... he didn’t know how he did it. How Dylan always seemed to make things better with a few words and an easy smile. But he did. And it always felt so fucking undeserved. Hanging his head in shame, Ryan couldn’t bring himself to meet the worried eyes boring at him. Seeing him for what he was, which was terrified. Of that night. Of himself. Of losing someone he cared about more than anything else.
“Ryan,” Dylan tried, placing a hand on his shoulder, “please look at me?”
And how could he say no to that? Sighing, he lifted his gaze to meet the other man.
“I love you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I’d give a million hands just to be with you like this for the rest of my life,” Dylan said, pausing to consider the logistics of that specific sentiment, “or a toe. And a couple of fingers. Possibly a kidney.”
Laughing, Ryan shook his head as he wiped at his damp eyes, “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” Dylan agreed, smiling ear to ear, “but you like it.”
More than ‘like,’ actually. Returning the smile with one of his own, Ryan pulled him close and kissed him. Immediately after, he pulled away and gagged, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “What the fuck—why do you taste like that?”
Face guilty, Dylan quietly admitted, “I threw up in the bushes before I came inside.”
For the next ten minutes, their apartment was filled with the sound of Ryan’s retching and Dylan’s drunk (but earnest) apologies.
Ryan had made the critical error of trying to take a nap in the middle of the day. He’d stayed up late finishing an animation before an approaching deadline, and while it’d been a success, it came at the cost of his sleep schedule. He ended up crashing on the couch around noon, trying to get some sleep before he and Dylan met up with Kaitlyn for an early dinner.
And he really should’ve known better.
It had been right after Ryan and Laura had made it back to the lodge after killing Silas. The sun had risen, and the nightmare of that night had finally concluded. Ascending the lodge’s stairs, he had fully expected to be greeted by both Dylan and Kaitlyn with his arrival. But upon his entrance, the two were nowhere in sight. The lodge was completely empty save for the chunks of stone beneath the ruined fireplace, and the claw marks and blood stains that led directly to the kitchen.
Upon entry, the first thing he became abundantly aware of was the blood coating the floor and walls. Like something had been smashed against the kitchen tile before flung against the drywall. Following the trajectory of the spatters, he found Kaitlyn. Body broken, eyes glazed over, and limbs pointing in the wrong directions. Dead.
Frozen in place as dread and grief churned his gut, the only thing keeping Ryan from fleeing the room—fleeing from the sight and the reality that accompanied it—was nothing more than morbid curiosity. Because based on the wet crunching of bone tearing through muscle echoing on the other side of the kitchen, he wasn’t alone, and he felt obligated to find out why. Steeling himself as he rounded the counter by the freezer, the sight that greeted him was horrific:
A gangly, bloody beast was crouched over another corpse, teeth sinking into flesh as it devoured the deceased. With each violent tear of muscle and sinew, the body jerked limply along with the maw of the creature. It wasn’t until Ryan was practically hovering over the gruesome scene that he could decipher the identity of the body: it was Dylan. And based on the rasping, gargled breath that came next...
He wasn’t dead yet.
“R-Ryan...” he rasped, eyes blown wide in terror as the beast jerked his head to the side, ripping open his neck, “end it... it hurts so much... p-please, kill me...” his desperate pleas tapering off into an agonizing scream as the wolf ripped ligament from bone.
No... it’s over. It’s supposed to be fucking over. Gun in hand as his mind finally processed what was happening, Ryan lifted the gun and fired a slug into the beast’s hide. Unflinching, it didn’t react as it continued to devour Dylan alive. Ignoring his blatant failure, he proceeded to try and blow three more holes into the wolf. But still... nothing happened. Desperation and terror becoming all-consuming, he even attempted to beat it back with the butt of his shotgun. But to no avail.
“T-that won’t... that won’t work...” Dylan sobbed, the pain becoming unbearable, “Ryan—please!”
With dawning horror, Ryan realized... he was right. He couldn’t save him; he could only kill him quicker. And it made him wonder how something like mercy could be so cruel. With shaking hands and a lurching gut, he raised the gun and took aim. Pulling the trigger, he watched Dylan’s body jerk one final time before stilling. Finally dead.
The wolf remained, feasting upon the warm corpse without pause. To it, nothing had changed. Alive or dead, it didn’t matter. It was always going to devour the boy, one way or the other. Ryan had just made it easier. Because in the end, nothing he did had mattered. Numb acceptance washing over him, he didn’t falter in raising the barrel to himself, fingers shaking around the trigger.
“Ryan!”
He startled awake, hands instinctively flinging out in front of him. His flailing arms were blocked by someone anticipating the blow, and when he opened his eyes, he was met with none other than Dylan. Scared. Worried. Alive.
Gradually releasing his grip on the other’s arm, Dylan tentatively began to ask, “Hey... are you ok—”
Curling two fists into the front of his boyfriend’s shirt, Ryan pulled him close like he was the last thing tethering him to Earth. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t.
But he didn’t have to. The initial shock having subsided, Dylan wrapped his arms around him to hold him. It was gentle, and grounding, and soon enough, Ryan found his breath leveling and his heartbeat steadying. Sinking further into the embrace, he somehow managed to pull the other even closer.
“It’s been a while—since the last one, I mean,” Dylan said, rubbing circles into his spine like he always did, “let me know when you’re ready to talk about it.”
Shaking his head, Ryan muttered, “I don’t want to talk about this one.”
“That’s fine too.”
With a deep breath, Ryan pulled away feeling rather silly. Because it was just a dream. It was always just a fucking dream. Didn’t make it feel any less real, though. That was the problem. That had been the problem for nearly three years now, and it wasn’t getting any better, “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep going to sleep not knowing what’s waiting for me.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Dylan said, earnest and honest, “we always do.”
Grabbing his phone and checking the time, Ryan couldn’t help but groan. Even after all of that, he’d only managed to snag thirty minutes of sleep. And he felt it. He was no less exhausted than he was when he’d chosen to lay down, and it pissed him off to no end: “I’m so fucking tired...”
Leaning over to press a chaste kiss to his forehead, Dylan walked toward the kitchen, “I’m gonna make you some tea. And google some things. And maybe call that therapist Abi was telling us about.”
“Yeah,” Ryan quietly conceded, knowing that Dylan would not be persuaded out of taking care of him, “ok.” Because it’s not like he was against seeking therapy—he’d done so in the past immediately after the group’s acquittal. But it was just time consuming. And expensive. And he couldn’t help but feel like every moment not spent on pretending that that night had never happened in the first place was a waste of time and energy... and that probably wasn’t the best way to go thinking about things.
“Hey,” Dylan called, switching on the electric kettle, “want me to reschedule with Kaitlyn?” He busied himself with topping off Schrödinger’s water bowl while he waited for it to come to a boil.
That’d only make me feel worse. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”
“Ryan,” the other said, face remaining impassive “you’re exhausted, and I could use the rest too. Don’t worry about it.”
“But...” Ryan really didn’t feel like making this more of an inconvenience than it already was. And he especially didn’t want to drag Kaitlyn into it.
Perhaps sensing the trepidation, Dylan gave a careful nod before saying, “How about this: I call Kaitlyn and tell her to invite Abi and Emma, so if we can’t make it, her night isn’t ruined. I mean... other than missing out on our tantalizing company, of course. But she’ll live. Probably. Assuming she doesn’t die of sadness.”
“Alright,” Ryan scoffed, rising from the sofa to meet the other in the kitchen.
Dylan was already in the process of steeping the tea, handing over the cup upon his approach, “Make sure to give that three minutes.”
Grunting his acknowledgment, Ryan stalked back to the couch, pulling Dylan along by the sleeve. Making themselves comfortable, they drank their tea as Dylan scrolled through his phone, looking up the contact Abi had given him. Then, he made the call.
After each of them finished their drinks, Ryan washed the cups out in the sink before joining Dylan back in the bedroom. Settling into bed together, Ryan finally felt safe enough to give that nap a second try. Head resting on the other’s chest, he let himself drift peacefully off to sleep...
A phone alarm went off, and Ryan winced as he searched blindly for the device. Fingers finally brushing against the cool surface of the screen, he hit snooze as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, slowly adjusting to the darkness of the room. “Shit,” he muttered as he checked the time, audibly groaning when he realized he’d slept for five hours. Well. There go our plans with Kaitlyn. Shifting to sit up, he became increasingly aware of the fact that he was now alone in bed, Dylan nowhere to be found. Pushing himself off the mattress, Ryan crossed the room to the door. Creaking it open, he was instantly hit with the smell of freshly popped popcorn.
“Oh, hey,” Dylan said at the sight of him, shifting awkwardly from side to side in the kitchen, “what’s up?”
Ryan’s brow instinctually furrowed, “What’re you plotting?”
“Who? Me? Pshhh...” Dylan gave a dismissive wave of his hand that Ryan didn’t trust for a second. But before he could call him on it, there was a knock at the door. The two men stared at each other—one astonished, the other decidedly not. Giving a silent nod in the direction of the noise, Dylan beckoned the other to open it.
Sighing, Ryan obliged. Clasping a hand over the knob and turning, the sight that greeted him on the other side left him stunned:
Abi, Emma, and Kaitlyn stood before him in their pajamas, arms filled with various snack foods. Looking him over with an inquisitive expression, Emma was the first to speak, “Do you usually answer the door in your boxers?”
Glancing down, it would appear the young woman was correct. “No, I—” Ryan stammered, face flushing. But realizing he had very little to say in his defense, he muttered a quiet, “sorry...” as he opened the door the rest of the way, allowing them to enter.
Laughing at his state of undress, the girls chattered amongst themselves, greeting Dylan as they entered the apartment.
“Geez, did you forget to tell him we’re coming?” he heard Kaitlyn say, presumably to the one overseeing the snacks in the kitchen.
“... maybe.”
Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Ryan closed the door behind the girls.
“Oh, make sure to leave that unlocked,” Abi said, “Nick and Jacob will be up in a little bit. They’re just getting the sleeping bags from the car.
Sleeping... bags?
He cast a questioning look at Dylan as the women got themselves situated in their living room. The man only shrugged in response, throwing another bag of popcorn in the microwave. Not wanting to literally be caught with his pants down by any more new arrivals, Ryan went back to the bedroom to get dressed.
Upon his return, the girls were sprawled across the floor, unrolling the aforementioned sleeping bags. Nick and Jacob were now in the kitchen, unpacking the bags of junk food they’d brought.
“Laura just texted,” Kaitlyn called, scrolling through her phone, “her and Max got stuck in traffic. They said to start without them.”
“Oh, sweet,” Jacob said before rummaging through his backpack, “so for movies, I got: The Fast and the Furious, 2 Fast 2 Furious, Fast and Furious, Fast Five—”
Nick was the first to interrupt, “Is it all just Fast and Furious?”
Nodding, “And Die Hard.”
A chorus of ‘Die Hard’s filled the apartment as everyone casted their vote, and Jacob fished the DVD from his bag, walking it over to the living room to set up. Nick soon followed, carrying a couple of bowls of popcorn with him. That just left Dylan and Ryan together in the kitchen. Alone.
Leaning in close, Dylan whispered, “Thought it might be nice to get everyone together for a night. Sorry—I meant to wake you up and tell you, but you were out cold.”
Glancing down at his arms, the outlines of their sheets indented into Ryan’s skin concurred. “I’m not mad,” Ryan said back, “just surprised. It’s... nice. Having everyone here. It’s been a while. How’d you get them on short notice?”
“The stars just aligned, I guess,” he shrugged, “Kaitlyn was getting lunch with Jacob when I called her. Everything just came together from there.”
“Hey—hurry up!” Emma called to them from the couch, “We’re starting without you!”
Waving her off, Ryan grabbed a handful of snacks from the assortment on the counter. Sliding onto the couch, he relaxed in his seat as Dylan took his place at his side. Ryan wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.
The group ended up sitting in front of the TV for hours, slowly working their way through the first four ‘Die Hard’ movies (Laura and Max finally showing up halfway through the first), exchanging laughter and commentary as they went. Somewhere amidst the forth, Ryan felt his eyes growing heavier and heavier. And as he peered around the room, finding that he was the last one awake, he knew it likely wouldn’t be much longer until he succumbed to the same fate. But that was ok. Because even if he didn’t know what was waiting for him when he fell asleep, he knew who’d be there when he awoke.
Leaning against Dylan, Ryan closed his eyes and went to sleep.
Ryan still suffered from the occasional nightmare, but it was nowhere near as bad or frequent as it used to be. He ended up going to that therapist, and while it wasn’t an immediate fix (he hadn’t expected it to be), it had helped. Matter of fact, he’d been sleeping better than he had for three years. That was, until, tonight...
Ryan awoke to a loud metallic BANG and the sound of someone groaning. Shooting up, he looked around the dark room in a daze, instinctually grabbing for the person in bed next to him. Only... when he reached out, he came back with nothing. Ryan was alone, and Dylan was nowhere to be found.
The curtains on the window puffed inward as a particularly cold gust of winter air blew through the open pane. Confused but curious, Ryan carefully pushed himself out of bed, stalking closer to investigate.
Peering over the windowsill, a figure lay motionless in a heap on the iced-over fire escape. Frozen in shock, it took a few seconds for Ryan’s brain to fully process what he was seeing. But when it did, he was already leaning over and exclaiming, “Dylan?”
Dylan didn’t utter a word. He just gave a stiff, silent thumbs up as he lay face down in the snow that had accumulated on the metal grating. Defeated.
Sighing, Ryan stepped through the window, wincing as his bare feet touched the freezing metal. Bending over, he peeled his boyfriend off the platform.
“J-just needed...” the other gasped, allowing himself to be guided back inside, “just needed some air...”
Plopping him down on the edge of the bed before flicking on the bedside lamp, Ryan sat down next to him and asked, “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” Dylan muttered, “just wet. And cold.” He was pale, and shaking, and Ryan was unsure how much of that was actually from the snow.
Brow furrowing, “Why were you out there? It’s still dark. You could’ve seriously hurt yourself—or worse.”
Giving a rueful shake of his head, Dylan rose from the bed as he peeled himself out of his wet shirt, “Like I said: just needed some air.” If he was trying to be convincing, he was failing. With his back turned, he stiffly began to remove his soaked-through pants before rummaging through their dresser.
Frowning, Ryan approached him from behind. Wrapping his arms around his middle, resting his head on his shoulder, “You’re freezing,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down the man’s sides to try and warm him up.
Shivering under the touch, Dylan instinctually relaxed into the embrace. Releasing a sigh of content, he leaned back into Ryan’s warmth, “Just had a bad dream. That’s why I needed the air. Don’t worry about it.”
And that gave Ryan pause, hands stilling as he considered this carefully. It’d been a while since Dylan suffered from a nightmare, but that didn’t mean it never happened. Clearly. Tightening his hold on the other in an effort to ground him if he needed it, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Based on the way he tensed from the question, Ryan could probably guess what the answer would be. But always one to subvert expectations... “It was back at the lodge when Caleb attacked us. Kaitlyn wasn’t fast enough shooting him this time. She... well. You could probably guess what happened,” taking another shuddering breath, Dylan continued, “I was alone after that, and you didn’t come back. No one did. It was just me. I was the only one that made it to morning... I thought dying would be the worst thing that could’ve happened to me that night,” he eventually admitted, sounding exhausted, “now, I’m not so sure.”
Ryan understood the feeling. The one that told you that even if everyone had survived, there had been a very real possibility that they wouldn’t. And the only thing that separated you from that reality was the luck of being born into this one. But even if Ryan understood it, that didn’t mean he had an answer for it. Despite that, he pulled Dylan closer, whispering, “I did come back. We all did. No matter how bad the nightmares get, they can’t take that away from you.”
A long stretch of silence filled the air as something settled between them. Comprehension? Understanding? Maybe it was just simple acceptance of the fact that they’d survived, and nightmares alone would never have the power to change that.
“You’re warm...” Dylan murmured in a tone that lit a fire in the base of Ryan’s abdomen. Exhaling a long breath, he gave the hands wrapped around his midsection a gentle pat, “alright, my dick’s cold. Let me change out of my underwear before my balls get frostbite and fall off.”
... which provided quite the mental picture. Though, as he continued to hold onto Dylan—Ryan’s front pressed into his back—he thought that there were plenty of ways to get that warmed back up: “I could help with that.”
“The... underwear?” Dylan glanced back, confused, “It’s not really a two person job.”
“No. The... I could help with... uh,” oh, God, “I could help with the... the frostbite thing? Like, warm them up. I can warm up your... your balls? Jesus Christ...”
There was a long pause. Then another. Then, “You really need to work on your dirty talk.”
“I know,” Ryan groaned, finally releasing his grip to let the other step out of his soggy underwear. And as he watched him do so, he concluded that Dylan’s movements felt deliberately slow. That theory was only further proven when Dylan turned around, quirking an eyebrow as he put himself on full display for the other’s viewing pleasure. And as Ryan’s eyes drifted down... “Oh. Clearly someone liked it.”
Eyes narrowing, Dylan scoffed, “You try falling dick-first into a bunch of snow. It’s just,” he paused, searching for the right word. Eventually, he settled on, “un-retracting.”
Tilting his head to the side, the new angle provided Ryan some new insight: “... looks like it’s doing a little bit more than that.”
Sighing, “Yeah, I know. It’s just been a while.”
At least a month, to be exact. It’s not like they hadn’t wanted to—obviously—it’s just that they’d been busy. Ryan with work, Dylan with school and undergrad research... the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. Not like it used to.
Not like it did right now.
“Previous offer is still on the table,” Ryan shrugged, eyeing Dylan’s growing ‘problem’ with one solution in mind, “if you want.” He didn’t know how early it was. He didn’t care. All he really cared about was getting one of them under the other, and he didn’t really mind who.
Brow raised, Dylan gave an inquisitive tilt of his head at the proposition. And just when Ryan thought he’d decline, opting to turn in until sunrise... he grinned. Stepping into the other’s personal space, he helped free Ryan from his pajamas, reducing the both of them to the same level of undress. The same level of vulnerability.
It didn’t take long to fall into one another after that, teeth occasionally clicking together as they licked into each other’s mouths, stumbling blindly backwards until they finally collided with the bed. Hitting the mattress with a quiet ‘oof,’ they inched themselves back until they neared the headboard.
Breathless, naked, and panting, Dylan briefly pulled away to ask, “Do we still have...?”
“Yeah,” Ryan breathed, reaching over to retrieve the bottle of lube from their bedside drawer. Popping open the cap, he squirted a generous amount into the palm of his hand. Straddling the other with their dicks between them, Ryan wrapped his hand around them both. Tightening his grip in a way that had the both of them groaning, he began to slowly pump his hand, lathering them with the clear gel.
“Fuck...” Dylan breathed, throwing his head back against the pillow as he got lost in the sensation. Hips rocking forward and back as he chased that feeling, his cock stiffened more and more with each slow, wet pump of Ryan’s hand.
Ryan wasn’t sure what he was getting off more to at that point: his own hand, or the way Dylan looked beneath him. Head thrown back, the column of his neck was completely exposed, practically begging to be marked and claimed. Leaning down, Ryan was more than happy to oblige, sucking bruising kisses into the blank canvas of skin as Dylan moaned, pulling him closer and rutting against him, desperate for release.
And Ryan wasn’t fairing much better. Between the sounds Dylan was making, the heat pooling in his stomach, and the pressure building at the base of his abdomen... he knew it wouldn’t be much longer. And while he’d have been perfectly content with finishing like that—wrapped in loving embrace as he stroked the both of them to completion—he couldn’t help but want more.
Sliding back, Ryan brought his hands to Dylan’s knees, spreading them apart as the other made a small, surprised noise in the back of his throat. “Is this ok?” Ryan asked, refusing to move until he was certain.
Lips pulled into a lazy grin, Dylan spread his legs even more for him, “It’s great.”
Well, alright then. Lube and pre-cum already dripping down Dylan’s shaft, Ryan used it to coat his entrance, taking pride in the little gasp that escaped the other when his finger caught the rim. Checking his face for any signs of discomfort and finding none, Ryan pushed the first digit in, slowly sinking it down to the knuckle; gently working it in, then out, then in again.
Exhaling a pleased sigh, Dylan lifted a leg and rested it on the other man’s shoulder, giving him easier access. Flushed and panting, a thin layer of sweat gleamed on his skin as Ryan worked him open.
Adding a second finger, the sound Dylan made went straight to his rapidly hardening dick. It was desperate, and needy, and begging to be fucked. “You’re beautiful,” Ryan breathed, unable to pry away his hungry eyes.
Though, the words seemed to have the opposite of their desired effect, breaking Dylan from the fucked-out bliss he’d been savoring. Scoffing, he nudged Ryan lightly with the shin at his shoulder. “Stop that,” he muttered.
And Ryan didn’t like that at all. Frowning, “I mean it.”
But Dylan didn’t respond. Turning his head to stare at the wall, he wouldn’t even look at him,
Breathing an audible sigh, Ryan never understood why he got like this. It didn’t happen often. Not enough to anticipate it, at least. But much like a lingering wound forgotten about until the next bout of inflammation... it happened enough that Ryan remained aware of every instance upon each new occurrence. Because Dylan didn’t get embarrassed every time Ryan paid him a compliment during sex, but that could’ve just been because he was far too out of it by the time Ryan really got carried away with his praises. The part of the night where they both got too lost in the other to care about what was coming out of either of their mouths.
“I mean it,” Ryan repeated, pushing his full body weight against the leg on his shoulder, pinning Dylan in place as he added the third finger, “you look good like this.” He couldn’t help but delight in the way the other shuddered from it, clenching around his fingers.
By the time Ryan added the fourth, he’d managed to chip away at most of Dylan’s lingering doubts and insecurities, drawing out all those little noises he missed. Flexing his fingers, he watched him arch off the mattress with a surprised yelp.
Pooling pre-cum at the base of his stomach, Dylan tried to leverage what little control he had left. Using his leg to pull the other closer, he grinded down on the fingers stretching him open, gasping, “Ryan, please, I need...”
Yeah. He’s ready. Easing out his fingers and removing the leg swung over his shoulder, Ryan leaned over to their bedside once more, this time, in search of a condom. That’s when he felt a hand encompass his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks.
“No,” Dylan said, eyes darkened with a carnal hunger, “leave it.”
And who would Ryan be to deny him that? Settling back into his spot above Dylan, he leaned down to suck another bruise into his collarbone. Placing his hands behind the other’s knees, he began to push them gently to his chest, lining himself up.
“Uh... wait,” Dylan said, stopping him in an instant. Getting his elbows underneath himself, he used them to push into a sitting position, “can I do this on my front?”
Leaning back onto his knees, Ryan released the hold on his legs and let him do what he needed to get comfortable.
Flipping onto his chest, Dylan buried his head in his pillow as he pulled it close. And maybe Ryan was reading too much into things, but it distinctly felt like he was trying to hide. Leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to the space between his shoulder blades, he murmured, “Is this still ok? We can stop if you need to.”
Sigh muffled by the pillow, Dylan turned his head to speak, “I’m fine... I don’t know why I get weird about that. Sorry.”
Still not entirely convinced, Ryan didn’t make a move to continue. “You don’t need to apologize,” he said, meaning it, “can we talk about it?”
Probably not, based on nothing else than the long stretch of silence that followed. Shaking his head, Dylan just shoved his head into the pillow again before muttering, “It’s stupid.”
But Ryan didn’t think it was stupid at all. If it mattered to Dylan, it wasn’t stupid. “I promise it’s not,” and he’d wait as long as he needed for him to finally believe him.
Whether or not he actually did was up for debate, but eventually, Dylan decided to speak, “Sometimes the compliments are... a lot—and before you say anything: it’s not your fault. It’s mine. I think I just had some hang-ups I didn’t fully get over before we started dating, and that’s on me. I guess... I just... I didn’t know anybody could love me like that before I met you.”
His words wedged a pit deep in Ryan’s stomach, and he’d do anything to be rid of it. Wrapping his arms around the other... he just held him. “I love you,” he whispered, ghosting a kiss behind his ear, “and I’m sorry if I don’t tell you that enough.”
“You do,” Dylan sighed as he shifted in his arms, trying to get closer, “I’m just weird.” His eyes were damp.
“You’re not weird,” Ryan said before pausing to consider it further, “well... you are. But not about this.” Raising a hand to his face, he brushed away the unshed tears.
Shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter, they both just laid there in each other’s arms, drinking each other in. Lost in the moment, they almost forgot about everything leading up to it...
Almost.
“Hey,” Dylan said, craning his neck back to look at Ryan, “can we keep going?”
And Ryan tried not to seem too desperate as he repositioned himself. “Y-yeah. Yeah, of course,” he stammered, waiting for one-hundred-percent confirmation and certainty before continuing, “are you sure?”
“Yeah, Ryan,” he breathed, hooking an arm around his neck, pulling him close to kiss him, “I’m sure.” Spreading himself open with his fingers, Dylan offered himself to the other whenever he was willing to take him.
Huffing a shuddering breath, it took all of Ryan’s willpower to not have him right then and there. To not lean forward, stuffing him full with one quick snap of his hips. “I think you’re killing me,” he murmured against Dylan’s lips, pushing him down until he was lying flush against their bed. Chest down, ass up. Pressing the head of his throbbing cock to the man’s aching hole, he slowly began to tilt his hips forward.
“Oh...” Dylan exhaled. And as Ryan sunk in further—breaching the rim—his back arched, “Oh.”
Arms still wrapped firmly around him, Ryan leaned over Dylan’s shoulder, whispering sweet nothings as he eased him through the burn of that first stretch. Brushing his hands down his body, he stroked and squeezed whatever he could get a hold of: chest, stomach, thighs... when Ryan finally bottomed out, his own strangled moan tore its way from his throat. Because all he could think about was how tight Dylan felt as he twitched inside of him. Stilling his movements, he was forced to do nothing else but breathe as he focused on not blowing his load too soon.
But Dylan wasn’t making it easy. Pushing himself up to trembling hands and knees, he began rocking his hips back and forth, fucking himself on Ryan’s cock.
“Holy shit—Dylan,” he gasped, hands roughly seizing the others hips in a desperate attempt to regain some control. Leaning back, his dick came with him, sliding out of the other even as he continued to try and chase it.
Whining from the loss, Dylan sunk to his elbows in a huff. It felt rather petulant. Bratty, even. “You seemed tired,” he said, casting a not-so innocent look over his shoulder, “I was trying to help.”
“Alright,” Ryan acknowledged with a careful nod and an unfamiliar surge of confidence, “I hear you.” Without giving the other time to react, he nudged his legs further apart before fully sheathing himself with one deliberate thrust.
Hand flailing to grip the headboard, Dylan made a noise like the air had been punched from his lungs. But he wasn’t complaining. Breathless pants soon turned into self-satisfied chuckles. But that satisfaction soon turned to confusion, because as he tried to move his hips to chase that feeling... he found that he couldn’t.
Ryan continued to lean his weight forward, pushing deeper and deeper until the other was forced to sink down with him. Gasping from both shock and pleasure, Dylan trembled beneath him as he pinned him to the bed; connected at the hips. Deeming his point more than made, Ryan finally began to move, slowly fucking him into the mattress. He delighted at each needy moan it elicited, and the friction of each languid slide.
Each slow push sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through the other, and it wasn’t long until Dylan attempted to snake an arm down his front to grip his aching cock, chasing that release. But Ryan caught it immediately, grabbing the hand and pinning it to the bed. He pinned the other arm too for good measure.
“Shit, Ryan—come on!” he snapped, attempting to jerk his hips back to take him quick and deep. But he couldn’t. Ryan had him, and he wasn’t letting go. The only thing left to do was beg, “... please?”
But Ryan never sped up his movements. If anything, he went slower. Deeper. Burying himself inside of him over and over and over again; pulling all the way out before sliding all the way back in. Ryan was taking his time, and he was taking Dylan with it.
Able to do little else but writhe beneath him... Dylan embraced this fate. Moans tapering off into whimpers, he took whatever he was given. Nothing more. Nothing less.
But Ryan was only human, and no matter how stoic and unaffected the mask he wore appeared to be, he was not immune to the effect Dylan had on him. Nor was he immune to the walls of muscle tightening around his cock as he nailed that bundle of nerves buried deep inside the other.
Breath hitching, Dylan fisted at the sheets as if trying to claw himself out from under him. Thick, liquid heat pooled deep inside of him—deeper than even Ryan could reach—as he resigned himself to limply rocking along with each thrust, whimpering with each blunt press against his prostate.
And in a perfect world, Ryan would keep him like this until sunrise. Building him up with each painfully slow grind of his hips, teetering him on the edge of release until he was reduced to nothing but noises and drool, too fucked-out to even beg for it anymore. His climax would build like a tidal wave, steady and gradual, before suddenly overtaking him. He’d spill over himself—untouched—from nothing more than the feeling of being so completely and utterly full.
But with the tension coiling in his own stomach, Ryan knew that’d have to wait for another night. Nestling his head over the other’s shoulder, he let his words spill from his mouth like a dam that had finally burst; it would seem they’d reached ‘that’ part of the night. He’d have called it nonsense if he hadn’t meant every word of it: Beautiful. Taking it so good. Mine, all mine. Desperate, needy moans mixed with the sound of flesh smacking against flesh filled the room as Ryan picked up the pace.
Writhing against the sheets, Dylan rode the waves of pleasure as they washed over him. “Ryan, p-please... please let me—” he cried out, despairing and desperate, as Ryan snaked his hand beneath him, curling it around his neglected cock before pumping it to the rhythm set by his hips.
And that was the end of it. Balls tightening, Ryan filled him one final time with a firm roll of his hips... and he held it there: pressing Dylan into the mattress, throbbing against his prostate, spilling into him until he milked out every last drop.
Heat swelling in his gut as Ryan emptied himself inside of him, it was enough to finally send Dylan over the edge. Hips stuttering, he spilled over Ryan’s hand as the man continued to stroke him, bringing him to the edge of overstimulation. Choking back a sob, Dylan gave Ryan a gentle but pointed tap on the arm.
Ryan ceased his movements, easing himself out of him. Turning Dylan on his side and drawing him flush against his chest, he began massaging the soreness from his thighs before it could set.
Dylan relaxed, breathing leveling off as he settled into the embrace, flipping over to wrap his arms around Ryan in turn. But eventually—as body heats cooled and pulses steadied—they were forced to peel themselves off of one another lest their spend begin to harden into a thin crust...
Ew.
“I’m sticky,” Dylan chuckled, using his hand to smear around the goop coating his stomach.
That was Ryan’s cue. Extracting himself from the sheets—wincing from the soreness already building in his core—he shuffled to the bathroom. Upon his return, he held a damp washrag in either hand. He passed one off to the other before using his to wipe himself down.
After wiping down his front, Dylan unfolded the rag and sat on it. And then he waited. Brow pinched in concentration, “... we should probably strip the bed.”
Which was a very fair point. “I’ll take care of it later,” Ryan promised, kneeling onto the mattress to clean up what the man had missed on his stomach, “just... keep doing what you’re doing, I guess.”
“Way ahead of you,” Dylan said, giving him a playful nudge on the arm, “oh, and just FYI: I’m gonna get you back for that in a couple hours.”
Ryan snorted, giving a good natured shake his head, “You liked it.”
“I did,” Dylan admitted with a wistful sigh. Then, eyes glinting as he spoke in a low tone, “but not as much as you will,” sexiness only slightly undercut by the fact he was currently oozing into a rag.
Huffing a quiet, disbelieving laugh, Ryan settled into bed next to him. Draping an arm around Dylan’s shoulder, he used it to pull him close, tasting salt as he pressed a tender kiss to his sweaty forehead, “I’ll hold you to it.”
In the end, Dylan stayed true to his word, save for the fact ‘a couple hours’ only ended up being around forty-five minutes.
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ENOUGH
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Warnings: Making-Out; Anal Penetration; Unprotected Sex; Dry Humping; Teasing; Aggressive Sex; Slight Manhandling; Groping; Temporary Spanking; Fingering; Oral (Male Receiving); Creampie; Multiple Rounds(Implied)
Male Reader x Dylan Lenivy
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“O-One more time?” Dylan sat in front of me, eyes wide and lips parted, the utmost expression of both disbelief and shock on his pale face as he stammered his request. His brown eyes were dull, dazed as he registered my words, right hand gripping in his lap on the opposite couch whilst his left stump was pressed to his chest. Blinking, he shook his head lightly and reached up to ruffle his soft brown locks.
“I think we should take a break.” I shrank back at the absolute heartbroken dullness in his eyes, gnawing at my lower lip and toying with the hem of my shirt. His fingers clawed to his lap, gripping his knees as he lowered his head and laughed humorlessly.
“Why?”
“I-I…I’m not good enough for you—you deserve someone better, Dyl—“
“Why the fuck do you get to decide that!?”
I yelped, his raised voice startling me as I shrank back against the sofa. His pupils were blown and his teeth gritted as he glared at his lap, knuckles white from the grip he had on his knee.
“You’re more than enough for me, (Y/N)! You make me happy! What makes you think you’re not perfect to me?” He hissed, voice trembling and shoulders quaking. His hair was ruffled and covering his eyes from my view, though I could tell from his voice he was hurting. “Why…why do you think you’re not worth it? W-What did I…d-do?” I bit my lip and reaches over, grasping his hand and stump gently as they trembled. My own (E/C) eyes stung with tears, sniffling softly as I squeezed his hand.
“I-I just…y-you’re missing a hand, Dyl! A-And I’m not strong enough t-to help you…I couldn’t p-protect you from those t-things, I-I—“ I closed my eyes, recoiling from his grasp and pushing back into the sofa I sat on. Soft sniffles and hiccups left me, my fingers rubbing at my eyes mercilessly.
A soft, familiar hand cupped my face, thumb wiping the tears from my face gently. Blinking softly, I sniffled and peered up at the brunette I’d grown to love, lower lip quivering. His eyes were sad, nose brushing mine as he kissed and licked at my cheeks and jaw, fingers caressing my cheekbone gently. Nuzzling my neck, he kissed my skin softly and moved to kneel between my legs.
“Baby, it’s okay. I know it hurts, but I’m so much better when I’m with you. I’m so happy with you here, baby.” Dylan murmured, holding my face in his palm and nuzzling his nose with mine. “I love you, you know that? Let me show you how good you are for me…?”
I hiccuped and nodded slowly, letting the brunette guide me onto my feet and down the hall to our bedroom. His one hand pulled me in by my hips, lips finding mine in a gentle caress. The frail fingers of his right hand slipped under my shirt, trailing over my abdomen and lighting a fire beneath skin wherever he touched. I shivered and snakes my arms around his neck, standing on my toes to press into him more. He exhaled softly against my lips, hand slipping higher til his thumb brushed my left nipple, pinching the soft peak lightly.
I gasped and Dylan smiled against my lips, slipping his tongue between my parted lips and caressing the warm appendage in my own mouth. His hips ground against mine, his left arm curled around my waist to hold me close. Tilting his head, he groaned as our crotches rubbed together, the tent in his jeans pressed against the tent in mine.
“(Y/N), you’re so cute.” The tall brunette mumbled, gaining another whine from me as he tweaked my nipple and rolled it lightly. “Such cute sounds.” His hand slid down, removing itself from my shirt only to tug the fabric over my head and toss it away. I hissed as the cold air met my (S/C) skin, nipples erect and chest heaving. Leaning back, Dylan gazed down into my (E/C) eyes with blown pupils, his cheeks flushed and his lips slightly swollen from the kiss.
“You’re so sexy.” He mumbled, leaning in to suckle at my throat, a sharp moan leaving me. I tilted my head back and fumbled with his shirt, dragging it up and over his head desperately. “So sweet. So kind.” Each word carried another round of kisses, licks and soft nibbles. His left arm hooked around my waist, guiding my hips forward as he rubbed against me. His right hand slid down over my waist and, dipping past the denim, began to toy with the hard-on beneath my briefs.
“D-Dylan!” I mewled, bucking against his hand as he thumbed at my tip, cock twitching at his touch. The tall male chuckled against my throat, teeth lightly scraping over my Adam’s apple. My palms pressed flat against his chest, fingertips lightly tracing the scars from the quarry.
“Look at you, so needy, so desperate. What do you want, baby?” He cooed, his hips rutting against mine again whilst he continued to palm me. I shivered and whimpered, my teeth drawing my lower lip in as a sharp whine left me. “Use your words, handsome.”
“M-More, please!” I mewled, (H/C) locks disheveled and forehead lined with a thin sheen of sweat. The closeted nerd leaned back, his much taller frame towering over me with a cocky smirk on his pale, beautiful face.
“More what? Tell me, (Y/N).” I whined and rutted against his palm as he squeezed the outline of my cock, his left arm holding my hips in place. “Look down, (Y/N). This is what you do to me.”
My (E/C) eyes flashed down to his hips, his cock throbbing beneath his pants and pressing into my hipbone. He rutted against me again, groaning lowly at the friction whilst never removing his gaze from my face.
“You make me feel so good. So happy. So loved. So—fuck!—s-so fucking horny.” His words stumbled between his panting, hips rolling more fervently and his hand sliding around to grip at my ass. Squeezing the soft flesh, he yanked me forward til I toppled against his chest, his stature and strength enough for him to lift me up and toss me over his right shoulder. I yelped, clinging to his back tightly as he placed his right hand over my rear again, carrying me to the bed only to toss me onto the mattress.
My back hit the soft yet firm object with a soft thump, a gasp leaving me, my body bouncing slightly. Dylan was quick to climb over me, his lips immediately attaching themselves to my chest. His tongue swirled around my right nipple, lips sucking lightly as his soft brown curls fluttered in front of his face. I mewled and reached up to tug at his hair, thighs clenching beneath him at the groan he released. I bucked my hips up and felt his handless arm slip under my back, forcing me to arch against him. His long legs stretched out and he rutted his hips against mine, toying with me.
“D-Dylan—“
“That’s not my name, babe.” I swallowed at the deep tone of voice he took on, his teeth nipping at the skin beneath my nipples and his right hand slipping into my pants to palm my bare ass.
“S-Sugar.” He grinned, leaning up to press his lips to my cheek gently.
“Good boy.”
It was an odd nickname, I know, but it’s the one we settled on a long time ago. Dylan’s always been a sweetheart, joking nature aside. His empathetic soul and heart of gold had him putting others ahead of himself no matter the situation, even during that last night at the quarry. Because of that, and the kindness and affection he’d shown me, and partly due to my southern-raised nature, I took to calling him Sugar. At first, he was flustered and confused, but after the first few times he grew to adore the pet name, and after we started dating, it took a deeper meaning. It wasn’t just a nickname, but a title. To him, Sugar was a name of absolute adoration and love, and he never allowed anyone to call him that but me. It was special, a reminder of the love we had.
Dylan’s hand flipping me onto my hands and knees knocked me from my thoughts, a sharp gasp leaving me as he dragged my pants down my legs. “Look at you, clenching around nothing. Need me that bad, huh, baby?” I whined and flushed at the chuckle he released, his right hand kneading the soft (S/C) of my ass. “So beautiful, and all mine.” I buried my face in my pillow as his tongue dipped past my rim, a deep moan leaving him and mingling with the squeak that left me. Glancing down between my legs, I watched his hips rut against the bed, the tent in his jeans painfully taut and both his boxers and jeans stained with his precum.
“F-Fuck—“ I yelped as a sharp slap rang through the room, my ass stinging where he smacked me. Biting my lip, I felt tears of both pleasure and overstimulation build in my eyes, ass clenching around his fingers that had replaced his tongue.
“Language. What do we say, baby boy?”
“S-Sorry Sugar.”
“Good.” A soft nip to my reddened flesh had me mewling gently, toes curling in my socks and hips rutting against his hand. “So needy, fucking yourself on my fingers. You’re so hot.” Panting, I rolled my hips and arched my back, knowing how much he loved to watch me bend and squirm for him. His hungry groan confirmed that thought, his mouth suddenly latching to my taint and licking at my balls.
“S-Shit, fuck—!” I squealed, thighs quivering desperately at the sudden stimulation. Dylan hated when I cursed, usually because it was something I’d developed after the events in August, a bad habit that indicated extreme emotional stress or—in this case—lust. The tall teen immediately pulled away from me, leaning over my back with a glare in his eyes. He yanked me back by my hair, forcing me to make eye contact as he hovered behind me.
“What the fuck did I say?” My eyes widened feeling his hips pressed against my ass. “Do you need me to show you how important you are to me? Huh? Or do you need me to shut that pretty little dirty mouth of yours first?” Bucking back against him I panted, pupils blown and chest heaving.
“‘M sorry, Sugar. ‘M so s-sorry! I’ll s-stop, please!” Dylan sneered at me and slammed my face into my pillow, keeping it pinned with his left arm. I could hear the buckle of his jeans coming undone and the fabric falling to his knees. His tip prodded at my hole and I whimpered softly, gripping the sheets as his bare chest pressed to my back.
“I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll never think you’re anything less than perfect for me.” Dylan growled into my ear, and before I could reply, his hips thrusted forward. A shriek left me as he bottomed out immediately, the brunette bucking so hard against me I could hear the bed frame creak and the headboard slam into the wall. He growled and grunted and groaned, teeth nipping at my shoulder. His arms were on either side of my head to hold himself up, both of us slicked with sweat.
Tilting my head, I leaned over and pressed my lips to his left wrist, his breathe hitching in his throat. “I love you.” I mumbled, tears slowly rolling down my face from both the pleasure and the guilt. “I’m sorry. I love you so much.” Dylan smiled against my neck, peppering sweet kisses to my throat and fucking me a little faster, my own cock brushing against the bedsheets.
“I love you, too, baby boy. All mine, so good for me.” He cooed, earning soft babbles from the praise. My eyes rolled back and I drooled into the bedsheets, fingers digging into my pillow as he buried himself further in me. The brunettes cockhead battered my prostate, causing me to squeal as my vision went white. My cock throbbed and the sheets beneath me were suddenly drenched, my body trembling whilst my boyfriend fucked me through my high.
Turning my head, Dylan pressed his lips to mine and sucked on my tongue, bucking his hips harder. Tears of overstimulation poured from my eyes and I whimpered against him weakly. His hips stuttered and suddenly he was deep inside me, filling me with his warm seed as he panted against me.
We slumped like that, still connected as he leaned over me, his nose brushing mine. I barely got a few minutes to breathe before his right hand snaked around my hips, calloused fingers curling around my cock. I gasped breathlessly, peeking back at him as Dylan smiled mischievously, his hips slowly pulling back.
“I’m not done with you, yet, baby boy. I’m gonna fuck you til your addicted to my cock.” His hips bucked forward and I yelped, his fist squeezing my cock. “I’m never letting you go, baby. You’re perfect to me.”
Our intimacy continued through the evening and the night, leaving me slightly bruised, weak, lovedrunk and dazed the next morning, swaddled in my boyfriends embrace. I’m pretty convinced, now, that I’m more than enough for Dylan. After all, he’s more than enough for me.
#dylan lenivy#emma mountebank#abigail blyg#jacob custos#kaitlyn ka#max brinly#nick furcillo#ryan erzahler#smut#travis hackett#laura kearney#hacketts quarry#the quarry game#the quarry#fluff#werewolf#male x male#male reader#reader insert#my stuff#apocalypticnova#oneshot#request
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About Oblivia!
Hello! You can call me Oblivia! I am one of two admins on this account. Feel free to talk to me about Buzzfeed Unsolved, Jack Manifold (+other youtubers/streamers), Taylor Swift, MCR, Lovejoy, Fall Out Boy, BTS, Minecraft, Cryptid Coffeehouse, baseball, and many other things!!
I will write: angst, fluff, fics, headcanons, character x reader
I will not write: NSFW, yandere, gore, anything morally wrong (pls use common sense, I will just delete asks with typical taboo topics), I also will not write for real people, or character x character.
Fandoms/characters I write! Asterisks(*) denote favorites to write. List is subject to change!
Blooming Panic (current obsession): Nightowl*, Quest, Xyx*, NakedToaster*, Two2, BIGLADY*, Onionthief*
Harry Potter (fuck JKR): Harry Potter, Ron Weasley*, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom*, Seamus Finnigan, Oliver Wood*, Draco Malfoy, Matteo Riddle, Lorenzo Berkshire
Percy Jackson: Percy Jackson*, Annabeth Chase, Luke Castellan*, Jason Grace*, Leo Valdez*, Piper McLean*, Frank Zhang, Hazel Levesque, Connor Stoll*, Lityerses, pretty much anyone!
The Quarry: Ryan Erzahler*, Dylan Lenivy*, Nick Furcillo, Jacob Custos, Abi Blyge, Max Brinly, Kaitlyn Ka*
Supernatural: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester*, Castiel, Kevin Tran*, Jack Kline, Charlie Bradbury
TSITP (boycotting season 2 bc I hate Belly): Jeremiah Fisher*, Conrad Fisher, Steven Conklin
To All The Boys/XO, Kitty: Josh Sanderson, Peter Kavinsky, Kitty Song-Covey, Min Ho*
The Umbrella Academy: Diego*, Five, Klaus
Bones: Zack Addy*, Vincent Nigel-Murray*, Wendell Bray, James Aubrey, Angela Montenegro*
The Haunting of Bly Manor: Dani, Jamie*
#harry potter#hp#percy jackson#pjo#heroes of olympus#the quarry#supernatural#spn#the summer i turned pretty#tsitp#to all the boys netflix#tatbilb#xo kitty#the umbrella academy#tua#bones tv#bones on fox#the haunting of bly manor#bly manor#danger days#the true lives of the fabulous killjoys#x reader
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One Last Summer // Summary
Max Brinly X Female Reader
You saved his life last summer, taught him how to fight, and then watched his heart break.
A year later, you're still desperate to forget anything and everything that had happened that night; desperate to push away the human faces of the werewolves you'd helped put to an end, and even desperate to push away the friends you had made that summer.
But yet, for some reason, Max Brinly—the boy you'd met for all of two hours—wouldn't leave your mind. Tortured and comforted by the fact that you would never see him again, you receive an email from Ryan Erzahler:
I know this may come as a shock to many of you, but I've recently acquired and taken over Hackett's Quarry Summer Camp. I invite all of you back for this summer as Camp Counselors. It's what Mr. H would have wanted; to paint on some good memories after all that's happened. So, please, I humbly beg all of you to return to Hackett's Quarry and let's replace all of those bad memories with good ones. In memory of Caleb, Kaylee, and Mr. H.
A re-do summer. To get back all that you had lost. A do-over, with no werewolves, no curse, and no death.
But unfortunately, there sure would be a hell of a lot of drama.
And one Max Brinly.
WARNINGS AND TAGS: NSFW, MINORS DNI, explicit language, sex and sexual situations, dancer!reader, best friend!Dylan, sweetheart!reader, goofball!Max, mildly antagonistic!Laura(I love Laura but it has to happen this time, sorry!), fluff, angst, mentions of cheating (not in the main pairing and not by Max at all), PTSD, trauma, mentions of werewolves no actual werewolves, falling in love, big romcom energy, main antagonist!Emma, medium!reader
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