#amputee dylan lenivy

[wolfawaycamp]

Hello! I would like to request a realistic aftermath of the shotgun amputation ;)

🐰 Okay, so, this was discussed on Discord prior to Torch's request (thank you Torch!) and Cas really thought we should get to see Kaitlyn plucking buckshot out of Dylan's arm. You're not actually supposed to do that, but it IS realistic that a bunch of teens/young adults might not know that. This is another long one from me because I'm incapable of being brief, but so far I've I've gotten positive feedback on my 'ficlets' that are so long they're basically just one-shots. I started my Quarry fanfic writing career with chainsaw hurt/comfort, so of course I had to inject some of that here! Hope you enjoy! :3

*******

When Ryan shoots Dylan’s hand off with his shotgun on the floor of the radio hut, he really doesn’t have time to panic. Some kind of black venom is visibly spreading up Dylan’s arm and, at that moment, Ryan agrees that it needs to be stopped. So, he stops it. He doesn’t second guess that decision at the time, because something huge and ugly is stalking the two of them and their fellow counselors. The fact that he’s just blown the left hand off the boy he’s spent the better part of the evening casually flirting with, the one he kissed for the first time a few hours before, can barely sink in because he’s trying so hard to finish engineering the feedback loop and keep them all alive. But once he’s sounded that earsplitting noise and chased the immediate danger away, Ryan’s better able to take in the horror of the scene that remains.

Dylan lies in a pool of his own blood, and the unrecognizable lump of tissue that used to be a hand sits inches from the mutilated end of his wrist. There are holes in the floor where buckshot has passed through Dylan’s flesh and bone entirely and into the aged wood. Ryan, still fueled by adrenaline, tells him his plan worked. He is genuinely impressed with Dylan’s ingenuity.

“It did the trick,” he says, “Nice work, Dylan.”

The bloodied boy on the floor begins laughing in a way Ryan finds deeply concerning, as if he’s completely delirious, before the chaos in front of him seems to sober him up. “Oh fuck, my hand!” Dylan exclaims, like he’s just noticed it. “Why did you do that?!”

“You told me to!” Ryan bites back in disbelief.

Does he really not remember?

“That was a bad idea,” Dylan admits, still holding pressure to the bleeding stump of his left arm, “aw fuck.”

At that very moment, the door bursts open, scaring the absolute shit out of both the boys. It’s Kaitlyn, likely having heard the gunshot and certainly the sound that followed. She’s come to see what’s become of the two of them. 

Kaitlyn manages to get out the words, “You guys all right… in… here?” before she begins processing the gruesome scene in front of her. Ryan watches her take in the handless Dylan, the pool of blood, and the detached former hand in silence, her mouth hanging slightly open for a moment.

“‘Sup Kaitlyn?” Dylan drawls from the pool of blood he’s lying in. He gives her a slight nod as a greeting since his one remaining hand is busy holding back arterial spray from where his other hand was once attached.

“What the fuck?!” Kaitlyn says breathlessly, “what the fuck happened here?!” 

“I—he—that thing bit Dylan’s hand and I, uh…” Ryan struggles to explain the situation, struggles to even understand it himself. 

Kaitlyn looks from Dylan to Ryan and back again, over and over, finally clocking Ryan’s bloodied face and the shotgun in his hand. Her shock gives way to fury. “Oh—oh my god, Ryan, what the fuck have you done?!”

“He—” Ryan points at Dylan like a child tattling to an adult, “he told me to!”

“I would really like for the record to show,” Dylan says, entirely too steady for the state he’s in, “that I said ‘cut it off.’ Not shoot. Cut. There’s a perfectly good chainsaw right over there.” He jerks his head toward the workbench where the chainsaw sits along with the other power tools.

“Why?! Dylan, why on earth would you say that?!” Kaitlyn asks. She wheels around to face Ryan without giving Dylan a chance to answer, “and why would you listen to him?!”

Kaitlyn glares at Ryan like she might bite him. He thinks he would probably deserve that. He can’t seem to get a word out to explain why blasting a hand off with a shotgun seemed like a good idea at the time but, for better or worse, Dylan is still fairly talkative despite his devastating injury.

“Hey, it’s okay Kaitlyn,” Dylan says, trying his best to sound normal and not quite achieving it, “you kinda had to be here to get the full effect, I guess, but there was this black stuff going up my arm, and we had to stop it before it got any higher, and this did stop it! I’m okay, really… I mean, I’m not, but it doesn’t hurt. I don’t even feel it. Which is… weird, right? I feel like having your hand shot off should hurt more than this.”

“It’s probably the adrenaline,” Kaitlyn explains, “or else you’re going into shock. Either way you’re going to be in a world of hurt sooner or later. You’ve probably got a bunch of buckshot still in your arm. Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t leave the two of you alone for a minute.”

Ryan thinks this is a somewhat unfair assessment of what they’ve accomplished here, given that Dylan’s plan and Ryan’s execution of it saved Kaitlyn’s ass as well as theirs. Dylan, for his part, laughs at Kaitlyn, because he’s apparently gone insane and lost all fear of death. Kaitlyn looks like she’s considering snatching Ryan’s gun, blowing Dylan’s head off, and calling it a total loss instead of trying to patch him up. She inhales deeply and lets it back out, as if meditative breathing will repair the rift in reality they’re currently experiencing.

“Ryan get the first aid kit,” she says, her tone more measured now, “we have to stop the bleeding before we move him, but if we can get Dylan down to the poolhouse, we’ll at least have running water to rinse this wound off. That’s where I sent Abi and Nick when I headed up here.” Kaitlyn kneels next to Dylan, then she grabs his arm roughly and he cries out in pain. “Stop moving so much!” she snaps, though the boy with the shot-off hand has barely moved a muscle.

“Fucking hell, Kaitlyn, be careful!” Ryan barks at her, and Kaitlyn’s head whips to the side to face him with a challenging look.

“Oh, I’m sorry Ryan, should I be as careful as you were when you turned Dylan’s hand into raw fucking meatloaf?” The boys are speechless at her outburst.

Wow, Kaitlyn’s being a kind of a bitch, Ryan thinks, and then it clicks in Ryan’s head that she’s not actually angry, not at him or at Dylan, she’s afraid. This is what fear looks like on Kaitlyn Ka, who he’d mistakenly thought was fearless. It’s raw and ferocious. Other than Jacob, who she’s known most of her life, Dylan’s the person she’s closest to at camp. Kaitlyn expresses her concern like a mother bear and if Ryan isn’t careful he really might get mauled by her before whatever the fuck bit Dylan gets a chance to sink its teeth into him.

Kaitlyn fashions a tourniquet out of bandages and a screwdriver, warning Dylan that it’s going to hurt, and Dylan winces as she twists the metal tool over and over to tighten it around his forearm, just below his elbow. She hands him a bottle of what appears to be ibuprofen from the nurse’s station, saying it’s the last of the supply after she gave some to Nick. 

“Ooh, fun,” Dylan says, throwing back the pills and swallowing them dry, and Ryan can feel Kaitlyn rolling her eyes at him even if he can’t see it.

The bleeding appears to stop, though there’s so much blood already that it’s difficult to tell. It seems stable enough that the three of them can set out for the poolhouse. Dylan is a bit wobbly at first but once he gets a few steps in he seems steady on his feet. Kaitlyn and Ryan flank him with Kaitlyn on the left holding onto his injured arm. Ryan carries the first aid kit with him, even though there’s another one in the poolhouse. It can’t hurt to have more supplies.

On the way, they get into a minor argument about whether the pellets of buckshot from the shotgun shell should be removed from Dylan’s arm or left in. Ryan thinks they should come out, he’s seen that in a number of TV shows and movies and while he knows those aren’t always accurate, he doesn’t think it seems right to leave foreign bodies in a wound. Kaitlyn is more hesitant. She knows that doctors will remove pellets from wounds but if they’re deep they might do more damage trying to remove them. In the end, Dylan says it’s his arm and therefore they’re his buckshot pellets and he should get a say, and he thinks they should compromise and get the ones that seem close enough to the surface to grab with tweezers and leave the others.

When the three of them make it into the poolhouse, Abi has Nick laid out by the showers, resting on a stack of rolled towels. She turns to them, saying “I was wondering when you guys would…” and is cut off at the sight of Dylan’s bloody arm stump. She shrieks. “Oh my god, ohh my god Dylan, what happened?!” Abi is keeping her eyes off of Dylan’s arm. She looks like she might cry, or faint, and Ryan watches, stunned, as Dylan tries to comfort her instead of the other way around.

“It’s okay Abi,” he says, a little too jovially, “just a flesh wound.”

“It’s literally not,” Ryan corrects him, thinking of the bits of bright white bone he could see in the remains of Dylan’s obliterated hand, and Dylan shakes his head at him to keep him from saying anything else.

Kaitlyn explains the situation much more succinctly than either of the boys could, then she sends Abi to find the poolhouse first aid kit while she and Ryan drag Dylan over to the sinks to rinse his wound in warm water. Dylan flinches when they direct the flow of the water over the end of his wrist but he doesn’t pull away. As the coagulated blood is rinsed away, Ryan can see exposed bone at the end of Dylan’s arm and several perfectly round holes that, as Kaitlyn predicted, almost certainly contain pieces of buckshot. The sight of it makes his stomach clench with guilt and worry.

Kaitlyn sits on the floor, picking through the two first aid kits for what she needs. She assembles gauze, more bandages, a small set of forceps, only slightly larger than standard tweezers, that Ryan assumes were intended for pulling splinters out of campers, some rubbing alcohol, an empty glass bottle she’s found to corral the pellets in—Ryan thinks it likely once contained apple juice, though the label has been peeled off—and a lidocaine spray intended for sunburns. It’s the best they have, under the circumstances.

Kaitlyn tells Ryan to join her on the floor and instructs Dylan to essentially sit between Ryan’s legs. Dylan raises an eyebrow at this and Ryan sighs and gestures at him to hurry up. Dylan sits where he’s told.

“This is not going to be fun,” Kaitlyn warns Dylan, then she looks to Ryan and says, “you’re going to have to hold him down, hold his arm still so I don’t cause any more damage.” 

Ryan swallows and holds Dylan’s left arm down, pinning it between his own arm and his bent knee with his hand steadying the wounded forearm just below the wrist. He reaches over Dylan’s right shoulder with his right arm and presses his hand to the middle of the injured boy’s chest, encouraging Dylan to lean back against him. It’s already pretty intimate, with Dylan's head resting on Ryan’s shoulder, and then Dylan grabs Ryan’s hand with his and interlocks their fingers, needing something to hold onto.

“Okay,” Dylan tells Kaitlyn, “let’s get this over with.”

Kaitlyn dunks the forceps in the rubbing alcohol and sprays around the wound and all the pellet holes she can find with the lidocaine spray. It’s not very strong, and she tells Dylan it’s only going to numb the surface, everything below that he’s going to feel. He nods, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, and Kaitlyn gets to work.

The first pellet is close to the surface and Ryan watches it pop out of Dylan’s skin easily with the fascination some people feel for those pimple extraction videos online. Kaitlyn drops it into the glass bottle where it makes a satisfying plinking sound.

“Oh!” says Dylan, that wasn’t so—OW!” He’s spoken too soon, and before Dylan can finish his statement, Kaitlyn has gone back in for another pellet. This one must be deeper, she has to fish around where the anesthetic spray hasn’t been able to reach before it comes out. Dylan has a vice-grip on Ryan’s hand by the time this one joins the other in the glass bottle.

“Two down,” Kaitlyn says, “only… six or so to go?”

“Awesome,” Dylan says sarcastically, and even in the dim light of the poolhouse, Ryan thinks he looks paler than usual.

Dylan is clearly in pain now as Kaitlyn digs for buckshot in his forearm and Ryan feels terrible about the choices he’s made. He’d thought the shotgun would be cleaner than the chainsaw, leave less chance for infection than a rusty tool Chris Hackett uses to carve up firewood, but Kaitlyn doesn’t seem to think it would’ve make that big a difference. She had warned him about the shotgun’s spread earlier, and though he’d taken the shot pretty close to his target, they certainly wouldn’t be playing this very advanced game of Operation right now if he’d gone for the chainsaw instead. On top of everything, the light from Abi’s phone flashlight keeps wavering, making it difficult for Kaitlyn to see what she’s doing.

“For fuck’s sake, Abi, can’t you hold that thing steady?!” Ryan snaps before he can stop himself.

“Ryan!” Kaitlyn chastises him as another pellet of buckshot clinks into the glass bottle.  

“I’m trying! You know the sight of blood makes me nauseous!” Abi nearly sobs the words and Ryan immediately feels bad, realizes he can, in fact, feel even worse than he had a moment ago. He’d forgotten how much she hates blood. She’d nearly fainted earlier in the summer when one of her campers had a nosebleed. It’s a rough night for all of them, certainly roughest for Dylan and Nick, but Ryan finds some sympathy for Abi—it’s a particularly bad night for anyone who hates the sight of blood.

“Sorry,” he mutters lamely.

“It’s all right,” Abi says, “I’ll try to do better.”

Ryan doesn’t think of himself as having a particularly comforting presence, but for Dylan he does his best, murmuring a steady stream of reassuring nonsense like he might if his little sister crawled in bed with him after having a nightmare back home. “It’s okay,” he says, “it’s okay, you’re okay. Just hang on, all right?This’ll be over soon. I’ve got you. Just stay with me, Dylan. I’m here. I’m right here and I’ve got you.” 

It’s bullshit, he knows it and Dylan probably knows it too—his wounded friend is in bad shape and Ryan hasn’t got shit, nothing is under control and nothing is okay, but Dylan squeezes his hand, his head turned so the right side of his face is pressed against Ryan’s shoulder, and Ryan can tell he’s trying very hard to be brave. Dylan holds back from crying out for the most part, expressing his pain through bitten off groans that he tries but can’t quite silence. Occasionally, he sucks air through his teeth and swears. Dylan’s trembling a little and sweating and he sniffles from time to time because he can’t keep the tears from streaming down his face, dampening the fabric of Ryan’s Cult Damage t-shirt.

Kaitlyn digs for a pellet at the very end of Dylan’s wrist, and he’s completely quiet for a moment, then he goes limp in Ryan’s arms.

“Oh, shit. Dylan?” Ryan hears the panic in his own voice when he speaks.

“Fuck, he passed out.” Kaitlyn pats at Dylan’s cheek, not all that gently but not quite hard enough to qualify as a smack. It does nothing to rouse him. Her fingers press into the side of his neck to feel his pulse, but she doesn’t seem overly concerned with whatever she finds there. Ryan can feel Dylan breathing, but he’s terrified by this development just the same.

“What? Why would that happen?!” He demands of Kaitlyn. “Why now?”

“I don’t know!” Kaitlyn says, “Pain, I guess. Shock? Maybe that last pellet was near a nerve? I barely scraped a B in anatomy.”

“Blood loss?” Abi offers, her expression grave. She looks over at Nick, who adjusts his position a little, and then turns her attention back to Dylan.

“Let’s just get this finished,” Kaitlyn says, “then we can get him cleaned up.” 

She plucks three more pellets from Dylan’s arm, dropping them into the bottle, and then declares that if there are any more, he’ll need an x-ray to find them and trying to dig for them blindly would do way more harm than good. She sends Abi to the sink for a couple of wet washcloths and Kaitlyn wipes down Dylan’s arm while Abi dabs at his face.

Dylan begins to stir, finally, as Kaitlyn is working to bandage his wound. Ryan watches his face intently as he comes around, his brows scrunching and relaxing, eyes moving behind his closed lids. He groans softly before his eyes flutter open and he blinks up at Ryan, seeming to search Ryan’s face for clues as to what the fuck is even happening right now. 

“Dylan,” Ryan says, relief washing over him, “hey! You’re awake.” 

“G’morning Hacketteers,” Dylan rasps weakly, his voice a pale imitation of the one that has boomed out over the PA all summer. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Cap’n Crunch,” Kaitlyn says, rattling the bottle of pellets, “it’s the ‘Oops! All Buckshot’ flavor, unfortunately.”

“Oh, no thanks,” Dylan snorts, “I’m full.” He looks down at the bandaged end of his left forearm. “Though… less full than I used to be, apparently.”

Dylan’s jokes are as obnoxious as ever and Ryan is thanking the cosmic space gods that he’s coherent enough to make them.

As Kaitlyn finishes taping up the bandages, Dylan looks down at his remaining hand and seems to realize it’s still loosely entwined with Ryan’s. He grips Ryan’s hand and Ryan squeezes his right back.

“Thanks you guys,” Dylan says, almost uncharacteristically earnest, and Ryan is reminded of their conversation about his blasé persona and ‘Dylan-Dylan,’ which feels like it happened weeks ago.

“Don’t mention it,” Kaitlyn says with a smile, “just, never do anything this stupid again if you can help it, please.”

Dylan nods. Ryan doesn’t really need to hold onto him anymore, but he is just the same.

“I’m just glad you’re still with me, buddy,” Ryan says in a half whisper.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, Ryan. You know how the old saying goes, ‘hand a man a gun, he shoots for a day, shoot a man’s hand off with your gun and you have to, um, let him hold your hand in the hand that he has left. Forever. Or at least for one date. But probably forever.’”

“Yeah,” Ryan deadpans, “I can see how that became a proverb for sure. Real snappy.”

Kaitlyn bursts out laughing. Even Abi giggles at this, putting a hand on Dylan’s shoulder before hurrying back over to check on Nick.

“What? He can shoot my hand off but I can’t shoot my shot? Seems unfair. I—”

Dylan’s words are cut off when Ryan leans down and kisses him on the mouth, his hands pressing to either side of Dylan’s face. It’s the only thing he can think to do to express his relief and concern and gratitude at that moment, to say that he’s sorry but also not. And another feeling is in the mix there, something soft but undeniable and deeply unfamiliar, something that, Ryan’s terrified to realize, might actually be love.

“Let’s save our strength with some quiet time, hm?” he says, still holding Dylan’s face in his hands.

Dylan looks back at him, awestruck. He nods, slowly, and then there’s a gunshot outside. A howl of inhuman agony follows and then a splash. 

Something big has just landed in the pool.

[ghostradiodylan]

while Dylan and Kaitlyn are going to the junkyard they have a conversation where Dylan can seem 'depressed' or 'positive' but the thing is i've never seen his dialogue being negative 😭 all the gameplay videos i've seen i i saw everyone chose to be 'positive'. could you by any chance show me what happens when he chooses his dialogue as being a bit 'depressed' ?

Sure thing! Chris of the Vale on YouTube painstakingly compiled a lot of the game choices, here’s a video with all the variations on their chat. It should go straight to the ‘depressed’ choice if the link works correctly.

I usually pick depressed, not because I want Dylan to be depressed (although, I feel like you would be a little, right?) but because I love Kaitlyn’s response. 💖

[ghostradiodylan]

Talking about Dylan’s tattoo in the Discord made me look up this babe so clearly it is time to reblog him.

dylan with a tattoo sleeve 😇

and if you think i’d take a break from pushing my pavement fan dylan agenda you’d be wrong 😈

[meaditozzz]

[chaosqueery]

I just got this scenario in my head of Dylan and Ryan going to a haunted hayride and when one of the scare actors with a chainsaw (real chainsaw, no chain) goes after Dylan, he takes off his prosthetic hand and screams “My hand! My hand! You cut off my hand!” Just to momentarily freak out the actor. I don’t know if he’d go as far as to have some fake blood handy, but hey its dark and I guarantee you the actor is tired as shit. He could fool ‘em. And then after, Ryan just turns to him “WHYYYYYYY?”

[fallingupwardsinlife]

headcanon that dylan gets that one prosthetic hand made by Alt Bionics and proceeds to replace every single finger with a different colored laser pointer for his cat

[grievedeeply]

hello :D could u maybe do some hcs on wht dylan lenivy would be like as a boyfriend nd what kinda stuff him and reader would do together

sure!! decided to combine this with another request because they're essentially the same thing. i hope you both enjoy!

gn!reader

tags: @alisblackgf @seasidesamir @pra-xiis @willowroom @evaavaughn @blackhoodlea @ziplokz | tag list form

tws: amputation (dylan's hand post game), mentioned violence but nothing descriptive

dating dylan lenivy headcanons (the quarry)

first off, he is so funny. he always knows just what to say to make you laugh and to cheer you up. he's the funniest person you've probably ever met and he knows it. he makes the strangest jokes ever but you always at least chuckle at them, just because it's him telling them

he's much more than just his jokes, though. he's compassionate and very caring. he's putting you before himself every chance he gets

dylan falls for you first. you're sweet to the kids and you're always checking up on him. you're able to read him really well. you know that his jokes are just a front right from the beginning

he confesses to you first and you almost think he's just being playful until you look up at him and see the completely serious expression on his face

it results in a long, heartfelt conversation about your feelings towards each other and you'd been dating ever since

when the events of the game happen, the two of you are stuck together like glue. you tell him, "if you die, i die" and he feels the insatiable urge to try to protect you

after dylan's hand gets cut off, he worries you won't like him anymore. of course, you reassure him and even make jokes about it to cheer him up. he thinks he's a fool for even thinking that you'd leave him because of his hand

as an amputee, he struggles with phantom pains (a pain that feels like it's coming from a body part that's no longer there). he pokes fun at it a lot, but you can tell that he's actually really scared because of the loss of his limb and having to adjust to a new life without it

he has to relearn how to do a lot of basic things with one hand and you're there for him every step of the way. he expresses his gratitude a lot. he'd be lost without you, and a lot more tears would be shed if he didn't have you around

he's definitely the type of guy to show you off to anyone. if someone even brings you up he goes, "oh yeah, my partner". he is so head over heels for you it annoys all of the other counselors

they're all really happy for both of you, don't get me wrong. dylan just rubs the fact that he got some in their faces (affectionately) and it makes jacob very frustrated

he's affectionate, both in public and in private. he's happy with PDA and he'll actually encourage it if it's something you're okay with. he does love to show you off, as mentioned before <3

an arm around your shoulders, his hand in yours, a light touch on your face to brush your hair away. he loves touching you, and it's one of his love languages

he's a gentle person. he can come off as loud and (slightly) annoying at first, but he's the opposite. he wants to be liked by people and usually just puts up an act in front of those he doesn't know that well in the beginning

he gives great hugs. they're so comforting. his height is an added bonus in any form of physical affection with him. he makes you feel so safe

dylan talks a lot about your future with him and it's clear that he wants to be with you for the rest of his life. he brings up marriage often and you just roll your eyes. you're both young, but you wonder what being married to him would be like

even though he makes jokes about 'wifing you up' (he'll use this term no matter your identity unless you don't like it), he actually means it. he's so serious about spending his life with you because he just adores you so much

he's defensive over you and your image, especially when you aren't around. he takes no one talking poorly about you and he makes it known that if someone has a problem with you, then that extends to him too

he's a great listener and he knows what to say to comfort you. he can be serious but his jokes also cheer you up a lot when you're feeling down

dylan's love for you is so obvious. he's completely fallen for you and you have him wrapped around your finger even if you don't realize it

he looks at you with the softest expression on his face and love in his eyes. he admires you and everything you do

he's so proud of you and he makes sure you know it. every time you do anything he's always telling you about how well you did it or how good it looks

he's never met anyone who understands him as well as you do. you never push him too far and you're checking in on him all the time, asking him about his day and how he's doing

it might be the bare minimum to some people, but you're doing that and more. if he's feeling bad, you bring him whatever he needs. he does the exact same for you

you both have a very heathy relationship and dylan knows for a fact that he found the one person destined for him

he's your number one fan <3 he plans on bothering (loving) you for a very long time

[dumps-write]

Shelter Jokes

→ Dylan Lenivy x GN Reader (Mostly Platonic btw.)

→ Just a Short Imagine

→ Synopsis: You and Dylan went inside the shelter of the lodge instead after almost getting mauled by Were-Emma, and Abi was the one who joined Kaitlyn in the Scrapyard Adventures.

→ Warnings: mentions of fetishes, slightly depressed dylan, amputee dylan, mentions of Rylan

“...”

The silence was too deafening in the dim basement, Dylan was clearly looking impatient and while you were looking back on the fact that you could've died back in the camp store as you got chased by a fucking werewolf, one wrong move and you would've definitely met your maker.

Dylan was no longer in shock but he still looked quite depressed at his missing hand, out of all of the people in the counselor's group — You were one of the worst in talking about feelings and does not actually know how to converse, probably even worse than that brooding Ryan.

“It’s been quite a night, huh, Dylan.” you said, a bit awkwardly to say the least but atleast it should clear or drift the tension away in the surrounding atmosphere.

Dylan’s still bloody face looked towards you, “Yeah, definitely not the P A R T we were planning just earlier before sunset.” he says, chuckling afterwards at his own misery.

“Cheer up, you’d look cool with a hook or a puppet for a hand.” You said, smiling sympathetically, trying to lighten the now-frowning man.

“And you never know, Ryan maybe into hook for hands.” you mumble under your breath, Dylan catching wind of what you just said, laughing a bit.

“Well, he already has a pirate type or whatever — girl with an eyepatch.” he responds disappointedly, to which you couldn't help but feel a slight pity for him. You made a sound somewhere between a light-hearted laugh and a sigh, “Well, there's always an after to this — maybe you can ask him out, finally get his number.” you comforted in a soft tone; or atleast try to at the very least.

“Heh, gotta focus on myself after this first and then then decide what to do with my love life, but I guess, a man who separated my hand from the rest of my body and then the next day, get married on the spot, adopt four children and get this....”

You listened to Dylan’s rant that took a turn from a depressing one to a humourous one, Dylan leaned over and made some hand movements.

“Get a werewolf fetish! See it would make for quite a romantic movie.” he continues, slowly smiling after his delivery of an anticlimactic cliffhanger unto his punchline.

“Okay. We're done here.” you said, rolling your eyes and laughing under your breath as Dylan finally returned to his blasè self.

“Well, what about you, a worse brooder and loner than Ryan? What happened to you anyway?” Dylan asked, his hand gesturing to his own skin but is signaling for your injuries in those parts; scratch marks on your shoulder and also on your left leg

“It’s fine, really. The werewolf really wanted me. Maybe I... looked like fried chicken to them” you say, goofing your eyes a bit — cracking jokes of a scary experience.

Dylan lets out a small giggle at that, so instead of getting those silver bullets on the ground near the breaker — you're both busy cracking jokes.

[dddomenstarstwst]

In a comfort of your arms tonight

@bluepladin here you go😘

Dylan loved Ryan. Ryan loved Dylan. It was as simple as that. And neither of them stopped the other when a make out session progressed into something more. However, the events of that night were still fresh in the memories of both of them.

Or Dylan has a panic attack while him and Ryan have their first sex.

Genre: suggestive, angst, fluff (i put suggestive and not full smut, cuz it's still there, but nothing super explicit)

Warnings: Dylan x Ryan, amputee Dylan, panic attack, tears, description of flashback in the radio hut, Ryan tries to comfort Dylan (a little awkward or not), descriptions of sex (just a little ig)

It started sweet, with Ryan and Dylan having a sleepover at Lenivy's house. They watched some shit show Dylan found funny. Ryan would be lying, if he sad the show wasn't annoying, but he kept quiet for the sake of his boyfriend's enjoyment.

Yes. His boyfriend.

After that hellish nightmare, they managed to keep in touch. Ryan finally gave Dylan his number, much to the latter's happy grin and side looks. It was visible Dylan was ecstatic and nervous. He begged Erzahler for his phone number for two whole months, but who knew it would only take him to lose a hand to get it.

Ryan frowned at the flashback. He never wanted to cut Dylan's hand off, he only did it because the taller male told him to. But deep down he knew, that if he didn't, then watching Lenivy suffer from the curse would have been much more painful. For the both of them.

"Why the frown?" Ryan snapped his head to the left, from where he heard the voice. Dylan was looking at him, concerned and fidgety. "Did I do something wrong? Do you not like the show? We can change it, I can–"

"Hey, hey. Woah. No, the show's cool, I just– Uhm..." How could he tell his boyfriend he was just having a flashback of that night. He couldn't bring himself reminding Dylan of that. Ryan unconsciously looked at the stump. "I just thought about how we never had the chance to kiss for real. Yeah."

Dylan looked dumbfounded. He blinked twice, thrice. And then it clicked. "Oh. Oh! Ahaha! Is that what you were thinking, you naighty? Ryan, you never pegged as the flirty type!" Lenivy was blushing, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. His eyes darted to the TV screen, then to Ryan's face, to his hand and to the TV again.

Cute.

"Maybe you would like to try now? If you're comfortable, of course." Genius, Ryan. That would totally set the right mood, and prevent Dylan from remembering about his cut-off limb.

"Well... I wouldn't be opposed to the idea. Come here, my boyfriend." A brunette intertwined fingers with the shorter male, and moved closer, faces inches from each other. The kiss was sweet at first, gentle and deep. But the sexual tension in the room done its thing, and soon Ryan was exploring Dylan's mouth with his tongue.

The room was hot, and so were they. Dylan grabbed Erzahler's shoulder with his remaining hand, moaning into the kiss. "Fuck, Ryan!" Their minds were cloudy, and neither of them noticed when their shirts flew to the ground. Ryan grinded on Lenivy's crotch, earning a groan from the man below.

"Let's get these outta our way, yeah?" Fuck, how Dylan loved that deep, ruspy voice. He swore he could cum here and then just from Ryan talking dirty. "Here, let me help you, baby." And he is so caring! Dylan def hit the most devious lick of them all. Suck ass, Laura.

Yes, he still was jealous. No, he has no shame.

Dylan gasped at the sudden jolt of pleasure. He looked down to where Ryan's hand was stroking both their cocks. Fuck. Okay. Breathe, Lenivy. It's big, but you can take it. Probably. "Like what you see, hm?"

"Oh, don't even mention it. Just a little nervous." Ryan's other hand stroke Dylan's hair. It was nice and comforting. It was nice having both hands, he guessed. Something he would never ever have the pleasure of knowing again. Dylan tensed, his fingers digging into Ryan's shoulder.

"I need to work you open, okay?" Dylan nodded. He was quiet, but Ryan thought it was all nerves. He slowed his actions, not stopping, but giving his boyfriend the opportunity to stop things himself. Lenivy looked so serious, and not that Erzahler imagined him to goof around even in sex, but he wasn't prepared for that level of seriousness.

Dylan felt a finger enter him, not too painful, but still uncomfortable. He wished he had his other hand to run down Ryan's torso, or stroke his cheek, or hold his hand. He wished he wasn't so useless and helpless. What is he capable of now!? What if Ryan started dating him of pity? Because he thinks Dylan won't be able to live normally now. Yes. That's why he gave him his number. That's why he's touching him. Why else?

"Dylan? Hey, look at me. Why are crying? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry." Huh? He didn't notice when the shorter male's finger left him. Was he crying? When did he start crying? Will Ryan think he's weak and weird? No, no, no, he didn't want that!

"I'm fine! We can continue! Come on, I need this, you need this!" Dylan grabbed Ryan's hand, bringing it back to their dicks. The tears were still streaming down his face. He can't let Ryan think less of him. He can't let him leave, because Dylan is disabled, he can't–

"Dylan! Look at me!" Ryan grabbed his shaking figure, face so close to his own. "Dylan. Baby. Please, you need to calm down, you're working yourself up. Listen to my voice, it's okay. I'm here. I'm safe, you're safe. I'm don't want to hurt you, and I don't want you to hurt yourself. Please."

Lenivy felt like an idiot, Ryan was right. He always is. He was right, when he said they needed to stay in the cottage, and he is right this time. They're safe now. No werewolves, no chainsaws. But Dylan still remembers it, - that feeling, that pain. The blood everywhere on the wooden floor, his clothes and body. He remembered looking at the cut-off limb, lying on the floor. He still has nightmares of that night, he still wakes up in cold sweat, because every god damn time he has nightmares where he loses his god damn hand.

Dylan sobs loudly, flashbacks like a thunder piercing his memory. He clings to Ryan, head buried in the latter's neck. He was shaking like a leaf, crying out loud. Erzahler felt his heart break into million little pieces. He hugged the taller male, whispering little reassurances in his ear.

"It's okay, i know it hurts. I know you feel like you're broken and helpless, i feel that too. But it's okay, I'm here for you, I'll help you overcome this. I love you, and I care about you. I won't let you suffer again. I'm sorry I had to cut off your hand. I'm sorry I left you and went with Laura to look for Chris. I'm sorry it took me so long to return back. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Ryan felt tears dwell in his own eyes. He was scared for life when he grabbed that chainsaw, when he had to leave Dylan, when he heard about scrapyard situation, when he heard about Caleb. He was scared to lose Dylan. It was all supposed to be fun, just another night. Not– That!

"I don't blame you..." Lenivy sniffed once. He was stroking Ryan's hair. "I don't blame you for anything. You saved my life. Thank you. And thank you for comforting me. I love you." Dylan gave his boyfriend a reassuring smile, wiping tears from his face. "Sorry, I ruined sexy vibes. Will it be okay, if we try another time?"

"More than okay. Let's watch another episode of that shitty show you chose and cuddle."

"Hey! It's a very funny show! You wound me, baby!"

"Whatever you say, haha. Love you" Ryan hugged Dylan, bringing him closer and kissing his temple.

"I love you too."

[stressedanimal]

i could just sit and enjoy your company // 2187 words

Ship: Ryan Erzahler/Dylan Lenivy

Tags: Domestic Fluff, Post-Canon, Amputee Dylan Lenivy, the boys go on a late night Walmart run, what more could you want

Rating: General Audience

Summary:  Ryan “love language is quality time” Erzahler drives his boyfriend, Dylan “love language acts of service” Lenivy to Walmart late on a Wednesday night to satisfy some cravings.

(notes: you can either read below or click here to read on ao3. title from lonely eyes by the front bottoms)

Ryan's door burst open, causing him to jump and almost drop his drawing tablet. Ryan looked up to see Dylan standing in the doorway, one hand on the door handle, with his other arm leaning on the doorframe. The light from the hallway illuminated Dylan’s silhouette, but the darkness of Ryan’s room shadowed Dylan’s face, so Ryan couldn’t make out his expression. What he could see though, was Dylan's hair was sticking up in the most adorable bedhead, which Ryan noted was unfairly cute.

Without moving from the doorway, Dylan slapped his hand around the wall until he found the light switch, flicking it on. Ryan blinked a couple of times, his eyes adjusting to the light. Dylan was staring intensely at Ryan, but his eyes seemed to be unfocused at the same time. He looked like he just woke up, and he probably did, considering the last time Ryan saw him he was dozing off on the couch.

“Uh hey, what's up?” Ryan asked tentatively.

“I think,” Dylan started slowly, “If I don’t eat a cupcake in the next hour, I am going to die.”

Ryan peered at the time on his tablet. “Uhh, it’s like, 9 o’clock at night, what cupcake shop would even be open right now?”

Dylan groaned and banged his head on the doorframe next to him. “I don’t know,” Dylan whined, dragging out the O sound on his words. They sat in silence for a moment, and Ryan could basically see the gears turning in Dylan's brain. Suddenly Dylan whips his head over to look at Ryan exclaiming, “Walmart!”

“Huh?”

“What about Walmart? They probably have cupcakes. Will you please drive me to Walmart?”

Ryan thought for a moment. With Dylan looking at him with the most irresistible puppy eyes he had ever seen, there was no way he could say no.

“Fine,” Ryan deadpanned, trying to act like wandering around Walmart on a Wednesday night with his boyfriend wasn’t the ideal Wednesday night. Because it definitely was.

Dylan looked at Ryan as the goofiest smile stretched across his face. Ryan had to fight the urge to smile back, and failed, allowing the corners of his lips to twitch up.

“Thank you, oh my god Ryan you just saved my life. Let me just go change and then we can go,” Dylan said, running out of Ryan’s room.

_

   Dylan rolled down the car window as Ryan pulled out of their apartment complex, enjoying the feeling of the hot summer air gliding over his arm. Dylan had his arm leaning on the door, tapping his fingers to the beat of the music. He was playing an indie playlist he kept for late-night drives like this.

   Dylan glanced over at Ryan. Every passing streetlight illuminated the soft curves of his nose and lips, and the definition of his jawline. Dylan drank up the sight, and it wasn’t long before Ryan glanced over at Dylan, catching him staring. Ryan flashed Dylan a brief smile, and then reached over with one hand and squeezed Dylan's thigh. Dylan smiled back, removing his arm from the car door, and reaching across his body to take hold of Ryan's hand. Dylan brought it up to his face and kissed the back of Ryan’s hand before interlocking their fingers best he could and letting their hands drop into his lap.

_

The drive was short; Dylan had barely played two songs before they were parking and getting out of the car. Ryan quickly shut his car door and walked around his car to meet Dylan on the other side. He brushed his arm against Dylan’s, reaching to hold Dylan's hand again. As they were walking up towards the doors, Ryan noticed that the parking lot was pretty empty; there were only a couple cars other than theirs in it.

Once they were inside Ryan noticed the fluorescent lights were almost oppressive, and no matter how many times Ryan blinked he still felt like he was staring into the sun. Before he could even say anything though, Dylan was voicing his thoughts.

“Is it just me or do these lights feel like they’re stabbing your eyeballs?”

“Was just thinking the same thing. Feels like we’re in the backrooms.”

Dylan gave a small laugh and nodded, “Exactly.”

Dylan guided them to the left towards the bakery, but to Ryan’s surprise they walked right past it.

“Wait Dyl, the bakery’s right there?” Ryan stated almost as a question, pointing to the baked goods that were getting further and further behind them.

“Yeah I know, but a Walmart run isn’t complete without looking at the toys,” Dylan stated matter-of-factly. Ryan rolled his eyes at Dylan, but didn’t protest, letting Dylan continue to guide them towards the toy section.

Once they got to the toy section Ryan let Dylan pull him up and down the aisles. Dylan was pointing out anything cute or funny he saw along the way, like the adorable bunny Calico Critters, or weird slime toys.

“I feel so old, I don’t recognize any of these toys,” Ryan said, running his free hand along the toy boxes. Dylan looked to one of the shelves, and picked up an egg shaped toy.

“What do you mean? Didn’t you love Zuru Rainbocorns Sparkle Heart Surprises as a kid?” Dylan joked, holding the toy up for Ryan to see. He turned it back towards himself to read the label closer,  “Holy shit Ryan, there’s even surprise boo-boocorn stamps!” Ryan laughed and shook his head, and Dylan smiled lovingly at him, placing the egg toy back onto the shelf.

They moved on, rounding the corner to find the aisle that was taken up mainly by Lego. Dylan pointed out all the cute Minecraft Lego sets to Ryan, and got extremely excited over the chicken Minecraft Lego set (Ryan stored that in his memory for later). Near the end of the aisle a Lego set caught Ryan’s eye; a cute haunted house with little ghosts. He picked it up off the shelf, inspecting the box while Dylan continued down and disappeared into the next aisle. After a moment, Ryan heard Dylan gasp from the aisle over.

“Oh my god Ryan, you have to come see this,” Dylan’s voice rang out from the other aisle, sounding extremely excited. Ryan put down the Lego box and rounded the end of the aisle to where Dylan was standing. Dylan’s face was lit up with child-like joy, and he was holding up a mini version of a Walmart brand shopping cart.

“No way,” Ryan said, in minor amazement. It was an exact replica of a Walmart shopping cart, down to every last detail. Dylan looked at the cart in his hand, contemplating.

“You think I could ride them like roller skates?” he asked, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face.

“Dyl, do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well… I won’t stop you.”

Dylan smiled, placing the one he already had on the floor, and then grabbed another one off the shelf. He placed it on the floor as well, positioning them so he could easily step into them.

“C’mere, let me use you for balance,” Dylan asked, beckoning Ryan closer. Ryan shuffled closer to him, letting Dylan grab his shoulders, and lean his weight on him. He shoved his feet into the little carts, and then slowly let go of Ryan. Ryan stepped back to give him some space. Dylan’s eyebrows were scrunched in concentration as he slowly straightened his back.

“Oh, oh, I'm doing it, Ryan, I’m doing it,” Dylan exclaimed with excitement. His arms were spread out keeping his balance as he tentatively shifted one foot in front of the other, slowly rolling down the aisle. He must have made the wrong move because suddenly his weight quickly shifted forwards. Dylan tried to catch himself by leaning backwards, but accidentally overcompensated and leaned back way too far causing the little carts to shoot his feet out from under him. He fell, landing on his back; one of the carts stayed on his foot and smashed onto the ground while the other was flung off his foot, and landed extremely loudly a couple of meters away. Dylan let out a wheeze and Ryan, well, Ryan was laughing.

Ryan was laughing hard , like actually genuinely laughing. He sank down to his knees in front of Dylan, managing to get out, “Are you okay?” through his laughter.

“Babe. I’ve just been killed by mini Walmart shopping carts and you’re laughing, I just died and you’re laughing ,” Dylan said, trying to stay serious. However, Ryan’s laugh seemed to be infectious, and Dylan started laughing too.

“I know, I know. It’s just, I can’t stop,” Ryan said, still laughing, his voice unusually high. He reached out his hand and placed it on Dylan’s shoulder. “Are you okay though?”

Dylan lets out a small chuckle, “Yeah, uh, looks like I fell for you.”

“Dumbass,” Ryan whispered, shaking his head, not an ounce of malice in his voice. He leaned back, wiping a tear from his eye, and taking a deep breath, finally controlling his laughter. Ryan then looked up and down the aisle, which was surprisingly still empty.

“Okay, let's get out of here before we get yelled at by an employee,” Ryan said, standing up and offering Dylan his hand.

“No doubt,” Dylan agreed, taking Ryan’s hand. As he stood up he untangled the remaining cart from foot, and put it back on the shelf. Once he was back on his feet, Ryan let go of Dylan's hand to retrieve the other cart, also returning it to where it belonged. They interlaced their fingers back together, and Dylan led them back in the direction of the bakery.

Dylan was surprisingly fast at choosing his cupcakes. He walked down the aisle, looking at the cupcakes with an almost cold and calculating expression. He then picked up a container of vanilla cupcakes with blue and pink icing, and then was booking it towards the self-checkout.

Dylan quickly clicked through the options on the self-checkout till, scoffing when it asked for a donation.

“Never donate to Walmart, because you know what they do? They take your money, donate it, but then write it off on THEIR taxes as a donation so they get the tax-cut for it. Stinky capitalists,” Dylan explained. Ryan just hummed in response, because he got the same explanation from Dylan every time they went through the self-checkout. He thinks it might be like when you know a fun fact, and you absolutely need to bring it up everytime it’s relevant. Like how Dylan also explains that the guy breaks his toes kicking the helmet in that one Lord of the Rings scene every time they watch through the movies.  

Dylan clicked the Debit option, and the automated voice rang out, “ Follow the instructions on the pin pad.”

“Follow the instructions on the pin-pad,” Dylan mocked back at the machine, “Fuck off.”

“Woah, what did she ever do to you?” Ryan asked in amusement.

“She sounds so condescending, I don’t trust her,” he retorted back, inserting his card into the machine.

“ Please tell us how we did today,” the machine asks after he finished paying.

“Fucking horrible,” Dylan said, snatching the receipt out of the machine. Ryan puffed air out of his nose in a laugh and followed Dylan towards the exit. Dylan was the only one who could make him laugh consistently like this, and boy was Ryan thankful for it. Joy was something that previously wasn’t a constant in his life, but with Dylan things felt so different. He added so much energy to Ryan’s life, he wasn’t sure he could ever go back to how it was before.

Dylan had barely gotten out the door before he was making Ryan hold the cupcake container so he could easily rip into the packaging and shove a cupcake in his mouth. Dylan was saying something about being ‘built different’ because they were ‘two-bite’ cupcakes, but he could eat them in one bite easy. However, Ryan wasn’t paying too much attention to that. The street lamps were illuminating Dylan’s face, the warm-toned light catching the mischievous glint in his eyes. As he spoke, his entire face was lit up with unbridled joy, and Ryan felt warmth spread through his chest. Dylan was so pretty.

As Ryan was staring at Dylan, he noticed that Dylan had a smear of pink icing on his lip from the cupcake. Ryan closed the container and carefully tucked it under his arm. He took Dylan’s hand, causing him to snap his attention to Ryan. He peered down at Ryan, a curious smile on his face. Rocking onto the balls of his feet, Ryan reached up and kissed Dylan, making sure to lick up the spot of icing off his lip. The icing spread across his tongue, making the kiss taste as sweet as it felt. He pulled away, and Dylan had that damn goofy smile on his face again.

He could see himself doing this forever with Dylan.

Forever with Dylan… sounded nice.

[milkywazze]

So its 3 am

My brain wanted to have me write this

Enjoy i guess.. and spoilers for the quarry

Mentions hospitals.. basically amputee dylan being fitted for a prosthetic hand. Sorry if i get anything wrong its like super short 😅

~~~

Dylan sat in the waiting room, playing with an app on his phone. He didn't bother to ask his mom to come.. he didn't want to talk about what happened at summer camp. He just told her it was a freak equipment accident.. and n o t the fact that he got slammed into the ceiling of a cabin while a werewolf was tearing up his hand, and that his crush had to cut it off with a chainsaw like some fucking zombie movie.

She accepted it, surprisingly enough. But of course she was skeptical. "Dylan lenivy?" He looked up from his phone. "the doctors ready to see you now." He got up, pocketing his phone as he followed the nurse into the back.

He settled down in the chair as he waited in the room, staring at the stump. He swore he could still feel that... Gunk.. crawling up his veins. He hated every second of it. Soon, the door had opened. This was his fourth and final visit.. the doctor held his new hand. "just like we talked about, dylan. Protective sleeves, and then your prosthesis." Dylan gave a nod. "of course, what do you take me for, doc? I got a steel trap up there." He knocked at his head with his right hand, chuckling softly.

He soon slid on the sleeves, and then slotted on the hand. He clicked it on, brows furrowing as the sensors lit up. This.. this was so weird... "So? How does it feel?" The doctor asked.

"..like.. nothing ever happened.. i.." dylan couldn't believe it. He slowly moved the index finger, going down the line. "... I can't believe it.." he laughed softly.

"well.. your parents saved a lot for this, so you better take care of it young man." The doctor pointed with her pen.

"yeah- yeah, of course i'll take care of it.. why wouldn't i..?" He chuckled.

He had his hand back... Well.. for the most part, anyways.