#The Quarry Fanfiction

[sorrowsofsilence]

The Quarry • bad omens gamefic

summary: [based on the video game The Quarry by Supermassive Game] Hacketts Quarry: the idyllic summer camp promising endless days of joy and unforgettable memories. But as the sun sets on your final night, sinister darkness descends upon you and your 7 closest friends, transforming the once-happy haven into a hellish nightmare of terror and fear. “The only thing worse than the blood-drenched locals and creatures hunting them are the choices you must make to help them survive.”

warnings: 18+, horror/thriller, supernatural (werewolves), depictions of gore/violence, death/murder, kissing (v mild)

note: This is a gamified fic, and I am testing the waters lol. The reader will also be gender neutral!

If you are interested and would like to be tagged, please let me know! I’ll still use my tags from my taglist, but this post will be the masterlist for the fic :) I plan to have it uploaded soon! You will choose the path you want to follow, so to make it easier to navigate, this will be the “main hub post” if you will. Xx

[queenofbaws]

Like Wringing Blood From a Stone an Until Dawn/The Quarry crossover by TheIcyQueen

Travis shot him a look. The sort that made it hard to tell whether his backpedaling had worked, or if he’d taken personal offense. He’d learned that shit from Mom. “Funny. Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, that’s all.” The coffee curdled in his gut, eating its way through the lining of his stomach. Despite being excruciatingly awake, the dream logic returned with a vengeance. He knew why Travis hadn’t slept last night. He’d been standing beside him at Amelia’s funeral. Here. In the lodge. Only a few steps away from where they were standing now. Being in the bedroom was too much. They were too close to that drawer, too close to her perfume. In a desperate bid to appear casual, Chris shrugged then stretched his arms wide in a yawn, turning around to guide them into his office instead. “Bad dreams?” he asked, startled at how very small his voice sounded. Travis took a couple steps after him, then stopped dead. When Chris glanced over his shoulder to see what the holdup was, the surprise on his face was obvious, dark circles or no. Somehow—inexplicably—it felt like an answer.

Chapter 24 now on AO3

[conspicuous-mending]

So I wrote a The Quarry Fanfiction . . .

I challenged myself to write an unofficial sequel to The Quarry that closed as many plot-holes as possible but stayed as true to the characters/lore as I could. I'd love for fans of the game to read it and let me know what they think!

Remember: What doesn't kill you will make you stronger!

[ghostradiodylan]

Ryan Erzahler found the entire concept of cryptids a lot more appealing before one of them took a bite out of his crush and left him to pick up the pieces.

Say something, Ryan urged himself, be supportive. Show concern.

“Does it hurt?” was the best he could come up with.

You cut his fucking hand off with a fucking chainsaw. Ryan cringed inwardly. That’s the stupidest fucking question anyone has ever asked. God, he was bad at this. Why was he so bad at this?

“Stings a bit, yeah,” Dylan smirked.

Wherein we reinvent the wheel and add yet another Radio Hut scene fiction into the world. I had fun, though.

[hackearneyexchange]

One week left to sign up for the Hackearney Fic Exchange (2023)!

Sign-ups close on Friday, May 19. Please refer to the exchange rules, sign-up guidelines, and FAQ for more information.

[dreamqueenkala]

Okay, so I’ve taken to replaying The Quarry just to nitpick the finer details and unused parts of the game, right? Well…I have made such a huge list of tiny details and unused sections that I actually believe I can create a whole new story just from this.

I’m genuinely intrigued enough and already started on the fanfiction, but it’ll take place at the start of summer with either one or two new characters…

Any ideas, thoughts, or anybody wanna be included?

[emma-nation]

The Curse Of Hackett's Quarry

Chapter 2 - The Hermit

Summary: After the events of a traumatic night, Emma Mountebank finds out she still a werewolf. While she learns how to deal with this new reality, new problems and feelings come to surface. Pairings: Emma/Abi, Emma/f!OC

Notes: Thanks for the comments and likes. It means a lot to me as it's the first fic I'm writing after a long break. I hope you enjoy what I've been planning for the next chapters! :)

Full Story:

The Hermit card generally indicates a period of soul-searching, introspection and solitude. A period of isolation attempting to heal from a difficult situation. 

The morning after her first transformation, Emma had a hard time cleaning herself before heading back to her dorm in college. She was so exhausted and sick that she missed classes for the next two days.

The second transformation by the end of October wasn't any easier, but she was more prepared this time. She knew what to expect and had enough time to improve the safety measures.

The third transformation was a little less painful. Emma started working out regularly, increasing it significantly by the week of the transformation. She wanted to run a few tests and it worked. The impact of the shifting was more bearable when her body was in a better shape. 

The last full moon of 2021 was the most terrible of all, considering Emma got very sick after waking up in the woods with her clothes torn off, during a cold Winter morning. 

She had never escaped from her restraints, so far. And with her mother being a dentist surgeon, she had no trouble stealing sedatives to keep the creature drowsy. Her priority at the moment was to find somewhere safe and warm where she could transform without any risks to herself or to other people. 

In her old bedroom, at her parents' house, she felt comfortable recording a video again. Not to post online or to show anyone. But she had to vent about everything that was going on.

"People are finally starting to forget about that fucking incident at that cursed Summer Camp. My respects to Mr. H and his family - I hope they found peace, but…" It was sincere. Emma liked Chris and his kids. She lamented their Summer ended in such a tragedy. She didn't know the rest of the family, but the other counselors, who had closer encounters with them, were scared. They seemed kinda dangerous. "I haven't. I'm not allowed to move on. That night will never end, at least for me."

At least the journalists stopped trying to contact Emma or her parents again. The negative comments about her around the internet decreased too. After an episode of the 'Bizarre Yet Bonafide' podcast about Hackett's Quarry Summer Camp, more people started to believe their innocence.

"Everyone else is moving on with their lives - Abi is going to Art School, Kaitlyn is traveling the world, Ryan has started his own podcast, Nick is taking a sabbatical year, Dylan is studying quantum physics and Jacob… well, fuck Jacob. I blocked him everywhere. The thing is, I wish I could do the same. But instead I'm… surviving. I'm learning to adapt to this new fucked up reality."

She hadn't told any of the other counselors she was still infected. No one had called her in months. Yet, she'd check their socials on a daily basis, searching for signs any of them could be struggling with the same issue. Which wasn't happening, after all she was the only one who was bitten by Silas Vorez. 

"And the question remains… if Silas is dead, why am I still infected?"

January 2022

There was a reminder flashing on Emma's cell phone screen. Full Moon. That was the reason why she had spent the whole morning working out hard. Now, she was starving and ready to devour as much food as she could. Her appetite had increased significantly that one time. 

"Hey, Abi," Emma attempted to call her best friend again while she followed to the campus restaurant. "How have you been? I… I'd love to hear from you. I can't wait to hear everything about Art School. Call me."

"Hello, Red Hood," she heard a familiar voice right behind her. Penelope Dalton. One of the popular girls who wouldn't leave Emma alone. "Who's Abi?"

She ignored the question. Back in High School, she used to be one of the popular girls too and she knew exactly how annoying and cruel they could be.

"Maybe she hasn't called yet because she was taken by the Big Bad Wolf," added Christina, one of Penelope's friends, raising giggles from the rest of their cliqué.

"Or maybe," Penelope continued, "she's a decent person who stood up by her friend, Jacob. After all, we know who caused that bloody fight in the camp, after a Truth or Dare game."

The incoming transformation always triggered Emma's worst moods. The mention of Jacob's name still ignited something inside her, feelings she was trying to bury. She automatically felt her skin burning, as well as the adrenaline pumping in her veins.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

Emma attempted to close her eyes and take a deep breath, fighting the urge to go feral and teach that girl a lesson. 

"Or what? Are you going to kill me and cry wolf ?"

Her attempt to be funny raised laughs. People were starting to reunite around them to watch the fight. 

Less than one second later, Emma's fist hit Penelope right in the eye. It'd certainly leave a nasty bruise.

"Your psychotic bitch! Look what you've done!"

Penelope advanced in her direction, pinning her to the ground, where she started pulling her hair. Emma's reflexes were increased due to her incoming transformation. Although Penelope was taller, soon Emma managed to switch positions and get on top of the girl, slapping her face hard.

It didn't take long for the campus security to arrive. In the end, Penelope only signed an incident report and Emma was punished with a disciplinary suspension. She was also warned about her recurring absences. 

During High School, Emma spent all those four years dreaming of college. Now, she didn't know if she wanted to be there anymore. She still could pursue her acting career without that.

After that Full Moon, she decided she wanted a break to find herself again. She decided to quit college and find herself a job. 

It wasn't an easy task. Not because she wasn't skilled, but whenever people ran a background check, she'd get rejected. People were still afraid of the negative attention her presence could bring.

That small diner in the heart of New York City was her last resort. 

"Name?" The owner, Addison Davies, asked while taking notes on a paper.

"Emma," she told, making a pause before adding her last name. "Mountebank."

The woman didn't seem to be paying too much attention, what gave her some hope. Maybe she wouldn't research her criminal records after all. 

"Do you have any experience as a waitress, Emma?"

"No, but I'm a quick learner. I'm also an aspiring actress, which means I have a lot of charisma dealing with people."

She was about to speak about her experience as counselor, where all the kids adored her. But she stopped herself. 

"An aspiring actress?"

"Yes. I signed up for a few auditions but while I don't have anything in sight, I need another source of income."

"When can you start?"

"Right now?" Emma furrowed her brows, already expecting another rejection.

It didn't happen. Either that woman didn't read the news or she really didn't care. 

"Great, come with me and I'll show you what to do."

Addison was very satisfied to see how good she was doing and how quick she learned. She never asked any questions about Emma's past. She even agreed to give her an extra day off, during one specific day of the month. 

Getting a new place to live was Emma's next goal. Her parents weren't happy when she dropped out of college. Living under the same roof was becoming impossible. They argued most part of the time. For many years, Emma did everything to please her parents and fulfill their expectations, but right now, she had other priorities in mind.  

During her free time at the diner, she'd check the newspaper for announcements.

"Looking for a place to live?" Jenna was Emma's co-worker. She treated her well since the first day, giving her some useful tips. They were becoming good friends. 

"Yes, do you happen to know any?"

"One of my roommates just moved out after graduating. Ben and I could really use somebody else to help with rent."

Benjamin also worked on the diner. He was more quiet and introspective, but very friendly. 

"Do you mind if I check it tonight?"

They lived in a studio apartment. The bedroom was large and comfortable, but what caught Emma's attention the most was the basement she noticed once she entered the building. According to Jenna, it was always locked and never used by anyone. That could be the solution to all of her problems. During the Full Moon nights, she could just lock herself in there.

"Do you think the landlord would rent it for me?"

"I don't know, you could speak to him but… why?"

"I… uh… I could use some space to record my videos and rehearse for my auditions, you know?"

Jenna didn't ask any further questions. Emma spoke to the landlord in the same week she moved to the studio. After selling her car, she paid him some cash to have exclusive access to the basement. As well as the permission to make a few adjustments.

Emma had everything prepared for the next Full Moon. Metal chains to restrain her body were installed in the basement. She didn't want the risk of an accident, in case somebody ever decided to open that door to investigate possible noises. There was also a small bathroom in there that she could use to clean herself when she became human again.

"What kind of videos are you recording down here?" Ben was in the basement, holding one of the chains attached to the walls. Wondering if she had forgotten to lock the door, Emma almost dropped the supplies she was carrying downstairs - snacks, water and fresh clothes.

"Horror. I'm really into horror movies and… I've been doing some auditions for a role in the genre."

"Every once in a month?"

She let out a breath. It was obvious they'd notice someday, but she didn't expect it to be so fast.

"Huh?" In that moment, Emma prayed she was really a good actress. She forced a confused expression. "What are you talking about? I come here everyday. When you're still at the diner."

"You were in a terrible mood earlier today," Ben crossed his arms, staring at her with a suspicious look on his face. "And you're the most cheerful and energetic person I've ever met."

"Have you ever heard of PMS?"

Benjamin let out a small laugh, before adding:

"You lost control of your strength and accidentally smashed a glass in your hand this morning."

"I'm a little clumsy sometimes," Emma lied again. 

"You made a deal with our boss that you couldn't take night shifts on one specific day of the month and the following morning," she never assumed they'd notice that one detail. "Each one of these nights have Full Moons."

She raised her hands defeated. Ben didn't look scared or even upset. He didn't even show any surprise.

"Don't tell anyone. Please? I'll find another place to live. I just need some time."

"I can help you, Em."

"What?! Why?! Are you out of your mind? I have no control of myself. I'll kill you."

Benjamin sat on a chair and asked Emma to sit too, in front of him.

"West Virginia. My uncle. One night he was hunting in the woods, when he got bitten," he started telling. "At first we assumed it was an animal, but… after that he'd transform every Full Moon. We had to keep an eye on him, to prevent him from slaughtering people."

"And…" Emma stared into his eyes. "Is he cured now? Did you find a way to break the curse?"

"He went missing," Ben answered after a mournful pause. "Dead. Most likely. The neighbors started noticing something was off."

Emma swallowed dry. If she wasn't careful enough, that could be her fate too.

"Do you think anybody else noticed something is wrong about me?"

"No, I only noticed because I became familiar with the signs. But you should tell Jenna. She's at nursing school, she could help you with the tranquilizers."

And like that, her roommates became her 'Wolf Pack', as Emma liked to call them. They didn't mind covering her shifts or staying awake monitoring her werewolf form through the cameras they installed in the basement. A shotgun with silver shells was always prepared in case the worse scenario happened. 

The mornings after her transformation were the worst. Emma would feel exhausted and sore. She'd spend hours under the shower, where she'd let her emotions flow. No one had seen her crying yet. All the time, she acted tough and confident. No one could tell there was something so traumatic going on in her life. But in the loneliness of the early hours of those mornings, she felt like a scared lonely child.

April, 2022

After months of agony and misery, everything seemed to be falling in place, but Emma still couldn't feel like herself. She'd still attempt to record videos as she used to do in the past. But it wasn't the same. Her venting always came back to the same subject. She couldn't even post that online - people would assume she had definitely lost her sanity. But at least it was a good kind of therapy.

Ben and Jenna were helping her with an extensive research, but she couldn't find any clues that lead to an explanation of why she was still infected.

"Ugh," she placed her laptop away from her. "Not even the detective I hired could find any information about Eliza and Silas Vorez. It's like they never existed."

"They were probably using fake names," Ben suggested. "The woman kept the guy caged like an animal. That's certainly illegal."

"We should try a psychic someday," Jenna said. "Do you think they'd know anything about werewolves?"

"I doubt it."

"The Deep Web?"

"Oh, no. Ben taught me how to access it and I found some very… disturbing stuff there."

"I warned you about the werewolf kink," Ben said, letting out a laugh.

"Please, don't say it again," Emma made a disgusted face. "I wish I could unsee it."

"Anyways, it's your birthday tonight and we should definitely go out to celebrate."

It was the first time Emma wasn't excited for her birthday. All the previous years she'd throw wild parties and crowd her house with friends. Now, she barely left the apartment. She was either working at the diner, researching werewolves and once in a while, she'd sign up for auditions. So far, her only work as an actress was a small internet ad she did to promote Addison's diner.

"Happy birthday to me," Emma spoke to her cell phone's camera later, when she was lying in bed. "I turned nineteen today. Yay!"

"It was different from my other birthdays. I didn't get so many messages or gifts. No wild parties either. No, crazy parties actually. I don't like the word 'wild' anymore, now it reminds me of…"

She didn't finish. It was always hard to say it aloud. Even to herself. 

"I went out with Ben and Jenna to try to forget about… that thing . Sometimes I can allow myself to act like a normal girl and have some fun. I met some people during our night outs. Guys and girls too. But dating is not an option right now."

"I mean… how am I supposed to even squeeze a relationship among all this crazy shit that has been happening to me? I know some freaks have a werewolf kink but I bet they'd run away the second I burst into that bloody mess of a monster."

"There's one person though… nevermind."

She turned off the camera. The person she had in mind hadn't even called her yet. Not even to wish her a happy birthday. 

June, 2022

It was the beginning of another Summer. Almost one year had passed since that last night at Summer Camp. Emma was on her lunch break when got a call from an unknown number. Her heart skipped a beat - she was expecting a call about an audition she had done a few days later. But she never imagined the voice on the other side of the line would ruin that little balance she was attempting to keep in her inner world.

"Emma? It's me, Abi."

"A-Abi?" The corners of her mouth curled up in a smile. "It's… uh… it's been a long time. How have you been?"

"I'm home from college and I was wondering if you'd like to hangout."

[daryltwdixon]

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Tension at camp is nothing new, but after Daryl nearly takes a swing at Shane, you pull him away to the quarry, offering a distraction that quickly turns into something else entirely.

Tags: smut MDNI, pinv, fem reader, pullout method, kissing, public(ish) sex, outdoor sex, quickie, quarry!daryl, protective!daryl, husband!daryl, shane ‘tell ya what’ walsh is an ass what's new, little bit of praise kink, established relationship, sweet relationship, age gap mentioned but not specified

a/n: I’ve been watching season 1 on repeat too often. I remember when I didn’t think quarry Daryl was that cute and now I’m FERAL for the man. Top 3 fave versions of this man that’s for damn certain. thank you for reading!! lmk what you think!

The smell of campfire smoke was thick in the air, clinging to your clothes, your skin, following you no matter where you sat. It was the first time in a while you’d joined the others instead of sitting around the separate fire Merle usually built on the other side of camp. But with him gone on a recent run into the city with a few of the others, along with the sight of the pile of fish Andrea and Amy had hauled in, you told Daryl the best way to get a bite was to play nice and sit with the group—unless, of course, he wanted squirrel stew for the fifth night in a row.

But now, sitting there, you were starting to regret that decision.

Even with the world gone to hell and class lines erased overnight, some things hadn’t changed. They still shrank away from you, their discomfort as thick as the smoke curling through the air. And Daryl? They didn’t just avoid him. They dismissed him. Ignored him. Like he wasn’t worth a second glance.

You didn’t pay it any mind. You were used to people underestimating him, used to them not seeing him for who he really was. Beneath the sharp stares and sharper tongue, he was a good man. Your man. And these people—they’d never understand that.

The sun dipped lower, setting the valley in a wash of pink and orange, the glow of the fire growing brighter with every passing minute. Conversations murmured around you, voices low as they discussed camp security—how to reinforce their perimeter, how to keep the geeks out. So far, they’d been lucky, nestled deep in the woods with none of the dead stumbling through just yet.

Still, that luck wouldn’t last forever.

You shifted, glancing toward the tree line. “We could set up noise traps,” you offered. “Tin cans, broken glass—something to warn us if somethin’s comin’.”

The second the words left your mouth, Shane, a man with dark eyes and even darker scowl, scoffed as he paused mid conversation with another resident. You barely had time to blink before he turned on you, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you’d had the audacity to speak up.

“Yeah? That what you think?” He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Tell you what, next time I need advice on how to run this place, I’ll be sure to come find you, sweetheart.”

The word dripped with condescension, slow and deliberate.

Your lip curled, rolling your eyes as you turned away. “Dick,” you muttered under your breath.

Shane barely let a beat pass before he fired back, voice laced with smug amusement.

“Better watch your lil’ backwoods girl there, Dixon,” he sneered, dark eyes flicking toward Daryl. “Might just have to give her somethin’ to scoff about with that mouth on ‘er.”

Silence hushed over the group like an uneasy wave. The fire popped, the only sound in the sudden, tense stillness as the eyes of everyone in the camp turned to look at you.

There was a loud scrape of metal groaning, Daryl’s lawn chair shoving back under him as he stood abruptly.

“The hell d’you just say, asshole?” he snapped, voice sharp as steel.

Shane barely flinched. His jaw worked, tension coiled tight in his shoulders, but instead of rising to the fight, he let out a slow breath through his nose. He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head.

“Christ, Dixon,” he muttered, voice low, measured, not even smug, just tired. “Ain’t gotta get all riled up. Was just a joke.”

Daryl’s hands curled into fists. “Yeah? Didn’t sound like one.”

Shane exhaled hard, eyes flicking around at the others watching before landing back on Daryl. His expression hardened.

"Ain't my fault you can't take a joke, Dixon. Least when your brother was here, we didn't have to listen to you run your mouth. He at least kept you on your side of camp.”

Daryl’s knuckles went white, his fists clenching tighter as he glared. Across the fire, Shane held his gaze, eyes steady—calm, almost—but there was a challenge in them, a quiet go on, do it lingering beneath the surface, prodding without a word.

You felt the fight still coiled tight in Daryl’s body as you wrapped your fingers around his upper arm, could feel the way his muscles flexed under your grip, the way his whole damn being was strung tight. You stepped in closer, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “Come on,” you murmured, his body warm as your hand curled tighter around his bicep, firm but gentle. “Let’s get outta here.”

Daryl didn’t move at first, his breathing still uneven, his fists still clenched.

Then, finally, he exhaled sharply and let you pull him back, turning away from the fire, from the camp, from the people who would never understand either of you.

The sun's dying light stretched long over the jagged rocks of the valley below, the water rippling in deep, coppery hues as you walked down to the quarry to get your mind off the argument at the firepit. 

When you finally got to the bottom, Daryl leaned against a boulder, his face half-lit in the glow of dusk. He'd been quiet most of the evening, despite his blow up earlier, deep blue eyes flicking to you like he was chewing on something he didn’t quite know how to spit out.

You stepped in front of him, close enough to smell the sweat and earth clinging to his shirt, the faint scent of pine from the day hunting. "I’m sorry about…about whatever that was,”

His jaw ticked. “Ain’t nothin’ for you to apologize for,” he muttered, but he wasn’t looking at you, gaze fixed somewhere past your shoulder. “Dickhead don’t even know good advice if it hit ‘em upside the head.”

You sighed, reaching up to brush a short lock of hair from his forehead. He let out a breath, more like a huff than anything, barely audible, but you caught it.

“You always get like this when you’re thinking too hard,” you teased softly. “What is this really about?”

His lips pressed together, jaw working, like he was still chewing on the words. Then, as natural as breathing, his fingers found your waist, rough and certain, pulling you in just a little closer.

“Just don’t want ‘em talkin’ to ya like that,” he admitted, voice gruff, quieter than the night settling around you. “Like you ain’t worth listenin’ to. Like you ain’t got a damn brain in your head. They only do it ‘cause you’re with me.”

Your chest ached at the frustration in his voice, the way it came out stiff, like he hated even saying it out loud.

“Daryl…”

“They already look at me like I don’t belong here,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Ain’t gonna let ‘em do that to you too.”

You cupped his jaw, fingers grazing over the rough stubble, waiting until he finally looked at you. His blue eyes were sharp, searching, like he was waiting for you to tell him he was wrong.

“I don’t give a shit what they think,” you murmured. “I chose you. You get that, right?”

Daryl swallowed hard, something flickering across his face–vulnerable and open, his brute mask slipping now that it was just the two of you. His grip on you tightened, his body pressing just a little closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“I ain’t gonna let ‘em make you feel small,” he muttered, almost more to himself than to you.

Your chest ached at the way he said it, like he wasn’t sure how to handle the way he cared. Like the thought of letting them think so little of you was gnawing at the edges of his mind. Your thumb traced over his skin as you held his face, grazing over his bottom lip, his chin, until you leaned in.

“You don’t have to,” you murmured, lips barely ghosting over his. “I know who I am. And I know who you are. Even if they can’t see it.”

His blue eyes caught to yours, something different in them, something raw and sweet that no one else was ever allowed to see. Then, before you could say another word, his mouth was on yours, sweet and gentle, lips chapped but insistent. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but the fast, unsteady rhythm of your heartbeats.

You melted into him, hands sliding around his neck, letting the kiss ignite into need and heat, letting him pour everything into it—his frustration, his fear, the love he wasn’t good at putting into words. The quarry was silent except for the quiet rush of the wind over the water and the uneven breaths you shared between kisses.

When he finally pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he took a long moment just to breathe as he closed his eyes. His hands stayed on you, gripping you tightly against him, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged across your lips.

"Thinkin' too hard again?" you whispered.

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Shut up," he muttered, but his lips brushed yours again, even softer this time, like he couldn’t help himself.

No one understood Daryl like you did. Not the folks at camp, not the people who side-eyed him like he was nothing but trouble, not even his own damn brother.

Thing was, no one really tried to know Daryl. They saw the brittle edges, the temper, the way he kept to himself. They saw the bickering between him and Merle, the way he came back from hunts with blood on his hands, all silent and brooding.

But you saw the man beneath all that.

Before the world turned upside down, you saw him for what he truly was. Gentle in ways he didn’t realize, kind in ways he never gave himself credit for. A man who had spent his whole life bracing for a fight, wearing his rough edges like armor, until you came along and showed him there was more to life than just surviving, even before the dead came back to life.

You were younger, but that never mattered to you. And once you finally convinced him that nothing—not even a pesky thing like an age gap, and definitely not his own doubts of whether he was good for you—was going to stop you from being with him, you watched him… soften. Let you in. 

You saw him on lazy summer afternoons, stretched out in the bed of his truck, hands behind his head, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he stared up at the sky. You saw him when he picked you up for late-night drives, old country rock humming low from the radio, one hand on the wheel, the other resting warm on your thigh.

Back then, he was just a man trying to carve out a place in a world that had never been kind to him. A man with rough hands but a soft touch when they traced the curve of your back. A man who met the world with a scowl but looked at you like you were a miracle—something precious, something his, something he’d spend a lifetime trying to deserve.

You remembered the nights he’d come to you after a bad fight with Merle, his knuckles split, his jaw clenched. He’d never talk about it, never tell you what happened—but he’d let you run your fingers through his hair, let you patch him up in the glow of your bedside lamp.

“You’re too good for me,” he’d mutter sometimes, voice low, like he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear it. Like he was afraid that this time you’d believe him and run for the hills.

And you’d brush your fingers through his hair, tilt his chin so he had no choice but to meet your eyes.

"You don’t get to decide that," you’d tell him, voice warm, certain.

He never argued. Just pulled you close, held onto you like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

And now, here in the middle of the world ending, he still held onto you like that.

The way those rough, calloused hands could still be careful, still be tender when they touched you. The way he always put himself between you and trouble, whether it was a walker shambling too close or some asshole in camp running his mouth. The way he let you get near, let you see him in a way no one else did.

Some things hadn’t changed, even when everything else had.

Something about those memories had your lips crashing back onto his, pressing him against the boulder with a force that made him grunt softly into your mouth. His fingers dug into your waist, like he wasn’t sure if he should stop you or drag you closer, but you didn’t give him a choice.

You grabbed the collar of his dirty shirt, fisting the fabric as you kissed him deep, claiming, letting him feel the way you wanted him. He let you have it—let you take and take, let you push up on your toes and press into him like you couldn’t get close enough.

Then, when your hips rolled just right against his, he growled. Low, guttural, needy against your mouth.

His hands slid down, gripping the curve of your ass, dragging you closer until your hips fit against the hard press of him. You gasped against his lips, nails raking up the nape of his neck, and pulled the short hair that stuck there, and that was what made something snap in him.

He twisted you around so fast you barely had time to think, hands gripping your hips as he pressed you forward, your palms bracing against the boulder. The rough stone bit into your skin, but it barely registered. Not with the heat of him behind you, breath hot against your neck, hands dragging under your shirt, spanning wide over your ribs before sliding down.

“You want somethin’ from me, girl? Hmm?” His voice was ragged but taunting, sending goosebumps down your spine as he leaned his body over you. 

A sharp breath left you when he pulled your hips back against him, grinding slow, measured, and the stiff press of his cock behind his jeans made your eyes roll, feeling just how much he wanted you too.

His lips dragged over the back of your neck, sucking in a breath like a hiss when you pressed your ass back into him.

“You, w–want you, Dare,” you murmured, the sound of his name breaking something open in him.

His fingers hooked under the waistband of your denim shorts, yanking them down with a roughness that made your breath catch, the cooling night air biting against flushed skin.

After the clatter of his belt buckle and the sharp zip of his jeans, he was on you—kissing your shoulder where the strap of your shirt fell, your neck, anywhere his lips could reach. Then he was there—thick, warm, heady with a scent that made you dizzy. He pressed the tip of his cock into you with a need so desperate it made your knees weak. Your center was slick with wanton need just from his touch, his kisses, the way he took you like he had to—like it was instinct, carved into him, a hunger he could never ignore. His hands splayed over your stomach, dragging you back onto him with a solid thrust, his breath heavy against your shoulder as he took you to the hilt in one long press of his hips. 

“I love you,” he said, voice hoarse as he continued to press open mouthed kisses to your skin, “Love you so god damn much,”

The sun dipped lower, its dying light casting everything in cool blue and shadow, the only warmth now rolling off Daryl’s body. You turned your head, reaching back to thread your fingers into his hair, tugging until his lips found yours in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. It was haphazard, messy in the way that made it real—the slide of tongues, the clash of breath, the moan that tore from your throat, loud and shameless against the quiet night.

He groaned into your mouth, swallowing the sound, pressing his forehead against yours for the briefest second before dragging his lips down your jaw, your neck, everywhere he could reach with his mouth. His hips rolled in steady, aching thrusts, sinking deep before dragging his cock out slow, teasing, making you squirm against the rock.

“I love you too,” you murmured, voice wrecked, sincere. “Always, Daryl.”

His jaw slacked and he rested his face against your shoulder, his pace growing rougher, more erratic, each thrust punctuated by the sharp slap of skin against skin, his groans mixing with the wet, sinful sounds of your bodies joining in the cool evening air.

“So good f’me, baby,” he whimpered, the sound raw, unraveling. His hand slipped between you and the rough stone in front of you, fingers seeking, finding, calloused fingertips pressing into the heat of you. He knew your body too damn well—knew exactly how to wind you up, knew what it took to have you gasping, shaking, screaming his name just the way he liked it.

“Daryl, it’s—too much—they’ll hear—” you choked, gasping as his fingers worked tight, slow circles over your swollen clit, a shudder wracking through your body.

His lips dragged up the side of your neck, breath hot, voice ragged.

“Fuck ‘em,” he murmured, his voice low and grinding. “Wanna hear every pretty sound you make for me. Wanna feel you come on my cock, just like you always do—c’mon now, baby, give it to me. Be a good girl now.”

A shudder rolled through you, his words sinking deep, making it impossible to fight the pleasure coiling hot in your belly. His fingers pressed harder, circling your clit with devastating precision, his thrusts turning sharp and frantic.

You bit your lip, trying to smother the cry threatening to break free, but he wasn’t having it.

Daryl’s free hand came up across your chest, fingers gripping your jaw, tilting your head so his lips were right against your ear. “Don’t you hold back on me,” he rasped. “Wanna hear you, feel you, know you’re mine.”

Your body tensed, the pleasure mounting too fast, too sharp, and when his teeth scraped down against your pulse point, it sent you flying. 

Your moan broke free, loud and inhibited as your eyes rolled back, Daryl groaning in response, the noise tearing from his throat as his hips slammed in rhythm with his fingers against you.

“There it is,” he gritted out, voice strained. “That’s my girl, fuck—jus’ like that, baby.”

The pleasure tore through you like wildfire, your palms trembling against the rough stone. Your walls clenched tight around him, and Daryl let out a deep, wrecked fuck, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release.

With a sharp curse, he pulled his hand from your clit once he knew you were through, his breath hot and ragged against your shoulder. His thrusts grew erratic, deeper, rougher, chasing his own release. At the last second, he pulled out, his fist working over his cock, a deep, guttural groan tearing from his throat as thick ropes of cum spilled onto your lower back, hot and slick against your skin.

For a long moment, all that filled the night air was the sound of heavy breathing, the cool breeze ghosting over sweat-slicked skin.

You turned your head, looking at him over your shoulder, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. “Come wash up with me?”

Daryl huffed, still catching his breath, his hands squeezing at your hips like he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet. “Yeah? That what you want?”

You leaned back just enough for your ass to brush against him, teasing, knowing exactly what you were doing. “Well… we’re already dirty,” you mused, glancing at him with a glint in your eyes. “Might as well get clean together.”

Daryl let out a rough chuckle, his fingers dragging slow and deliberate over your skin. “You’re killin’ me, girl.”

You grinned, pulling off the rest of your clothes before taking his hand and tugging him towards the water’s edge.

“Well? You comin’?”

[queenofbaws]

Like Wringing Blood From a Stone an Until Dawn/The Quarry fic by TheIcyQueen

“Jesus, Ma! What’re you doing, just sitting around in the dark like that? It’s the middle of the night!” In one smooth motion, Constance brought her crocheting and her eyebrows up. “Last I checked, it’s my house: I can sit wherever I damn well please whenever I damn well please.” She considered launching straight into that phone call, striking while the iron was hot, so to speak, and decided against it. Instead, she pushed the hook through the next stitch and continued her weaving. “You’re one to talk…sneaking around like some sort of—” And then, as though taking offense at how easily she’d shrugged it off before, the universe doubled down on its attempts to remind her just how old she was getting, how the years had finally begun to dull her sharp edges. Her crocheting slowed—but did not stop—as she got a look at him. A good look. “—why you wearin’ that uniform? I thought they had you workin’ days ‘til October.”

Chapter 21 now on AO3

[conspicuous-mending]

When in Hackett's Quarry . . .

Kaitlyn Ka is alone in the woods, stalked by an armed killer. What would she do if she found this?

Find out in Return to The Quarry, available for read on Wattpad and Archive of our Own

[flufflyskrill]

me looking up the cut content relevant to my blorbo because not only must i obsess over who they are i must also consider obsessing over who they could have been

[raniathedragonqueen]

More! WE NEED MORE!!!!! MORE OF THIS STUFF! MORE LIKES! MORE REBLOGGS! MOOOOREEEEEEE!!!!! WHY IS THIS FANDOM ALREADY SO DEAD! WHERE IS EVERYONE?!?!?!?!? PLEASE COME BACK!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I wish so much we got more Rylan in the game... I'm quite obsessed with the idea of the two having a scene in the lake. I just like the scenery, maybe I should do more with it? 🤔

Anyway, what if our beloved boys had snuck away from the campfire to be alone for a bit, away from all the prying eyes around them, to be able to explore that one harmless kiss again? What if they had a little smooching in the atmospheric lake? 😍 Ok I guess I got too much caried away with my thoughts…. over and out

[wattemeer]

🥰

[emma-nation]

The Curse Of Hackett's Quarry

Chapter 1 - The Tower

Summary: After the events of a traumatic night, Emma Mountebank finds out she still a werewolf. While she learns how to deal with this new reality, new problems and feelings come to surface. Pairings: Emma/Abi, Emma/f!OC

Notes: Set in an Alternate Universe where Emma was bitten by Silas. In this fic all the counselors are alive and all the Hackett's are dead. Pairings are Emma/Abi and Emma/f!OC.

Notes²: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes. This is my first The Quarry fic and also my first Werewolf fic, I hope you guys enjoy it. Like Emma says herself - 'Sub, share and smash that like button. The holy trinity.'

Full Story:

The Tower represents a massive change - destruction and chaos, a personal transformation. The awakening of something new. 

August, 2021

At the police station, Emma observed a tarot card inside an evidence bag that was collected from Hackett's Quarry Summer Camp. The last three days had been a blur. 

When the police cars arrived in the morning, she assumed everything would be okay. She was finally going home and then college. That traumatic night would become a distant memory.

But then she left Mr. H's office and saw that corpse in the lodge. It was not a monster. It did not look like a monster. That was… Caleb Hackett. In that moment, she knew they were in trouble.

"I… I'm not a murderer," she said once she was being taken to the back of a police car. "We were attacked."

The police officer did not answer. 

She and Abi were locked in the same holding cell. Abi was very distressed. She could barely breathe. At some point, she went to the toilet and vomited. 

"It'll be okay, Abi," Emma placed a hand on her shoulder, in an attempt to bring her some relief. "They will only ask us a few questions. And then, we're going home."

"Emma, stop," the girl pushed her hand away and stood up, taking a few anxious steps around their enclosure.

"Do you realize that was a teenage boy that was lying dead in that lodge?! Do you think they'll even believe us when we tell werewolves attacked us?!"

Emma swallowed dry. Yes, she was being ridiculous. Their situation wasn't good at all. But she had to believe that. She couldn't let that optimistic side of her die. Not yet. Otherwise she'd break. 

They called her for an interrogation by the nighttime. At least she was allowed to shower and change her clothes before. She was also given a meal, but she declined. Even if she hadn't eaten for over 24 hours, she wasn't hungry.

"And that's what happened," Emma finished, after telling everything she could remember about that night. 

"Werewolves?"

"Yes. I have a picture on my phone. It was taken as evidence when I arrived, but you can check…"

The officer didn't say anything. Emma stopped talking.

"Ms. Montebank, did you have a relationship with… she checked a paper for information, "Mr. Jacob Custos?"

"Yes. No! I mean… we had a Summer fling, but I broke up with him before all of that."

"So you did not consent when he sabotaged the van to spend one more night with you in the Summer Camp?"

The revelation caught her by surprise. Emma felt a knot in her stomach. She really thought Jacob was acting strange but she didn't want to assume he'd go that far.

"H-He did what ?!"

She returned to the cell, unable to process what she heard. Abi was lying on the bed, facing the wall. She wasn't sleeping, but she didn't feel like talking.

Emma was called back to the interrogation room. Being a lawyer himself, her father had contacts and hired one of the best attorneys in the country.

"So, you did not shoot any of the Hacketts?" He asked.

"No."

In fact, she only learned all the other members of Hackett's family were dead when she was taken to the precinct. 

"Then why were your fingerprints on the gun?"

"I took it from Mr. Hackett's storage."

"Why did you take it, Emma?"

"To be honest, I don't know."

Staring at that tarot card, made Emma reflect about her future. She had just signed the papers of her release, after the group was declared innocent of the accusation of murder and didn't know what to expect. Would she be able to recover from that traumatic experience? Would the rest of the world believe that absurd story about werewolves? She definitely wouldn't, if she had seen it for herself. 

She didn't see any of her friends while being escorted outside by her parents, which was good somehow. She didn't want to face Jacob yet. She'd certainly punch him and yell at him, what would bring her even more problems. She wished she had seen Abi though, but she was already gone. Emma feared she blamed her somehow, for what Jacob did. 

As long as she remembered, Emma always felt comfortable being in front of cameras. Ever since she was a kid, she loved being captured through videos and photos. She was a true actress from birth. 

Now, she was learning to hate them. As soon as she left the station, journalists were waiting, shoving microphones on her face, asking inappropriate questions and taking unwanted pictures of her release.

"Ms. Montebank, would you mind saying a few words about the incident?"

"I can't," she attempted to cover her head using her hands. "I'm sorry."

"Emma, is it true you and your friends were under the influence of drugs?"

"Ms. Montebank?!"

"Emma! Emma!"

They didn't stop and the police officers didn't make any efforts to stop them. A few journalists chased her parents' car. Later, they found out their address, staying in front of their house waiting for answers during the next few days.

The journalists weren't the only problem. When Emma finally gathered enough courage to check her social media, she found out she had gained a ton of new followers. Her videos were also bombarded with all kinds of comments - most of them were negative. Sarcastic. Evil. Bits of her videos were taken out of context and each one of her words, each one of her actions were analyzed, misinterpreted and judged.

That was when she decided to deactivate her account. At least for a while. All that fuss couldn't last forever. 

At home, her relationship with her parents had been wrecked too. While they believed her innocence, they seemed resentful, disappointed. Maybe because none of them was allowed a normal life anymore. Her parents wouldn't have a moment of peace even during their work hours.

Emma would spend most of her time locked in the bedroom and her 10 years old sister was the only one who bothered to check on her every once in a while.

"Hey, princess," she smiled when the girl appeared in the bedroom, shortly after her arrival. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Em," Olivia Mountebank wrapped her arms around her neck. "I'm so glad you're here."

'Me too,' Emma thought without saying it aloud. While she was fighting for her life that night, her little sister was the person who mostly crossed her mind. 

"I believe you. About the werewolves."

"It… it means a lot."

She smiled, attempting to fight the tears that started filling her eyes. She hadn't been able to cry yet. That was the first time.

September, 2021

After two weeks, Emma decided it was time to recompose herself and try to move on with her life. Keeping her mind busy would help her to deal with that whole traumatic experience. She finally started attending classes at NYU and moved to the dorm.

She didn't expect it to be easy. The looks and whispers would follow her anywhere she went. In the better days, people would just ignore her existence. 

"Give it some time," Kaitlyn said when they spoke over the phone. She was the only one of the group who called her. Abi hadn't been answering any of them yet.  "People will eventually forget about it."

And that was what Emma was trying to do, but on that particular morning of September 20, she woke up feeling awful. At first it was only her chest exploding in anxiety. After an hour or so, she noticed her skin felt like it was on fire. Her body temperature was abnormally high.

"What that bitch is doing?" Somehow, she could hear the conversation between her roommates, while she had been sitting under the cold shower. "She has been there for like two hours."

"Maybe she's doing drugs again."

"I hope she didn't kill herself. It'll bring journalists to the campus all over again."

They giggled. And their laughs sounded extremely loud. Emma's ears started to ring in response. She covered them with her hands to muffle the sound.

Once the girls left, she wore some clothes and headed to the student health center. 

"Your temperature is a little bit high, Ms. Montebank," the female doctor examined her. "But it doesn't seem to be anything serious."

"I-I also feel nauseous and… my chest hurts."

"You've been under a lot of stress. I'll prescribe you some tranquilizers."

She asked Emma to return in case her symptoms worsened. After buying the medication, she returned to the dorm and slept.

Her dreams were tormented by memories from that night. She was in the woods all over again, being chased by one of those creatures. This one was different from the others, its skin was much more pale. It seemed stronger and faster somehow. Emma was able to escape. It was only when she was safe inside Chris Hackett's office with Abi that she felt her leg stinging. She didn't say anything. She didn't want to scare her friend. The wound wasn't even deep, more like a scratch. It was also clean, showing no signs the infection was spreading through her bloodstream. When the morning came and she hadn't transformed, she considered herself lucky. 

Emma woke up past lunch time. Her body was aching and her head felt a little foggy. She went to the bathroom to wash her face, but once she stared at her reflection in the mirror she let out a scream. 

Her eyes had turned yellow.

"It can't be," Emma took a deep breath while she drove around the streets. "It can't be!"

Nick returned to normal after Caleb Hackett was killed. So did Ryan, Laura and Max after shooting Chris. 

She later heard the story about a man named Silas, who was rumored to be the one werewolf to infect the Hackett's. But he was also shot to death by Ryan and Laura.

There was absolutely no way that could be happening.

Emma wore shades before entering into the store. Rope. She had to buy rope before heading to the woods. 

"Just in case," she told herself. "Because nothing will happen tonight. It's only… stress. I'm very very stressed."

Along the rope, she bought some other supplies and drove to the park. She waited until it was completely empty before she restrained herself around a tree. She feared she could escape once she transformed. If she transformed. But the creatures didn't appear to be that strong or smart. Back to the camp, the hunters caught them in regular and simple traps.

As the night started to fall, her skin started to turn gray. She also felt her teeth becoming sharp.

"Fuck."

It was really happening. And no one was there for her. When the Hackett's transformed, they had each other. When Max transformed, he had Laura. When Nick transformed he had Abi. 

Abi. She wished Abi was there. Sweet, shy and insecure Abi. If only she was answering her calls.

WHY wasn't she answering her calls? Emma started feeling angry. She had done NOTHING wrong! 

Maybe that was him … Jacob. He had manipulated Abi's mind against her. Of course.

That was all Jacob's fault in first place. If only he had respected her when she said no. If only he wasn't so toxic, obsessive and childish. 

The thoughts were becoming too much to handle and Emma resorted to the only thing that could bring her some comfort. She positioned the camera of her cell phone in front of her and started to film.

"September 20, 2021 - 7 PM. It's… uh… it's my first night," her feelings of rage were replaced by fear and anxiety. Some tears started to roll across her cheeks.

"I'm scared. And lonely. I wish… I wish Abi was here. Or even Kaitlyn. S-She is always so brave…"

"Or Dylan. I'd… I'd love to hear one of his awful jokes right now."

God. She missed them terribly.

"Y-You've won, Jacob. Karma has found me! This is the price I'm paying for breaking your heart. I hope you're happy now, motherfucker."

Her conscious was being replaced by something else. Something wild. Something dangerous. Something inhumane. 

Emma swallowed a few pills from the tranquilizer she had bought earlier. Maybe that would weaken the creature inside her.

Then she closed her eyes and waited.

A few minutes later, she was no longer herself.

[ghostradiodylan]

Okay now I’m going to be thinking about this when I’m reading Quarry fics. 🤔

I’ve said it once I’ll say it again, you can tell by how someone writes an overnight camp if they’ve been to one or not

[doni030]

furcustos..sigh.i love these guys…just two dudes. that kiss and hold hands sometimes…

no reposts/any use of my art without permission