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sleep for days (the quarry x reader) - chapter 1

chapter 1 - i step off the train and i'm met with a smile, so i stay for a while

synopsis: summer camp; where children go to spread their wings, learn new skills, and reinvent themselves. there’s bound to be lifelong friendships, fleeting crushes, and milestone heartbreak.

could the same apply for the counselors?

it certainly could for hackett’s quarry’s newest music teacher—resident hottie with a guitar.

but we’ll see.

word count: 4,734 words warnings: gender neutral terms, they/them for reader, avoiding y/n this time who am i??, physical descriptors: unspecified facial piercings, wears jewelry, fashionable & hot, other than that the reader looks like YOU A/N: omg new fic. omg musician reader. what a surprise. more notes at the bottom. also on ao3.

“Whew, thank god…I think my ass fell asleep.”

“Nice. Because everyone was so curious about your ass, Jacob.”

Two childhood friends haul themselves out of a large van. They’re quickly followed by several other young adults, each one rolling and stretching their limbs.

It’d been a lengthy, quiet ride, deep into upstate New York. Kaitlyn had been thankful for the quiet part. A certain baseball-capped idiot could’ve easily chattered the whole way.

“Ooh, someone’s bitter they’re about to be 30 bucks poorer! A silent two-hour ride—boom! Pay up…” Said idiot bounds just outside Kaitlyn’s personal bubble, already infected with a case of the zoomies. Her annoyed countenance immediately fades in favor of a smirk.

“Think again, dumbass. I said you had to zip it until we reached the cabins. Where are we right now, Jake?”

That pauses the zoomies. It’s cartoonish, how quickly his head whips about. Sure enough, the cabins were a distance away. Instead, the group still resides at the dirt lot near the entrance—not far from the towering sign that read "Hackett's Quarry”. The realization carries a sour taste.

“Damn it.” He mutters, head hanging low.

“When you’re done with your victory lap, some of us could use a little help with our bags!” The feminine voice prickles the shells of his ears. His eyes follow the voice, landing on a girl with light eyes and dirty blonde hair. Taking in her coy grin, Jacob stands at attention once more.

“Yeah…yeah, sure.” He moves to the back of the van with haste. Emma’s grin widens at the response, glancing over just in time to catch Kaitlyn’s eye roll.

“Well shit, I need some help with my bags, too.” A taller guy mutters to himself. However, someone beside him huffs a small laugh at his private remark. A red-haired girl gives him a shy smile before returning her attention to the van’s trunk. Dylan only responds with a nod, his lips stretching into more of a tight line than a smile. Yet, a small chime echoes in his head like an achievement in a video game.

Abigail stands patiently in the queue that’s formed for people to retrieve their things. Her eyes stay trained on her purple bag amongst the pile, when someone else grabs it—presumably to move it out of the way. Her voice is gentle and hoarse from hours without speaking. “Oh, that’s mine, I can take that.”

The brunette holding her bag turns to her. She immediately grows bashful at the sight of handsome eyes and beauty marks against olive skin. For a moment, the world slows down, attraction swirling and blooming in her stomach. In real life, though, the interaction barely lasts a second, and he hands her the bag without another word. Just like that, Abigail is staring at the back of his head again.

The attraction festers and goes kaput.

At the front of the van, Chris Hackett watches the group with a content grin on his face. A young man stands beside him, decidedly removed from the others. Chris takes in his reserved posture, able to read his thoughts with a glance. He wordlessly pats the young man between the shoulders. Ryan stiffens at the unexpected contact, but relaxes quickly. The affectionate touch does warm him a bit—but he’s at that age where he doesn’t feel allowed to show it. His full lips only partially stretch into a thin line—but Chris knows to interpret it as a smile.

“Alright, counselors! We’ll begin orientation shortly, but we’re still waiting on the last three in the smaller car. Why don’t you guys drop your things at the camp lodge, and we’ll wait for ‘em there?’

…

The camp lodge is rustic, but surprisingly cozy--and huge. The windows are propped open for the summer breeze, perfect after being stuffed into a van for hours. The counselors meander about, some even breaking into surface-level conversation. Others are content to quietly entertain themselves.

The door swings open, ruffling the moment of peace. Chris is the first through, carrying a few bags himself. He leans against the door to prop it open.

“Come on in, guys…and here’s the rest of ya!”

Next, a freckled redhead enters the room. He’s carrying quite a few bags—as if he’s carrying his own, and a couple of someone else’s. A blonde follows closely behind him, and it becomes clear whose bags he’s carrying. The blonde only clutches a small blue backpack. She watches her companion with an amused gleam in her eyes—because as much as she’s certainly strong enough to carry her own stuff, someone insisted otherwise.

Some small chatter had continued throughout the entrance, only half paying attention to the introduction of new bodies into the space.

“Tough cookie!” Chris grins appraisingly at the final person to enter.

The room suddenly stills, that half-attention turning into full-attention. The atmosphere shifts slightly, nothing tense, or even unfriendly…just a bit more aware.

Okay, very aware of the very attractive person that has entered the room.

You chuckle breathlessly at his remark, chest heaving a little with effort. “I told you I could get it here!”

For a brief moment, everyone is free to check you out without shame. You don’t notice, too engrossed in lugging that giant trunk behind you. It’s gotta be heavy, judging from your deep breathing and the slight shine above your brow. Not to mention the stretch of your skin over working muscles. Skin that peeks perfectly through your very flattering choice of clothing.

Honestly, if you weren’t wearing such a friendly grin, you’d be a little intimidating. Each slight movement carries a cacophony of jingle jangles, courtesy of the various bobbles and bits adorning your neck & wrists. Light catches the glints of metal on several of your fingers. Upon closer inspection, parts of your face glimmer too, thanks to the piercings decorating your face and ears.

But since you were smiling, you were just hot.

You pull a strap over your head, then another. A duffel bag hits the ground, followed by the gentler descent of an enticingly guitar-shaped case.

Then, the checking out has to end, because you’ve begun glancing around the room. A girl with matching dark hair and eyes stares back at you unabashedly. Another ponytailed girl wiggles her fingers at you in a cute little wave. A jock-y looking guy sits up a bit straighter when you look at him, grinning ear to ear. You catch eyes with one more young man, with pale skin and short brown hair, but he quickly glances elsewhere. Others don’t meet your gaze, but it’s no sweat off your back.

These guys seem friendly enough.

….

“Kaitlyn.”

She’s the first to approach you as Chris begins your tour. You all had just done a quick group introduction, but it was going to take some repetition before you had a solid handle on everyone’s name.

You happily accept her hand, and are rewarded with the most solid handshake you’ve ever experienced. Your rings are slightly cool against her warm fingers--a sensation that she gladly welcomes. Her intelligent eyes give you a once over before returning to yours, creasing at the outer corners. Staring into them, you see a world of possibilities--multitudes concealed by a pretty face. Possible trouble--that you wouldn’t quite mind. You repeat your own name back to her.

Kaitlyn. Black hair. Pretty eyes. Great handshake.

Another body flanks your other side—the jock-y boy from earlier. “Jacob.” He says seriously, copying Kaitlyn by offering you his hand. He drops it before you can accept it, however. “Ah, who am I kidding? I’m more of a hugger!”

Sure enough, he offers you his hand closer to chest level. Snorting, you grasp it with your own, letting him pull you in and patting a hand on his back. It’s a bit forward, but you appreciate his affectionate approach. His palm is warm and solid against your shoulder blades. The rest of him is also solid and warm, all mass and muscle. The proximity draws his attention to a light fragrance clinging to you. Something musky and appetizing, dabbed onto your wrists and neck. It has him hesitating to pull away too soon.

You miss Kaitlyn rolling her eyes at him over your shoulder. “So odd, you’re the first person he’s hugged.” She remarks as you all fall into pace with the others.

“Aw, don’t be jealous, Kait! C’mere—.”

“Gross.”

Kaitlyn only shoves her palm into his face, walking at a faster pace to escape him.

Jacob. Baseball cap. Broad shoulders. Nice hugger.

…

“So this’ll be your turf, huh?” You walk beside Laura as the group files out of the nurse’s office. Max walks on the other side of her. Your question brings a smile to her lips.

“Looks like it…Thank god there’s a nurse, though. I won’t be solely responsible for the wellbeing of 9 counselors and over a hundred children! Yay…” Sarcasm bleeds into the latter half of her words, but her grin never wavers.

“Only 50% responsible!” Max chimes in. You both give him a look, though humor glimmers in your eyes.

“Woof…and who’s responsible for your wellbeing?” You murmur to Laura. The question gives her pause, as if she hadn’t thought about it before this point.

“Just Nurse Kelly. And this one, I guess.” She points a finger at Max warily.

“Thanks for sounding so confident.” Max replies flatly, grabbing her pointing hand to intertwine his fingers with hers.

You’d gotten to know the couple quite well on the drive to camp. Since they had driven themselves and arrived a day early, they were tasked with picking you up from your accommodations. Even as you sat in the backseat and listened to them lightly bicker over directions, you hadn’t once felt like a third wheel.

Laura. Sweet smile. Dependable. Good with directions.

Max. Freckles galore. Goofy. Decent at driving.

…

You prop your elbows up onto the table, resting your chin in your hands. The classroom is quaint, with long tables in rows instead of individual desks. A sweet aroma floats about you as someone sits to your right. It’s the girl with the ponytail, already staring at you expectantly.

The close proximity allows you to make out the small patch of freckles and daring glint in her eye.

“Hey, we haven’t talked yet. Emma.” She whispers. In place of a handshake, her lithe fingers give your shoulder a quick squeeze. Her manicured fingers tingle a little at the contact. She seems so comfortable within your personal bubble that you don’t mind her being there.

Emma. Pretty hair. Familiar. Extraverted.

The contact brings an easy smile to your face. You return the introduction, only slightly aware of the way her hand lingers on your shoulder. “Emma…and Dylan, right?” You turn to include the person who has just plopped down across from you.

He seems taken off guard, chocolate brown eyes widening a centimeter. “Yeah…yeah, that’s me.”

You extend your hand over the table, enjoying this trend of making physical contact. You slightly regret it when you watch him hesitate. Luckily, he recovers quickly--his fingers are surprisingly gentle around your own. You try your best to replicate Kaitlyn’s skill—maybe a bit too hard, judging by the way his eyebrows shoot up. His eyes dart from your face, to your ornate bracelets, to the rings that are definitely digging into his hand.

“Yeah, I guess you could take my hand off, I don’t need it that badly.” The words come out before he can stop them. Better that than admitting he kinda likes the feeling, and the way your jewelry looks so close to his skin. You free his hand with a shocked laugh. That little achievement noise rings in his head again.

“My fault. I was trying something.”

Dylan. Adorably lanky. Nonchalant. Witty.

…

Chris says your name and claps a hand on your back. You brace yourself for the force that only a father was capable of, but the impact is surprisingly gentle. “I think this is where you’ll be doing your thing!”

You light up at his words, venturing deeper into the room. The ceilings are a bit higher than the last classroom, and there’s much less furniture taking up space. You picture children standing in rows, or maybe even a circle, making music together. The acoustics should be great here.

“What exactly is ‘their thing’?” Kaitlyn asks, hands parked on her hips. Chris glances at you, vaguely gesturing in your direction.

“Ah…music stuff, yeah? Kaylee was really into that sorta thing at that age, so I figured it’d be worth a try. You’ve got some choir stuff, maybe some instruments?” You’re half paying attention, still invested in inspecting the space. Still, you register the question well enough.

“Yeah, did you get your hands on any?” You turn to the rest of the group, having traveled all the way to the other wall (and creating another perfect checking-out opportunity).

“My brother’ll be up with some tomorrow. Can’t promise they’ll be the best, though.” His grin goes from proud to sheepish. Still, you’re delighted at this news. His furrowed brow lifts with a new idea. “Maybe Dylan could help you get them fixed up! His application said he’s good with that sort of thing.”

Bad news for Dylan…he fell victim to the aforementioned checking-out trap. He’d fixated onto your bracelets again, trying to identify which was his favorite—when you’d suddenly turned to him. Everyone suddenly turned to him, and he had no idea what had just been said besides his name. “Uh…yeah.”

“Sweet.” That seems to be the right answer, judging from the way your grin widens. His heart, though racing, still manages to skip a beat.

…

“I…had been wondering why you brought a guitar.” A light voice says beside you. The girl smiling at you has cool hair, dyed an ombre of black to red.

Said guitar was strapped to your torso, along with your duffel. Sure enough, you dragged that cursed trunk behind you. You were the one who packed it so heavy, so you couldn’t complain too much…just a little. It’s why you were too stubborn to let anyone else help with it. (Jacob had been quite persistent. You had no idea what he planned to do, since he had already taken on Emma’s bag as well.)

“Ah, yeah. I just figured it’d be a pain to spend a whole summer without it. I brought some smaller stuff too, but I’m excited to see what Mr. H came up with.”

She eyes the trunk you’re pulling, wondering what ‘smaller stuff’ you were referring to. “Your position sounds pretty cool. I bet the kids will enjoy it a lot.”

Your expression warms, and subsequently, so does the skin of her cheeks. “Thanks. Abi, yeah?”

She perks up at that, nodding her head hastily. To your delight, she repeats your name back to you, beaming when you confirm that she’s correct.

Abigail. Cool hair. Quiet. Attentive.

You wilt in relief when you finally reach the large oak tree that unites all of the cabins. Mr. H then dismisses you all, allowing you to rest after a long day of travel.

“I’m sure you’ve all mingled a bit, but make sure you’ve gotten acquainted with everyone before turning in tonight. Once the kids get in, we’ll be moving pretty fast!” Mr. H begins to leave you all, but pauses to add, “…And I won’t be far, just at that house down the trail. So no funny business.”

That little inkling of sternness is enough to send a shiver down everyone’s spine. You all watch him walk off in silence, a bit unsure what to do now that you’re unattended. He’s placing a lot of trust in a bunch of college kids…but maybe he’s banking on you being too tired to cause much trouble. Judging from the way everyone quietly trudges on, he’s probably right.

“I say we unpack, shower, and meet back up at the campfire for a little ‘get to know you’ sesh!” Emma proposes, beaming with energy thanks to a certain jock carrying her bags.

“That actually doesn’t sound too bad.” Kaitlyn agrees. “After that car ride, I’m not locking myself in a cabin just yet.”

The group dissipates after coming to an agreement, separating towards their respective cabins. As people walk in different directions, you find yourself walking near a guy whose name you hadn’t gotten yet. Ned? Nat? He’d been a bit quiet since the tour had begun, but you think he had some sort of accent. You simply walk near him for a bit, before deciding that the silence is too awkward.

“Looks like we might be neighbors.” You pipe up, speeding your steps to walk beside him. He flinches a little, although you’re not sure what surprised him, because this trunk is loud as all hell.

“…Yeah.” He finally responds. While you’re unperturbed by his curtness, he’s inwardly kicking himself. You don’t notice, repeating your name to him instead.

“Remind me of your name again?” You ask, hoping for a bit more words so you can decipher his accent.

“It’s Nick.” Well, damn. So much for more words. Still, you’re picking up something English, maybe Australian? You’d ask, but you’re not particularly keen on forcing a conversation if he’s not into it. Maybe it’d be best to try another time…

“…you going to this campfire thing?” Hark! He speaks!

“Australian.” You reply on accident. His thick eyebrows raise a little and you want to slap a hand on your mouth. “Sorry…I was trying to place your accent. I meant not to ask, I bet it’s annoying.”

“Well, you’re right, so…no worries.” His fingernails busy themselves at the nape of his neck--an excuse to do something with his hands. One of the wheels of your trunk gets caught in a divot of dirt, forcing you to stop in your tracks. You kiss your teeth, giving it a sturdy yank to pull it free. “…do you need any help with—.”

“Nope. I’ve got a chip on my shoulder. But thanks.”

Then he chuckles a little, finally rewarding you with some semblance of a smile. He’s honestly a bit impressed by your resolve.

Nick. Handsome face. Reserved. Australian!

You break away from Nick soon after, not wanting to hold him too long. By process of elimination, you identify your assigned cabin. Eager to drop all of your shit and take a shower, you go to haul your trunk up the steps. However, an odd clattering noise gives you pause. Your head whips around at the sound--but there’s nowhere near by. You scan the area from the treetops to the dirt ground, but find nothing--

Ah! Something long and wiry has entwined itself with the wheels of your trunk. You make quick work of detangling it, wondering what kind of wire would just be sitting around in the woods. Eventually, you emerge with a pair of dark blue earbuds. Weird. Maybe some kid left them last year? You decide to hang onto them, in case anyone asked.

Now, you had a hot date with a shower!

….

By the time you go to reconvene with everyone, the sun is bathing every surface in a warm, orange glow. Tall, rust-colored shadows stretch across the forest groubd. It’s gorgeous and serene, solidifying that you made the right choice in coming here for the summer.

“Nobody found any booze!? C’mon!” Well.

“Jacob, we have to be up at like 7AM.” Laura reasons from her spot beside Max, who deflates. Another few seconds, and he would’ve voiced his agreement with Jacob.

“Who knows when we’ll get an opportunity like this again…” The redhead murmurs against his better judgement. Laura levels him with a scrutinizing look. He shrugs sheepishly. “I’m just saying--Soon the kids’ll be here, and Mr. H seems pretty strict.”

“As much as I love a good time, there is more to life than getting plastered.” Kaitlyn says.

“Y…yeah. It’s only two months! That’s no time at all to go without alcohol.” Abi chimes in, happy to hear Kaitlyn’s levelheaded words.

“Oh, you’re misunderstanding me, babe. I’m not going that long without a drink--I just don’t need one tonight.”

“Oh.”

The exchange is interrupted by a rhythmic jingling noise. Every one’s gaze naturally wanders towards the source, a little unsettled by the foreign sound. Yet, that feeling subsides when they see it’s only you--dressed down into comfier clothes and donning a healthy third of your previous jewelry.

“Oh thank god, I thought Buddy the Elf had infiltrated.” Dylan sighs with a smirk.

“Ha ha.” You reply flatly, though your lips curl upwards. You plop down on a log next to Kaitlyn.

Emma drawls your name with a whining lilt. “No guitar? That’s, like, a campfire classic!”

“More like a campfire cliche.” You refute, surprised by the request. You’ve been working on releasing the idea of embarrassment--but the thought of holding everyone hostage with your guitar? That was pretty fucking embarrassing.

“I’m just curious about it--I wanna hear you play!” Emma gushes, and you honestly feel a bit flattered.

Kaitlyn grins, leaning back to get a better look at you beside her. “Yeah, same. What kinda music is it?”

The question excites you, but you try to keep a lid on it. “Oh, all of it. I guess I like the indie, folk, Tracey Chapman kinda stuff the most…but rock & blues are also fun, like John Mayer, Paul Simon--I kinda write all over the place.”

“You’re a writer?” Abi leans forward. You hum in confirmation, endeared by her apparent interest.

“Hot.” Emma hums.

“Emma.” Laura scoffs.

“Anywayyy, speaking of which, I know just the way to entertain ourselves, completely sober!” Emma breezes past her comment, taking center stage in the circle. “Let’s ask a question, and then go around the circle to answer. Question #1: What’s everyone’s type?”

“Um…” Abi clams up immediately.

“Maybe we don’t need to share that with our coworkers? At work?” Dylan also interjects.

“Fine, fine, we’re still a little tepid, okay--how about this: who in this circle is your type?”

Max’s hand shoots into the air. “I’ll go first.”

“No, Max, we know, and that’s--that’s the opposite direction.” Dylan has really mastered the perfect deadpan face, and it’s frying you. You extend your arms in a halting gesture, garnering attention.

“How old is everyone? Where are you at in school--if that’s your thing?” Your eyes scan the circle, finding several relieved faces. You nod, muttering a small that’s grown, we’re grown. Honestly, Emma’s high school-style questions were fun, just maybe not for the first day. Said blonde pouts, but relents, happy that people were at least willing to follow the structure of the game.

It’s then that you finally start learning about everyone. Laura and Max are the oldest at 23 and 22, approaching their final years of college and looking into grad school. Kaitlyn, Jacob, and Emma were in the middle at 21, 20, & 20--and Emma was coming out of a gap year. Abi and Dylan were next at 19, having finished freshman year. Then there was Nick….

“I’ll…be 18 next week.” The group erupts into a wave of reactions.

“God, I thought the kids weren’t supposed to get here for another few days!!” Jacob roared, clutching his hat dramatically. A belly laugh tears its way through you. Nick’s cheeks sting with warmth--embarrassed, but not sure why. It’s not like he can help what year he was born.

“Is that why they put you in the kitchen, you’ll understand their tastebuds better than anyone else?” Dylan piles on.

“Okay, okay, y’all leave that baby alone!” The ruckus lulls at your lighthearted chiding. Then, you can’t help but add, “…this is child abuse.”

The laughter reaches its crest, effectively breaking any leftover ice. You check Nick’s face, curious about his reaction to the teasing. He looks sheepish, face a little rosy, but not too bothered. His teeth even peek through a little grin. Jacob claps him on the back, admiring his ability to take a joke.

You guys go around the circle a few times, answering various easy questions. People talk about what they’re studying in school, and go into more depth about what their responsibilities at camp will be. It delights you to see how much everyone seems to suit their position. Abi, with her colorful hair and soft demeanor, will be holding classes and activities in the art cabin. In addition to first aid, Laura will lead the campers through wildlife studies, going hand in hand with her aspirations to become a vet. Jacob, of course, is responsible for the sporty side of things. If anyone will have the energy to keep up with all those rowdy kids, it’d be him.

Emma shares her position as the theatre coach, eliciting an excited gasp from you. “We’ll have to plan something together at some point,” you eagerly propose. Between the two of you, your expertise easily goes hand in hand. You’d happily accompany the kids if they wanted to perform musical pieces.

Emma shoots you a wink and a pleased smirk. “We’ll talk.”

Once the very final droplets of sun make their departure, you all decide to turn in for the night. You walk away from the fire pit with a fluttering feeling in your chest, already feeling a bit closer to your fellow counselors. Although, you struggle to ignore a nagging sensation in your mind..

There are a perfect ten counselors—a match for the perfect ten cabins that the campers will be sleeping in. And yet, there were only nine of you at the campfire. You feel guilty about this, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out who was missing. You begin to consider if you’d mistakenly counted Mr. H as one of the counselors.

As you pass the last cabin before your own, a dark figure materializes in your peripheral vision . You flinch, placing a hand over your hammering heart. Your sudden movement seems to startle the figure in return. For a moment, the two of you only stare at each other.

He’s bathed in a combination of warm porch lamp and cool moonlight. He’s illuminated just enough to reflect his dark, pensive gaze. You huff a sheepish laugh, relaxing out of the silence.

“We missed you at the campfire.” You finally say. A little guilty, as you had momentarily forgotten he existed. In your defense, you were at least aware of someone’s absence.

“Just…preferred some quiet time.” His voice is incredibly soft among the ambient sounds of the forest. There’s a gravel to it that has you leaning forward.

“I get that…oh, wait.” Your eyes scan his form, taking in his modest choice of pajamas. They do a double take at the white, wired earbuds dangling at his collarbone. Your fingers ghost over your pocket, before pulling out your treasure from earlier. “I thought there was someone here with headphones, but you’ve still got yours…”

His gaze follows your movements, before gleaming with recognition. He stands from his position on the porch, slender hips tilted by the different step levels. “No yeah, those are my spares. Must’ve fell from my pocket.”

You step forward to drop them into his outstretched palm, smiling triumphantly. On their retreat, your fingertips brush against the inside of his wrist. He stares down at the goosebumps that have risen in their wake. Odd, must be the summer night breeze. “Thanks, um…”

You remind him of your name. He nods and repeats it—it sounds quite nice with that gravel of his. “Name’s Ryan.”

Ryan. Beautiful voice. Introverted. Guy with headphones.

“See you in the morning, Ryan.” You nod, trotting back to your cabin. He doesn’t respond verbally, besides a low hum. He watches your form grow smaller with distance, listens to the ching ching ching of your bracelets.

You simper to yourself as the door shuts behind you. That completes your collection of coworkers! Each of them are so amusingly distinct from one another, and you wonder if Mr. H did that on purpose. Your mind wanders over each person you’ve met today. How will your relationships develop over the next two months? Excitement swirls in the pit of your stomach.

Despite the jagged mattress springs poking into your back, you drift off to sleep, brain carding through numerous pretty faces.

In the other cabins, some are certainly ruminating yours.

A/N: DOES ANYONE LIKE THE QUARRY ANYMORE?? i'm late...i'm sooo late...lmk if you're out there. i just rlly needed the quarry cast + an alt baddie music teacher, isn't it the perfect addition?? my intention is to focus on the events of the actual camp, not the canon game--in fact you'll notice laura and max are here so i've already deviated. we'll see what happens ;)

#dylan lenivy x reader

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