#Poly!DanBert

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"Wrath Akin To A God." Poly!DanBert X GN! Reader.

Okay! Here we are again! Another entry into Multi-May and this time it is Poly!DanBert! But not just ANY Poly!DanBert, mind you! This is for @applesontheground or Riri! She has this amazing fic called Your Own Prometheus, I am totally so into this fic, it is fucking amazing and I adore it so this fic is compliant with that, to the best of my ability anyway! Also Riri just graduated college and so this is a grad gift on top of that! So proud of you babe, seriously! Hope you all enjoy it too! Let’s goooo.

—

Rating. Explicit. Rating. 1.7K. Herbert West And Daniel Cain X GN! Reader.They/Them Pronouns. No Parts Specified. Poly!DanBert. Your Own Prometheus Verse. Warnings: Established Relationship. Violence. Gore. Blood. Assault. FIght. Struggle. Experimentation. Choking. Fighting. Reader And Herbert Are MEAN To Each Other. ManHandling. Semi-Bondage. Edging. Denial. Needy Reader. Desperation. Begging. Implied Threesome.

—

You thought you knew what you had been getting into when agreeing to help Dan and Herbert with their shared work and experiments. True, you have had some evenings of progress and minimal issues and those nights make you feel confident and like you know just what is going on, what to expect but then there are nights like this one, where every single fucking thing that could go wrong, did. Nights like this smack you upside the head and remind you mockingly while you are sprawled on the ground that no, you don’t know shit.

At first it was almost funny, the first thing that went wrong was you realised you’d put your scrub shirt on backwards, an action that was quickly corrected with a laugh and a shake of your head, no harm, no foul. After that you get into what you had begun to affectionately refer to as the “meat locker” and asked, what the plan was for that evening. It began with some note review, once Herbert was able to find the damn notes of course in the mess of paper that coated the table top, and tonight wasn’t going to be just theory it was going to be some real practice. A fresh body has been procured and that means thoughts can be put into action, ideas into hopeful reality.

When I say everything goes wrong, I do mean everything, from dropping instruments to missing veins over and over to the body spread out on the table getting up and attacking brutally, it was terrible. By the time said body was downed, mutilated, gutted, dead and harmless once again, the three of you were much worse off, blood splattered and heaving. 

The only sound is that of your heavy breathing and blood dripping, you are the one to break the silence, an old tired joke to break the ice, “That went well.” 

Dan exhaled amusedly, the back of his hand wiping over his forehead as he started to make a move to stand up. Herbert sighed as he stripped off his gloves and tossed them aside, the blue nitrile gloves proved to be no match for the torrent of scarlet, it paints the front of his scrub gown and has marked up the sleeves nearly to the elbows. 

“No one’s hurt so bad they need stitches so I’d say tonight’s gone better than it has previously.” Dan offers up and Herbert’s mouth flattens into an unimpressed line as he is stripping off the bloody garment, his outfit underneath is relatively unscathed. 

You start complaining, “That is all you gotta say after that mess Daniel? I mean that thing-” You gestured to the body near your feet, “-was choking Herbert out pretty aggressively and that hit you took to the face is definitely going to bruise.” 

Speaking of, you strode over, hands out and you are touching Dan, cradling his face, turning it to get a better look at the mark already forming, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll live.” You share a moment of eye contact and you know he is being genuine. Herbert’s voice cuts in, sounding annoyed that you weren’t checking in with him in the same fashion, “I’m fine too.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah I dunno about that.” 

Hands falling away from Dan you turn on your heel to look over across the room, “And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that anyone who keeps on subjecting himself and us to this regularly, clearly isn’t fine. This shit that keeps happening is all because of you and your grand ideas and that leaves me and Dan to clean up your mess-”

“Clean up MY mess?! As if I am the only one responsible?” He fires back and you assert, “Yes! I don’t know if you noticed but I am covered in blood right now because I managed to run the bastard through, while he was choking you out mind you, and save your sorry ass.”

Dan throws his hands up, stepping away, metaphorically washing his hands of the matter and leaving to allow you and Herbert to sort this out on your own. He was approaching you and you were moving in on him as the verbal throw down continued, “If I knew that it was going to be such an arduous chore for you I never would have let you help.” 

You laugh, “And if I knew one, how stupid you could be when so focused on your ‘work’, and two, how utterly insane, uncaring and unthinking you could be, I’d never have agreed to assist!” 

“You aren’t that good of an assistant.” His arms are crossed and you scoff, “With the nature of your work I don’t think you are allowed to be that picky Dr.West.” You say his name with an ample amount of venom. 

“Again, I’m not holding a gun to your head, I’m not making you help.” He says and you almost want to back down, when Herbert was angry he could be terrifying but you stand your ground and you tell him, “Right, but if I am not here helping you then you’ll end up like one of these freakshow experiments of yours.” 

“Oh so you really do care?” He mocks and you say, “Of course I fucking care! That is why I am so pissed off. You are just so blind! I can’t leave you alone or you’ll get yourself fucking killed but that doesn’t mean I can’t be stressed out or bitch about it.” 

You stepped away, your back to him, now in front of the table the body used to be on at the start of the night, hands on the cool edge you say, “Sometimes I wish I were the one on the table. I think if that were the case I’d have a hell of a lot less problems.” 

You don’t even hear him step up behind you, no, you feel him first. His hands meet your shoulders and he pushes you, half forcing you over the table, his body presses to yours. “You know, that could be arranged.” 

The breath is stolen from your lungs, mind awash with curiosity, it grabs hold as you pour over every potential possibility of just what he could be meaning, and you ask, “What?”

“You could be the one on the table, if you truly wanted to be, maybe you should be, I think it could be good for you.” 

A hard swallow, still unsure, you inquire, “You think?”

“I do, according to you I somehow, inexplicably, think too much or not enough.” One hand is on your hip and the other one is sliding up your body, coming to grip your throat, you can feel his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, goosebumps raise as he presses onward, “I think you don’t trust me enough and also, that you talk too much.”

“Who? Me?” You question and his hand squeezes your throat once before it slides to the back of your neck, he pushes hard, your body slams down onto the table, head turning, cheek to cold metal. “Yes. You. Constantly running your mouth, always scrutinising, judging, I’m sick of it. You are right, however, the subjects on this table don’t do much talking or thinking, maybe if we get you in a similar state you’ll be more compliant and agreeable.”

This had a certain appeal, unexpected, exciting, you throw one last question his way to drive home your point and push his buttons, “Think you are capable of such a feat Doctor?” 

In a half hour Dan is coming back downstairs, much cleaner and hopeful that you and Herbert had worked out your petty squabbling. He doesn’t hear any yelling which is a good sign, his sneakers hit the bottom step and then the sound of you crying out reaches his ears. His first thought is you and Herbert attempting another experiment solo and it going awry, “Shit.”

He curses and moves forward quickly, the door is thrown open and he expects to see another scene similar to earlier, to see gore and a fight and true while there is still blood smeared and a struggle going on it wasn’t of the variety he was counting on. You are bent over the table, half undressed, Herbert’s belt around your neck, wrapped twist around his hand. Your form is sweat slick and your whole body is taut, Herbert’s hand that wasn’t currently holding the belt, was below your waist. You were a complete mess and Herbert looked far too composed, all things considered.

The sound of the door slamming open has you looking up at the source of the sound, you look like you could cry, you beg, sounding totally pathetically desperate, “Dannn, help me, please?”

He comes into the room properly and asks, “Herbert what are you doing to them?”

“Nothing bad, just trying to instill a little respect and discipline, Daniel.” He says it simply, his hand still working and Dan asks, “And you are doing that by?”

“Edging them until they can’t talk.” He said easily and the response came over the chorus of your needy moans, pleasure cresting again and Herbert’s hand stopping once more, you groaned in frustration. Dan’s eyebrows raised and he asked,“I thought we liked it when they talked?”

“Not when all they add to the proceedings are complaints.” The tone Herbert spoke in, directly into your ear made you shiver, eyes falling closed, a stirring of your hips, a silent plea for him to continue, something he obliges. 

“Seems really mean Herb.” Dan says it but it doesn’t sound that serious, his eyes are roving over your body, you feel vulnerable and exposed, insanely turned on, “So you don’t want to join in? I have to say this experiment so far is proving to be quite fruitful.” 

You hoped he would give in, that he would show mercy, so you implore him, “He-help, c’mon, Dan-”

Herbert mocked you with a sadistic grin, tugging on the belt, “Yeah, c’mon Dan, look how needy they are.” 

It is true, you don’t think you have ever been needier, you are approaching the edge once more and Hebert rips his hand away, leaving you hanging on the edge and you sob, tears threaten to spill down your cheeks as you whine and how is he meant to resist you like this? 

Dan knocked Herbert’s hand out of the way and he took over, his touch firm and right where you needed it, making you gasp out, “Tha-thank you”

“I gotta say, I’ll take this over you two fighting any day.” 

[applesontheground]

your own prometheus 💉

BACK AT IT! MISSED MY BOYS AND THIS FIC, SO BUCKLE UP FOR THE NEXT ARC. ❤

CHAPTER NINE as i have done, so will you | AO3

SFW | Word Count: 3,674 | Herbert West x GN Reader x Daniel Cain contains mentioned body mutilation, light fluff, enough tension to kill a small horse ⬅ continued from robbing me of my rightful chances ➡ continued in where winners beat the time 🔁 start at the beginning with letting me in or letting me go

It wasn’t the Miskatonic you knew, the corridor silent besides the ever present hum of an air conditioning unit. After hours was when it got this desolate, and despite the unfamiliar aura surrounding you, the morgue was something you had walked by many times before.

It was strangely enough where things began, almost half expecting to see Dan without the longer hair again, as quick to pass as the entire memory had felt sometimes. Stepping through, you didn’t question where or how you landed here. You just took in a moment of silence, something hard for you to grasp at times.

A door to your right, the one to the morgue that you also recognized, then unlatched from the inside and fell open. It didn’t happen in a slow creak, but rather a self-animated swivel that stood perpendicular to you.

“[Y/N]…” A woman’s voice spoke from the depths of the room, just out of view. It echoed unnaturally from the room it came from; at least, from what you knew it was not nearly that big on the other side of the heavy industrial metal keeping the bodies nice and cold. You opened your mouth to ask whatever question came first, but it was cut off as her hand then grasped the doorframe. Pulling into your sight, a pale-skinned, half mangled woman stood before you. Dark liquid streamlined from multiple cuts on her body, and a familiar set of hand marks were collared along her neck as she lifted her head, as though it was brought to life from the autopsy photos you were trying so hard to ignore until it dissipated into the static of your subconscious.

Still, it would never quite go away even in that analogy. Who stood in front of you wasn’t quite who you had seen in the autopsy photos, and she wasn’t quite anyone else you could recognize either. The soft features were interrupted by patchwork lines of other body parts put onto her, joined just to be torn apart again to leave her in such a state now. Still, there was something frightening behind her expression that made you keep from running, almost like she was merely holding to the door to keep from reaching out to you instead.

“Leave.” She beckoned, pleading blue eyes and unkept blonde hair pasting to her jaw as she spoke, your mouth wiring shut as you merely listened to her finish the demand with your legs feeling as though they were gearing to give out rather than take off in a life-saving sprint.

“Leave before you’re put here with me.”

Air blasted through your nose, like you were resuscitated from the dream by the act of opening your eyes. The pointed graphite on the pencil had been peacefully resting against the sketchbook’s page since you had drifted off, pillow propping you up after you slumped in exhaustion. At the jolt of energy that snapped you back to reality, it shot off the page in a jerk of an abrasive line against the ginger scratches you had been doodling beforehand.

Catching your breath, you sat up straight in bed. One hand had the book pressed against your thighs, swimming in pillowy covers you were curled up in. Like it was the crust that had formed from the short rest; you slowly began to rub the images out of your mind, fingers coming up to run along where the corners met the bridge of your nose, breathing heavily through your nostrils and your teeth clenched together.

A clang from the vent made you flinch again, this time the pencil fell from your hand and you got a good look at the unfinished arm you had been sketching, interrupted by the dark streak sprinting away from the rest of the picture. “Herbert, there-! By the-“ Dan had begun to speak but another mournful howl cut him off, the sound of a second crash making your face twist in agony as you exhaled, trying to breathe dread out from your body. A death rattle struck a nerve, something so animated yet so far gone, dead long before you had began drawing that night.

You closed the book, disregarding the image you had created both on the page and in the depths of your mind as you turned the light off. Before the dark took your sight, though, you were sure to spot that your door had been locked from the inside sometime between drifting off and attempting to return with bile in your throat, and the noise coming from the depths of the floorboards you rested on.

It was going to be a problem for tomorrow’s [Y/N, you concluded as you collapsed back into bed, a pillow over your ear to keep from catching onto the sounds that came from the basement.

Sleep didn’t come despite your efforts after that. Even now, you were killing time before your shift. Tuesdays were the days that dragged on the longest, mostly because you were often tasked with reorganizing a leg of the records storage back at the offices that the ladies hadn’t gotten to. Still, drawing wasn’t bringing you much peace of mind either. Not even the quiet cassette you had put on was giving you much besides making your headache amplify against the sides of your skull as you finally flipped the messy, smudged page before you and turned the rest of the book face down on the counter.

Your eyes shot to the mantle. They couldn’t even find a clear space to give some reprieve; you spotted a bone of some sort sitting behind the antique-looking clock and had to grind your teeth to snuff a noise of frustration.Being startled was turning into an old trick, you then concurred as you dragged a hand over your face. You hadn’t heard Dan walk in, who watched your palm slap the counter as you unfocused your eyes for something to make everything stop mobbing you so early in the day.

“Hey,” Jumping, you turned to look at him. He put a hand up, trying not to laugh as you then reeled yourself in, apologizing quietly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle like that.” When there was no answer, no lighthearted hum of assurance that he could look past another quirk, you then looked over to see the concern on his face. “Have you been sleeping?” Dan asked, and you quickly answered, “Take a wild guess, bud.”

“I’ve seen you even on your all-nighter mornings, and you never look this-“ He stopped himself, and your eyes hardened as both of you finished the sentence in your minds, and he chose to keep the word to himself. “Do you work today?” He then asked, busying himself with trying to find something in the kitchen. You hummed affirmative, standing up from the counter and adding, “It’s my long day. It’s gonna be alright.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, stopping you before you could walk out. You were tense as he initiated to hold your hand that wasn’t grasping the sketchbook for dear life, and he suggested rather plainly, “You could always call in, try to take a nap or relax for the day. You do so much, and it’s a miracle I even see you in between it all.” You let your hand gingerly return the hold and smirked up at him. Stifling a yawn, you then sighed, “Dan, I’d love to, but I’d just start pacing the house. Sleep is…Well, you know.” You admitted, “It’s not easy for me with everything I’ve seen the last couple weeks.”

He nodded at that, laced concern over his pursed lips as he then sighed, “I know, [Y/N]. I just…don’t want you to run yourself into the ground, you know?” You nodded glumly as he then kidded you, rolling his eyes a little, “Come on, I was a med student. You really should listen to someone who’s been there.”

Smiling a little, you gave one half-second of consideration for the corridor behind you, then pulled the back of Dan’s hand up to your lips. “I really appreciate the worry, Dan. I’ll just get through today, stop by the hospital if I got business there-“ He almost looked dazed, a more genuine smile as you lowered his hand again, still holding it as you shrugged, “Then, I’ll take doctor’s orders. Get home and get some rest.”

He seemed to be lighter on his feet even, and sighed, “That-a [boy/girl/courier].” You huffed slightly, finally releasing his hand and walking back down the hall. “Thanks, Dan. See you later on, alright?” He watched you walk, [the sway of your hips/the drum of your fingers against the sketchbook set on your hip] making him smile with even more earnestly than he had managed in a hot second.

“Of course.”

Even dancing around the ordeal, your duties did find reason to go to the hospital, and you yourself a reason to find Dr. Cain chatting up a coworker in plain sight. He nearly turned on his heels at the mere sight of your approach with the usual delivery, but you didn’t get much of a ‘hello’ between you before another crossed paths.

“Good morning, [Mr./Miss] – Oh, my good lord.” You glowered as Dyer began to laugh off the ghastly look on your face, “What good’s a courier if they’re running on fumes, huh?” He [gingerly shook you, nothing too rough /slugged you on the arm just enough to make you waggle backwards a little like there hadn’t been a bone there to knock against], and you merely let out a dry, forced laugh to him while Dan tried not to look directly at him. It was as though he still couldn’t help the tight glare, but pretended it was at an imaginary fly on the back of his neck as his hand found its usual spot, a tick from being bothered.

“I’m just teasing you, [sweets/stud]. I’ll go on and tell the gals in the break room to leave some coffee for you to grab before your next stop. I’ve never seen a living soul look so dead!” Dyer laughed again, clapping you on the shoulder before sharing the love and slugging Dan on the arm. Both of you stood almost huddled together, plastering fake smiles and awkward chuckles for the man until he was well out of ear shot. You looked down at the toes of your shoes, one hand still holding the manila envelope and the other coming back up to curl into the crevice of your temple, two fingers massaging the dull throb that was lingering.

A hand clasped around your shoulder, skittering to then set in a featherlight hold on your upper arm. You watched as Dan gave you an assurance in the way his thumb dragged against your sleeve, finding the frigid skin underneath it with the motion. With your heart having leapt to your throat, you merely let your eyes trail up his own, the pristine white coated shoulder and finally to his face, taking your time to hide the way you were practically melting at the gesture.

“I’m making Herbert take a night off tonight, too – for both of our sakes.” He mentioned, and you choked down a giggle, “Good luck with that.”

“Well, I want you to join us.” Dan then mentioned, and you narrowed your eyes slightly, like the words I want you to help me keep him out of the basement were almost visible on his lips instead, “Think he’d want to be there if he knew you were there.”

“Why, because he wants to see me or because he wants to make sure I keep my hands to myself?” You joked, the strange inner thought pushing past the weak defenses of sleep deprived filters. Dan rose his eyebrows at you, jaw slightly open as you then cleared your throat, immediately reeling yourself in with your eyes now stuck on the folder in your hand. “I-I mean, I’m surprised he’d want to hang out with…anyone besides you, since you two are colleagues, and we’ve only known each other for a fraction of that.”

“[Y/N], we…” He began, but quickly stopped himself as he then craned his neck slightly, tilting his head at you so you would look at him again, “I want us to get along, get to know each other a little better if we’re gonna be-“ He stopped himself, stifled as he took a breath and you turned back to meet his eyes. You mirrored him when he broke, making sure Dyer truly had gone down another way but then you were brought back by Dan running his hand from your arm to your shoulder, then back again in a soothing motion, “If we’re going to be in this mess together.”

Blinking, you merely nodded at that, and asked, “Do you or him need me to grab anything at the store or something before I get home?” Smiling, he shook his head at you. “No, I think I have it covered. Get your work done and then just let everything go for the night, alright?” You nodded sagely at that, watching him start to walk down the hall. He then pointed at you and huffed, “Both of you are sleeping if I can do anything about it.”

You rolled your eyes, giving a mocking salute as he continued down the hall. His genuine smile came through, eyes shut from its emergence as he then turned around with light feet. You took in another deep breath, hand running up your pantleg to keep the clammy skin from ruining the manila folder as you turned and walked in the opposite direction.

“Alright. So, our county courier is for sure sleeping with Cain.”

“Oh, probably.” Dr. Graves had been idly listening to Dyer’s lament, and even agreed with him without looking up from his desk, “Dr. Cain is a serial romantic. Patients flock to him and his-“ A smile quirked on his lips, “lost puppy disposition.” When the officer merely grumbled, he then observed with the slight smirk, “You almost sound bitter about it, officer.”

Dyer rolled off the wall that he was leaning on, making a dismissive sound. “Pah. It’s good that [he/she’s / they’re] doing this, though. Distract him, take him away from the interests of West. [Y/N] knows what to do now that [he/she’s / they’ve] been made aware of the massacre.”

Graves’ expression dropped, looking away from the papers in his hand. “What?”

Dyer quickly insisted, “Look, I had to, Wilbur. Damn paper-pusher was dragging [his/her/their]feet while giving me something to work with, so I just gave a little… nudge. [He/she knows / They know] how to spell ‘confidential’, especially something as covered up as what happened here.”

Graves shook his head, and grumbled, “Well, that doesn’t answer my next question.”

“Spit it out.”

“Why would [he/she/they] want to get so close to Dr. Cain if [he/she/they] know what he’s capable of?”

Dyer snorted, looking back out the cracked door to the Pathology office as he warned, “I think you’re concerned about the wrong man, Graves.” When the man merely turned to look at him again in confusion, Dyer then spoke lower than before.

“Cain wasn’t the one who decapitated Dr. Carl Hill, now was he?”

“You want me to do what, exactly?”

Dan scoffed, and you merely stood beside him while giving Herbert a mirrored pleading expression. Still, you were kind of curious about the atmosphere in the basement you never got permission to see, tired eyes stringing out rather than keeping engaged with the two men beside you.

“Take a break, that’s what.” Dan was flimsy in his firm tone, especially with the other man who wore it well. Herbert asked immediately, “Why would I do that?”

Dan tapped the side of his sneaker to yours, and you quickly piped up. “Your mind can’t work well all the time, Herbert. You’re down here a lot, and-“ You then stifled another yawn at the mere mention, “It’d be good for the research to give it some space, even if you’re not stuck on any pressing question, or experiment or the sort…” You saw Dan give him another pointed look from your peripheral, as though you were some walking examples of the importance of breaks with your sleepy deep breath after speaking. He was silent for another long pause, but finally asked, “What are we going to do upstairs, then?”

“Board games, mostly.” You said with a shrug. Dan put a hand on your shoulder in an urgent motion and corrected, “The same things we always do at night, just upstairs and out of the basement.” The other man scoffed again, and Dan mentioned, “Look, you can bring your reading, or whatever with you. I won’t make you do anything more, just give yourself the change of scenery.”

“Are you trying to throw some sort of bone of formality out for [Y/N]?” He then asked, but still you noticed him closing his notebook, beginning to gather some things. He then dared to go on, Dan shaking his head already, “[He/she doesn’t / They don’t] need the wool pulled over the eyes any more that we’re normal people, I showed them-“

“I know you showed [him/her/them].” Dan huffed, and frayed enough from the conversation he started up the stairs again. You decided to wait for, standing there as he finally started to follow.

“Is he doing this for you or are you doing this for him?” He then asked, and your eyes slid like stone over to look him in the eye. “We’re both doing this for you.”

He merely pressed his brow at you and continued up the steps with no further questions.

You had opted to take your usual spot in the armchair across from the sofa, leaving the other two with the latter. It seemed to keep the peace, and that was what this night was about. You could do with some peace, not having to close the air vents in the Autumn again. You were barely upright, but enough not to look utterly disheveled while you had started to scribble in your book, feeling particularly uninspired, just adding detail to works in progress.

It didn’t take well-rested judgement to see Dan wasn’t actually watching, and that Herbert wasn’t actually reading. It just made you wonder if you should really keep drawing since everyone was putting on an act.

The thought sent a wave of heat through your body, and clammy fingers suddenly let the pencil slip up, fall to the carpet with two sets of eyes watching from across the room. You pretended not to notice, leaning down after it with a dizzy sensation going from your gut to your head from the shift in gravity.

“What in the world was on that page?” Dan joked, and you smiled from where you were face-level with the floor. “Which one?” Herbert eyed the two of you as you flipped to the page you had been working on the night before, the dark line the clearest thing about the image.

“It’s a fluke, I meant for it just to be a study on arm shape, but…serves me right for drawing before bed.” You laughed, and while Dan grinned back, the other man set his book in his lap to see a little better. You stayed still, uncertain as he suddenly got this tuned in hold to his shoulders, no longer scowling.

“This is different,” Herbert observed aloud, “Unnatural.” All you thought to do was hum in affirmation at that, and he did the same, almost like a mirroring action. He then looked up at you and asked, “Do you have more like it?”

“I…” You trailed off, and started to turn the pages, “Possibly. Depends on what you want to see in regards to unnatural, but-“

He didn’t even hesitate, and you once again watched with bated breath, peripherals still to the pencil laying on the floor as he shifted on the couch. Dan also watched, trying not to appear completely shocked at what was being offered.

A space in between the two men, something you felt had been kept from you, and a sudden pull from your core again made you slowly rise. Ignoring the fatigue and walking carefully around the coffee table, you flipped towards the back of the book, finding some of the X-rays Marge had passed to you. This only got Herbert to tilt his head, observing with slight bewilderment.

Dan asked, “Are those from…?” You replied quickly, “Oh god, no. Miskatonic doesn’t trust like other offices do.”

“Of course,” Herbert agreed, making the other man give him a quick look before furrowing his brow at your drawings.

Stakeouts were common for a police officer looking for answers, but Dyer wasn’t necessarily permitted to such a strike. It hadn’t stopped him from parking down the street from the infamous repurposed mortuary, the place he had found to be where the courier’s address was read as in the private records from the office.

They were leaning far too close to each other to see faces, just [y/h/c] hair next to West’s dark, short cut. Regardless, it was close, the shadows of their bodies morphing against one another in shared fascination, honed in on one spot and not afraid to get close to see. Yet, despite the two sitting together so intimately, he saw Cain’s arm slowly come around the back of the couch, not as cordial in his distance but also involved with whatever was taking place on the sofa judging by the angle of his head, looking more at the two people than what their shared focus was based on his glances to the side, the detail of his face seen better overall.

Dyer chewed his lip, trying to squint through the binoculars and truly make sense of the image before finally dropping them to his lap, and huffing loudly.

The arrangement between the courier and the other two was even weirder than he had assumed.

[arcanemoody]

FINAL CHAPTER IS UP! 💉

[deepspacedukat]

Non-Star Trek Fic Masterlist

Master Post | ENT Masterlist | SNW Masterlist | TOS Masterlist | TNG Masterlist | DS9 Masterlist | VOY Masterlist | Main OC Masterlist | Kinktober 2022 Masterlist | Summer Of Cum 2023 Masterlist |

Fic Masterlist Key:

💛 = SFW, ❤️ = NSFW (18+ ONLY), 👀 = WIP/Coming Soon

~*~

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✨G’Kar✨

~ Who Reads The Mind Reader? ❤️:

Part 1 ✨ Part 2 👀

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Castle Freak (1995)

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~ A Second Chance ❤️:

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~ Breeze ❤️:

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Doctor Mordrid (1992)

✨Anton Mordrid✨

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~ Business Trip ❤️:

Summary: Crawford’s girlfriend is out of town on business, and he misses her. - Kinktober 2022 Day 12

~ The Sweater ❤️:

Summary: A drabble about Crawford and his thoughts on you wearing his sweater.

Lurking Fear (1994)

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Murder, She Wrote (1984-1996)

✨Lawrence Baker✨

~ The Baker’s Baker ❤️:

Part One ✨ Part Two 👀 Part Three 👀 Part Four 👀

Summary: Lawrence Baker gets a taste of Cabot Cove, in all her chaos, and manages to stumble right into the middle of a mystery.

Re-Animator (1985)

✨Herbert West✨

~ Experimentation 💛:

Summary: Reader has feelings for Herbert and Dan ships it.

~ The Fluke ❤️:

Summary: Herbert makes a bad choice, but it ends with an orgasm…so was it really that bad? - Kinktober 2022 Day 24

✨Poly!Danbert✨

~ 👀

The Frighteners (1996)

✨Milton Dammers✨

~ Good Boy ❤️:

Summary: A small exploration of Milton’s praise kink. - Kinktober 2022 Day 1

~ Off The Record ❤️:

Summary: Milton’s partner has always had a thing for his gloves. He’s never noticed…until now. - Kinktober 2022 Day 15

The Phantom Empire (1988)

✨Andrew Paris✨

~ 👀

Urgency (2010)

✨Sumner Cavic✨

~ 👀

Would You Rather (2012)

✨Shepard Lambrick✨

~ Manners 💛:

Summary: The reader bumps into two blue bloods of varying temperaments. (#1 in the “Love And Other Investments” series)

[nofoundboy]

HELLO THERE 👀

Masterlist

Ao3

(in ao3 I just work with my ships)

First:

I write only for male/nonbinary/gender non conforming readers. Transfem readers are welcome too if they want representation.

All the hcs and imagines and stuff are female and as a trans dude myself, I want to write for the ones who struggle to find things with male/gn pronouns.

If you're female I can't stop you to interact here but please, don't be disrespectful. This profile is a safe space for all the LGBTIQ+

Requests are: OPEN

Current Requests: 5

Kiss Prompt thing

Who I write for:

Slashers

Jason Vorhees

Brahms Heelshire

Vincent Sinclair

Bo Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Michael Myers

RZ Michael Myers

Bubba Sawyer

Chop Top Sawyer

Nubbins Sawyer

Thomas Hewitt

Billy Lenz

Poly Ghostface (Billy and Stu)

Mickey Altieri

Daniel Robitaille (Candyman)

Jesse Chromeans (Chromeskull)

Leslie Vernon

Billy Chapman

Kurt Kunkle

Josef (Creep)

Pennywise (2017 version)

Norman Bates

Tiffany Valentine

Carrie White

Martin (1977)

Ash Williams (I know he's not an slasher stfu)

Star Wars

Obi-wan Kenobi

Luke Skywalker

Han Solo

Leia Organa

Lando Carlisian

Qui-Gon Jinn

Rey

Jynn Erso

Marvel

Peter Parker (any version)

Stephen Strange/Dr Strange

Otto Octavius

Arthur Harrow

Khonshu

Bucky Barnes

Pietro Maximoff (any version)

Loki

Sylvie

Mantis

Deadpool

DC

Joker/Arthur Fleck

Joker (Heath Ledger)

Jerome Valeska

Edward Nygma/Nashton (any version)

Oswald Cobblepot (any version)

Jonathan Crane

Abner Krill (Polka Dot Man)

Harley Quinn

Barry Allen (Ezra Miller's, I didn't watch the show)

Ratcatcher 2

Bruce Wayne/Batman (any version)

Clark Kent/Superman (any version except Smallville one)

Other characters I write for

Steve Harrington

Jonathan Byers

Will Byers

Eddie Munson

Beetlejuice

Dewey Riley

Jimmy Mcgill/Saul Goodman

Hutch Mansell

Dewey Finn

Tommy Bomowski (Coach Boomer)

Jareth The Goblin King

Abe Sapiens

Jason Dean

Robert Van Helsing

Dennis Rafkin

Ships I write for

Zsaszmask

Vigilmaker

Nygmobblepot

Octogoblin

Lokius

Stuilly

Batjokes

Harlivy

Stucky

Jinnobi

Sambucky

Harkrill

Danbert

Spideypool

Josef x Aaron

Josef x Sara

What I write

Headcanons

One-shots

Fluff

Angst

Nsfw

What I don't write

Full fics (only one-shots and headcanons)

Incest

Omegaverse

P3d0phil14

Any bathroom kink.

[darklylucid]

Yes, I’m still fixated on ‘Re-Animator’. I keep having lewd DanBert poly thoughts, and guess who just remembered that she’s got a green glow stick in her bedroom...? 

Who needs a dark bedroom when you can pretend you’re lighting up a small part of it with a vial of reagent...

EDIT - do you know what else is green and glowing? 

Vials of mutagen. 

Instead of dreaming about ‘Re-Animator’, I dreamed about ‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’. Not that I’m complaining...

[lightofthemoonglow]

One of these days, I'm only finally get an idea for a poly! Danbert fic and actually write it. Hopefully soon

[applesontheground]

💘 house call 💉

sending birthday wishes to @bisexual-horror-fan! as always, utterly thankful for a great friendship, and how else to show it by making our barbies kiss each other? this was another hypothetical we had talked about a little after the last cross-canon piece -- how the triads would react to properly meeting each other -- and in my nature i ran to write it for the special day.

(btw, i def intend for this to be something that happens outside the events of prometheus/post the "oh my god they finally hooked up" moment that's still coming. it's a slow burn after all, so spoilers that they get together eventually, i suppose?)

also: just to avoid confusion since there are a severe lack of names in this, i use she/her for the TTHITOW reader and they/them for the YOP reader!

SFW | Word Count: 2,771 | Tiffany Valentine x Reader x Charles Lee Ray & Herbert West x Reader x Daniel Cain contains canon typical/injury, compliant with Through The Heart Is The Only Way and Your Own Prometheus

In the dead of night, a car went squealing down the road. Trying to get away from an audience of dark windows, clear and open like crystal eyes peering into where they were going – and more importantly, who they were.

“Stop lettin’ go of it, you’re just gonna bleed out!”

“I’m not. Tiff, don’t fuckin-! OW!”

Another yelp from the backseat made the tires squeal, causing a sharp turn being made and the woman behind the wheel to finally slam both her palms down in an aggravated motion. “I can’t drive straight if you two are screaming in my ear! I just can’t!” She cried, hands white knuckling as they returned to take control.

Chucky looked to the ceiling of the car cabin, rolling his eyes and disguising it as agony to keep both of his girls off his back. Tiffany swung around from the passenger seat, and she argued, “He’s the one that says we can’t go to a hospital, especially not with the sorry sap in the back.”

Being reminded of the body in the trunk, the waitress rolled her neck but finally gritted, “No, nope. Fuck it, I have somewhere better than a hospital. Somewhere far safer for all of us, sealed lips and all.”

“Sure, sure. Take us wherever is best right now, baby cakes.” Tiffany finally softened, an arm on the crook of her elbow. “Only thing I have t’ask is where it is.”

“…Across from a cemetery…one town over or so…” She mulled, then quickly insisted, “A friend of mine, they work as a document runner. Believe me, we can trust them-“

“Oh, that’s nice. Perfect, just what we needed.” Chucky grimaced in a sarcastic bite, but the waitress snapped, “For God’s sake, if I’m your accomplice you could let me fucking finish-” Tiffany gave a downright diabolical look to him, patting the waitress’ arm as she mustered the patience. “…They got a couple doctors for roommates.”

“Oh,” His hands came up in a shrug, “Fine, that’s actually better than I thought.

Let’s make a house call. Sure they’d fuckin’ love that at this time of the night.”

Knock on the door.

From inside the house, the sole person in the kitchen looked up from the counter. First at the door an ocean’s away with the desolate living room seeming so vast; then at the clock on the mantle. Finally, a familiar voice hushing on the other side made them sprout up from their seat, discarding the question of a warrant before entering that had been forming in their mind. Even though no one else was on the main floor with them, they couldn’t help sneaking, the heavy quiet making them very aware of their own footsteps.

Opening the door, their eyes fell, a little disheveled in an expected way for this time of the night but growing in moments at the scene before them. Two women holding a man between them, one of them they recognized like the back of their hand. If there wasn’t a dark stain trailing down the man’s torso, they would’ve been quicker to say hello.

“Is everyone home?” The waitress asked, giving a pointed look from under one of his arms. The courier stammered, “I- They’re…” They looked to one woman, then the other. Finally, the man for only a brief glimpse as they answered more confidently, “They’re downstairs, but I can…Oh my god,come inside.” Forgetting formality, they held the door open.

“Downstairs, like in a basement?” Chucky clarified. Tiffany sighed, “What else could we be talking about, huh? Come on, you’re bleeding all over the porch.”

“Oh yeah, let’s go inside and bleed on the carpet-“ He snarked, his other girlfriend lingering by the door to catch a worrisome glance from the courier. Still, they smirked as she murmured, “I can explain, I promise. Thank you so much. We just couldn’t go to the hospital, you know.”

“Sure, of course.” They assured, nothing else needed to be said as they guided them in. One last look into the street, across it to the cemetery for a beat, then they closed the door behind them.

“Good timing. I had just been up and walking around when you pulled up.” The courier explained, ushering an open jar of peanut butter behind the toaster on the counter, one second upright and another crouched down, opening a drawer where you might expect them to keep the pots. Looking over one shoulder, they offered, “You can take a seat anywhere you’d like, by the way.”

“So, sweets.” Chucky rolled his eyes over to the waitress, and teased, “Do you have multiple pals that happen to be bangin’ a couple doctors, or is this who I think it is? Be honest.” The courier perked up, trying not to smirk. “She’s told you about me?”

Chucky shot a look towards the woman on his left. “All I’m saying is that you told me that you weren’t taking me to the Frankensteins. What do we mean by doctors, exactly?”

The waitress asked, “Do you want to be taken care of without the legal work or not?” and the courier lamented as they set some medical supplies on the counter, “Do we have to word it like that?” The gears continuing to turn in their head as they tore the seal on a bottle of peroxide, they then repeated in a confused tone: “Frankensteins?”

Seeing them busy quickly, even finding a pair of nitrile gloves conveniently stashed with the rest of the supplies and wasting no time to stretch them over their hands, Chucky scoffed, “Well, this whole household’s full of doctors, huh?” They met eyes with him and chirped, “Oh no, I’m a courier for the county, actually.” He gave a look of concern back down to the heavy tear – both through his sweater and doubling down into his skin – above his stomach.

They then hummed, “It’s alright. When you live with people in the business, you learn a little. Believe me, I may not be licensed but I know what I’m doing. I’ve patched up those doctors themselves a few times when they weren’t able to.”

“What, when they burn their hand on the stove or something?” Chucky scoffed, getting a small laugh from the courier. “Sure, or when they stub their toe on a doorframe.” They went along with it, shrugging casually but their smile slightly bent into a disguised grimace.

Chucky sighed, half from the load off he took on a barstool by the counter and half by the return of his humor. “Sure. Just like everyone here, you also know a thing or two about all that necromancy garbo, too. I know a sadist when I see one.”

The courier’s kind eyes grew wide. “Oh, did she tell you about that, or…?” They met eyes again, both confused now. He mumbled out, “…No? No, I was- I was joking, buddy.”

Before they could rewind their terrified expression, a door opening down the hall towards the right side of the house made their head snap towards it. They dropped the gauze from their hands into Tiffany’s lap. She merely watched in shock as the poor thing nearly lost balance shooting around the counter.

“The boys must be in.” Tiffany mused, one hand resuming the work they had been doing but still giving a curious glance towards the doorway where they had slipped out of sight.

Hushed conversation. The courier begging with a quiet, “please” was all they caught before they slipped back around the doorway and cleared their throat so all three people in the kitchen looked over. There were emerging figures from the hall, still shrouded in the deep dark of the corridor but still clear enough to see that one was taller, lankier while the other had a pair of metallic-framed glasses.

“These are friends of mine. They ran into some trouble and just needed the help.” The courier explained, “Friends, these are my partners.” The two men finally followed as they walked back in, the light showing their faces far better. The taller one was quick to react, giving a confused nod before his eyes settled on the blood seeping across the counter, finding the source and immediately softening in stature at the sight, concern making him antsy in how he stood behind the other two. His counterpart was far less disposed to it, still giving a close look to the courier, a raise of the eyebrows when they locked stares in a silent ask of ‘All this, and you brought them inside?’

“Oh, that one’s definitely a freak.” Chucky cringed under his breath, both of his girlfriends slapping hands over their own mouths and then his with the free ones. The courier disregarded it, ignoring the offense from one man by saying his name. “Herbert, Dan. This is a friend I meet up with every Thursday after late runs, and … her partners. Chucky and Tiffany?” Looking in a silent question to the other two just to be safe, both silently greeted in affirmation.

“Sorry about the blood, you guys. I know tricks on how to get it out of linoleum if you need.” Tiffany mentioned to them as both men tried to find their place in the scene unfolding. Dan quickly responded, shaking his head hurriedly and trying to crack an edgeless smile for her, “Oh, we got cleanup down well. I, uh- “ He gestured to the courier, “They get nosebleeds a lot, actually. Don’t you, honey?” Briefly pecking each other on the lips, the courier put a hand to Dan’s lower back and commented, “Yeah, about that. They know we do more than nosebleeds around here.”

“They what?” Herbert turned from the counter, paused in his movement to find some gauze. He even held it close to one shoulder, like he was about to abstain from the entire ordeal, but Dan quickly snatched it from him. Knowing there were more pressing matters, he came around the counter and asked Chucky, “How did you manage something so bloody? At this time of night, too?”

“Believe me, it’s better you don’t ask. What’s important is making sure I don’t die around your boyfriend over there.” Chucky grimaced, earning a suppressed glance from the man.

Herbert snorted at that, the courier cringing to themselves as Dan assured him, “Come on, you’re not doing that. You haven’t lost enough blood to die, I promise.” The courier then added kindly, “You’d need a lot more than that, actually.”

“I’m sure stranger things have happened,” Herbert warned, making Dan finally frown over at him as the courier hissed, “Enough.”

Chucky groaned, “For Christ’s sake, I think I know where this caravan is going. We all kill people, or at least know about the whole murder ordeal, so let’s stop being a bunch of pusses while we have this small talk, huh?”

“Kill people?” Dan echoed, half terrified of the mere mention but trying to disguise it as confusion.

“Oh, murder?” The word stained Herbert’s tongue, like a bad burn, “Is that what you call it?”

The courier scoffed at him, “I didn’t give them that word.” Giving a pointed look back, like they were growing exasperated from the assumptions, they silently resolved the issue and looked back to the others.

“Huh, we seem to know a little more ‘bout each other than I thought. Have you been yapping, too?” Tiffany then asked the waitress, crossing her arms to make the other woman huff, “Not…not anything specific about what you and Chuck do for a living, if that’s what you mean.”

“Well, we can understand now, can’t we?” Herbert piped up again, the courier handing him a pair of gloves as he now joined the small circle forming in the center of the room, “We don’t need to be so discrete: If you must know, I met Daniel in a morgue and the other one sneaking around two nights after they had moved in.” Even though it was a bit rude, the courier seemed tickled by the use of the other one, and when Tiffany noticed with a narrow of her eyes they whispered, “Long story.”

The right man for the job, Dan closed in as the one in charge of patching Chucky up. Herbert watched in a thinly veiled , but was soon distracted by the courier, who mosied over and took his fiddling hands. He gave them a tough look, but it was ignored in favor of peppering a soft kiss to one knuckle, whispering something that made him roll his eyes but finally release the tension in his hands and let them rest on his sides.

He fell far more content with watching, their chin on his shoulder as they mouthed, “God, he’s handsome, isn’t he?” Herbert didn’t respond, but a contemplative glance back over at Dan was all the courier needed to smile a little. They met eyes with the waitress, and they couldn’t help but feel some sort of strangely placed perfection in how they acted with the two misfits that had emerged from the depths of this strange little house in the middle of some desolate valley of silence and almost crypt-like complacency.

The waitress then turned her attention back to her own two. Tiffany had been idly speaking with Dan, but as soon as the awful gash in Chucky’s side was no longer visible under a healthy layer of gauze she was looking at him.

Dan finally gave them space, nodding one last time before walking over to the sink to wash his hands, meeting the other two there. Putting a hand on his shoulder, the waitress grinned as they shared a kiss themselves as Tiffany huffed, “Very nice work, Dan. My man’s almost good as new. If only you could fix that clunky chip on his shoulder.” Chucky made a face, and muttered, “Keep talking like that, and I’m running away with this one.” The waitress giggled, slapping him on the shoulder playfully as he pulled her into the two of them, giving her a kiss as well. A dim thought fell over her, and her smile faded as she murmured, “Well, now we just need to scrap the body that’s still in the car.”

There was a plastic clatter on the counter over by the sink, the triad looking at them while Dan slowly turned off the water. “You guys brought the body?” The courier gasped, and Chucky shrugged, “What, were we supposed to leave it out in the open with our fingerprints all over it?”

Tiffany then pointed out, “Well, we’re by a cemetery, we can just find a hole in the ground and take care of it.” She looked at Dan, who was shooting a gaze to the living room with the window pointing towards the graveyard. “You guys know a good spot for that, I suppose?”

“Body disposal?” Dan murmured, letting one of his dry hands slip around the courier’s hip, having them fit snug against him. Chucky jutted his chin towards him. “What, are any of you gonna say something?”

Tiffany then sighed, “Whether it’s burying the guy, dissolvin’ him in a bathtub like you see in those over-the-top crime shows…I dunno, we just need it gone one way or another, so we all don’t go to jail.” The courier gave a careful look to the hem of their shirt, streaked a bit with blood that had been lingering on someone’s hand while they had brushed past them.

Finally, Dan offered, “Well…we can help with that, too. I-If you want, I mean- we know how difficult…” Listening to him stumble, the courier’s arm came up to press their fingers into his back in mute support, “It can be to get rid of evid- Bodies, all of that stuff.” He finally swallowed his last thoughts, looking down at the tile floor with an almost ill look on his face.

Herbert stopped rubbing the smudges from his glasses, placing them back on his face. When he got another uncertain glance from the waitress, he then mused more to his partners than them with an amused tone.

“Yes, I think that can be arranged.”

Tiffany beamed, “Great, so it’s a double date?”

The courier looked over at the waitress, and instead of anxiety, confusion, worry… There was a glimmer of mischief on the way they pursed their lips. It was more to hide a smirk than to express discomfort, and the waitress had to put a hand over their mouth to hide the matching smile.

It was dangerous; they had a match made in Hell and they weren’t sorry about it.

[applesontheground]

your own prometheus 💉

CHAPTER SEVEN something inside your head | AO3

small sidenote: this photo makes me cackle every time i see it and i’m including it in this.

SFW | Word Count: 4,245 | Herbert West x GN Reader x Daniel Cain

contains canon typical/gore, beginnings of the Angst

⬅ continued from like minds broken, like minds breaking free ➡ continued in robbing me of my rightful chances 🔁 start at the beginning with letting me in or letting me go

He was starting to get déjà vu from what he saw: three friends in the lobby of a hospital, two in white coats and one holding a stack of papers. Every time he seemed to stumble on it, the moods were shifting. Less stiff upper lips, blank glances when one of the others talked. This time, everyone stood a little bit closer together. One of them even laughed.

The courier’s lips turned upwards as [he/she/they] looked away from the man on [his/her/their] right, and he could almost hear the scoff under [his/her/their] breath that came out in the form of a jerk of [his/her/their] body, finally opening their mouth to speak to the taller man on the left.

“Dan, can you believe that?”

“Well, you’ve been staring at those three for long enough.” Graves idled down the hall, seeing Dyer turn with an expression of stale bemusement. The officer shook his head as he muttered, “I don’t know what to make of [Y/N]. [He/she’s / They’re] still friends with those two after everything I’ve been trying to get at. We can’t talk about it out loud, but I mean… [Y/N] lives with them, and can’t sense that murderous intent?” Graves furrowed his brow as Dyer continued, “The unattainable urges coming off them?” He gave Dan another stare, seeing how he looked down at the courier with a fond smirk, hands in his pockets as he fawned over them continuing to laugh at a joke that had long passed the moment. He corrected himself, “Off of West, anyways.”

The pathologist gave him a doubtful huff, but the man went on, “I mean that, they were caught doing unspeakable things here, and now thanks to a few redacted notes they have jobs again after a short stint in Peru. If only [he/she/they] had any idea what West and Cain were capable of. What atrocities probably take place in that house they all share, and somehow [he’s/she’s / they’re] none the wiser.”

“I saw you eating peanut butter straight out of the jar last night. Care to explain yourself?” You looked up from the papers in your arm, seeing Dan give that look that was half joking and half serious in his interrogation. Before you could even consider changing the subject, you sniffed dryly, “Oh yeah? When would you have seen me do that?”

Herbert spoke almost like he was reimagining it, watching movement in the lobby rather than zeroing in on you; that was what Dan seemed to be there for. “2 AM. We both saw you do it, so don’t try to play the hypothetical.”

You started squinting at the taller of them with returned eye contact, “Well, what were you guys doing up so late?” Dan ignored the question and muttered quietly, keeping it gentle with the tone despite nitpicking, “That jar was bought for everyone in the house. Not just for you to eat plain at ungodly hours.” You stifled another wince, trying to keep your expression relaxed while Herbert chastised in your other ear, “You didn’t even look like you were awake while doing it.”

You rolled your eyes, then slowly asked, “…Have you also been eating the-“

“No, we haven’t been eating the peanut butter, [Y/N].” Dan interrupted you, shaking his head while you cringed at his tone, but he finally smirked in a way like he couldn’t believe what he was saying while you merely bit back laughter, glancing between him and the other one as everyone finally just let the subject go, the humor in it coming as a quaint comfort. Normalcy felt like a good fit, even when temporary – and over a rather embarrassing habit of yours on top of that.

It was strange to have a quiet night at the house where not only Dan was upstairs sharing the space with you, but Herbert as well. They both took the sofa, the mess of textbooks splayed out on the coffee table while you were in the chair on the other side of the living room, stretched out with your back against one arm and your legs dangling over the other. Unconventional, but in character, as Herbert had observed aloud when he came to join you.

It would’ve put you on edge to be with them for reasons relating to their research if you weren’t sidetracked from what you had nearly walked in on the night before. Still, it didn’t really change much about your feelings towards either of them the more you thought about it. Herbert still scared the hell out of you, and Dan… well, he was Dan. You couldn’t bring yourself to be cold with him, even if he was having something under wraps while making advances with you simultaneously. Again, the ability anything had to surprise you was drawing thinner and thinner in each passing day.

The relationship did make what was between the two of you confusing, though. You had spent all of the last few weeks considering your feelings for him, but now you were just lost on it as a whole once again. Even sitting there, you figured that keeping not just him, but both of them at arm’s length was more of a necessary tactic than something you wanted to do.

Still, that didn’t mean you couldn’t socialize. The house was definitely big enough for the three of you, and avoiding each other would be another battle. Plus, gave you a decent alibi with them: stay in sight, no need for constant interrogations on who you were talking to or where you could’ve gone. At least, in your own head it all made sense. Enough to keep you idly drawing while a fierce wind blew outside, clouds hiding a nearly full moon and making the world appear dark beyond the porch of what once was a mortuary.

What were you supposed to do about the little that you understood about these two? Tell someone? Hide out in your bedroom all day? The reality of what went on behind closed doors – both regarding the mystery of the missing body parts and the mystery of Dan and Herbert – were Dan and Herbert’s burden to bear, and not yours if you could manage that much.

“Oh, by the way,” You took the scissors sitting under your sketchbook, starting to shear out one of your pages, “Herbert, I redrew a diagram from your notebook that you left out the other day. Might as well just give it to you now so I don’t find my things in the basement again.” He gave you a surprised glance from over the book as you leaned slightly from the chair, tossing the sheet you had just severed onto the coffee table. Both men’s eyes settled with it, and Dan’s expression solidified with a light, petrified clench of his jaw as he murmured, “You drew that?”

“I can only stare at the pictures you two have laying around so much before wanting to take inspiration.” You scoffed as Herbert held up the page, mulling over it. “If anyone would understand that I’d think it’d be you two.”

“[Y/N], that’s really well done and all, but you shouldn’t be-“ Dan began, and Herbert suddenly cut him off, “It’s good.” It made you smirk a little, heat blanketing your face as he continued to stare, and even observed, “You have a remarkable handle on anatomy despite not being in the profession, [Y/N].” Dan gave you another bothered glance, and you shrugged at him. Part of you just wanted to spit it out, I’m doing my best to make myself useful around here, but you saved it as Herbert then set it down and asked, “If I gave you another, would you…?”

Perking up again, you inhaled to answer and Dan was now interrupting, “Maybe another time. [Y/N] has other projects she’s working on.” He paused, giving you another look. “Right?”

“…Right.” You once again gave the hold both of them had on your attention slack, and sat back in your position on the chair, its arm digging into your spine as you shifted your eyes back down to see you had idly began trimming another page. The eyeball that you had drawn was perfectly sheared down the middle, two halves of the pupil staring up at you from your book and the other from the coffee table in silent question.

“And then I tell them, That arrest record was nulled before I was born. How the hell could I get it for you? What do I look like, the necromancer of paperwork!?” You joked to the receptionist, smiling as they snickered in reply. Little things were what made you able to traverse the days, even though sleep was dwindling down to a few hours a night. The rest of those long hours between sunset and sunrise were devoted to listening to the house settle and tearing your own idea of your roommates apart in your mind’s apparitions of them rather than try to find solace in a quiet room without the hints of human agony and confused fighting seeping through the vents.

A nurse suddenly stopped in front of you and the counter, half in a hurry but willing to pause on her route to ask a question. “Hey, do either of you have your key card on you? I left mine back in the main offices on the fourth floor, need to get into a room down here.”

“Oh, absolutely. Here, le-“ You had pulled out your ID card from its usual home in your shirt’s pocket, giving it a split second scan before dropping it back in while neither of them had the chance to see it emerge. “Huh, I-I…I might not actually have it.” You then lied in the same breath, hand slapping your chest in a fabricated search for it, “Sorry, ma’am.”

The nurse huffed, “Darn, really? Well, no big deal. Thanks.” As she trotted off, already asking someone else for help and leaving your saccharine expression to wither, you turned to look down the hall as though what you wanted to scorn would come striding your way at the mere glance.

Not today, though, leaving you to vent your frustration in the form of a tedious sigh and a walk along to the doors. It wasn’t even a panicked sort of realization that he had taken something from you anymore, and rather you jumped right to where it could be. Something was starting to erode in your headspace from the constant worry, the knowledge you wished you didn’t have, and what took its place was beginning to get a clue.

You jiggled the handle to the basement door, the usual inability to turn failing you as your eyes widened and the door started to move. When it wasn’t in the usual state of eternally locked, it was rather loose and quick to hinge inwards. Before taking another step forward, you called down the stairs, “Herbert? Dan?”

When nothing came back up, not even a sound that indicated someone was there, you looked back down the hall and paused to listen in towards the kitchen and living room. When there wasn’t anything besides a single bird calls from outside the walls, you finally slipped past the doorframe and took the first step downwards.

You couldn’t remember which intestine this was from your plethora of anatomy classes that you had back in grade school. Speculating casually was the only way you could keep your screams to yourself, almost holding your breath as you felt the sweat start to bead against your forehead and really processed that it was a human-sized organ sitting out in the open. First the arm, then the…guy, and now this. It wasn’t necessarily worse than what you had faced previously, but still not a discovery that made you feel fuzzy on the inside.

“[Y/N].” Your body started to turn towards the voice before your eyes could take themselves from the table, but finally you sent a wary expression up at Herbert as he stood at the top of the stairs, watching you remain silent and not try to evade him or what you had walked into.

You should’ve been terrified. Ignoring the way the organ gleamed under the faulty lights made your stomach flip, you then turned your body to fully face the man and crossed your arms. “Something of mine is missing. I assumed it would be here.” You murmured, your voice somehow remaining stern despite the sickly waiver coming in and out. Herbert replied, “What are you talking about?” He didn’t look away as he finished traversing down the stairs, eyeing the scene just behind you once before fixating back onto you, “I can’t believe I’m asking this again, but how did you get down here?”

You shrugged, struggling to trust the sound of your own answer: “Someone left the door unlocked. Usually, I need a special clearance to find myself in a place I shouldn’t be, but…” You trailed off, being the first to look away from him now as you went on, “My work I.D. went missing.”

“Are you accusing me of taking it?” Herbert asked without missing a beat, and your jaw slacked under your pursed lips. You hadn’t even said anything yet, and it was all you needed to hear as you uncrossed your arms, fingers worming into your shirt pocket to pull out the card you had laid eyes on earlier.

“I have reason to believe so.” You simply stated, holding the I.D. between your index and middle fingers so he could see his own disgruntled photo staring back at him. “Any reason we’re playing games today, Dr. West?”

He glared at the use of the title, making you bite back a grin as you held it out to him. Still an island away, the space between where he stood at the foot of the steps and where you remained by the metal table was an eternity of a wavering silence. One that wouldn’t last, and sure didn’t sit soundly between your tight gaze and his smothering glare. He took the card with a quick sleight of hand, careful not to ghost over your own fingers while doing so. Even you pulled your hand back a little too quickly when releasing your grip, still looking on expectantly.

“You have an abnormal amount of access to the hospital. It was necessary to a greater interest.” He stated, as if that would even be close to touch the surface of what you were trying to fathom. You stepped a half inch to the side, body turning halfway between him and the organ before the both of you. “This was the greater interest?” You clarified, and he merely rolled his eyes.

Like a snake rearing to strike, he then stood a little taller and scrutinized, “You wouldn’t understand, and I don’t know why I thought you would.” Although you had felt that comment, you let it bounce off of you for the time, eyes trailing down before catching on the innards one last time. Part of you suddenly shot forward in the form of words, chin tipping back up. “Well, I’m more than willing to stay out of it,” You agreed, ignoring a twilight of disappointment that shone through a sour frown and a slight tilt of his head. You then insisted, “but despite that, I’m not leaving without getting that key card back.” You scoffed, “You seem to have forgotten that I spend so much time at Miskatonic, it’s practically an asset to my commute.”

He then asked, “What are you going to do with such an extensive authority to the hospital?” You replied, “Nothing, I just do what I need to-”

“Liar.”

Your eyes snapped wide at the interruption, “You’re the liar!” You turned back around, and feeling the anger crawling in your throat you asked, “W-whose guts are these? Sherman Robinson’s? The body that came walking up these fucking stairs a couple nights ago?” You pointed to the staircase again, “The missing cadaver from the hospital that you and Dan supposedly know nothing about?”

Herbert didn’t waiver as you stepped closer, almost nose to nose as you added, “I might show up where I shouldn’t sometimes, but you’ve been the one taking my notebooks…my key cards, my work.” You laughed, “And the last I checked, I haven’t laid a damn finger on any of your stolen body parts unless I needed to stop it from trying to tear me a new one. The most I’ve done is…” You stopped, then recalled with a slightly horrified ring to your voice, “…Bring that vial home from Pathology.”

Herbert’s stare became less abrasive, watching you start to falter in your fury. You finally swallowed the distaste in your tone and repeated, “Look. I do apologize for intruding, but I had my reasons. Just give me the key card back. I…I’ll leave you to your business, you can-“

“[Y/N], how can either of us deny your interest? You said that you wanted answers.” The venom was absent from his tone now, and you once again met eyes with him, any arrogance slipping down the drain of your disposition in place of the standard unassuming muteness. He tipped his head, gesturing towards the table, “Here. Everything you’ve been wanting to know is right here if only you took a second to really look.” You were locked in place for another pause as he turned, but he didn’t start to walk until you followed, staring over his shoulder as you motioned to move.

You stood on one side, the one with the most distance from the intestine. He eyed it, like you weren’t even there watching as he then moved towards a bag sitting on a stool towards the back of the room. There were a few different areas of the basement, ones you hadn’t even begun to look into. Usually, what you saw on the first side of the room was enough for you. Your eyes flickered to the stairs, wondering if you’d ever leave but then disregarding the thought when a neon flash of green caught your eyes.

“This is what gives me the leeway. The essence of kinetic energy, enough proteins to disturb even the deepest of our eternal sleep.” Herbert explained, the vial in one hand and a syringe in another. He stuck the needle into the thin cap, and the light moved from one vessel to the other.

Your brow furrowed, shook from the pressure as you looked from what he was doing to his face again. “Well, what are you going to do?” You asked.

Herbert gave you a careful look, chin tipped towards the table as he pointed the needle towards the intestine. “Isn’t it obvious?”

His eyes then darted behind you, and before you could turn an iron grip going around your torso scared you into mustering the energy to breathe, and you did so in a gutted yelp, “Dan-!”

He didn’t answer, only hoisting you to walk backwards and up the stairs again. “Goddamn it, Herbert, I told you-“ He spoke between grappling you, doing your best to keep up with where he wanted you to walk with a glance over your shoulder, “Not to bring [him/her/them]- Into this-“ He turned his body, swiveling you like a ragdoll and making your feet knock against the stairs. You cried, “Ow, hey-!“

He set you on your feet, knees wobbling as you gained your balance. “[Y/N]-” He attempted to speak to you now but lost his words as you braced the wall in front of you, pulling back from him with wide eyes.

Both of you were silent, staring into each other’s ghastly expressions. It was home, it was solidarity; the feelings you got from his shivering exhale was enough to make you plead, “How many times will I have to ask you what’s going on down there?” You couldn’t help the next question, Dan trying to talk but being drowned out by the utter shock in your voice, “Is that what the hospital doesn’t want to talk about?”

“A mishandling of it is what they won’t speak of. Not done by me, nor by Dan, mind you.” Herbert answered, stepping out from the dark and closing the basement door behind him. He shot an irritated glance at the other man, “We have a much better understanding of it now. Having done more trials, I’ve spent most of my time not at work working towards something more docile, manageable.”

“It will never be manageable, Herbert!” Dan yelled, throwing an arm at the door and becoming irate, “You’ve been working with the re-agent for goddamn years at this point and it’s always been this…big, violent mess!”

Re-agent, you mouthed with a long look at the door. The words were there, pulling forth the definitions but not cultivating any sort of sense. That green serum was an agent for…Rejuvenating? Repurposing? The word was on the tip of your tongue, but you were pulled back in with Dan turning towards you again.

“[Y/N], I don’t tell you this to keep you in the dark, or to confuse you, alright? I tell you this to protect us- You.” Herbert and you both caught that, gnawing on your bottom lip to repress the look of disbelief you wanted to pull as he stammered, “You don’t know what kind of damage that research can do to someone, believe me. I’ve been…helping Herbert for awhile now, and it’s-“

“What, damaged you?” Herbert scoffed, “You’ve been just as ingrained within this work and mad for the truths of the re-agent as I have, Daniel.” Dan gave him a signal with his face, one you missed as he turned away from you, but guessing from the way it silenced the other man you figured it wasn’t nice.

He turned back to you, and lowered his voice, “It’s confusing, and I’ve seen it hurt people before. People who…don’t know what to do with the findings, and i-it’s…torn things apart.” He looked you straight in the eyes, almost gutting you as he then repeated himself, “Torn people apart.”

You felt the posture of the man standing beside him change again, just like it had when you had spoken about Pathology. Before anything else could be said, Dan made a beeline for the living room, walked straight through and out of sight.

Herbert then walked by at a slower pace, and you averted his stare until he finally held your card out to you. Silent, you took it, not caring that your clammy hands had slid past his fingertips while doing so this time. He uncomfortably straightened his posture, but caused you to look up again as he assured you, “He’s seen a lot in our trials, [Y/N]. You did nothing wrong in simply being curious.”

As he left you with that and also walked down the hall, you leaned against the wallpaper to your back and stared at the basement door. You slid the I.D. card into your pocket, and with a deep breath went to the closet where you hung your coat.

You weren’t upset, but something had snapped with how messy Dan’s insistence had been. He didn’t want to tell you? He didn’t let Herbert tell you? That was how it was going to be, and although it hurt more than you had once anticipated it would when it came down to it, you found that you could live with that – but you couldn’t live with being so goddamn confused any more.

Lucky for you, answers were easy to find for someone who pushed the papers.

A part of you felt as though you were betraying everything you had stood for up until now, the very notion that you had left without telling either of them enough of a nonverbal betrayal to signal to them you were not to be trusted from this night on, but you pressed the worry down as you walked the halls of Miskatonic. You were off the clock, and here at a time where both Dan and Herbert weren’t, but you knew who was working.

He was slimy, he gave you all sorts of pins and needles with how he spoke…but he could be of use after what you had nearly seen. Dyer was in the lobby, speaking to a doctor with a hand resting on his hip as he spoke with that smirk that sent a nasty rush down your spine. When he saw you standing on the other side of the waiting room, he nearly lit up. “Courier, never thought I’d see you here after hours. Must have gotten the guts to come looking for something.” Bile pricked your throat at that choice of word, but you remained stock still as he supposed, “I’m guessing Cain and West are giving you the ol’ smoke and mirrors, not telling you what they’ve done or what they could do?”

You didn’t answer that, uncomfortably swallowing as you reminded him, “You said you had something to show me.”

His grin fell, and he swooned in a relieved tone, “Atta [boy/girl/do it].” He walked to the closest corridor, and with a slide of his own keycard opened the door to Pathology for you, letting you step into the dark room before closing it behind the both of you.

“Sure Graves won’t mind us in here.” He assured you, but it brought nothing of the sort to your throbbing headache.

[applesontheground]

🩸 bloodfest || week two 💉

prompt: gore, toys, fluff, CNC || keywords: cold rapture

well, second time’s a charm...and this time i actually delivered the writing with the pretty packaging 😅

NSFW | Word Count: 587 | Herbert West x GN Reader x Daniel Cain

contains polyamory/threesome, (light) CNC/brat taming, gore, toy use, overstimulation, softness sprinkled in between

“So, how long are you going to be stuck in here tonight?”

It had been a hypothetical question; one you didn’t expect to get an answer to as you stood halfway up the stairs, grinning at the familiar back of the man’s head. Even though you loved to give Herbert a hard time whenever the mood struck, it also brought an unbelievable attitude from him in return. Two wrongs making a debatable right. Tonight was no different, as he left you waiting for maybe four seconds max before replying with a snide tone, “As long as the work calls for my attention, [Y/N].”

“Yeah, is work the only one that catches your eye nowadays?” You hummed, already turning to leave but still giving an easy tone despite your complaints, “You know, Dan and I would like to see you some time this week, maybe get half the interest you have for this damn basement. It’s just an id-.”

The abrupt clatter of him dropping the scalpel against his work table made you choke on your words, and he muttered, “Oh, I can show you what it means to be a man of interest over anything else. Is that what you’d like?” Herbert turned on his heels, now not being shy to bestow the sheer sight of him. Your smile fell as you saw the sharp red contrast that had been hidden from you with his back turned; the entire front of his shirt spattered with someone else’s demise because he simply hadn’t had time to stop the bleeding while in the midst of God knows what.

He held up an amalgamation of innards at you, the noise something raw and enough to warrant a slight cringe from you, but once again warned in an even voice, “When I am through with this, I’ll show you what I mean.”

The context was nearly deafening, but the idle hum of the silicone in his hand kept you tuned into the reality before you. The work changed for the bedroom and the addition of Dan in just the span of a few hours.

You took one look at the wand, then back at him. “Oh, can’t you just kill me instead?” You pleaded, half sarcastically. The other half of your mind was swimming in sharp anxiety that stirred your gut and made goosebumps rush down your arms, and you became restless in the taller man’s hold. Dan felt the way you were tensing where he had you held by the wrists and the waist, the hand on your side soothing over the chilled skin.

Herbert gave him a look and mused, “Normally, I’d tell you to mind yourself, Dan. I think in this case,” He carefully brought the toy down, pushing it against your crotch and trying not to immediately jest at the way your body went into a long tremor, eyes rolling slightly and jaw loosening but not quite falling open. “The more contact from either of you, the better.”

In your ear, Dan hummed slightly, trying to keep enough of a handle on you while feeling the vibration against his inner thigh. Like you were a cold pathway that connected Herbert to him, you strained to keep eye contact while letting the pleasure rush over in another shiver, this time a quiet tremble in your voice shine through, “Oh-h-hhh fuck.”

“Evil.” Dan huffed, and you merely echoed between convulsing, “Evil, evil ma-an…”

He merely smirked at the sound of the two of you. “That’s it, hold [him/her/them] still.”

[bisexual-horror-fan]

I realize your asks are closed rn but that Poly!DanBert fic is so good and I humbly ask that if you have the time or inclination to write more with them!!!! any time you want I will read that until the day I die.

Well you are in luck Anon! It is still the amazing writing event by @the-slasher-files, it's Blood Fest baby!

And so I decided, two birds one stone, been a minute and I have been craving some Poly!DanBert! So have some gore and some fluff in one, short and sweet, but hope you love it all the same Anon!

---

Length. 600-ish Words. Rating. Mildly NSFW. Herbert West x Dan Cain x GN! Reader! No Pronouns Specified. Poly!DanBert. Warnings: Blood. Gore. Softness. And They Were Roommates.

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Sugar And Scarlet.

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You shouldn’t be so used to this honestly. 

The cold from the basement was still felt under your skin, it seeped through your clothing with how strong the chill was and speaking of strong the scent of iron wafting up from the rag in your hand was just that. 

It had all happened pretty suddenly. Sitting and listening to some music upstairs, cookies baking in the oven as you washed the dishes, nearly elbow deep in soapy hot water as you scrubbed when you heard the loud crash. There was yelling so loud it made its way up from the basement stairs and before you knew it you were running, feet sliding along tile, yellow rubber gloves still on your hands as you took down the stairs. 

When you flung the door open you shouldn’t have been surprised to see all the blood.

Twenty minutes and one burnt tray of cookies that had set off the smoke alarm later you had dragged them upstairs and were helping clean them up. You had Dan sitting in a chair at the kitchen table, wounds had been tended to downstairs, now it was just cleaning up the mess. You were wiping away smears of scarlet that had been let loose in the fray downstairs all over him. 

You thought back over dinner, when you listened in rapture to what the boys talked about for tonight, how excited they were to get to work, on and on about their plans and how well this was sure to work this time. You felt happy for them, giddy to hear how it all went down after the fact. So when a few hours later you were rushing into the blood soaked scene, Herbert standing over that body and Dan on the ground and more red than you had ever seen.

Well the most you had seen this week anyway.

Herbert refused to sit when you had offered, still standing but leaning against the kitchen counter, you could feel his eyes on you, watching as you cleaned up Dan. 

It had been quiet, the radio had been turned off for a while. You spoke up asking, “So what happened?”

More silence, thick and tense, you decide to take a different approach as you tilted Dan’s chin up with the cloth in your hand before asking, “Are you really THIS upset about the burnt cookies?”

It worked like how you thought it would, a small smile before he said with a shrug, “I have an unhealthy emotional attachment to cinnamon and nutmeg. What can I say?”

You leaned up, a hand running through his hair before you kissed the cleanest part of his cheek, “Poor baby. I’ll have to make it up to you.” 

A turn of your head as you look over your shoulder to Herbert. “After a hot shower you wanna help re-bake the cookies with me?”

Herbert’s gaze snapped to you, he still looked so tense, he looked unsure of what to say, clearing his throat he started, “Well downstairs is still a mess and-”

“And the mess will still be there after we bake the cookies, Herbert.” You said easily and he sighed, “I don’t know if I would be much help.”

“Awe Herbie, you are breaking poor Dan’s heart here! The man is distraught! He needs a sweet’s fix.” You pleaded and Dan chimed in, “Yeah Herbie, I’m traumatised and cookies are the only thing to fix it.” His gaze beseeching with a pout as he leaned over your shoulder.  

He broke in less than a minute, an even more dramatic sigh than before, “Tonight’s experiment was a failure. I suppose I might as well see if I can make anything right, why not cookies?”

“That is the spirit!”

Another half hour later, all in clean clothing and Dan sitting at the table, watching as you instructed Herbert for once, standing beside him as he creamed together butter and sugar. Dan wished he had a camera to take a picture of him in the ridiculous pink gingham plaid apron you put him in. 

[applesontheground]

your own prometheus 💉

CHAPTER EIGHT robbing me of my rightful chances | AO3

(MILD) NSFW | Word Count: 4,850 | Herbert West x GN Reader x Daniel Cain

contains canon typical/mentions of gore&murder, mentions of arousal, canon death discussion/the angst that comes from it, kissing, hurt/comfort at its finest

⬅ continued from something inside your head ➡ continued in as i have done, so will you

🎼: x (look at my playlist boy)

“So, tell me this.” You watched the officer open an old box labeled OCTOBER 1985 (COPY), sifting through a couple folders as you asked, “Why does Miskatonic have unredacted police records just laying around?”

Dyer replied, “It’s tricky. They got special clearance to hold onto evidence, as well. If you ask anyone here, they either weren’t working at the time, or they’ve signed a shit ton of NDAs. If what really happened at that bloodbath ever left these walls, or the walls of you paperboys holding onto the redacted versions… [Y/N], no one here would have a job anymore.”

You crossed your arms, glancing around to see no sign of Graves or even another staff member. The officer hadn’t even turned on the light, but just as you prepared to do it yourself, he found a light switch with the hand that wasn’t holding the folder he had finally tracked down.

“Here she is.” He held it out to you, almost eager in his grimacing flash of teeth that you supposed was a smile. You hesitated, giving him a single look of uncertainty before unfolding your arms and clasping your fingers around the worn paper.

“Herbert.” Dan rushed to the top of the stairs, throwing the door open. The man had been looking at one of the drawings done for him, quickly closing the book when he heard the urgency in his assistant’s voice. “[Y/N] isn’t here. I-I went to go see if [he/she was / they were] alright, maybe…maybe try to talk to [him/her/them] about everything,” Herbert’s eyes traced over him before jumping back up to his face, and Dan stammered through the overgrown garden of thoughts, “And…[he/she’s / they’re] gone. [His/her/their] jacket isn’t in the closet, and [His/her/their] car isn’t on the street.”

“…Well, they probably just needed the space to do some critical thinking. [Y/N] gets overwhelmed rather easily, if you haven’t noticed.” He brushed it off, but he wasn’t fooling Dan as he responded, “You know [he/she/they] have no idea what to think of us anymore, we’ve screwed this up. I’ve screwed it up by not telling them. What do you think…[he/she thinks / they think]?” Dan pressed his hand to his forehead, as if to try and physically stop the dams from breaking in his mind, “What if [he/she’s / they’ve] gone to tell someone? What if we just-“

“Dan, [Y/N] made me a promise.” Herbert interrupted, and he gave himself an unsure frown, hands clasping to the table behind him, “I know we can’t expect it to be kept by someone so naïve, and I can only try to find the faith that [he/she/they] is too scared to do it. Besides, who’d believe [him/her/them] if [he/she/they] went out there, ran [his/her/their] mouth on our otherwise impossible research? All recollections of that night have been scrubbed, and the world has never seen the likes of what we’re achieving.”

Dan furrowed his brow, “…[Y/N] made a promise to what?”

Herbert tipped his chin at him, almost smug in his answer. “To take everything to the grave, ideally.”

“Bogus.” You breathed, flipping a stapled page over because you couldn’t stomach what you were seeing. Dyer was leaning on a nearby metal shelf in the office, relishing in you scanning the documents, and to your quiet spat he crooned, “Whatcha see, sweets?”

You suppressed a disgusted face and muttered, “All of these death records have…they have discrepancies.” You slapped the back of your hand on the packet and scoffed, “This is a falsified record. Probably redacted it because it makes no sense to anyone who reads them for a living. I’ve been doing it for years, and it’s chicken scratch if you ask me. They didn’t even type the corrections! It’s all done in…ballpoint pen.”

“That’s the thing, kid. It’s not bogus.” He insisted, smile fading and eyes gleaming to you in the depths of the dim light. You couldn’t stop the bitter laughter, finally smiling and nodding in a sarcastic ferocity, “Oh, okay. There’s two dates and times of death for everyone on this list of casualties, officer. Are you telling me these people all died twice?”

Dyer held the silence, and you felt your stomach knot suddenly as he reached over and flipped the page. “This is the honest report, [Y/N]. In your offices, it’s redacted to the point of illegibility, but before you throw it to the wind – how ‘bout you tell me whose names are on these pages.” His finger tapped the paper, and with a final huff your eyes tore away from him, beginning to skim.

Daniel Cain’s statement illustrates that one of the cadavers, having been brought back to life from unforeseen circumstances, had put their hands around Megan Halsey’s throat. She was dead within the hour of the report from asphyxiation, and Cain had claimed to attempt to resuscitate her to no success. Fingerprints prove that Cain did not cause Halsey’s death. This is noted to be odd since there were multiple resurrections throughout the evening. This has yet to be investigated.

You could’ve heard a pin drop, the zipper of your jacket clicking as you sucked in a breath, but you kept going.

A Dr. Carl Hill’s head was found underneath a table in the morgue where the beginnings of the incident conspired. Evidence taken from the back of the body part reveal Herbert West’s fingerprints left on the scene. Will follow up: cause of decapitation still uncertain.

Your heart sank down, almost felt as though it was falling from your ribcage, dripping and shivering on the floor but unable to keep you from continuing. Like a car crash, you couldn’t stop; even as your might snapped like a spring, lip quivering as you flipped to the next page and you had to strain through tears.

West was one of two survivors in the situation alongside Cain, and these two are the only subjects that had not been affected by the massacre besides minor injuries. Neither of them will go into detail as to how they were able to perform so many resuscitations of the listed victims. Will follow up.

“What the fuck,” You whimpered, a tremoring hand covering your mouth.

“Sorry you had to find out this way, [little lady/sport].” He sighed, “You know, if those two were anything close to good people,” You cringed as he clarified, “And if they cared about you, they would’ve told you.” You tried to glare at him through your contorted face, but only shook your head and hid your chin in the crook of your sleeve for a moment.

Handing him the record, Dyer pat your shoulder. “It was an awful night for all of us.” He muttered, “Consider yourself [a lucky man/woman / lucky] that you didn’t have to see it for yourself.”

Caught in the whirlwind, you felt anything but.

For once, you didn’t try to keep your presence unbeknownst to the rest of the household. You pushed the door open, let it slowly screech from the aged hinges, stepping in unapologetically with wet boots and reddened eyes glaring around the dark.

You immediately caught sight of someone sitting in the living room, rigid in the armchair and waiting for this moment like he knew it would happen. “[Y/N]-“

“Dan.” You said his name in a voice you once couldn’t imagine even holding up to his warmth until now, “I think we need to talk about this living situation.”

“Where did you go?” He tried to divert, turning the light on when he stood, voice as fragile as it always was when in the mere sight of you. Dyer had gone through the liberty of photocopying everything in case you tried to forget, the disclosed information as good as yours. He barely withstood the look on your face as you held up the papers you had brought home; yet his attention was far from shaken, all the more concerned at your disheveled appearance.

“What the fuck did you do to those people? What are you doing to them now?” You sucked in a breath, the air rattling through your teeth as you seethed, “And why the fuck did you think I wouldn’t find out?” You threw the packet on the coffee table, a splotched photo of Megan Halsey’s bruised neck facing the both of you. He hadn’t seen it, or maybe he just chose not to because he knew what was going to be there.

When he tried to approach you, holding a hand up to try and calm the air around you, it only made you backpedal, eyes locked into his despite the aversion. “Who…what did you-“ He began, and you explained, “I’m a fucking record courier, how do you think I did it?” You ran the heel of your hand under your eye, catching some stray tears as you trembled through the next sentence, “I would love to tell you for the millionth time that I can live with what I just saw, but you…you and Herbert-“ Reminded of the other one, you turned towards the corridor where the basement lay and let the untapped rage barrel out as you screamed, “YOU AND HERBERT WERE THE ONLY TWO THAT WALKED OUT OF THAT MORGUE ALIVE!”

It was caught in your throat again, and Dan had no idea what to do in the face of you swallowing it, fighting it silently as you tried to calm down. You were frayed, shaking even harder and feeling the emotion go straight to your spinning mind, making you a little dizzy. With the yelling out of the way, you picked up the papers again and made a beeline for the other hallway.

“[Y/N], hold on-“ Dan tried to follow, but you ignored him and kept a pace impossible for him to catch up with.

The silence between one moment and the next was an eternity, or at least it felt that way as you reread the report for the fourth time in the hour. Still tearing up, still wondering what you would have the stomach to put into a cardboard box first, you knew it was no use trying to make sense of it tonight. You had closed the vent in your room and kept your jacket on, because you’d rather freeze than hear anything else.

This was a moment you wished you stayed out of other people’s business, Herbert’s chastising for once falling on your ears, echoing in the recesses of your mind as you stared at the wall. Things would be better if you stuck to your duties. Going back to the analogy, being an unswatted fly was a beautiful gig in the way you saw it now, a [man/woman/sucker] who just knew too much to keep going without something dire happening.

Dire. Dyer knew you’d have to decide where to go from here, and after tonight he could easily assume it would be to align with him. Another knot added to the collection in your stomach, making you grimace harder. You think you’d rather be murdered by your roommates that even begin to accept that betraying them was what you were meant to do right now.

A knock on the door shattered the silence, made you snap back to your own space, the only room in the house that you could possibly feel safe in. Whichever of them it was didn’t speak your name, but you could hear the pane shift a bit as they pressed their palm over it when there was no answer.

Another ache in your chest made you stand from your desk. You were upset, but you weren’t completely callous. Covering the report with one of your larger sketchbooks sitting by the edge of the desk, you walked up to the door and without another second of pause undid the latch.

How he kept trying despite being smothered by his own emotion, you weren’t sure. Still, you gave him the time of evening, standing before him with your arms folded over your chest. He was thinking, you could see it in the way his big eyes fell from your socked feet to your shoulders, then back again when he still couldn’t talk. You were about to tell him to take his time, unsure truly if you could stand there all night but tempted to promise it, but he finally spoke.

“When Meg was alive,” He began, already struggling to keep himself steady in the way his voice wobbled through the sentence, “I didn’t want her to know about this, either.” You furrowed your brow, but nodded through the way memories of her autopsy photos were burnt into your head. You didn’t know her, but you knew she must’ve meant the world to Dan in the way he’d talk about her. “I-I even asked her…to move on. Leave me…with Herbert, the work-“ He was stuttering, throwing a hand back down the hall. Looking into your eyes, he took another deep breath, and you uncrossed your arms and held the eye contact. No hard edges, because you couldn’t bear holding them up to him even if it was vital to your survival.

“I’ve made this mistake before.” Dan choked, and he took in a deep breath as he went on in a pang to his voice that sounded as though his world was shattering in a way he didn’t know how to stop, and in the face of it he could barely keep composure, “But I won’t…I know I can’t do it again. Not to you.”

Before you could even attempt to think of an answer, he leaned in and put his lips to yours. The unkept rage, the fear, and everything you could hold away from the world suddenly spiraled forward, making you almost rock on your feet as you let him cup your jaw, tipping your head to fit better and having his own tears rub against your face.

Between the both of you, it was unclear who needed the human touch and the warmth more. It made any bitterness you had been white knuckling to survive fall flatter than it already was, your own hands start clasping the bend of his arms, keeping the both of you steady and feeling the hurt of your fingers from being relieved to stop clenching together.

When you pulled off, Dan didn’t try to separate. He whispered against your mouth, “We’ll tell you everything. Both of us. I’ll make Herbert do it, he needs y- needs to as much as I do.” Though it was a new touch to feel his forehead against yours, the slender nose brushing past the tip of your own, you welcomed it with a weak hum of a somewhat dumb, desperate belief, closing your eyes and nodding against him as you tried to catch your breath.

He carefully felt for your hands down at your sides, holding them up so that he could intertwine his fingers with yours, eyes closed. “I know that it makes all the sense in the world, [Y/N], but I don’t want you to go.” He begged, and you finally broke your silence with a sniff, “Stop it, really think I could? I…I…” In the flip of a coin, you turned your head and took another kiss, not caring if both of you were practically crying on each other and finally letting yourself rest your hands on his shoulders.

It was something you had denied long enough, and if he was desperate enough to lay it out it only drew you in further. He smiled, a small weakened one at first that only grew as you closed the rest of the space between your bodies, settling into the comfort of his old sweater, feeling it for not the first time, thankful to not catch a hint of blood or anything deceased; the first time without too much fear embedded like the threads pushed against your soft skin.

“You know,” You sighed, “I almost thought you were coming to lock my door again, like you do on nights where there’s something happening in the basement, I’m guessing.”

Dan pulled one arm up to rub his eyes, “Huh?” You pointed at your doorframe and explained, “Oh, I hear you sometimes come in and lock my door from the inside, I’m guessing just to keep me away from the research going haywire?” He looked at your door, then back at you. “[Y/N], that’s not a bad thought, but I didn’t…”

As he trailed off, both of you came to the same realization. You then smirked at him in disbelief, trying to find a reason in his eyes as he merely took in the return of your smile with a fond chuckle. He nodded surely, “Oh, and I thought you said he didn’t even think about you.”

You shook your head and murmured, “At this point, every day is a fucking revelation, Cain.” He laughed even harder this time, finally at ease as he ran his thumb under your eye. The willingness to let him do it, even tipping towards the caress with flushed recognition that it was all you needed to calm down, taking it further and holding his hand to your face for the fleeting moment, only made him want to weep again.

If only he had known that it was so easy.

You hadn’t been able to sleep, waiting until the lights in the living room and hallway were shut off and no one was walking around outside your door before making your way to the kitchen with your sketchbook, the report tucked in the back.

It was something you were obsessing over, mulling over how it was written, caught between the original typed copy to the ballpoint scribbling – but at the same time, you kept the open slate of a blank page with you too, drawing just to keep your mind out of it while sitting in your inability to rest. Coffee was left to brew, but you didn’t even have an interest because there was something more powerful than caffeine coursing through you. Sure, it was fear, but it was this dissatisfaction that all you had gotten from Dan tonight was a kiss.

That was staying as still in your mind as the air in the house sat. You and it were quiet, an occasional creak or tap from the foundations settling falling over your cold ears – just as there’d be an occasional ache in your [pussy/cock] at the idea of Dan’s blisteringly warm hands lingering on your shoulder blades, sliding down your spine, turning the fabric of your shirt into a sweltering mess from both the body heat that was swapped from him to you and the way he stirred you up, made you want to lean into him until you could swear it’d mean you’d fit snug into his ribcage.

The grandfather clock in the living room rang a long string of chimes, eleven to be precise, as you leaned forward, elbow on the counter and hand covering your mouth to sit in a second of thought. The drawing hadn’t helped, multiple sketches of a neck showing up on the pages and making you want to tear it apart, snuff it out in the fireplace. Megan Halsey didn’t know, either. Not until it was too late, you shook your head at yourself, still grieving the woman you didn’t know enough about to feel much besides an unkempt pain for, and to feel for Dan’s remorse that filled in those cracks. The regret was practically shedding off of him whenever her name came up, or even the night she died itself did.

Why did you bring it up? You cursed at yourself, but before you could go back to the other side of the shore and remind yourself it needed to happen, you needed some goddamn closure, someone entered the kitchen.

“You’re still awake after all of those hysterics?”

You looked down at the sketchbook, silent. He didn’t take the lack of an answer, and immediately asked, “Why were you so irate, [Y/N]? You’re usually so keen on being unheard when you’re here that I almost didn’t recognize the sound of you starting a racket for once.”

“I…” You sucked in a breath, unable to cry anymore, so you merely breathed the frustration out in a dramatic cave of your chest, “I had to find out what happened that night in 1985. The massacre at the hospital no one wants to talk about.”

The movement behind you stopped, and from the corner of your eye you saw his back facing you, mid-motion in getting a cup of coffee but unable to continue with the information laid out. His hand delicately set the mug down, watch glinting in the shine of a single light left on by the counter, and he swiveled to stare back at you. “You what?”

Turning to face him in return, you insisted, “Neither of you were telling me anything that made me feel…okay, so I did what I needed to do in order to move forward. I think Dan was doing me a favor, keeping me uninvolved until I knew what I was really getting into.”

Herbert scoffed, “The report? A myriad of redacted lines that make it look like some sort of grasp at straws? An art project rather than evidence?”

“The unredacted report.” You corrected. He was lost for words again, mouth half open in disbelief as you carefully turned to the last page of your book, grasping at the stapled packet and unhesitant to hold it out to him, “The one with yours and Dan’s names all over it, something Miskatonic wants to hide along with any tangible evidence from that night.”

He was slow at first, but when you merely stretched your arm closer to him, he took the packet, perusing with a hard brow and a frown that was once again a rare glimpse into an honest, raw reaction. It looked scared, it looked inconvenienced, and it somehow made you want to clarify, “I was shown it in an attempt to make you two look like monsters, but…” You trailed off, and finally pulled the words from a drawer in your heart, your mind itself, “I don’t think that’s how I see it, Herbert.”

“I figured.” He said in a lost tone.

“If it means anything,” You murmured, “I would rather die than side with anyone outside these walls, let alone the cops. I…I’m frightened by this concept of…bringing people back, re-animating them, whatever you call it…” Herbert’s stare was back on you, and you let yourself shed a tear that had somehow come through, “But I don’t want to get in your way. I’ve said that since the beginning, or at least tried to.”

“Well. You’re still so uncertain.” He observed, and you only looked away. “Let me,” He then handed the report back to you, catching your eyes back on him as he pleaded, closing distance just like his counterpart had earlier on but no hint at colliding with you. Instead, he merely breathed, “Let me show you, [Y/N].”

“Right where we left off, hm?” You tried not to hug the wall as he was presenting those innards to you again, not even close to appearing any different than when you had seen them a couple days ago. You replied, “Sure. How did you preserve it?”

He looked up at you again, merely gesturing to the needle in his hand. You didn’t understand, but still you acted as though it made sense, nodding quietly and looking back down at the table. “Did you have the opportunity to take a look at any of the evidence from that night, [Y/N]?” Herbert asked. You almost didn’t hear him, so petrified as he neared the sharp, miniscule pin of the syringe towards the guts. Swallowing the bile drummed up at the very smell of what was in front of you back down, you mumbled, “N-no, I hadn’t.”

“Well, decay is significantly slowed when my re-agent is applied to the organic matter. I’m still finding the precise answer as to why that is, but it makes this even more convenient when in the wake of the more…long-term research subjects.” He explained, a closed-lip smile to himself that took you away from watching him insert the needle.

“Long-term?” You echoed, and his eyes snapped up to you. “Yes.” He stated plainly, as though you were the one who was daft by not understanding off the bat. You envisioned the photos from the massacre, merely nodding as you then looked down once more. In the short bout of eye contact, he had pushed the plunger, and the strange liquid that had seemed to haunt you from the hospital all the way down to this very basement was gone from one vessel to the other, its light extinguished.

The silence was heavy, almost as potent as the scent of blood. You eyed how close you and the other man were standing to each other, mindful to be quaint when you were aware his narrow shoulder was merely ghosting over your own. “Herbert?” You squeaked out, and though he hadn’t moved you went on, assuming he was listening. “What are we waiting for?”

“Life.” He replied, a fascinated twinge to his voice as suddenly the intestine twitched. In seconds, he had grabbed your forearm, keeping you standing where you were despite jumping terribly hard at the body part suddenly taking the movement of what you’d imagine a snake might. Coiling, shuddering all on its own.

“N-no brain,” You were lost, shocked as you forgot your own reservations to hold his hand to your arm, speaking the two words in a stupor. Herbert nodded carefully, and even added, “No pulse, either.” He looked over, expecting a scream or maybe even a desperate attempt to run back up the basement stairs.

His stomach nearly flipped when he saw that you had caught your breath, still heaving but almost beholding as the intestine jerked from the medical dish it had been sitting in, as though its slippery skin were feeling around the metal table to decide its next move. The silence coupled with the way you were securing his fingers to your arm for support, not able to stop watching, made him almost want to ask you.

Was this fascination, or was this terror? Either way, you were still standing with him, even wishing for him to stay close. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to prod…but merely looked back to his progress taking shape in the long organ feeling for a way through its new life.

You seemed just as new to the new world of possibility as the creature itself was.

When you were sure you were being watched in the hospital lobby, you took the course that you had thought in your head. Nose buried in the papers resting on your inner forearm, you appeared distracted as you walked along. As if on a cue, another body came colliding with yours. Keeling back, you yelled rather aggressively, seeing Dyer in your peripheral as you regained control again.

You slowly rose back to look at your assailant, a nasty expression taking over your face as the two of you pulled away from each other.

“[L/N].” Herbert spat.

“Dr. West.” You huffed, and he brushed past like you weren’t even worth the second look.

Dyer flicked his eyebrows, and you gave him a knowing glance, one that you strained to show a bit of hurt. He sneered, as if to say I told you so, and soon he was distracted by some commotion down the hall. Giving you a final affirming glance, you turned your back, once again busy with the documents in your hands. You even hung your head a little.

He quickly made off, and within seconds of him being out of the room, you heard the faint, throaty chuckle from around the corner, almost sadistic in its nature as it found its stride. It was like watching the ordeal was far more hysterical to him than anything else. Herbert’s honest laughter was a first for you, and you couldn’t help but smirk as you caught a shadow lingering from the other side of the corridor, still keeping your back towards the lobby.

“I can’t believe you were right. He’s none the wiser, and all it took was a little acting.” You murmured, watching the man step out from around the wall, returning to where the both of you had bumped into each other. He shook his head and replied, “Of course. It isn’t hard to tell it with someone like him. The slime of such an ego is palpable for miles.” He gave the direction that Dyer had hurried off to another daunting look, and then back to you. You smiled, fonder than you could ever remember being for the man in front of you but trying to hide the way seeing him in a rare spout of glee was utterly infectious.

“We have some work to do, don’t we?” Herbert asked, and you barely thought twice before nodding.

[applesontheground]

💘 where we meet every thursday 💉

so, to start off...i wish another (and fairly belated) happy birthday to the beloved Bex (@bisexual-horror-fan​)!! you’ve been an amazing source of friendship and inspiration to me since joining this community just shy of over a year ago, and i just wanna show a little more gratitude through another cute little blurb.

awhile back, we talked about a fun little hypothetical with the reader from her poly!chiffany fic Through The Heart Is The Only Way having meetups with the reader from my poly!danbert fic Your Own Prometheus, and the conversations that would stem from them confiding in one another about what they put up with. i had to play with that a little more after the seed had been planted (and especially since it’s been awhile since i updated YOP and i miss my boys dearly </3)

also: just to avoid confusion since there are a severe lack of names in this, i used she/her pronouns for the TTHITOW reader and they/them pronouns for the YOP reader!

SFW | Word Count: 1,207 | implied Tiffany Valentine x Reader x Charles Lee Ray & Herbert West x Reader x Daniel Cain

contains canon typical/mentioned murder, implied NSFW, use of third-person POV/some details are included for the readers

She stood, the usual quiet conversations running amok in her mind without breaking her stare locked onto the front doors. She had been off for a few minutes, and although Tiffany and Chucky knew what she did on Thursday evenings after work, she didn’t like to keep them waiting all the same. Nothing could truly come between her and the comfort of a shared apartment, sleeping with her two people and hearing the gentle bickering from either side while she decompressed from the long evening hours at the local club.

She then caught sight of them, that bustling gait enough to jog the memory and seeing the eyes that seemed to linger on others a little too long as they gave brief greetings. They had their shoulder bag with them this time, must’ve been a busy day. Without a hitch, they headed towards the same booth that they had picked out every time as a regular, and now as her friend.

She smirked when they finally made eye contact, a meek look on their face that seemed to shift their entire body language, like that was all that it took to break them from courier to consort. “You’re a little late, you think?” She called, pushing off the counter she had been leaning on.

The smirk grew into a grin, and they quickly replied, “Hey now, you know I’m busy. Besides, you work here.” Pulling their bag onto the seat before sitting down, they let a more confident smile crook over their face, “You didn’t have to haul ass across the whole county to get a table.”

“I’m just messing with you.” She laughed, crossing her arms over the table and smiling as they situated themselves, hiding a wince when they sat down, but otherwise grinning back.

It had been awhile since they had been able to have a Thursday to meet, two people with very busy lives and little time between work and home. It was originally how their first conversation had blossomed into what they did now. The courier sometimes stopped in just to get a moment to themselves and a cup of coffee, steeping in its warmth as they listened to their own thoughts rather than a calamity that came from the normal routes for work or at their shared home across from the cemetery.

Living with two doctors was an ordeal, even on the quiet nights.

It was a stressor that the woman who worked there – and had grown to enjoy serving them whenever they came in – knew all too well. They asked, “So, how’ve you been? And how are Chuck and Tiff?”

“Oh, they’re hanging in there.” The woman laughed, “Same old, same old. I could ask the same about Herb and Dan.” Their easy expression twitched ever so slightly, and after a pause to consider how they’d answer they then nodded once, a slow motion. “They’ve been good, a little bit stressed.” They then corrected themselves, eyeing the coworker of their friend getting the usual coffee ready on the counter, “Well, Dan’s stressed. You can imagine Herbert’s more prone to…”

“Going with it?” The waitress laughed, and the courier huffed at her tone as they repeated, “Yeah, going with it.”

“No, no-“ She held her finger up, a nicely manicured nail freezing the courier’s thought mid-speak and making them grin widely, laughing as they let her talk. “It’s not the fact that Tiffany did this with me waiting in the fucking car, right? It’s the fact she murdered him-“

They both froze, lowering their voices and the courier even leaning slightly, ear faced towards her. The word ‘discretion’ was a staple, and when they were sure patrons were no longer staring, she continued, “She just had to get it out of the way, like it was nothing.”

Their friend nodded sympathetically, pulling on their bag without breaking eye contact as they made a noise of confirmation.

“I mean, do they…?” The waitress made a motion with her hand, almost like she was holding something by a narrow handle. The coffee’s acidity curdled their voice the courier murmured, “Did you really just ask me if my boyfriends have ever killed someone at an inopportune time?”

“Oh god, you know what I mean.” She scoffed, and after bearing another incredulous stare while she looked down to her own cup, they replied, “Yes. Many times.” Their expression flattened out, and suddenly their eyes narrowed as a thought struck them: “Why does one always seem surprised that the other one actually did it?”

The waitress cocked her head, and they elaborated, “Like, it’s always ‘Daniel, why did you stab that patient? Are you really that belligerent?’ or ‘Herbert, he’s DEAD!’ …” They stuttered in exasperation, which made the waitress crack another grin as they went on, “Like, you just have to look at them and think, ‘Don’t tell me this is new behavior to you.’, you know?”

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard-“ The waitress grated her voice slightly, “’Goddamn it, Chucky. Did’ya have to get messy with it!?’” The courier smirked, fingers pressing their bag into their side as they shook their head and murmured, “Yes, like please cut any other artery besides the jugular. I just bleached the blood out of all our white clothes. Really gonna make me go and do it again?”

“Ah.” The waitress then made a dismissive noise, “I can’t complain about Chuck and Tiff too much, though. You probably agree, huh?” The courier set their chin on an open palm, making another positive noise and sighed, “Yeah... You got me there.”

“That’s always where I circle back around. I do love those two, can’t be a sourpuss towards them for long – even when they do what they do.” The waitress sighed, tapping her nail on the handle of the mug and smirking to a distant memory in her mind. The faint dark smudges of Tiff’s lipstick on her neck, or the way Chucky would settle his hand along her back when walking with her.

Humming again in affirmation, the courier had their own thoughts, memories of laughing by the kitchen sink at an ill-timed joke and smudging blood off the surface of that familiar pair of glasses, trying not to let either of them know just how much they had them wrapped around their fingers despite the chaos, impossible to untangle from.

“...And I mean, the sex?” The courier’s eyes flickered back over to her, falling back into the conversation fast while their friend rolled her eyes back slightly. She huffed, “Incredible. A home run, even.”

Grinning, the courier admitted, “Oh, sure. I hear that.” They obviously adjusted one last time in their seat, and while the waitress had been eyeing the gesture from behind another sip of coffee, when it clicked, she nearly felt the hot liquid shoot up through her nose in a stifled cough.

“Good god, really?” She sputtered, smiling from behind a hand, and shrugging, they answered, “When the mortuary’s rockin’, don’t come-a knockin’. Herbert hates it when I say that.”

“Does Dan hate it, too?”

“No. That’s why we keep him around.”

The waitress gasped, but the teasing snort the courier emitted made them only laugh a little more.

[applesontheground]

your own prometheus 💉

CHAPTER SIX like minds broken, like minds breaking free | AO3

shoutout to H.P.’s hatred of A/C units i got a line in here just for you buddy! (and i mean that as a threat)

NSFW | Word Count: 3,926 | Herbert West x GN Reader x Daniel Cain

contains canon typical/graphic depictions of body horror, HEAVILY IMPLIED NSFW, mild voyeurism

⬅ continued from salvation comes only in our dreams

➡ continued in something inside your head

“Sherman Robinson.”

You’d been speaking on the weather with a receptionist when the conversation just beyond your sight, down a hall that lead further into the local law firm, caught your ear. Attention had been a hard thing to wrangle that morning for obvious reasons, still stuck somewhere between a puddle of blood that had been inches away from your feet and a pair of crooked glasses telling you that splintering wood through the chest cavity was something that had to happen. You let yourself trail off at a convenient time to listen.

The shared words between two attorneys weren’t even yours to focus on, appearing fixated on organizing the day’s deliveries in the lobby. The man you had initially heard spoke again, only half baffled at his own explanation. “Body just went missing from the morgue a few nights ago. The entire hospital is up in arms, and of course family’s getting in contact with us, all this nonsense.”

The other one was perplexed enough for both of them. “How does a goddamn body go missing?”

“It wasn’t accidentally cremated, miscommunication with the records?” You pointed your look at the man helping you behind the counter, but he didn’t notice. He kept pulling stock of documents that were meant for you, and finally you gave up and just stared at the counter.

“No, sir. Only thing left in the room was the bag Robinson was in.”

“…Suppose it’s an inside job?” Both of you froze at that, the man behind the counter pressing a record with a red stamp towards the top of the page and shooting you a wary look.

“They aren’t sure as of right now. This is just hearsay, but the police don’t like visiting. Not since that October.” You hid the way every muscle in your neck grew rigid, rolling it and pretending there was a draft that caught you off guard with a bothersome sneer at the air conditioning unit towards the right facing wall of the lobby. “That morgue massacre really put Essex on the map, but it also marked our hospitals as death traps.”

The other man huffed, “Well, that’s a little harsh, you think?”

His cohort snorted, “Well, maybe. All I’m saying is that if my family needed a hospital, I wouldn’t send them to Miskatonic.”

The two men exchanged a dry laugh and departed, one returning to the depths of the offices and the other moseying back down the hall. You waited for another beat, then the receptionist handed you another stack of documents, the stamped one on top as you merely looked back at him with a chaste nod.

Anything to keep from looking at the familiar face paperclipped to the documents belonging to Mr. Robinson.

You had one more errand to run before you could get back to the clerks’ office, sitting in a hallway that for once wasn’t your favorite stop on the route. Between Miskatonic and home, you were almost eager to be anywhere else. The desperation wringing your thoughts made you let go of the papers on your lap and bury your face in your hands, laughing to keep from souring completely. Maybe it’s time I retire, turn into a desk clerk, sit with the records that don’t need to be moved any more. Let them rest.

It shouldn’t have caught you so off guard that Herbert was capable of murder, but of course it did. Even worse, it made you ask yourself whether or not Dan was, too. Even though he hadn’t been present last night, something told you that they had far too much history between each other for him to just be okay with whatever hell had crawled out of the basement and tried to brutalize you. He had to have seen it at some point too, been aware of the noise and the mess that you and Herbert had made; you sure didn’t clean it up and seeing how Herbert leaves the main floor of the house, you’d be shocked if he had too.

Sure, there weren’t full-blown attacks at Miskatonic like that, but from what you heard the place wasn’t immune. It made your jaw loosen and sweat began to simmer under your shirt collar, because you could now tell you really didn’t know half of it.

You wouldn’t have to kill someone out of negligence, right?

Finally stepping out from the pathology office, an older woman stood for a beat. Spotting the lilac flats from where your eyes were glued to the floor and the exasperated expression from behind coke-bottle glasses, you perked up, rushing to shove any other thought aside and return to the present. “Marge!”

“Oh my. Like a dog begging for scraps.” She tutted, but when you still smiled and got to your feet, she sighed in an endearing gesture, “Alright, come on. Got some good ones for you today.”

Every once and awhile, Marge had been able to slide you photocopies of old X-rays, things from the medical realm that might’ve turned the wheels of inspiration. So long as you didn’t show them around, you were able to use them then quietly dispose of it when you were finished. You even did her a favor by redacting the dates and identification numbers sometimes kept in the corner. The pen you did it with sat in your back pocket, jutting out slightly whenever your shirt would ride up. Plus, it didn’t hurt to draw something less gruesome, paint a few things for her in return as well. Your relationship with her was fond, built by someone who needed a painting for her daughter’s birthday and the creative mind with morbid interests – even if you tried to hide that from the world at large.

“It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen you around here. Behaving yourself?” She asked, watching you start to slide a hand over what she had brought in. You replied warmly, “Of course. Just get hogged by the other side of the county. Always need something to go somewhere else, you know.”

“Sure, heard that old place by the river has been having run-ins with trouble again.” She paused, then asked, “How is that roommate of yours, Daniel?”

A smile spread over your face, and you answered, “He’s well.”

“And his bag of tricks?”

You stifled a laugh, knowing what she meant as you chimed, “Dr. West’s fine, too.” You shook your head, flashing your teeth in more of a twinge than an open smile now, “I’ve been busy keeping them out of trouble.” She only scoffed at that, and your eyes were pulled to a picture of a bone broken to the point it stuck in another direction, brushing the other part of it in the translucent shot through the X-ray. You pulled it closer to yourself, recognizing the feeling of not being able to quite take your eyes away without an active demand. Stop staring, at least this arm was attached to someone.

Marge finally tapped the desk, a royal purple nail being enough of a catalyst to pull you from the image. “You didn’t hear this from me, but there’s been talk they’ve been getting you into it.” She murmured, almost like the walls were paper thin.

Tilting your head, your eyes slowly trailed up to look at her. “Huh? What do you mean?” She clicked her tongue and scolded, “Now, not so fast, dear. I’m old but I’m not senile quite yet.” You tried to smirk, but then shrugged, “Heard through the grapevine that you and Dr. Cain are becoming pretty good friends.”

The similar silence that could’ve been broken with a pin drop in your mind, something identical from what you had felt from those two nurses made your heart skip a beat, “Oh! Marge, no.” Your throat tightened, but you still sighed, “It’s only ever been rooming with him, nothing else. We’ve had to get close just because of the shared space.”

“Uh huh.” She looked down at the desk, but quickly looked back up and made you stand a little straighter, “Not with West, either?”

You pursed your lips at that and mumbled, “No, ma’am.”

“Okay. Well, I hate to send you back across the county,” She suddenly pulled a folder out from behind her computer, opening it to peruse as she explained, “I have to get these files over to my colleague in another office. Could you be a saint and make sure it gets there?”

“Of course, it’s the least I can do. Thank you for these, Marge.” You held up the few papers you decided to take, clipped together and smiling despite your heart thundering against your chest. You glanced down at the other set she was taking from the folder and felt the ease slip along with the presence of her questions still heavy in your mind.

“Wait, Marge-” She turned to you again, coral colored frames of her glasses falling down her nose as she gave you a daunting glance, but still you asked, “Where did you say this office was?”

You stood with pursed lips as the sliding doors to Miskatonic opened, pulling you in like a vice you had no choice but to walk inside. Even traversing across town was no match, and something always put you back. You knew where the pathologist for this hospital was like the back of your hand, leading you with purpose. You held the paper needing to be sent to him, trying to read it while you walked.

It was concerning tissue analysis of some dead bodies that the other hospital had come into contact with, scanning the various tables on the paper with your teeth subconsciously grinding against each other, more of a calming tic than any stress you felt. Ever since you had truths startle you into deep-seated dread, most news in your hands didn’t pack the same punch. It was no Megan Halsey is actually dead or There’s zombified people in the basement.

As you slowed outside the Pathology office, you picked through the papers while reaching for the door and giving it a gentle knock, feeling people brush past you and hugging the wall within moments without realizing. A note in handwritten ink was circled underneath the computer print.

VARIOUS ORGANIC TISSUE NOT EXPERIENCING DECAY, SHOWING ATTEMPTS AT BREAK DOWN BUT NO PHYSICAL RESULTS. – DR. HILL’S WORK? THANKS GRAVES, -M.F.

Your head couldn’t help but turn at the underlined words.

Dr. Hill?

“Can I help you, [sir/ma’am]?” You snapped your head up at the man standing in the now open door, his salt and pepper facial hair hiding the slight grimace at your interest in the docs, and tired gaze understanding what you were doing by a mere glance but deciding to remain polite.

“Oh! Hello,” You greeted, extending your hand to him, “Record courier, [Y/N][L/N]. Marge from the unit across the county wanted to send you some readings.”

“I can see that. It looks like she sent me a reader while she was at it.” He huffed, but when you gave him an apologetic nod and quickly turned the pages away from yourself, he sighed, “It’s alright, just promise me you’ll keep it to yourself.” He finally shook your hand, letting you give the packet to him, “Wilbur Graves, pleasure to finally meet you, [Mr./Ms.][L/N].” He then stood to the side of the doorframe and hummed, “You can come in if you’d like, I’ve heard a bit about you.”

You squinted in a smile, one that you had to force a bit as you asked, “Really? From who?”

“Who do you think?” A voice from inside drew you in, eyes widening as you stepped from the fluorescent hallway and the miscellaneous chatter to the dark of the office. A younger nurse was dropping off some various physical samples, giving you a cheeky glance.

“Ernest, no need.” Graves tried to stop him, but he then shrugged, “What, like [he/she doesn’t / they don’t] know.” Your smile dropped again, the familiar sentence taking you back to earlier in the week with the nurses. What, you don’t know?

Apparently, you didn’t know anything, and it was starting to make you a little green with an envy that you weren’t in on this running gag everyone seemed to know of.

Green. The luminescent shade catching your skin as you crept forward startled you, making your eyes lock onto a nearby shelf in the pathology office. Just as you had with the one you had seen in the fridge back at the house, it was quickly connecting the red thread. Two places you couldn’t seem to escape and had far more things in common with each other than you could stomach.

“Dr. Carl Hill’s last invention. We…aren’t quite sure what he had intended to do with it.” Graves explained briefly, eyeing how you were frowning at the vial. You turned to look at him, biting back the urge to crumple your eyebrows and feeling as though the almost neon light still dancing over your chest and face was scalding you. He went on, “We found it in the morgue after that awful massacre. You know, the one that happened in ’85.”

Slowly, you made yourself nod and breathe out the word, “Sure.” Looking once more back at it, you then couldn’t help but ask, “Dr. Carl Hill died the night of the massacre, I’m assuming?” Graves raised his eyebrows at you, and when you held the stare with your own curious expression he replied quietly, “Yes. Along with the Dean’s daughter, Megan Halsey. I’m sure you’re familiar with her, right?” Your heart shot up into your throat, nodding calmly despite the information pulling another familiarity into the mix. Everything had so much more convolution than you were anticipating, mixing into a mess that now stared at the back of your head with a toxic color.

He chuckled, “That is actually why I’ve invited you in, [Mr./Ms.][L/N]. Perhaps your boyfriend, Dr. Cain, could-” Your gaze snapped over to him, meeting his eyes and trying not to let anger slip into your voice as you corrected, “I’m not dating Daniel Cain.”

Graves prodded, “Oh. You’re not?” Seeing him inhale, you then added in the same breath, “Or Herbert West.”

“You’re not?” Ernest spoke up again, making you give him an exasperated frown, but you shook your head once more. Even to yourself, fawning at the mere tease of the thought.

“Well, even if you don’t date, you do live with them. Is that true?” Graves asked, and you merely nodded with the same movement of your jaw from before; this time, with more purpose that made your temples move from the ferocity. He slowly asked, “Do you…know what part they played in the massacre?”

“…Did they play a part?” You breathed, eyes widening along with the inability to hide the way your entire voice fell through space at the mere realization.

The brash ring of the phone from the other room startled you out of the tunnel vision. Graves frowned hard but immediately excused himself. You tried to ignore it, looking at the memo you were handing off sitting on the desk in front of you. Ernest was still in the room, giving you that same smug expression. You decided to change the subject, running from the conversation that dissipated for the time.

“So, is someone saying I’m sleeping with those two? That’s the third time this week I’ve heard someone give me crap.” You asked, and he shrugged, “Dunno. Just heard Cain talking about you the other day. Made it sound like you two had something going on.”

“What did Dan- shit, what did Dr. Cain say?” You and him both laughed, and you took the moment to idly walk closer to the shelf on the wall, letting your hand meander behind your back while holding eye contact to keep him distracted. Ernest shrugged, looking towards the door and making it easy to take the bottle with a clammy hand, starting to fumble with it.

“He just said you two were growing close, how great you’ve been keeping things in order back at their digs. Wouldn’t stop talking about your eyes, either.” You were only half-listening, the latter of your attention thumping around your head as you tried to stop the glass from tapping against the metal shelf. He then looked at you, and you only pulled a flustered expression as he commented, “They’re just some shade of [y/e/c], so guess I’m not the intended audience for that one.”

You rolled those special eyes of yours, and then sighed, “Well, I can tell you right now that we aren’t anything outside of roommates.” Ernest scoffed, “Yeah, okay. If not you, then he’s definitely got it for West. You see how they look at each other, right?”

“Oh, sure.” You answered half-joking, but then stopped yourself and sighed, “I mean…I’ve said it before, but if they’re dating that’s none of our business – mine or yours.” Part of you meant that as you finally took your turn to leave with the glass in your bag, covered with your jacket to keep its toxic color concealed, “Tell Graves I had to get back to the clerks’ office, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll say hi to your boyfriends, too.” He called, and you knew that he could imagine the look on your face as he laughed from behind the door swinging shut.

You shoved the vial lower and lower into the bag, a godsend that you had brought in with you since you had a heavier stack of documents to lug around today. Kept around your shoulder, you checked the zippers, the latches, and when you were sure it was shut your eyes pointed towards the doors again. Hate to walk through them, love to barrel out-

“[Y/N].” A voice that sounded as though it had breathed right next to your ear almost sent you tripping into a row of chairs in the lobby, gasping as you turned and recognized his tone before seeing him fully. “Jesus, Herbert-“

“Pathology.” He merely spoke the word, and you almost rolled your eyes. It wasn’t a big deal he had noticed, but you knew it looked suspect to even him. Especially him. You recalled the way he looked at you when he saw how Dyer had spoken to you, that insecurity of the wrong slip of your tongue making him prone to just nitpick your every move. You weren’t Dan, after all, and he didn’t know what part you were intending to play through whatever the hell was going on. Still, you smoothed the front of your clothes down, feeling the weight of your bag against your thigh.

“Yes. I have something to tell you when I get home today.” Your eyes scanned the space around you, and his brow released as you lowered your voice, “I…really can’t show it right now.”

His eyes then truly focused in, not listening because he had to but now because he wanted to. “Is that so? What is it?”

“I can’t.” Your hand gripped your bag and you murmured, “Trust me.”

Another pause, looking you up and down to see how rigid you were becoming. “Well, can you at least tell me what’s with the incredulous look on your face?”

“I-“ Your expression flushed, the prodding once again cracking your eggshell-thin demeanor, “I found something in Pathology and I’m about to walk out with it. It’s something I’ve seen at home, and I think it belongs…to you.” Speaking slowly was the only way you could express uncertainty in your own words, but you cleared your throat and went on, “That stuff you keep in the fridge, I think you know what I’m talking about. I…I want answers.”

He blinked, short-lived anxiety through the hard brow suddenly lifting, and you two had a mutual moment of knowing what you meant. He almost sounded smug, and rocked on his heels slightly as he huffed, “Answers? [Y/N], why didn’t you just say so?”

“Hey, there’s trouble and more trouble.” You gave one last look to the door when you heard Dan’s voice, and as he came to greet you, you tried to take a playful tone. “Alright, you two have to have a job to do right now. I’m getting anxious just watching two doctors talk with their perfectly healthy roommate rather than helping patients.”

“What, can’t have a second to breathe?” Dan joked, and you smiled back a little in a lighthearted forfeit. You crossed your arms and then asked, “Hey, wait. Who’s trouble and who’s more trouble in this equation?”

Dan froze, then pointed at you and named, “Trouble.” His finger swiveled to point at Herbert, and maybe had two seconds of another pause before the other man scoffed, “Oh, right. I wasn’t the one just using [his/her/their] card to get into Pathology – as a meagre paper pusher, mind you.”

“Graves let me in. I had a reason to be there.” You corrected, trying not to look at Dan with your old shade of [y/e/c] eyes, hiding the smile threatening to smack everyone in the small three-sided crowd silly. Herbert only gave an expression of half belief while Dan simply cocked his head at you, both a little lost but none the wiser to tell you.

You weren’t sure if they had gotten home before you or not, but either way something was keeping you glued to the counter. For once, you didn’t want to quell your interest in everyday life around this morgue turned three-person home.

Perched on a stool, you stared at the vial across from you. Still luminescent, still hard to tell what the hell it was supposed to do. Was it thick like a syrup? Frothy like a beer? What would happen if I shook it? You wrinkled your nose at the idea, trying to see the consistency from where you were sitting.

A loud bang from the basement answered your original question. Dan’s voice scatched through the wall.

“I can’t mess this up.”

Herbert immediately retorted, “Mess it up? You’re practically drooling outside the bedroom door every other night! the only thing being messed up is our work before [Y/N] came here.”

The sound of your name made you turn your head, hand encircling the bottle as you finally hopped off the stool, slowly approaching the sound of the argument coming from downstairs.

“Herbert, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, please. You’re not hiding anything, Dan.”

A loud slam made you press your palm into the door, clutching the vial to your chest as you hesitated. He didn’t hit him, You immediately assured yourself, aware it was in vain but utterly horrified at the idea alone, trying to muster the will to push through. It only immobilized you again, clasped by the terror of wanting to remain in a position where you couldn’t know.

He wouldn’t.

Another slam, this time with more shifting afterwards, someone’s shoes squeaking on the floor. It didn’t sound like the wall this time, but rather furniture being pushed against the ground with movement. Your jaw dropped, and the vial now rested against your chest as you almost fell limp. Leaned against the wall, you heard a low sigh, an exasperated huff. Someone even uttered, “Damn you,” but it was hard to tell which one of them had said it. It was like the fight had been solved in mere seconds, and soon you were recognizing what it was.

A careful creak, and finally a third slam.

Then another.

And another.

“Damn you.” This time, it was very clear who was speaking, the reveling edge of Herbert’s tone something you had heard in a very different context before. You then realized that you had to leave it alone, rushing back down the hall and feeling a pang deep in your own core.

At least you knew something for sure after today.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Multi-May Masterlist.

"Lessons In Faking It Redux." Reverse!Poly!Ghostface X FEM! AFAB! Reader. NSFW.

"I Love You Best In." Poly!Ghostface X FEM! AFAB! Reader. NSFW.

"Three Against One." Mourning Wood (Buddy Swanson, Sam Wescott and Leslie Vernon) X AFAB! Reader. NSFW.

"Helping You, Helping Me." TMOMD Threesome AU! Freddy Kruger X Amber Cottrell X GN! Reader. NSFW-Ish.

"You Can't Steal What Is Willingly Given." Poly!Coven X GN! Reader. NSFW.

"Yes, I Can." Poly!Hinge!Sinclairs. X GN! Reader. NSFW.

"Another Day." Poly!Camping Boys X GN! Reader. SFW.

"A Lack Of Climax In Act Three." Reverse! Poly!Ghostface X FEM! AFAB! Reader. NSFW.

"Wrath Akin To A God." Poly!DanBert X GN! Reader. NSFW.

"Sweet On You." Poly!Ghostface X GN! Reader. NSFW.

"Life, Imitating Art, Imitating Life." Mickey Altieri And Randy Meeks X FEM! AFAB! Reader. NSFW.

Through The Heart Is The Only Way. Chapter Nine. "Stay." Poly!Chiffany X FEM! AFAB! Reader. NSFW.

"You Should Try It." Blossom James X Henry Williamson X FEM! Reader. SFW.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers.

Oooh thank you so much for the tag! Okay these are not in any particular order, but let's kick this off with-

"I Never Pegged You As The Type." This is a collab fic I did with @ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds about the reader pegging Freddy Krueger. I think it is one of the things I have had the most fun writing! Ace and I still have a part 2 in the works and I cannot wait to do it. His characterization feels on point, it's hot and so fun! Big recc from me.

"Afternoon Delight." A Stu Macher solo piece! A rarity in this fandom/from me. I know, I know poly!Ghostface is THE moment and the mood and I adore them but something about this piece makes me feel warm. I was watching Scream with a friend and noticed the stained glass window on the second floor and had the idea to center a thing on hooking up against it and such a simple thought and idea turned out this beauty! I love when that happens and I feel it really encapsulates what I do best, taking the unconventional and making it hot as hell.

"Surprised?" A Leslie Vernon SFW soft piece about the reader proposing to him. I got the idea for it and even though I was writing something else entirely the urge to write this struck me so hard I stopped it and banged this out in like an hour. Aren't those ones just the best? The ones that flow out of you like water? I just love this one so fucking it is insane. Soft pieces from me are rare so when they come along and so easily it is truly something special.

"Make It Right." A Poly!DanBert fic that @darklylucid commissioned! It is long as fuck, emotional, angsty, hot, beautiful, it's everything you could want really! It was a total joy to write and so fun to revisit! I seriously cannot recc this one enough if you are a fan of my poly stuff and my smut.

"Through The Heart Is The Only Way." My current long fic! I am having a total ball with it, no pressure, taking my time but it is hot, sweet, this feels like a natural progression, a true evolution in my long fic writing! It isn't all porn, there is depth and exploring a poly dynamic with Chucky and Tiffany is fucking amazing. I cannot wait to get more into it!