"Thief." Poly!DanBert, Herbert West And Dan Cain X GN! Reader. SFW.
Hey, hey, hey! It's Multi-May and this idea just hit me yesterday, so I wrote this up while the inspo was fresh, it'd feel strange not doing a little Poly!DanBert something, and no one had directly asked for anything with them, so I took it upon myself! This is a silly, fluffy kinda thing, I hope you all love it, there IS plenty of smut to come this month, so don't worry.
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Rating. SFW. Length. 2.9K. Poly!DanBert, Herbert West And Dan Cain X GN! Reader. They/Them Pronouns. No Parts Specified. Warnings: Nothing. Fighting? Baking. Herbert Being Herbert. Date. Reminder In The Novelization Herbert Is Canadian. It Is Important To ME.
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People all like to handle stress and unwind in different ways, some smoke, others drink, gamble, engage in casual sex with strangers, a vast number of avenues exist to help ease the difficulty of the mundane every day, and you? Channel it into baking.
You have an inordinate amount of stress in your life, between your job, school, and your roommates slash boyfriends and their “work”, you find yourself in the kitchen baking something roughly three days a week at minimum. You love to lose yourself in the motions, creaming together butter and sugar, working dough, whipping cream and of course decorating. Usually you can’t eat it all, so you promise a portion of your treats to study groups, college clubs, bake sales, or your work’s break room. You naturally enjoy a few too, you love to enjoy the fruits of your labour, you just love to share your hard work with others a bit more.
Dan is known to enjoy your treats, you often see him running out the door with a blueberry muffin or a cinnamon bun in his hand on his way to the hospital. On a rare day off, you are pressing a kiss to his temple as he has his coffee on the kitchen table, as you slide a plate with a cherry cheese danish, you joke, “Danishes for Dan.”
He exhales amusedly through his nose, a kiss placed on your cheek in return as he says, “Terrible.” Until he takes a bite of the confection you presented to him, and cannot help the moan he lets out, “I take it back, you can tell as many corny jokes as you want when you bake like this.”
“Gee, thanks for your permission, Dan.” You tease as you take the seat across from him, warmth and happiness curling in your chest as you cradle your own mug.
There is a small problem with you offering your amazing baking services to so many people, at times you can get a tad overwhelmed when you are overly needed, pulled in multiple directions. You have a week coming up where you will need to bake more than average, it isn’t an all the time thing, so you try to enjoy it as much as possible, because what a problem to have right? Getting to do your favourite hobby a little more than usual because people love the result so much, getting a ton of appreciation for it on top of it, really you’ll make it out just fine.
You are so consumed with your extracurricular stress buster that you don’t have the time to help Herbert or Dan with their basement activities, Herbert is less than happy about this, a scoff and an eye roll, “Really? You can’t help at all?”
Currently, you are wrist deep in a bowl as you are mixing, you respond, “I can’t Herbert, by the time I get out of classes, get home from my part-time shifts in the afternoon, do dinner, I have time to bake, shower and then go to bed before I do it all over again.”
“Why do you have to do it in the first place?” He bites, and you laugh, unable to help it, “Because I like it! Isn’t that reason enough to do anything?” You don’t defend yourself further, not bothering to outline all the other benefits, because you don’t feel like you need to. Either way, you are sure if Herbert has decided to be a bitch about this, nothing you can say will change that.
Dan cuts in, hands on his hips as he shows that you didn’t need to say anything further, because he is taking up the task of convincing Herbert dearest, “It’s a one week, Herbert, they told me all about it, and they are doing it to help some events-”
Herbert cuts in with a sneer, “I’m sure that if we unlock the secrets of beating death itself, that would be a lot more helpful than baking cupcakes.”
You sigh as you stop your current task, a look over your shoulder to see Herbert staring you down, you tell him, “Yeah, I am sure in the long run but for right now? Immortality will have to wait another week, cakes and cookies will just have to do.”
The staring contest continues for a minute before he gives up and leaves, walking off to the basement, calling to you, “Fine, have fun with your baked goods.”
You laugh again, only Herbert can put so much venom into those last two innocent words, God he can be so annoying at times, but unbearably hilarious at others, you cannot help loving him. Dan says, “Ignore him.”
“I am, have fun working with him in this mood.” You say, flashing him a grin, and he rubs at his eyes, “Yeah, I’m in for a real treat.”
Dan plants a kiss to your forehead as you start to mix again, he says, “Have fun for me.”
You promise easily, “I will.” Then Dan breaks off and makes his way down into the basement.
By the time the night is over, you had made these fantastic chocolate cupcakes with this whipped vanilla bean icing, peanut butter cookies and fruit explosion muffins. You clean as you go while things are in the oven, so the cleanup is spread out, you only have to wash the muffin pans, and then head upstairs. Dan had already gone to bed, Herbert is still in the basement, you have a shower and fall onto your own mattress happily.
You had already packed the tupperware of baked goods last night, to make your departure this morning easier, you just have to eat and head out. When you do go to leave, you pick up the tupperware of the peanut butter cookies, and it feels a bit lighter, you open it and discover roughly ten of the cookies you made were gone, and they were not small cookies. It was so late last night you didn’t have any, and Dan usually never takes that much, weird.
You brush it off, closing the container, maybe you are wrong, no time to continue to think on this, you have to go.
The thought leaves your mind easily, that night you bake a few more things, mini strawberry cheesecakes, chocolate coconut macaroons and double chocolate brownies, but curiously, when you wake up the following day? You find a third of the brownies you made were gone, and it is much harder to brush off, but you still somehow do. That night, you don’t have to bake anything, but you have to get back into it full force the following day.
That next day, you finally have a moment with Dan in the morning, and ask, “Have you had a larger than usual sweet tooth this week?”
He gives you an odd look, he shakes his head and tells you, “No, not at all, I know these were spoken for, so I didn’t touch them. Why?”
“Hmm, because a bunch of my peanut butter cookies were missing the morning after I baked them, and the following day my brownies had been raided too.”
“Weird, and you haven’t been sleep eating?” He inquires in a tone that makes you laugh, “No, I haven’t.”
Dan hums for a moment before he offers up, “Well, it is obvious, I didn’t do it and neither did you, so process of elimination, it was our third roommate, Herbert did it.”
That of course makes sense, but it was odd, you’d been baking for a long time and Herbert always turned down when you offered, so him eating such a large amount, especially after giving you a hard time, essentially out of nowhere, is strange. Why is he partaking now?
You verbalize some of your frustration, venting to Dan, “After him busting my balls the other day, ugh, where does he get off?”
“I dunno if you want the answer to that one.” He jokes and you crack a small smile.
When you come home later that night, you see Herbert and you confront him, asking in a lighter tone than he probably deserves, “Pretty good treats, huh?”
Herbert throws a look towards you like you are insane, proceeding to ask, “How would I know?”
Denying it, interesting. You press, “Because a not so small amount of my sweets have been pilfered, I haven’t partaken and neither has Dan, sooo-”
“So you think it’s me?” Herbert laughs, “I can assure you, it’s not.”
“If isn’t you, then whom? One of the re-animated corpses?” You bite out, and he gets up from the table, “I have no idea, have you considered perhaps you simply have been miscounting?”
Oh how infuriating, you respond in a tone dripping with sarcasm, “Yes, sure, that is the solution, I can’t count.”
“Glad we are in agreement.” He says in that tone that you swear to whatever God exists only Herbert can, and makes his way to the basement, signalling this conversation is over. You decide to let it go, now that you’ve shown him you have noticed his excessive snacking, surely he will stop.
The new desserts on the docket are cream puffs, fudge, and a rich German chocolate torte, they come together perfectly, and you go to bed very pleased with yourself. Thank God you confronted Herbert, no way will he touch any of these.
When you wake up the next day, the fudge has been obviously rifled through, a few cream puffs eaten and nearly half the torte was gone.
You were going to kill him.
That night’s fight was loud, Dan had to get involved and yet Herbert kept refusing that he had anything to do with it, hadn’t had a single bite, and he wouldn’t hear of anything else and oh my God you cannot deal with him right now. Herbert storms off, and you want to scream into a pillow, Dan can do little to calm you down.
If he isn’t going to own up to it, you need to do something drastic, if you catch him in the act, there will be no more room for debate.
You make a late grocery store run, you buy a large swath of supplies, and once home, you set to work, you bake peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, a lemon thyme cake with thick vanilla frosting, blondies, and chocolate hazelnut croissants, a bunch of the things you make best. You are confident that this menagerie would be irresistible to anybody.
The house layout is in your favour, you are able to set up and go to sleep in the living room and be hidden from view to anyone in the kitchen, so when Herbert comes up from the basement it does wake you up. You lie still and wait it out, can hear him in the kitchen, messing around, and when you are positive the timing is right, you find yourself getting up and coming into the kitchen, finding Herbert with his hand in the literal cookie jar, of in this case, tupperware.
“I fucking knew it!” You say far too loudly for how late it is, and Herbert’s head swings to look at you standing in the doorway, two cookies in one hand and one with a bite missing in the other, eyes wide behind his glasses.
Storming into the kitchen and right up to Herbert, you spit at him, “Herbert! What the fuck?!”
He chews for a moment and swallows, and once his mouth is empty, he says simply, “I was hungry.”
“Are you serious?” You ask in disbelief.
“Yes!” He insists, and you scoff at him, “UN-fucking-believable!”
Herbert now caught isn’t hiding it, he takes another bite of the cookie in his hand and asks defensively around his mouthful, “Oh what?”
“You! You are so unbelievable! You give me shit for my hobby, steal my hard work, eat it in secret and when I confront you about it? You deny, deny, deny, saying, all oh I would never, and I catch you in the fucking act and all you have to say is I was hungry!” You scold him and then tack on, “Seriously, you need to explain yourself better, cuz I was hungry isn’t a good enough reason!”
He sighs and makes a move for the table, about to bring the tupperware with him, and you stop him, your tone leaving no room for argument, “Leave it.”
Reluctantly Herbert does so, he slumps down in a seat and tells you that the other night, when he was headed to bed, he saw all the treats laid out, and it bothered him, he was thinking about the earlier conversation and what a waste he thought it all was. Further, he had the thought that what you made couldn’t be that good, so he attempts to prove his hypothesis and tries some.
Herbert is the kind of guy who is able to ignore his bodily needs for a long time, able to file them away and into the background while working, but when he starts to sate one, it is like it becomes a compulsion. So when he took that first bite he realized two things, one, it was delicious, and two, he was fucking starving after working late into the night, leading to him eating ten cookies in a row.
The next night he saw everything new you made, and he thought maybe the first night was a fluke, so he tried some more, and the same thing happens again, he starts eating and stopping was hard. He had to accept that you are a stellar baker, and he kind of regrets waiting for so long, another very stubborn part of Herbert doesn’t ever want to admit he is wrong, so when you comforted him, he doubled down that he had never even eaten a single bite. You tell him laughing and balking at the very idea the way he had was a bit harsh and he continues, saying now that you have caught him there is nothing else to hid behind.
You let him dangle for a moment, allow the silence to stretch between you both, let him sit in this mood for a minute, turning it all over in your mind before you speak up. “Well, you’re an idiot.”
Meeting his eyes you can’t stop yourself from starting to smile, “I don’t appreciate you stealing this stuff when it’s for other people, I know you have a bad habit of it with all those fucking bodies and parts you take, but these things were spoken for and IF you wanted some and asked I would make whatever you want, so next time? Just speak up.”
“You’d make anything I wanted?” Herbert asked clearly very interested and you sigh out, drawing from your never ending supply of sarcasm, “Wow, what a great apology, a real all timer.”
He scoffs and brushes over it very rushed, “Fine, I’m sorry, but you are serious?”
You laugh, really the anger has melted because oh my God this situation is so ridiculous you cannot continue to give him shit, the previous emotion instead is bleeding into mirth, “Yes! Fuck, I am serious. What do you want?”
He thinks for a moment and says, “Nanaimo bars?”
You blink in surprise and ask, “What are those?”
“A Canadian dessert, a favourite, no one makes them down here, and I’d like them.” He says in a tone that rings as sincere, you reach out and take his hand and say, “Alright, I’ll look into a recipe and do it.”
The kiss you share so late at night over the kitchen table acts as his “Thank you”.
It was a very sweet moment, the sweeter one came the following day however, you purchased everything needed and upon seeing Herbert you throw an apron at him and tell him, “C’mon, get suited up.”
Herbert looks at the blue gingham print apron in his hand as if it has personally offended him, “Whatever for?”
“To help make your Nanaimo bars.” You chirp and Herbert laughs as if the idea is the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard, “Absolutely not.”
“No? Don’t think you can do it?” You tease as you are trying up your own apron, and he says, “Hardly, it’s simply beneath me.”
“Fuck off and take the stick out of your ass, Herbert, you want these? You’re helping, and this is also to help make up for your frankly piss poor apology and all the food you stole.” You assert and with perfect timing, Dan sweeps into the room, in comfortable clothing and his own apron, “I’m ready.”
“Daniel is helping?” Herbert asks, and you tell him, “Of course, when I mentioned this, he wanted to.”
“Yeah, figured it’d be a fun date night.” Dan shares with a grin, and Herbert groans, his head tipping back, you and Dan laugh, and you watch him start to tuck his tie away and put on the apron, “Awe Herbie, come on, baking is really just chemistry, lighten up.”
A decidedly different science based date, but one that is sorrily needed, though Herbert would never, ever admit it, you think he gained a newfound appreciation for your favourite hobby and the work involved. The dessert takes a good amount of time, but when you are on the couch, TV on, and the pan on the coffee table for sharing, you have to admit, they are divine.
albeit shorter than my usual chapter updates, very VERY proud that i got this finished in time for the special day. happy october...
to all who celebrate💚 not only am i excited to get the update done on the special deadline, but to finally have the slow burn catch some fire in ways i've been scheming hard on.
SFW | Word Count: 2,260 | Herbert West x GN Reader x Daniel Cain
⬅ continued from talking to me as if you knew me
➡ continued in can't go on thinking nothing's wrong
Somehow, there was better sleep this week than last. You didn’t know if it came from complacency, a better understanding of what was happening within the walls of your home, or less coffee and nights spent in nerve-addled pacing; but you also didn’t complain about being able to get your hours in without closing the vents or shoving pillows against your head.
The arguing between Dan and Herbert was still here and there, and the ominous sounds were still present (sometimes more during the afternoon now that there were less skeletons that needed to stay in the closet), but it was…home, as you had called it. It was the recognition that you were beginning to cozy up beside it all made you crinkle your nose, still driving home after a long day and instead focusing on rolling your ankle that wasn’t on the gas pedal.
What you did have to complain about was a police car settled unapologetically outside of said home as you pulled up, eyes locked to the windshield as you put it in park. Immediate hopes that there was something chaste going on with the other two made you hitch your breath as you opened the car door. Standing up slowly, you gave the cruiser a sharp glance as you gathered your coat from the passenger seat. Looking back towards the house, the door to the other car opened as well.
“Officer.” You greeted, the warmth you pasted to your tone as store-bought and plastic as a cake from the local supermarket made by a tired twenty-something. He stood toe to toe with you, smiling in a rare bout of closed lips at you. “[Hot shot/Hot cakes.]”
“On another stakeout mission for grave robbers?” You asked, looking across the street as you stood at the front of the driveway. He paced around the police car, and asked, “Do you have a moment, [Y/N]?”
Do you have a warrant? You turned back around, hands clenched under the cover of the light coat in your arms as you replied, “Sure. For what?”
“Chapham’s orders, if you believe it. You see-“ He explained casually, and you were hoping someone would see you from the window, help you out of the pickle as you listened, “His wife was admitted to the psychological unit in Miskatonic awhile back. Long before our…current predicaments, aside from what I’ve been keeping my eye out for. Stark mad, delusional up until her untimely slip in the kitchen, as the report states…and she was supposedly brain dead up until about six hours after she was admitted for injuries. See, that was when she woke up, screaming, flailing…she was alive.”
He looked expectantly at you, and you cocked your head to one side, an ear in confusion facing him now.
“Dr. West was in the wing the night she was…seemingly…” He chuckled, hands coming up in a shrug, “Resurrected from a vegetative state.” You furrowed your brow, and he then promptly asked, “May I come in and speak to the doctor about this incident? We just can’t seem to figure out how else this could’ve happened, and you can imagine how heavy this case has become from laying dormant over everyone involved. Can’t you?”
You hummed pensively, turning up the driveway and walking to the front door. “Sure, I can imagine that, sir. Would you…mind waiting while I-“
“Made yourself decent?” He teased, and you choked out with a fake laugh, “Funny. But sure, just a minute and he’ll be out with you.”
Closing the door promptly, you threw your coat onto the couch. Beeline for the hall, you looked towards the door leading to the basement. “Herbert! Dan!” You squawked out, then turned your head just as promptly to peer into the kitchen.
They were standing together, an unmistakable connection at both the hips and the mouths by the sink. Pulling off each other quickly at the notion of another voice, Herbert turned with a look of shock. Dan was a little more lost in a dying moment, staring vacantly with a still half-open jaw as the shorter man grumbled, “Oh, [L/N]. Now what!?”
“Dyer’s here.” You murmured, eyes staring just as desolately ahead as you tried to ignore what you had seen. Hearing it was one thing, but to witness the walking proof was now coming at you from the other side of things.
“Really?” Herbert was catching his breath, Dan now standing straight and gasping, “Police? Here?” You looked at him, head turned to the side and a little ruffled as you murmured, “That’s what I said.”
“What for?” Herbert asked, closing distance between you fast, “What did you-?”
“Nuh-“ You spit the word out in a two syllable manner, teeth bared, “thing.”
In the tense silence, you looked down the hallway and tried to take a breath. It was cut off by another demand. “Well, speak to him.” Herbert’s tone had gone back to a bargain, “You seem to satiate whatever interest he has just fine without the need of either of us.”
“He’s asking for you,” You informed him, “Something about an officer’s wife.”
“What?” Dan stammered, looking down at the top of Herbert’s head as he made a dry expression at the thought. You then prodded in frustration, “How long have you two been doing this to people, exactly?”
“As many times as we need to.” Herbert uttered as he passed you, but when he walked by he took hold of your shirt and murmured much quieter now as you reluctantly followed the motion. “Go by my lead and keep this pig at bay.” You turned to face the front door, looking back at Dan for him to follow. That he did, eyes locked ahead in pure, cold anxiety.
You opened the door, faking the belief to hopefully emanate the same cozy feeling you had gotten from the walls onto the officer. “There they are.” Dyer chuckled, looking to Herbert. “Dr. West, nice to make your acquaintance again.”
“I’m told you have questions.” Herbert skipped the greeting, making you swallow slightly and look to a corner of the room to avoid a physical cringe. He cleared his throat, “Courier’s word got to you fast, did it?”
“It’s [his/her/their] job to be quick with it.” Herbert retorted, and Dyer’s smile flinched down. “Sure is.”
You felt Dan standing behind you, a hand even coming up to squeeze your arm when he saw you roll your shoulders a little, staring on at the exchange with discomfort but trying to smile through it.
“I’ve come to ask you a few questions about a Violet Chapman, the police chief’s wife that was admitted during your shift on September the thirteenth, just about a month ago, is it?”
You glanced at the calendar hanging over the TV, eyebrows bouncing at the recognition a month had gone by under your nose. This time last month, you were…so clueless to everything. Still was, but just enough to not lose your entire mind every other day with the true nature of what was going on.
“I just find it peculiar, Dr. West. First, that stint in 1985, and now another half-completed autopsy where a woman just-“ Dyer rose his hands, fingers popping out in expression, “Sprung back to life while you were working in the wing.” He looked to you now for some sort of gang up on the guy, your eyes staring up and your chin remaining tucked down. “I recommend taking better looks at it when perusing those records you can’t seem to get enough of, [Y/N].” You smiled through closed lips, nodding at him wordlessly. He glanced for a beat at Dan, then asked, “You know who’s death records are even more enticing?”
“Who?” You dared to ask.
“…Megan Halsey’s.” He spoke delicately, and the hand on your arm froze, then fell away as your eyes stopped darting around; you wished you could force him back out the front door with just your glance through the center of his stupid face. “There are rumors she died twice, much like…a lot of other individuals on that night, but I digress. Just…all these strange coincidences I can’t seem to pin down.”
“What does Miss Halsey have to do with the Chapham case, officer?” You asked, and he shrugged at you with the same closed mouth smile you had given him.
“I think…” Herbert breathed out, “You need to leave, officer.”
Your lips were sealed again, and the officer’s cocky expression twitched in irritation. “Well, you three seem to still have some reservations to a case that’s concerning far more people than we usually allow before…getting warrants.”
“I’m glad you’ve finally brought that up. Do you have one that permits any more of this questioning?” Herbert quickly asked, and your hand was now sneaking to hold Dan’s from behind your back, standing in front of the man almost defensively. He squeezed back, eyes down on the floor but a little purse of the lips to show he was fond to comfort.
Dyer was turned towards West, and he leaned in slightly as he crooned, “Oh. Do I need to get one, my liege?” You squeezed again as Herbert merely observed, “There’s no reason for you to be questioning us with such pointed blame right now. I had nothing to do with the anomalous behavior.”
His brow drawn down, he looked at you. Dried tongue spat out with another fake smile, “If we have anything that we know about the night of Mrs. Chapham’s incident, we’ll let you know.” He narrowed his eyes at you, Herbert’s owlish stare following as you refused to flinch or fawn to either of them.
“Alright. Alright, you three…” The cop stood straight, turning to leave again as he chided, “I’ll leave you to whatever dinner plans I seem to be walking in on.” He gestured to the apron Dan was still wearing, something you now noticed with a lack of spots or gore much to your relief. He then asked you, “Your wife make a nice meal?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked back, and he smiled at you with that hideous tooth glinting. “Kidding, kidding...”
He left as sharply as he had entered. The door shut, and you remained stock still as the officer lingered by the porch, but then finally retreated towards the cruiser. You were mortified, ignoring the look from both Dan and Herbert until the engine rumbled to life and started outside the curtained windows.
Eyes shifting back to the man in front of you, he was about to lambast you again before you beat him to the floor. “Was there a problem with anything I said?”
Herbert started to shake his head at you, but you let go of Dan’s hand and approached with careful steps. “Are you going to let me help keep this project safe?” You let it out, agitation making you a human motor as the hand in yours growing less adamant to slip out of yours while you spoke, “I want to see that guy run through the goddamn mud if he’s going to be coming and sitting outside our hous-The house we share, and I don’t really understand all of what is going on with…” You stuttered again, but then almost found the word rabidly, “Re-animation, resurrection, whatever you’re going to call it. But I do know what this means as a whole, and this could be…great.” You spoke the belief further into what you wanted to be rather than what it was, smiling with a shake of your head. “This could be great after everyone stops preventing what you’re doing. It’s rough, sure, but…It’s lively.”
Wording was sloppy, but to put it together why you couldn’t merely look away from it all, to realize the respect and need that came when faced with the terrors of the experiments happening in the house…it was why you could sleep. You were fathoming it faster than you could feasibly control yourself, speaking like a gun was to your head to finally lay out your opinion in the open.
Stopping yourself again, waiting for a criticism from the man, you saw nothing but a glimmer behind the wire-framed glasses, his jaw slacked for once and almost hanging slightly. To see him bewildered was, much like the strange streaks of kindness painted over you from time to time, foreign. You swallowed your confidence, and then asked him, “What are you thinking right now?”
“I think that you see past the house of cards built by common folk … The picture as a whole of this experiment.” Herbert gawked, eyes downcast before coming back up to yours. It was almost overwhelming, and your smile faltered.
You turned away from both of them, and started walking towards the kitchen, shaking off the nerves from speaking and taking a sharp breath. Dan turned to watch your direction, and when he saw you pass the walkway he gasped.
“[Y/N], don’t-!” He choked again as soon as he had spoken, and when you cocked your head and gave him a curious stare over one shoulder, he cracked like an egg. “Don’t look in the sink.”
You stayed put, then made a beeline on your original course. Dan winced as you gasped loudly, “AWH, DAN! WHAT IS THIS!?”
“Today’s attempt in rejuvenating a seventy-year-old organ. So far, unsuccessful.” Herbert replied, wringing his hands slightly with a charmed smirk. "Still deciding if it's the age of the tissue, or my reagent's potency."
“...Lungs. Those are lungs, [Y/N].” Dan clarified with a hand over his eyes.
it's time. to start adding actual nsfw to this monster (affectionate).
i really wanted to get back to this after i gave myself a good breather from last month, and writing both of the boys for a couple days of prompts really started the motor to get going with this fic again.
rest assured that even if the updates become here and there, i have some major places that this still needs to go, and some stuff i wanna stop dreaming about and finally put to paper.
the kind words in the tags/ao3 comments have meant the world to me, too. this holds the title as one of the longest fanfictions i've ever written, and that makes everything about it all the more special.
so really!! thanks again for loving this sucker and loving these guys as much as i do!!
NSFW | Word Count: 5,909 | Herbert West x GN Reader x Daniel Cain
contains canon typical/grave robbing, angst, dry humping, making out, premature ejaculation (sorry dan you would if you didn't get laid for long enough-)
🎼: x
🔁 lost? start at the beginning with letting me in or letting me go
⬅ continued from as i have done, so will you
➡ continued in talking to me as if you knew me
You fumbled another file, watching the papers slip from the manila protection, spatter against your feet in waves of 8x10 curls. It happened almost daily, but you sure were noticing it today. Each skitter from a numb set of fingers, distracted eyes barely reading each name and date on the folder while you continued to organize for the ladies at the records office. Muscle memory of repeat names and statements kept you afloat, hopefully enough to get your work done. You needed a day indoors, yes, so the fact the professional need for it linked up with the personal one was a strike of good luck.
You could do with some of that.
Was it the fabric of the old sofa, or the way everyone’s shirt sleeves felt against yours making your shoulders feel so electric? You pursed your lips, reminding yourself that Herbert’s attire was all too sleek to give a fuzzy feeling like you were catching onto his very person. Your eyes snapped to your shoes when you asked yourself if you could get a chance to test that just to be sure of it. Then again, curiosity was sure driving you forward in a direction that could only lead to something that’d get you… Killed? Hurt? Destroyed in more ways than physically? Kicked out of a pretty good housing situation for this part of town?
“Well, you had me fooled, [L/N].”
The same voice trailing up the corridors made by the shelves of record boxes had you turning slowly, and you swallowed hard as you spotted that smile between files, the glint of gold and his face clean shaven. You almost glared in how hard you looked at him yet you could keep your voice light. “What? What do you mean?”
“Cain, West. Roommates, distant enemies.” He pondered slowly, then shook his head, “None of that is true, you kidder. You look good on a couch together.”
Your expression, fighting to stay neutral up until this point, finally cracked. “What were you doing at our house last night?”
“There’s been a string of grave robberies across the street,” Dyer quickly replied, a hand tossing to the air, “On top of all these…missing cadavers, messes along the same, strange vein of crime…” You shook your head at that, but he then innocently stated, “I just happened to be staking out when I saw it.”
A sick crawl went up your stomach, then fell back down with a look at him up and down as he stepped around, came into view. You held the file in your hands closer to your chest, and he eased, “[Y/N], don’t be embarrassed.” He laughed, “Your secret’s safe with me, especially if you have…romantic intention with Cain…or is it actually West?”
You didn’t respond, hands immediately finding more papers to grab, something to thumb through and act focused on. He then shrugged, voice taking a tone truer to his feelings. “You’re in the thick of something far more dangerous than you think, and it’s just a fact of life. You don’t know better until it comes to a head, I suppose.”
“I’m not involving myself with…1985’s mess, officer.” You clarified, “I came after the massacre, and unless you have hard evidence to believe I’m wrong, I’m not even sure why we’re having this conversation.” You closed the file in your hand, and mused for emphasis, “It’s all water under the bridge, anyways.”
He smiled, and asked, “So, you think they’ve learned their lesson? That stint in Peru that the hospital sent them on completely reformed them?”
You squinted back at him, frozen in an honest confused state, but then slowly muttered, “This is my first time hearing about them going to Peru.”
He sighed through his nose. “Fair enough. Unfortunately, there aren’t heavy records on that part of their careers. The medicine they were permitted to bring over there was more experimental than anything, and I don’t think what really happened with it will see the light of day anyhow.” He laughed, turning to leave. You then stammered out the lie, “I’ve looked around the house, and you can quote me on this: nothing to be seen or report, not even in the attic, and not in the basement.” You nodded, “I keep a lot of my storage in there, so believe me: I make sure there aren’t stolen dead people in with my junk.”
“You don’t need to cover, [hot shot/honey].” Dyer suddenly eased, “Just know if you keep up with those two, you’ll be nothing but a string of horrible accidents. If you could, I’d tell you to ask Miss Halsey about it.” He grinned at the way you reacted, like the twist of wry lips had slipped under your skin. “Even as students, that’s all that Cain and West were. Hurricanes of lying, malpractice.”
You were silent, standing beside yourself and finally filing the manila folder that had been getting wrung out in your hands back on the shelf. Like he couldn’t help it, he let one more comment slide before opening the door again, already halfway out.
“Might as well be running through that hospital with scissors.”
Practically barreling through the door, you yanked your first few buttons on your shirt undone, bag hitting the couch with a toss of your arm. You were quickly met with similar energy from Herbert turning the corner, beginning to speak but you held him in place with a squared jaw and hard brow, one hand sprouting out in pause.
“Before you start, I need to talk-“
“I don’t have time, you need to come with me.” Herbert dismissed you, your face tightening as you grabbed the seam between his sleeve and the torso of his shirt. You repeated yourself in a more tense voice, “We need to talk, Herbert.”
He looked over your outfit, confused and twinging. Finally, you released him, and when he merely pouted for a beat you then added, “I’ll come with you, but please. I need to talk to you about something that was said to me today.” You froze, mouthing the name before he could jump back to what he was doing.
“What? What did that humdrum police officer want?” He straightened his posture, no longer turning back towards the hallway before you even started talking. You let a noise of frustration out through a sigh, posture going limp, but then murmured, “Let’s just go. We can talk at the graveyard.” You then nodded, and reminded him, “Lest you forget it: I’m here to help.” You hoped it came across on your big eyes, your meek frown. Please help me, too.
Herbert replied slowly, “…Alright.” He opened the closet by the door, finding a long black coat that you now saw fit him perfectly as he pulled it over his shoulders. “Alright, [Y/N]. Dan got kept at the hospital, of course, but I’m going to need an extra pair of hands for what needs to be done nonetheless.”
You hadn’t realized what he had been talking about until he reached back into the closet, a shovel now in his hands. It fit too well, made your stomach contract as you then realized just what waited for you.
How did I not see that coming?
“With scissors?”
“With scissors.” You echoed, matching his pace as the path between rows of graves surrounded the two of you. Herbert walked almost casually, stopping when a headstone caught his attention for reasons you were still figuring out. He was obviously looking for something to work with, but you didn’t know if that meant decrepit, fresh, young, old…
You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets, and sniffed, “Of course, I kept my mouth shut. Tried to convince him we had an empty house, just a few eccentricities.”
“Eccentricities!?” Herbert now repeated you, offended but you digressed. “He said he didn’t have any judgement,” A smirk came across your face as you shook your head, almost sarcastic in tone, “And to be honest, I just don’t know what he meant by that.”
“Is he talking about our personal lives outside of work?” Herbert asked, and you replied, “Maybe. What else would it be?” When there was only silence in reply, you pointed to one headstone. Herbert glanced over, and mumbled, “Died in 1897. Too ancient.”
You nodded to that, eyes vacant because you still didn’t know what he was looking for.
“Is that what he thinks?” Herbert then laughed, your eyes bouncing back to him as he walked a few strides ahead of you. “That we’re an item, Dan and I?” You stared hard at the back of his head now, trying to burn right through, and like he sensed it and quickly explained, “Even if that was the case, Dyer has no business in what we meddle with – or what you do, either, [Y/N]. Remember that, and maybe his flimsy interrogation won’t cut so deep.”
“I don’t think he’s worried about either of you, it’s more like…If…If it was…” You trailed off, unable to spit it out, the feelings of sitting between him and Dan smothering you, your inclusion getting that same fuzziness to now dry your words, caught in your throat.
A strike of terror came fast over you, to admit what Dyer now believed: the romantic implications, thinking there was something far too convoluted to be just between you and one of these men. You instead snapped your head to the nearest tombstone when you could see in a peripheral glance that he had turned to look back.
“What about her?” You stooped down, stomach slow to catch up with you and making you a little nauseous as you pivoted fast, “She…only passed thirty five years ago, not as ancient.”
He walked over, standing behind you, a loom over your shoulder and the shovel shading the back of your head.
“Yes, she’ll do.” Herbert then said, and when you read her headstone a second time he goaded in a gentle tone, “Move now.”
Another flash of movement from your peripherals got your head to turn, but just as you were about to do as the man had asked, the shovel fell to one side. He had his hands on your shoulders, pushing hard and making you wince. “Get down. Down, [Y/N]-!” He hissed.
You scrambled, avoiding getting in his way and belly pressed into the ground, but when you fell to the ground on the other side of the tombstone, he grabbed the back of your shirt and guided you to tuck in front of him. You tensed, every muscle compacting into itself, like if you retreated further into your current posture you’d stop feeling your sides on the inner seam of his slacks. Eyes boggled, but you quickly caught the commotion a few rows away, and Herbert responded by pulling you tighter against him, the both of you squishing into the shape of the stone.
“There sure are dead bodies out here, but I really don’t think it’s gonna be the ones we’re looking for.” An unfamiliar male voice spoke, and Dyer’s unique cadence made your chest cave in a dreaded exhale, “I’m not looking for these bodies, Potts, but I have a hunch someone else in the neighborhood is.”
You and Herbert exchanged a displeased look as Potts, the other man with him, mumbled, “And who would… Oh, Christ, Dyer. You have to stop-“
“I will after this.” He interrupted him, their idling footsteps coming to an abrupt halt, “I just need a sign that it’s not still happening. What did you think, honestly? All those body parts, scraps and X-rays going missing all at once like that!?”
“Didn’t take the X-rays. They’re useless to me,” Herbert muttered, and luckily, he didn’t see the stifled shock on your own face, or your fingers curl tightly against your jacket fabric. Potts finally huffed, “Alright, if you say so.”
“I’m not just doing this for me, it’s an order from Chapham. Thinks his wife’s institutionalization has something to do with being hospitalized at Miskatonic.” You whispered the name back to yourself, getting a hand over your mouth as they nearly walked right by the headstone.
The footsteps came then faded, and you even spotted them now making their way on the same path that the two of you had just been on maybe a few minutes ago. Going in the opposite direction.
“They were closer to us than I thought.” You murmured, Herbert’s arm sliding off and letting you shoot away from pressing against him. He stood slowly, and you looked up at him. The expression on your face felt pretty easy to see: flustered, crouched to him while still catching your breath. He straightened his tie, and answered, “They won’t find anything that proves anyone in our house accountable. Prowling a graveyard, like…some sort of dull neighborhood watch for the dead.”
He stared after them, a twist to his scowl that creased the edges of his lips. The shovel suddenly came down to hover directly by your hands. You took hold of where the spade’s neck began, and with surprising strength Herbert pulled you to stand with the tool. You asked in a mousy voice, “Well, should we wait to dig until we’re certain they’re gone?”
“Oh, they’re gone.” He stated surely. You stared at his profile with a twinge of disbelief, but when his head turned to look at you again, you met it without a flinch, settled into eye contact that you were still unable to figure out, which only compelled you.
“They’ll be gone once they fail to find exactly what they’re looking for.” The way he was holding you with just a stare, eyes boring in after so much time spent looking away – not even paying you mind – made your fuzzy throat return. When he let go of the shovel, you were now holding it on your own. Your hand had begun to tremble before you broke eye contact. Looking down, turning the spade the correct direction, and sticking it in the crumbling dirt below your feet.
It was the same dirt that clung to both of your clothes.
“Just drag it down, and it’s perfectly fine if you damage a hip. That’s why they give you two.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Dan took maybe three steps inside, and you had no time to drop the body or even careen out of sight. You stood half-crouched, frozen in place and holding the cadaver, what was left of her body beneath the arms while Dan turned to face you completely.
He stared in silence, eyes dull with exhaustion as he met your own, and then took his time tracing the rest. As he continued to move, unraveling from work in the form of his coat and his bag, his expression dropped. It began stretching in a terror that he knew far too well. His coat finally fell from his body and onto the floor as he made a noise, and then muttered, “What…what are you doing, [Y/N]!?”
You were silent, tight expression feigning from his stare as he now recognized that the person in your hands was not only unfamiliar, but an acrid color. He took a few steps closer from the other end of the hall and repeated, “[Y/N], what are you doing with that? Where di-“ Before he could make it to you, Herbert darted from his room, stopping him in the middle of the corridor. “Don’t worry about it, Dan. [He/she was / They were] only assisting with moving them downstairs, they had nothing to do with it.”
“Where did you find that?” Dan asked him, then turned to you again with another scoff of bewilderment, “And why are you helping him with it?” You were mute, heart racing in a naked terror as you set the corpse on the floor and adrenaline made you find some kind of voice. “H-he…He said he needed some help.” You approached him with cautious footsteps, desperately rubbing your hands off on your clothes to get the remnants of cold skin to fizzle out against the denim of your pants. You gave Herbert an uncertain glance, then muttered, “He said it was only right if I’m here with you two, and I mean-”
“What are you talking about?” Dan’s jaw slacked, looking at you with a bottomless stare before turning his attention to the other man again, part of his body behind you and wedging you in between them. “What [is he/she / are they] talking about?” He repeated, trying to harden his voice. You told yourself that Dan wasn’t mad. He sounded frightened more than anything else.
“[Y/N] has been assisting me when you can’t.” He stated plainly, once again looking at you with a glint of familiarity that made you adjust uncomfortably. “You think I could move these cadavers in a meaningful frame of time by myself?”
“You’ve been making [him/her/them] move bodies!?” Dan sneered over your head, “I thought you were adamant that you weren’t going to get anyone else involved.”
The itching guilt of knowing you helped pick out the body wasn’t helping your whirlwind of a mind. Herbert prodded, “You didn’t ask me to refrain should I change my mind, did you? [He/she was / They were] curious, so there’s a need for [him/her/them] to see for themselves.” You cleared your throat, both of their eyes on you as you clarified in a weak voice, “I n-never asked to help with the body transport, to be fair.”
A little hum left Herbert’s throat as he took your shoulder for a moment. Your eyes snapped back to look at him, then Dan promptly had a hold of your other one from behind. He muttered, “I thought it was implied we wouldn’t involve a third person in this. We can’t.”
“I didn’t have plans to, Dan, but [Y/N] was the one who came to me. Who am I to stop someone who’s curious?”
“Just because [he/she was / they were] curious doesn’t mean we make [him/her/them] handle all these dead people.”
“[He/she’s / They’ve] seen the notes.” He replied with a slight shrug, “I wouldn’t let just anyone contribute without some sort of background.”
“[Y/N] doesn’t need to know. In fact, I’d prefer that we only see each other as roommates if we can’t control this.” Your heart had been sitting on a ledge unbeknownst to you, unprepared to feel it fall as Dan finished, “Not make our living situation some kind of dirty secret.”
Herbert shook his head almost gingerly, eyebrows raised. “Who says it’s a dirty secret, exactly? That’s only true if you treat it dirty.”
Both of their hands slipped off of your shoulders to give each other tight stares and furrowed brows. “Are…” The movement was abrupt to glance over your shoulder, trailing up to Dan, “Are you still talking about the research?”
He looked down, jaw slacking slightly as he now felt lost for words as your eyes pinned him, searching for an answer in a hopeless expression. “This… is a mess.” Dan finally stated, and only when he saw what that did to your expression, confusion giving to a mild disheartened smolder, did he stutter, “Look, I just- I didn’t want to deal with this right after a long day, I didn’t-“
“No.” You scoffed, hands exposed to him again as you turned away from Herbert and even laughed, the sarcasm dripping off your tongue like gasoline, “You’re right. I think I’m getting a little too involved. This was a mistake on my part, too.”
“Now look at what you’ve done-“Herbert began, a snap quickly muzzled by your hand sliding back, tapping the knot of his tie with ginger knuckles as you barked, “Stop. Stop…”
Dan had his hands on his hips, and now tried to talk again, “[Y/N], I-“ You took your other hand, pressing into his sternum gently as you snapped again, “You, too. Stop.”
Hands slipping off both their chests, you then took a deep breath and chose Dan to be the one to get your honest, tired eyes. Your voice became restrained, some other passionate anger, a pain you weren’t prepared for and afraid to let loose coming through in a taut tone.
“Once again, I’m nothing but confused.” You admitted, then brushed past rather abruptly to once again escape the admittance. You still couldn’t do it, say you were hoping for something out of this, and you weren’t sure when that unwilling nature would stop. It is a common action to run nowadays. You didn’t know why you kept giving the situation said mind, because it only seemed to be getting you into something that Dan was right in pleading over you needing to know nothing about.
The only difference between this time and the last was that now Dan got mad.
“Hey.” His voice wasn’t apologetic any more, nor easing the situation down, “[Y/N]-“ You closed your door fast, shocked at what you were hearing. He almost sounded authoritative over you, talking clearly through the wood as he had been on your tail instead of giving you the space.
“We’re going to have this talk right now.” Déjà vu socked you, but when you were about to ignore him he had the audacity to jiggle the knob. Your own nerves frayed, a final push of the vase that held all those sensitivities touched and pangs you were swallowing down faster than they were coming. Shatter.
It ignited your movements, nearly tripping over yourself to get back to the door and throw it open.
“Talk!? Now you want to talk?” You leered, “Please, try not to confuse me this time, Doctor.”
“No way, this is not my fault. I just walked in from work. You can’t run from us- from me every time this happens.” Dan pressed you, his own choice of words sloppy and making your frown twitch. You scoffed away the initial fear of seeing him in such a way, and asked, “What the hell do you want me to do, then? Be a part of this whole production, or the oblivious third wheel?” You threw your arms open at him, “We can’t keep acting like we can have both.”
He was silent, and you swallowed before going on. “I can’t be asked to understand it, asked to keep calm when you two won’t hide all these atrocities from me, then be ostracized when I decide to help instead of working against it.” Dan opened his mouth, and you jutted at him, “Covering up what’s going on under our feet every goddamn day, it’s getting borderline-”
“You sound like Herbert more and more each time I talk to you.” Dan interrupted, and it pulled a handbrake in the rage vehicle. Your track of thought spun out, then sent the spiral downwards as your eyes sank. Catching your tongue on the inside of your cheek, you rocked back on your heels.
“It can’t be that much. You’d begin fucking me in that basement every time we got into these arguments if that was true.” You replied, a hand trailing up to your mouth to cover it only after it was said.
He stepped forward, and you felt a strong dig into your hip. “Don’t push m-“ You took the first movement to be in his face once more, but then looked down, expecting to see a hand on your side. You were met with his arms kept to himself, breathing a little heavier and the muscle against your thigh a growing erection.
Averting your gaze, feeling the embarrassment and the shock all cumulating in its newfound home in your chest. You looked back up at him, everything untying from tight reigns and letting yourself feel frightened – unapologetically in the way your eyes were blown out, neck tight in a swallow that barely went down.
He walked you back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Your hands shot to his shoulders, his back against the door for a minute as you were frozen to the spot. You tried to talk, but all the vitriol just pooled into spit on your tongue, and you responded the only way you knew how; when you pushed him back, he let his hands take your hips, keeping close as he murmured significantly quieter.
“You have no…idea…” He shook his head, and after another moment’s hesitation – a thread in your self-control, your apathy, your confusion – you stopped pushing. You let him press his chest against yours, hesitant to kiss but close enough to each other that you felt his breath on your jaw. Sharing the space, he cocked his head slightly and asked, “You really wanna know what we do in that basement, [Y/N]?”
You sucked in another breath, feeling your own arousal cause your eyes to water alongside emotions, struggling in everything to either answer him or try to hide it all again. His grip loosened, but his dick was still going strong against your thigh and his breathing was so uneven that it was hard to know if he was just as scared after getting the aggression out or not.
“If only you could be this brave when telling me,” You tsked, a hand on the back of his neck that was ghost light in case he wanted to shoulder it off. Like an old support to a poor quality camping tent, he suddenly caved, mouth pressed into yours and a whimper of what you could almost taste as anguish on your tongue.
It was impossible to deny him, unbearable to act as though you hated him even when he lashed out. If anything, it added this muddy layer that made him harder to ignore, harder to resist to know he had passion despite his amicable disposition otherwise. He seemed to feel the same, willing to chase you down just to confront something just as hard to put to bed. The hand on his neck became firm, your other hand holding to his bicep to keep both of you steady. You pulled away, still frowning hard as you glowered up. He looked back down, conflicted with a hard brow, but sweat was already formed on his forehead.
“Damn you.” You whispered, smiling when his eyes boggled almost immediately. He pushed against you with his shoulders, and you merely held him as the both of you fell back on your bed. The pressure it caused – hips pinned to yours – made him shiver almost entirely throughout his body. Like you were something that he shouldn’t have touched, a static shock making him flinch before his shoulders finally slumped and he had all his weight against you. “Not so tall now, are you, Dr. Cain?” You groaned, but suddenly he ducked his head.
A few drags of his clothed crotch against yours, and you realized he was doing more than riding a journey upwards to some sort of release. The release was happening now. Still, you merely clenched your own muscles, sighing raggedly as you pulled your arms over his shoulders, let him finish with breathless attempts to reel back in.
“I haven’t…” The first words were only audible if you kept an ear hovered over his lips, his hands white knuckling your shirt as he held on, “I haven’t…felt this way…i-in a long time.”
Dazed from what had happened, you stammered, “It’s…It’s fine, I haven’t either.” You choked slightly, uncertain if that had really been given away after all this time spent holding back. It was sugarcoating an awkward moment if not the lopsided truth: You couldn’t remember the last time you had even felt an urge to date, to pursue something more than just tiptoeing around prospects of a boyfriend. Did he feel the same?
Still, this wasn’t necessarily the fix-all. He was far fucking from it, but the same hurt that came after you tried to dislike the man was pulled to the front of your mind when he let go, pushing himself off of you.
“I can leave.” He rasped, rickety to stand but doing it in a way that was almost affirming that he was going anyway. Another surge that took the fuzz out of your throat instead of in got you to squeak out, “No, Dan, I want you…to… I…” You almost couldn’t speak, choking as you got the last two words out and felt your own pang in your gut, falling downwards until your knees flexed, realizing you had said enough of a truth. You wanted him.
Quickly, you then shrugged it off, “It’s your call.”
When you looked up, it must’ve been all over your face – and just like you couldn’t even begin to hate him, Dan was drawn back in, pulling his arms back around you and latching on for dear life. Still tense, you watched him slide around you, fitting the squared shoulders in a spoon that made you slowly release, finally settling chest to chest on your sides.
“Fuck. How are you being this cute even when we’re chewing each other out?” He then asked, but before you could answer, his hand replaced itself on your hip, the other on the back of your head as he angled right and came close again. Your hands on his chest and another taken back noise out of an occupied mouth, the kiss was deeper than the first, the last instance this happened.
You didn’t think, and the recognition you had anticipated another time made you whimper into his mouth, the same pain and worry now against him and there for him. His hand went [to your hair to scratch through short tufts/ran down the length of your hair] in a soothing motion. It was like he was apologizing, but you pulled off when you considered taking it again.
“Man, was that enough to help you after a long day?” You spoke with a grudge, but when he looked down at you to see you wipe your mouth, his hazel color was cloudy.
“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.” He hummed, an arm around your waist, “Come here,” It didn’t take a lot to have you now laying on top of him, hiding in his shoulder as you sighed out the frustration that still lingered.
You understood it, even sympathized now that it was all sweat out as you replied, “I shouldn’t have…” Trailing off, you pulled your mouth out from its spot on his collarbone, facing him fully while laying on top of him. “I shouldn’t be so quick to bail. You were right, and I don’t know how many times I have to say that before we can be friends again.” You shook your head, resting back under his chin as you sighed, “I just don’t know what you…or Herbert want from me, I guess. It scares me, makes me want to drop it all before things…”
“Get hard?” He asked, and you quickly replied, “No, I can…I want to be here when it gets hard. I just don’t know whether you want me to.”
“…What about when I get hard?” Dan joked, and you laughed under your breath, “Don’t change the subject, you were yelling in my face like half an hour ago.” His hand clasped the back of your neck gently, and he once again reiterated, “And I don’t know how many times I have to say that I shouldn’t have done that.”
Another soft kiss against his jaw, pressing your forehead into the crook where you found it felt safer than you had let yourself feel in weeks. Despite the body possibly still on the steps, you could let yourself have that for the night. You shook your head against him, and only whispered, “I want to understand, Dan. I do.”
“But, even though I’m trying,” You then sat up, straddling him, “You two have to decide what part I’m playing, alright? And for the love of…God, please agree on it.” You urged, shaking your head again with a cheeky tilt, “Because I can’t be expected to play both the clueless…roommate,” Your hand rested on his chest, admiring the gentle outlines of his ribs, the warm hair on his sternum that made you scoff again at trying to call this situation chaste, “And also be the accomplice.”
He took your hand, squeezing slightly before then pulling it to his lips as you murmured on, distracted at his downcast eyes, “Officer Dyer…knows…”
Your eyes grew, seeing Dan’s own trail up as you stopped speaking, his smirk falling at the beginning of the sentence. “Dyer? What does he have to do with this?”
You looked down suddenly, the last of the romance stomped out fast. “Dan, I actually do need to talk to you about something.”
He nodded at that, but then looked up again after one last kiss on your hand, “Okay, but…let me get out of these pants first.”
“With scissors?” Dan gawked, looking over at you from across the kitchen island incredulously. He had gotten into a loose Miskatonic sweater and green and blue plaid pajama bottoms. You yourself were in a tired DEVO shirt from your high school years, a pair of shorts with Snoopy adorning your thighs and almost going to your knees. You took the spoon out of your mouth, the jar of peanut butter in the other hand as you said for what felt like the thousandth time that day, “With scissors.”
“He really thinks he can find something on us after all this time?” Dan muttered, shaking his head, “See, this is why I’m all over the place. He could if we aren’t careful.” You glanced around, the few little evening lights plugged in above the counters circling the both of you, and asked, “Well, then enlighten me so I can better…navigate this with you.”
He looked back at you, pursing his lips at that, and you waved your hand over the empty space around your head, “Listen, I just want to understand the missing pieces between then and now.” You sucked in another breath, “And I’m not asking you to-“
“Hey. I told you,” Dan leaned over, a hand wrapped around your wrist and a gentle squeeze making your eyes still on his. “I’m going to be telling you everything from now on, even when I’m being an ass.” He took in a breath, hands returning to his mug as he braced, but with a strong exhale he then tipped his head towards you. “So, tell me. What did you want to know about Peru?”
“[He/she wants / They want]to know about Peru?”
You looked up at Herbert as he entered the kitchen now, a Nosferatu in the way he emerged from the shadows. You replied, “Whatever you two want to tell me about it. Dyer said it was all undocumented, so no worries if there’s a war crime here and there.” The name echoed in your head, a mark for later: Chapham, too. What did he have to do with it?
“You’re breaking into the jar rather early.” Herbert then commented, and you made a face of exasperation at him, another spoonful in your mouth already.
“Get off [his/her/their] back. We’ve all had a long day.” Dan defended, making you nod solemnly as you muttered back, “Thank you, Dan. Now, both of you.” You then rolled off the counter, setting everything in your hands down and folding them in front of yourself.
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.
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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.
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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.”
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!
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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.
OOOOO BEX YOU INVITED ME TO GIVE YOU POLY!DANBERT AND THAT I WILL GIVE. ok so...herbert is usually the one being the unhinged leg of the tripod while dan and reader are sorta like 'please stop' but. i am in love with the idea of reader and dan being the goofy legs, if that makes any sense... like, the radio comes on and they start singing along to some stupid 80s song instead of helping their boyfriend assemble some fucked up corpse or whatever he wants to do that week. if you need more info let me know but i also trust that you can work your magic no matter what ❤ thank youuuu ilu
AhhhhHHHHHH! RIRI! MY BELOAFED! SO! Oh my GOD! This is so exciting! Writing something officially for the first time for a friend and moot is always so much fun! Especially for a moot and friend as special and talented as yourself! I had a lot of fun with this, just got real silly, domestic and fluffy with it, hope you all enjoy it! Also you are so welcome and Ilysm2 Riri!
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Rating. SFW. Length. 2.2K. Herbert West And Dan Cain X GN! Reader. They/Them Pronouns. Poly!DanBert. Warnings: Mentions Of Previous Movie Canon Hurt. Blood. Fluff. Drinking. Domestic Life. You and Dan Are Ridiculous. Herbert Is Tired. Singing. Dancing. Silliness.
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Let’s Hear It For The Boy.
—
By all accounts the relationship shouldn’t work. Hell it doesn’t even make sense really to anyone else, but who cares about what anyone else has to say about the three of you? I mean they weren’t IN your relationship, you were!
Dan was looking for roommates and both you and Herbert responded, there was a whole house to share after all, you were hoping to just get along with them. To not hate their guts and be able to keep the place running smoothly without having constant fights about the dishes needing to be done or over who can do their laundry when.
You got so much more than that.
Both bad and good.
The bad of course being Herbert dragging you both into his mess with re-animation and all of the fallout that happened with that where you all barely made it out with your lives. If it wasn’t for the three of you being such a united front you are sure it would have turned out much, much worse.
The good is how well you all clicked and how much you all bonded after what happened at the hospital. Nothing bonds people together like horrible secrets, lying to the cops and narrowly escaping death!
It was during that time back at your shared house, all still very physically broken and let’s be honest, a little mentally broken as well, that you managed to come together for one another. Helping out when needed, if someone was having a particularly rough day the others would pick up the slack and just somewhere along the way it just kind of happened, you all fit together and were the only three who understood what you all went through.
Not to mention your similar career paths, schooling and aligning interests.
Things came together easier once that happened, things got lighter, sweeter, and more than that, were built back better than before with the now much stronger base you three had built.
One thing that really helped you and Dan was indulging yourselves in the smaller pleasures of life. Taking enjoyment in the everyday, the joy of just living together, being around each other, doing dumb bits and telling stupid jokes, cooking together and of course the ever changing and difficult task of keeping Herbert in check in regards to his work.
But you all managed, more than that you were kind of thriving, life was fucking good right now.
While ultimately Herbert was happy you two were becoming so close didn’t mean he got it or was any less confusing when he stumbled in on some of what you two were doing to entertain yourselves.
Like coming up from the basement to find you and Dan in the living room, empty drink containers around, pleasantly on the other side of tispy and watching some awful looking made for TV movie. You were on the couch and Dan was sitting on the ground in front of the coffee table, between your legs, leaning against you, your hands were busy, tongue poking out of your mouth as you focused on your task, deep in concentration.
Herbert stood there for a moment, just watching you before breaking the silence and asking, “What…Are you doing?”
You looked up and a smile spread across your face, “Hey Herbert! Hey Dan, look Herbert’s here!” Your hands still buried in his hair you tugged and tilted his head up and Dan gave a smile of his own, a wave with a call of, “Heyyy-”
You had your hands in Dan’s hair, but that wasn’t the only thing to be found there, several clips and sections of it with hair ties, and God knows what else. Hebert took a tentative step into the room as he said, “Hello. I reiterate, what are you doing?”
You rolled your eyes and with that same grin you said with a shake of your head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “What’s it look like? I’m doin’ Dan’s hair, duh.”
“Yeah duh.” Dan snorted and Herbert sighed, hands on his hips. “Right, of course, how foolish of me not to realise.”
He looked at the half crushed and empty cans of Dan’s favourite beer littered about and hoped you both wouldn’t inlist him to untangle that mess before going to bed tonight.
He stepped closer and watched as you were trying to tie a small blue ribbon into one of the few untouched spaces of hair and failed to do so, fingers fumbling far too much to do such a small task. “Where did you even get this stuff?”
“What do you mean?” Dan asked, squinting up at Hebert and he responded, “I mean I’ve never seen either of you wear anything like this, did you buy it just for-” He looked you both over and finished the thought with a gesture of his hand waving over the whole scene, “-this?”
You answer his question, “No we didn’t buy it, we found this stuff.”
“Found?” He asked incredulously, and you fired back, “Yeah Herbie, found. In the cabinet under the sink in the bathroom upstairs.”
He ignored the nickname and said, “I can’t believe I have to detail the reasons to my adult partners why putting things you FOUND into your hair might not be the best idea.”
What you said next had Dan laughing into his current can of beer so hard he almost choked, “That’s rich. Advice on how to care for our bodies from the guy who main lines glow stick juice recreationally.”
Herbert looked less than amused as Dan was still laughing, “They got you there!” Dan said with a point, his other hand still cradling the can.
Before Herbert could begin to say that what he did with the re-agent was for science and research and finding the effects it has on already living persons can help further his work or before he could take offence to you referring to it as “glow stick juice”, you are adding on, “It was all still sealed in the package, okay DAD? That make you feel better?”
The way you said it and the whole scene finally got to him and he had to suppress a laugh before saying, “Fine, fine, so sorry, have fun you two.”
He began to turn to leave you two to your task when you sing-songed out, “We wiiiiillll-”
He figured that was enough until Dan finished your thought, “-need your help to get all this shit out of my hair later.”
Herbert sighed again, shoulders sagging, he knew it.
You both eventually stumbled your way to him, asking for help as you all sat on Dan’s bed, trying to have some care when pulling the mess of hair accessories from his roommate/partner’s hair while you leaned your head sleepily on Herbert’s shoulder. He acted put out and annoyed and yeah sure he was, a little, but he had to admit he likes you both needing him, even if it was for the dumbest reasons.
Another day he came home to find Dan trying to block Herbert’s way into the laundry room. He was leaning against the doorframe, and greeted Herbert who returned it easily, but Dan didn’t move when Herbert came close and attempted to open the door. He was looking up at him as he asked, “Are you going to let me in there, Dan?”
“Oh what do you need the laundry room for?” Dan asked and Herbert squinted at him before looking down at his blood splattered shirt and looking back into his eyes, “Why do you think?”
“Ahhh, c’mon, that?! I mean, that is like, barely a stain, it should come right out-” he licked his thumb and leaned in, wiping his white collared dress shirt and smearing more of the blood onto the shirt and Herbert knew something was up. He used this moment of Dan being distracted to push him out of the way and simultaneously open the door.
He finds you scooping up bubbles with a bucket and dumping them into the sink, pants rolled up to your knees and bubbles just, literally everywhere, clothing damp, your head snapped up and you said with as much casualness as you could muster, “Heyyyyy Herbert, what’s up?”
You and Dan were seated in front of him at the kitchen table Herbert standing in front of you, arms crossed and looking you both over.
He asked what you both were thinking and you and Dan were painfully honest, you wanted to see how much soap it would take to make the washing machine comically blow up ala vintage sitcom scenario.
Curiosity got the better of him and he asked what led to it. You said it was from an old episode of Three’s Company, Herbert shook his head as he said, “How fitting.”
It took over an hour to clean up the laundry room and towards the end of it, during a big bout of silence and steady work that Herbert broke it. He had to know, for scientific reasons he claimed, how much you used to get that reaction.
You beamed and reached over, swiping some bubbles from his cheek as you told him it only took one and a half cups.
Herbert then said before he could stop himself, “Really? I-...I thought it would have been more.” He asked and Dan said, “That is what I thought! I wanted to do two cups right away.”
It turned into a surprisingly fun afternoon.
Herbert was feeling stuck in his work. He’d hit a roadblock that had really stalled him for the past few days and it was endlessly frustrating him, no matter how many ways he attacked it, he just couldn’t come up with a solution. If he didn’t figure it out he was going to drive himself crazy.
You and Dan had tried to help as much as you always did but it just wasn’t working today, so you and Dan broke away to go and make dinner, give Herbert some time alone and also give yourselves a break too. Food might help too, brain fuel and all that.
He was alone for half an hour when he figured it out. No idea why but it just finally made sense and he came upstairs in a rush, to tell you both that he had it and needed your help as soon as possible.
He came into the kitchen to find you and Dan with the radio on, dancing around the kitchen with pots going on the stove top, both still in your scrubs from being in the basement with him. Dan noticed him first, “Oh, he’s outta the basement!”
“Look who decided to join the living! Gonna help with dinner, Herb?” you asked and he said, “Yeah looks like there is a lot of cooking going on." You stuck your tongue out at him and he pressed on. "But no, I figured it out!”
“No shit, show me?” Dan came over and Herbert was holding up some of those notes he brought upstairs, you left them to it, went to fuss with the radio as the song changed to one you didn’t like, looking for a new one you messed with the stations.
You can hear fragments of Herbert and Dan talking until you hear him give it up, “You really figured it out, we have to try this after dinner.”
Well damn, that was some great news.
As you hit a new station and heard the current song in progress it was just too perfect, “Well this is cause for some celebration I think.”
You turned up the radio louder and the song filled the space, Dan recognized it immediately and Herbert looked a little confused by what you meant until you started singing along. “Let’s hear it for the boy! Ah, let’s give the boy a hand! Let’s hear it for my baby-”
Dan’s own smile broke out and he came over to join you, taking your hand and you both singing along impassionedly to the radio, serenading your shared boyfriend who was still holding his notes, not as confused but not surprised.
He leaned against the doorframe as he watched you both, hand in hand, singing along way too enthusiastically, dancing with no discernible rhythm, more just having fun, trying to look as ridiculous as possible, giving it all and throwing yourselves into it.
“Oh, oh, oh, maybe he's no Romeo, but he's my lovin' one man show. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, let's hear it for the boy!”
As that last boy came out you pointed right at Herbert and he couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face. He loved seeing you both like this honestly, having so much fun, after everything that happened having you both keeping things so light was really nice, helped keep him be a little less serious.
He normally reacted with a “Guy’s. Please. Stop.” but you and Dan being so amped about his break through was sweet.
In a stupid and funny kind of way.
But sweet all the same.
“Let’s give the boy a hand!” Dan was clapping along and you were holding your hands out for Herbert to join. He relented. Herbert threw his notes onto the nearby counter and with a roll of his eyes, a smile and the sigh of the world weary and put upon he took your hand and joined in on the ludacris scene as you and Dan continued to hype him up as the pasta pot on the stove boiled over.
None of you care or hear it over the enthusiastic music and cheers of “Let’s hear it for my baby!”
Life in your house was chaotic but hey the three of you could handle anything.
Bex I would KILL for polyam Re-Animator boys. I would KILL AND THEN REANIMATE PLEASE BEX IM BEGGIN YOU
I was looking at this and wondering how to tackle it, but then I saw your wording. You’d kill for them, huh? Re-animate for em too? Well look at what you wrought. What can I say? I can't resist begging. Hope you love it Anon!
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Rating. NSFW. Length. 1.6K. Herbert West X Dan Cain X GN! Reader. No Pronouns Specified. Poly!DanBert. Warnings: Blood. Gore. Murder. Unethical Science. Canon Compliant Violence. Choking. Crying. Emotional Talk. Injury. Comfort. Vulnerability. Polyamory.
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Thank You.
—
You had been upstairs, were reading a book, curled up on the couch in the Miskatonic University sweatshirt you stole from Dan, it still smelled like him. You would cat whiffs of him on occasion when the edges of your sleeves were held near your nose, it made you smile.
Your quiet evening of reading was interrupted by some sound coming from the basement. It made you jump and pause, your head snapping up as you listened. It was quiet for a moment until the sound began again and you slammed the book closed and got up, almost throwing yourself off the couch and towards the basement.
It was loud, so loud, you heard yelling, a struggle, the sounds grew louder as you descended the stairs, taking them two at a time.
You threw open the door and it was hard to tell what was happening at first with how hard the light was swinging back and forth. It was confusing at first, a scramble, there was blood, you saw flashes of red and smelt iron and chemicals and it was so, much, louder down here. The clang of metal on metal, something wet, choking, and the shouting-
For a moment, after the initial rush and confusion, it was as if it all came into focus. Herbert on the ground, half sitting up, hand on his side, crimson soaking into the white material of his white dress shirt. Dan, also on the ground and something, no someone, a man, over him, hands around his throat-
And there wasn’t a thought in your mind after that point. You don’t think. You act.
You move, your eyes dart down to the table, you see the glint of silver and your hand snatches it up as you pass, you gotta be fast, you can’t linger or wait, there isn’t time or margin for error. You are barefoot, you feel the blood under your feet and have to fight to stay upright on your path. You move swiftly, your hand threads in this sick fuck’s hair and your other hand, the one gripping what would now be your weapon, comes down hard, stabbing into this fuckers throat.
He tenses but doesn’t stop choking Dan so you don’t stop either. He struggles, tries to shrug you off but you grip his hair harder and you pull out the scalpel before you stab again and again over and over into the side of his neck. Blood sprays and gushes, it paints your hand, your arm, you feel it fleck your face, you taste it, blink through the red as you don’t stop until he does. Your arms ache from the effort of it. You feel him slowing, getting heavier, weaker, you pull out the scalpel, you can barely hold it now with how slick the scarlet coating your hand is but you manage to flip it and you slash his throat, left to right. Blood gushes out, down his front and a good amount soaking Dan below.
The sounds he makes are sick but you don’t focus on it.
Finally, after what feels like far too long but what was realistically less than a minute he stops choking Dan, his hands loosen and you use your grip on his hair to pull him, let him fall onto his side hard. He drops like dead weight, still bleeding out onto the concrete basement floor.
You stare down at his body, making sure there were no more signs of movement, your chest was heaving, panting, when you are sure he is dead you drop the weapon, it clinks on the ground and you sigh. Your hand comes up and wipes at your forehead, you smear blood as you do, shoulders sagging and that is why you notice, hearing Dan coughing and Herbert’s voice calling out your name.
You come back to yourself and rush forward, drop on your knees so hard it hurts, you cradle Dan’s head as he rubs at his throat, “Dan! Dan holy fucking shit are you okay?!”
He didn’t say anything but he nodded, he tried to sit up but you didn’t let him, pushing on his shoulders to keep him down, “Hey! Don’t rush, please, take it easy-”
He cleared his throat, tried to speak, he pointed and you hear it, weak and soft, “Herbert?”
You looked over your shoulder and were reminded of Herbert a few feet away, the sight of all the blood soaked into his shirt makes you look down to Dan, eyes wide with concern, “You okay?”
Another nod and you go check on Herbert who tries to wave off your fussing with a roll of his eyes, “It isn’t my blood, really, you should be more concerned with Daniel.”
“Why are you holding your side like that then?” You started to lift his shirt, he tried to stop you but you smacked his hands away and got the material out of the way, a deep purple bruise was already starting to form.
You look up and meet his eyes and he isn’t looking at you, “So what is this then?”
“He got in one lucky shot, okay?” You give him an unconvinced look as his eyes dart back to your face and he scoffs, “Really it’s fine-”
That makes you break. It isn’t fine. You snap at him, “It’s not Herbert! Holy shit!” You let them know that it isn’t and the fight starts.
You left the basement that night, eventually, helped them upstairs carefully, all checking each other out and after determining you are all okay you ask them what the fuck that was all about. You usually left what they did in the basement alone, you ignored the late nights and weird behaviour, but this near death experience pushes you too far. You ask what they do down there, who was that guy, how did he get in the house?
They shared a nervous look, both seated at the kitchen table, nearly shoulder to shoulder as you were across from them, your arms crossed, “Well?”
They spill. About the experiments that have been on since before you moved in, the very, very unethical science, the sneaking bodies and parts from the graveyard and the hospital, the desecration of the dead and the main thing, re-animating their corpses. Trying to cheat death, unlock the secrets to eternal life.
It didn’t take much convincing from them for you to believe which they found shocking. After living with them this long and seeing that mess downstairs, that strange man who looked so not normal, pronounced veins and eyes bulging, the sounds he made, the unreasonable strength he seemed to possess. He wasn’t human.
They loved you.
Had loved the little arrangement you had all started up, but it was so tenuous, so new and undefined and fragile. They hid this, terrified that it would drive you away if you knew what they did in the basement.
Now it was out in the open and you were being quiet.
So when you were all back downstairs, various stages of cleaning up in the basement taking place, and you, staring into the open fridge at the neatly lined up bottles of re-agent, so silent, they were convinced you were planning your exit. From the house, your relationship, the life you had built for the three of you and your hopeful future.
The shock of you, still staring at the glowing green fluid, saying, “So when is the next experiment?”
They shared another look full of confusion. Dan spoke up first, his voice still sounded a bit rough, “What?”
You closed the fridge and turned to face them, saying again, “When’s the next experiment?”
Herbert’s eyes narrowed, he tried to keep his tone even as he asked, “And why do you want to know that?”
You scoff, leaning against the fridge, “So I can clear my schedule so I can be here obviously.”
Their shocked expressions make you laugh. “You mean it?” Dan asked.
You shrugged and you said, “Yeah. I saw what happened tonight, how wrong it could have gone if I didn’t step in. So, clearly, I need to be here to keep an eye on you both and help prevent something like that from ever happening again.”
You were perfect, totally perfect, unbelievable, unreal, just there were no words.
“Besides, many hands make light work. I know I can’t talk you both out of this, so I’m gonna help in any way I can instead.” You know this is important to Herbert, you don’t say it, the look in your eyes conveys it all for you.
You are wrapped up in two sets of arms so quickly. The thank you doesn’t need to be said either. You hug them back, squished between them, one arm around each of them. “So you aren’t…”
Dan couldn’t say that last word, he couldn’t ask it, wasn’t strong enough but you reassure him.
You weren’t sure when you started crying, maybe the intensity of the emotion of all this is hitting you. “No, no I’m not leaving, I promise.”
You let go of them, your hands came up, you wiped at your eyes and saw how ruined the sleeves were, crusted with blood from the awful act you committed almost two hours ago now, the one you had paused cleaning up from. You sob, letting yourself be swept up in the feelings rushing through you, “M sorry I ruined your sweater Dan.”
It makes them both laugh, you can’t see through the tears, still wiping at your eyes, but it sounds like Dan is crying too through the laughter, “Fuck the sweater! I’d rather have you any fucking day.”
Herbert speaks then, his own voice nowhere near as composed as it normally is, “We can buy you a new sweater.”
You laugh, small and sad and broken but a laugh all the same. You feel his grip on the back of the sweatshirt tighten, as if he never wanted to let go, like he needed you here. The tone, the contact, it said it all, you are far, far more valuable to them then any dumb sweater.
You love them. Fucked up and full of mistakes you really do and even with the slight nerves, you think you can navigate this together and help keep these two idiots you’ve fallen for alive. You would die for them, would kill for them too apparently, so what is a little bit of weird science on top of that when it means being with them?
