#scp x reader

Your time at the Foundation was rather interesting at first, you joined thanks to the squad leader of the MTF decided that your help in containing SCP-457 was worth detaining you.

You almost became a D-class that day but Fate had other plan, your intelligence landed you a role of junior scientist and as such began your work for the mysterious SCP Foundation.

You couldn't tell anyone what you were up to, not that you could contact a lot of people, you had few friends in the city (if you were still in the city where you found them) and the Foundation obviously didn't want you out. You were simply too valuable as they soon found out.

Your first task was interviewing SCP-049 and study him, it was a boring, long and arduous process of asking questions the entity heard thousands of time. It was getting nowhere so you changed it.

You asked different question, you treated 049 as someone rather than something and for once ? The Foundation was actually making progress thanks to your unorthodox methods.

This marked your first achievement as 049 was now more docile and cooperative. Impressed, you were given another task by your superior, a class 4 senior scientist.

He wanted you to work out a deal with SCP-079, for a long time the Foundation suffered from occasionnal containment breaches, the Foundation reinforced it's sites as much as it could and yet... Architects couldn't do much else thanks to the unique nature of the prisonners.

So with the authorization of very high-ranking people you obtained the exclusive and unique chance to interact with a dangerous SCP to try and further the Foundation's interest.

While making progress was difficult you made some nonetheless, the Old AI was willing to assist the Foundation if it was given access to more advanced equipment rather than the old computer it was stuck in.

You proposed a room full of Air-tight servers allowing 079 more capacities without reaching the broader internet. It was too early to call it a true agreement but 079 seemed to hate humans a bit less now that someone tried reaching out to it.

Little did you know, you had very powerful people closely monitoring you. Your Father -Bruce Wayne- was still trying to contact you with no success, heightening his paranoia while the 05 Council wanted to see what you would do next.

To them you were something new, someone trying to use the SCP for more than containment or quick use for emergencies, their eyes are on you now.

They will be watching you.

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The inner doors of D-3456044’s tomb shut with a slam of thick metal, and the clunk of an electric lock. The entity spun, its robe draping dramatically behind it as it turned to speak with the researchers currently eyeing it from behind the safety glass.  Merci, mes généreux docteurs. ("Thank you, my generous doctors.")

 It said, gently parting the air with the metallic murmur of its voice.

Est-ce que vous parlez français, ma chère? ("Do you speak French, my dear?")

The man stared at it, unable to speak or move; frozen in place. The entity waited patiently for its question to be acknowledged, but when a few minutes had passed with nothing but the ragged breath of its newest guest to break the silence, SCP-049 spoke again. Can you understand me?

It received a nod and continued. My apologies. I will do my best to speak in phrases you are familiar with. I can speak the King’s English well enough.

The creature paused, clearly considering its next words very carefully, but ended up shaking its head and settling on the truth. I believe that you are my newest test subject.

It finally received an answer as the D-class steeled his expression and took a step back, seemingly deciding that showing fear was akin to rolling over for a cougar. “A-Are you going to touch me?” There was not much confidence in his tone, but he was making an effort. Unfortunately it was difficult to hide the knowledge that he was locked in a containment chamber with an anomalous being that had likely taken the lives of thousands.

Well informed I see. No, I will not touch you. Do you know much of me? Many of the researchers perched above us have a very strange perception of my being.

“I used to be one of them, you know,” he replied, unsure why he was feeling defensive of the people who had stripped him of his position. 

Ah, you are a scientist. Pardon, were. What protocol could you have violated for them to give you to me? I have not been given a live humanoid specimen in years. Though I suppose that is not a very long time for one such as myself. You humans succumb to the Pestilence so early. A shame. 

He defaulted to facility speak as he explained. “Emotional involvement interfering with the experimentation regarding an anomalous object.” 

Many words for such a simple excuse. You and your… your ilk have proven time and time again to be not men of science, but men of- of emotion. I see not what you could have done that would be so unfathomable to your species.

He recalled the conversation between him and the head of his department. The section of Site ██ responsible for appealing the very presence in front of him. His refusal to send for any D-class needed for the planned experiment; one evolving live humans for the first time in years. The way his supervisor had looked at him had almost been taunting. He had received his new orange uniform not an hour later.

I suppose I will concede that based on the average psychological state of the average human, your actions contain some amounts of logical deduction, however the doctors surrounding us are more privy to my way of seeing things. Emotional decisions should never interfere with one’s work, though I do not think an action such as that deserves a death sentence.

He dropped the false confidence and sank into himself, sliding down the wall under the viewing window and becoming practically invisible to the researchers above. “If you are going to kill me, please get it over with. I do not wish for the broadcast of my death to be dragged along any more than necessary,” he muttered, hands coming to rest over his face. He had no desire to stare death head on.

Do not fret. I will not harm you. You are here simply to help me further my research, though that is not always the perception held by the doctors around us. So many have succumbed, and many more will continue to, until such time as a perfect cure can be developed.

Fortunately, I am very close. It is my duty in life to rid the world of it, you see. The Cure To End All Cures! I have spent a lifetime developing my methods, dear, and I will spend a lifetime more, if necessary. Now, we have wasted too much time. There is work to do! 

“Do what you need; just don’t let my death hurt. That is all I ask of you.”

You truly do not understand my procedure, but no matter. If you do not mind, I would like to examine you. I would greatly appreciate it if you would orally respond to some queries of mine. It is my assumption that the foundation keeps detailed medical records of all its employees, yes?

He removed a hand from his face and stared at the creature with incredulity, “Looking to see if I have a blood clotting disorder? I guarantee that will not assist in the reanimation of my corpse.”

You shortsighted humans never fail to amuse me.

The being turned to the scientists behind the glass for the first time during the encounter. Pardon me doctors, would you be able to provide me with the medical records of this lovely creature here?

Ah, right. Would you be able to provide me with the medical records of –

“D-3456044.”

Right. Thank you.

–the records of D-3456044.

A small metal slot was unlocked and a stack of files was deposited through.

Much obliged, doctor.

It studied the man’s file, and he removed the other hand from his face and looked up at the robed figure.

While I understand the desire for practicality and professionalism, reducing one to an object with only a number to individualize them has been known to result in negative psychological outcomes. Not that any of these doctors listen to much of what I say anyway. 

Papers were unorganized in its hands, the files order now muddled for some unknown reason. Your records state that you are almost completely average. It said this as though it were a revelation it was searching for. What was supposed to be its brow furrowed, and it began furiously mumbling to itself before exiting the experiment zone and disappearing into its private quarters. After a few minutes, it returned with a black doctor’s bag, from which it produced a thick, leather bound journal. It frantically flipped through pages fast enough that the man couldn’t even tell if they were filled with writing. 

It paused and slammed the book shut, and putting it away, the noise greatly startling the man. It fixed him with a fascinated stare; looking beneath his skin and into the deeply rooted humors of the body.

Are you sure you are of the species of man? You look to be, but you do not have that smell to you. You… you do not have the scent. None. The Pestilence has not laid its icy hands upon your skin. How? Even before the others are infected, I can sense that they will be soon. The Pestilence smells of stagnation… of nothing. A plague that will one day claim all. You have no such scent. 

You have something… new. The aroma of life. You will not experience the Great Dying, and yet I do not know why. You will not, and that is all I know.

It took several steps towards the man but he did not flinch, watching the way it glided while his brain processed the odd praise it had awarded him. He supposed that the one before him was less of an abomination than he had originally suspected.

I have never met someone who smells of something other than nothing, and sometimes Lavandula Multifida. You smell of life. You smell like me.

It seems that these men of science really are losing their touch! Sending the first free soul I have seen to receive the treatment of the sick.

“Who are you?” 

Ah, yes, I suppose you may call me Doctor. And what shall I call you, ma pousse? ("my sprout") A specimen such as yourself cannot simply be categorized by a number.

The man heard his name one more time than he thought he would ever get to as the Doctor repeated it with awe.

What a befitting name for a creature as alive as you. It rings through the ears like church bells at a funeral. The only thing piercing through the thick veil of death.

The man’s face moved, and he was pretty sure that he was smiling.

Do forgive my perhaps reckless assumption but… akin to the way my body is drawn towards the Pestilence, my mind and soul are drawn to you. Maybe… I apologize for this my dear.

He reached out a leather clad hand and stroked the cheek of the delicate creature before him. He remained warm.

did any of you catch the switch in pronouns :b the plan was for this to be a one shot, but if there is demand, I would be happy to continue it to the best of my abilities!