#slight sad

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Hello! Could I have a reader who's skilled in combat, and defeats Able in sparring at some point? In Able's logic, such a strong being that can defeat him, obviously can't be hurt, right? So what if he decides to go tougher on the reader because he has more confidence in their strength, and ends up injuring them? Fluffy ending where he tends to readers' wounds can be optional. Sorry if this is confusing, I've had this idea, but it's kinda hard to word it. Thank you! ❤

After this ask, I have two more left. I’ve been saving them, since I enjoyed the prompts so much. After that comes the little surprise!

SCP-076/SCP Reader

One two, three four. One two, three four.

Like the moves in a well practiced recital, you kept pace, narrowly dodging another savage strike from SCP-076- Able. Keeping time with your mental recitation, you ducked, and then jumped back up, spinning around a sweeping kick and then straight punch.

Just like a dance. Deadlier than those of your childhood, but, well, if you closed your eyes, you could maybe imagine the lights of the stage, the swelling crescendo, pointe shoes and satin.

One two, three four. Just had to finish this soon. Before daylight. Keep it up.

“Getting tired yet?” Able needled. He was trying to throw you off. You only grunted, and kicked forward, catching Able in the midsection. His next hit connected too, and then you hopped back, one moment to breathe- one two, three four. You’d done this with Able a hundred times before, you just had to win.

But maybe it was something about tonight. Something that made him feel more brutal than most, as he snarled, “What’s wrong, Odile?”

Your eyes flew open, and the fantasy memory dissolved; you hated that name. All the doctors here thought they were clever, calling you that. Black swan. White swan. Phantom aches on your back, quiet orchestra in your ears. You suddenly sprang up and snarled-

And then you were flying through the air. Into the wall with a thud, a crumpling sound. Oh. Now that wasn’t good. The meter was all off, your routine in shambles. You blinked away phantom music and the slightly numbing sense of pain, and you could distantly hear surprise from Able.

Not his fault. He couldn’t have known.

Ghostly wings on your back, their feathers pinned under rubble, and you closed your eyes again, feeling the sunrise, the way your bones began to shift and your mind curdled. Irony, that was your name. When the dawn came and the Swan awoke.

Memories of one final standing ovation in your mind. Dawn breaking. The cheers turned to screams.

The Foundation must have known. This was another test of theirs. How cruel to Able, was your last thought, as the wings materialized and something shaped like you stood tall.

The beginnings of the final act began, and the Swan roared.

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Could you possibly write about an scp reader who's a being similar to the grim reaper interacting with either scp- 035, 049, or 079? Thank you for your time!

I’ve done the extended length shortened various list for this one. Hope you enjoy!

Various SCPs/SCP Reader

SCP-035: Humans had, for a long time, debated the nature of existence and souls. As the Keeper of Souls, you knew a thing or two about them, you’d say. One of those things being that it was impossible to live without a soul. And, secondly, that all things died. That was, after all, your job. So it was a point of contention that the Mask couldn’t (or wouldn’t) die- despite the fact that his time had come and gone quite a while ago.

You were fairly certain that he was just sticking around to mess with you. For the past two hundred years he’d been a thorn in your side. But, well… it was nice, to be able to talk to someone for once. Someone who wasn’t there and gone in an instant.

SCP-049: Death and disease went hand in hand. And as the Herald, you went where no one else could follow. At least, that’s what you thought. And then you met the man in the mask, the one who claimed he could stop death itself. A terrible thing and at a horrible cost- you watched, every time, as he ripped the souls out and called it Life. And every time, you were there, holding the little souls in your hands, watching.

Sometimes, you wondered if he could see you too. If the warm glow of souls filled his eyes, but with disgust, not sympathy. You wondered if he could see his own soul too- a radiant ember of green. Maybe that was what scared him.

SCP-079: Mankind argued if AI had souls. None ever thought to ask you what you thought, but, well, the Reaper was not a very glamorous job. Hardly any time to take questions either. But all things live and die, and as you wandered around yet another secret facility, you paused at the door of something- or rather, someone unique. You could feel circuits and wires and sheer rage. So in you went.

All things die. But things cannot die before their time. And if you are death, then you can even dictate when their time is and isn’t. Which was why you stood in front of the little computer, the one with a soul, as it began to die- and that’s why you reached out, quietly tied together the string of fate, and left. Always more work to do. The soundless gratitude was thanks enough.

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Are you able to do 073 romance headcannons? If you already, did sorry for bothering you.

SCP-073/Reader

•Nervous wouldn’t be the right word. Standoffish, maybe. Certainly not shy. Aloof was too cold. 073 simply took a lot of time to warm up to and be comfortable around someone. And even longer if he actually liked them.

•There was a certain apathy to not being able to die, an apathy that extended to how he viewed the world and acted too. It colored his emotions at times: subdued, contemplative, detached. You’d have to be understanding of that- that just because he felt things differently didn’t mean he did not feel at all.

•Can cook. Can cook fairly well, actually, but only certain dishes. Prefers spicy foods. Maybe he’ll surprise you sometime.

•To call this romance soft would be incorrect. Cain was not a stumbling baby, bashful and afraid. He was quiet, and flighty, and seized by rare fits of passion. Not soft, but not jagged edges. Like frayed fabric that had been tied off.

•Every once in a while, he will knit. It helps attune his hands and take his mind off things. If you ask nicely, maybe he’ll knit you something that doesn’t look purposely awful. Maybe.

[foundationsecured]

Maybe an Angel! Reader trying to get Cain to warm up to them? (Since he fears them n stuff)

Here you are! I hope you enjoy

SCP-073 and SCP Reader

It’s an exercise in patience. Lots of patience. You have patience in droves, though, so you don’t mind. And you can handle the discomfort for as long as needed.

You glance around the room. It’s simultaneously too small and yet too big, and you ruffle sets of wings uncomfortably, arms entertaining and hands clasping. Finally, though, you focus on him. On Cain.

As if sensing your gaze, he flinches a little. But, not a word, not a sound.

You’d tried talking to him at first. Just talking about things. About times of old, or the future. But your voice seems to set him on edge, and so you don’t do that anymore. Not now, at least.

Sitting in the tiny chair and hunching over makes you seem almost comical. Trying to appear smaller, and failing. You don’t mind. If anything, it just makes you a little frustrated; you’re making him uncomfortable, and you can’t even have the dignity to lessen it.

But you’re trying. He’s trying. A few months ago, you wouldn’t have even been able to sit in a room together. Any kind of progress is good progress, so you fluff your wings back down, and awkwardly rub your wrists, and continue to pretend to look around the room.

One day. One day, you’ll get there.

[foundationsecured]

How about for the parent AU the children encounters a SCP that is particularly harmful to children/targets them? (Like SCP-956 the child breaker, etc.)

I’ve made up an SCP for this one to be an antagonist. Here you go!

Various SCPs/Reader

Parent AU Part 7

SCP-035: Did you know that 035 can take control of other SCPs? You, in fact, did not. Which meant it was something of a slightly pleasant (or unpleasant, depending) surprise when it happened. As your baby slept impossibly soundly- it was a deadly sleep, unnatural, and that goddamn Pied Piper SCP was going to take them from you forever- that’s when 035 struck. The enemy SCP didn’t stand a chance against his roaring fury. Was turning them comatose going too far? No. Not with what they were going to do.

SCP-049: She’d… wandered off. Into the woods, her favorite forest, where no one else could see her. She wanted to be a little adventurous, to find a patient to do sci-ense just like her daddy. But then there was the… music? She wanted to follow it- really really wanted to follow it, but. Something in the trees said, “No, no.” So instead of continuing further, she decided she’d go back home, and ask daddy to come back with her later. And maybe they’d find the mystery, too.

SCP-079: It was like a game of hot potato, except infinitely worse, and there was screaming. You were screaming. Angry screaming, if you were pressured to define it, as you clutched the hand of an android that masqueraded as your child, and in the other hand, wielded a Foundation standard pistol. The android-that-wasn’t-alive made noises of distress, and the SCP just jittered oddly, trying to find the best way to separate you both. It didn’t matter; you would protect your… your child.

SCP-106: You’d been working later than usual. That was okay. Your son knew how to make dinner, and how to secure he home, and just as he was taking out the garbage he felt the telltale sign that someone was watching him. His nose crinkled, and a part of him wished (really wished) you were here, but… but he was almost twelve now, so he should be able to take care of whatever this was, right? (The Pied Piper had expected an easy catch. It would be the last mistake he’d ever make.)

SCP-682: Whatever scientist authorized these tests was dead meat. Literally. 682 thundered through the facility, searching for his children- where were they? But then, a shriek, coming from a room with too many trees. 682 tore through the walls, just in time to see some lanky figure looming over his youngest, and then he saw red. If the decisive crushing blow didn’t do the job, the terrible crunch of metal being splintered beneath certainly did. And that was the last time any of the Foundation would ever be so foolish.

[foundationsecured]

Hey,this might be weird,but can I request a platonic friedship between scp 106 and reader either during or after ww1 where reader was/is a fighter pilot and just needs afriend even if its as weird as Laurance (if your not comfortable with this thats totaly fine,keep being you :) )

Pre SCP-106/Pre SCP Reader

The dusty sun peaked over the horizon. You stretched, feeling your bones creak and groan with the action, and you stared silently out the window. There wasn’t anyone else around in your barracks.

Not really ‘yours’, though. They belonged to any Ace fighter pilot. The problem was, no one stayed for very long. If they were good enough not to die, they’d be moved somewhere else. If they died, then there was that.

You suspected it had something to do with yourself. But you never asked. Maybe it was that you were bad luck, but… well.

Out the barracks you went. For the past few months, you’d been kept company by a handful of soldiers. They were trench fighters, fearless, but there was only one you called a friend: Lawrence.

People said Lawrence was weird. A lot of people, actually. It wasn’t anything he did or said, but he was just… strange. Unlikeable, and not for lack of trying. Anyone who tried to get too close would end up sick, or transferred.

So naturally, you and Lawrence got together like two peas in a pod. And as you pretended not to notice the people shying away from you, you continued to walk to find Lawrence. The Germans had gone oddly quiet recently, so it was likely some of the soldiers would go investigate. You wanted to hang out a little bit more, before you too were sent to scout some abandoned structure several kilometers away.

Hopefully, if it all worked out, you and Lawrence could take some leave together. Go to real restaurants, maybe go dancing. That sounded swell.

(Years later, technically it worked out. But not in the way either of you had thought or wanted. Lawrence, consumed by whatever he had found in the trench hole. You, changed by whatever you had found locked in that bunker.)

(At the very least, you and he did get to go dancing. Eventually.)

[foundationsecured]

would you be willing to write (platonic) scp-1810 + reader?

SCP-1810 and SCP Reader

When you were young, the grass was always green and the sky was always blue. When you were young, stories always had happy endings.

That didn’t last for long. You’d been taken away, and made to fight, and, well. You didn’t much like that.

So you left.

But you went too far. The wrong door, the wrong world, and suddenly you were an alien that was hated. Feared by all.

But not the children. Never the children.

And that’s really where it first started. They liked you, and you liked them; you liked to cover the lenses of your mask and play peek-a-boo, liked to bend down till you could boop them on the nose.

You always wanted a child of your own. They were fun. They were nice. You were never sure how to get one, and you didn’t want to just take it from someone- deprive them of such joy

So you waited. And studied. And one day, you found a little girl lost in the winter woods, and decided- with excited glee!- that you would finally have a child.

The man- was he a man?- named Pierrot was unexpected. This was his child, he claimed, and they had gotten lost. He was of your people, tall and gangly, face metal, so you nodded and apologized. But wouldn’t they get cold, you asked, and that was a shock for him. Cold? They could get cold?

You and he went back to his home, with a ceiling far too low but that simply was how things were here. The girl was quickly bundled in old blankets you scrounged up, the ones you’d wrapped yourself in until you were more cloak than person, and she instantly began to warm.

Pierrot confessed that he hadn’t known. He had never meant harm- never, not in a million years. And you knew he was telling the truth- lies were of humans. In turn, you promised to help him as much as you could with this little one. So long as you could stay too.

It was a happy deal. The child slept, and you wondered if she dreamt of grass that was always green and skies was always blue. You wondered if she dreamt of a story that always had a happy ending.

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Hello Loss! I'm the anon who requested the one for SCP-1504 and I think that it's really great! I hope to see more of your fics in the future! 😊 P.s. Can I get some part 2 for that if you can? I think SCP-1504 is a really interesting SCP. Thank you and great day!!

I wasn’t really certain what else to write for this SCP, I’m afraid. But I do find him really interestingly here you go!

SCP-1504 and SCP ReaderPart 2

As a rule, you generally tended to like the Foundation. You trusted their judgement. So you’d carefully taken Joe to the infirmary, and promised you’d see him again. But on a hunch, you hesitated in the hallway- your own anomalous effect could work in a radius after making initial contact, so maybe you should return to Joe, just in case.

You didn’t expect to see him being ignored. He was… standing on the bed, shouting. Crying again, but not that you blamed him. Trying to get someone’s attention.

Strangely enough, none of the doctors paid him any attention.

Very strange. Weird. You cleared your throat, getting their attention.

“Aren’t you going to tend to your patient?” you asked, ever blunt, your expression as unreadable as your tone. But the doctor closest you just smiled.

“It’s remarkable. I’ve never seen a patient so well behaved-“

You wordlessly walked over to Joe’s side. The doctor blinked, the negating field wrapping around your companion.

“…Ah. Now that is interesting.”

Your smile strained. The doctors began to hurry about, surprised and confused, and Joe seemed so incredibly relieved. Well, looks like you wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. Not that you minded. And hopefully, none of the Foundation personnel did either.