Living With Monsters | Various SCP X Reader

SCP-076 x Reader | Don't Be Afraid

You found him on the street late at night. He was dying.
At the time it had all been a daze to you. Blood. There was so much blood. Although he never made a sound. He must have been suffering but how he moved, it didn't seem like it. You knew he needed medical attention but he would never let you call the ambulance. Only after he had passed out on the cold tarmac did you take him home in near pitch black conditions.
The power was out. The fault of the nuclear power station blowing up. There were no nuclear power stations in this area at all. It was a lie to hide something, you didn't know what yet. And it had something to do with this man.
You had cared for his wounds, made him comfortable in your bed, despite the blood soaking into the sheets and mattress. Despite the threats he made, swearing he'd kill you when he had recovered.
You didn't really listen. It didn't matter to you. All that mattered was helping this man survive.
He claimed he wasn't human. Wasn't like you. That he'd survive anyway, even if he died. Needless to say you didn't understand. Perhaps he was delirious?
You got him water. His head would clear once he was hydrated. It didn't. He passed out again after that anyway.
He woke in the middle of the night too, his coughing and spluttering waking you also. You had to get him a bowl to spit all the blood into. You had to stay with him that night, to make sure he didn't choke, sleeping on the floor in a sitting position with your back resting against the bed.
The next few nights you stayed at the bedside, calling into work sick too. Afraid to leave the man to die. That would be something you could never get off your conscience.
Now a week later he was showing sure signs of recovery, able to stomach solid food. But he still wouldn't answer your questions, still wouldn't talk to you.
Until.
"Why?"
You looked up from the floor to meet his wild grey eyes, staring down at you in an emotion you couldn't quite place.
When you didn't reply he elaborated, "Why help me? If you know I'll kill you."
His voice was deep and coarse, like the distant rumbling of thunder. It was something you could listen to all day. So soothing for someone who seemed so terrifying.
"I couldn't leave you to suffer," you replied softly, your gaze not leaving him as he turned his head in anger.
A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips, not from the outburst of anger, not even from hearing his recovered voice. It was the mystery of him. You never knew what he was thinking. His silence and anger made him intriguing and hard to read.
"I escaped," he sighed softly after what must have been at least an hour of silence. It was never awkward, a shared comfort between the two of you. He didn't seem to be bothered by it, nor were you.
"It's a place where they keep... things," he spat out the last word in anger,"Things like me. Things they don't understand. Things that scare them."
He sighed slightly and inhaled, seeming to calm himself before speaking again.
"I was their weapon. I had to obey them. I died. I came back. They made me do what they wanted again and again and again. But I escaped. They tried to stop me. Blew themselves up to stop me. It didn't work."
"What are you? What do you mean came back?" you had now turned to face him, kneeling on the floor with your head and arms resting on the bed. He was still staring at the ceiling. Not meeting your gaze.
"I can't die. Not really. This body can be destroyed. I can come back. The same as I am now. It's hard to describe," his muscular chest rose and fell as he exhaled heavily.
"You're immortal?" you leant forward slightly, growing interested.
"Yeah, you could say that."
"Do you have a name?"
He paused before answering.
"Able."
You replied with yours, seeming to cause him to relapse into a silence again, avoiding your gaze as you studied him in awe. There truly was more to this world than what you knew. You had more answers than ever. You doubted all could be answered by him. You doubted all even had answers.
But one played in the back of your mind like a broken record. You weren't sure you wanted the answer.
"Do you kill people?" you asked quietly after a while. Already knowing and fearing the answer. You needed confirmation though.
He only looked at you, smirking briefly before averting his gaze once more. He didn't give you a reply. You didn't need one to know what he meant.
"How many?" your voice dropped again, eyes lowered to the ground.
"I stopped counting."
"Why?" it was barely a whisper but he heard it. He didn't answer. But you knew he heard it.
You broke into another silence, not knowing really what to think now. It was one thing to have assumptions. It was another to have those assumptions confirmed.
Another long silence passed. Longer than the last and you were beginning to doze off when he answered.
"When you're like me. Mortality, life means nothing. It has a beginning and an end, but not for me. Life loses its purpose. I lost my purpose," a pause," People hunt animals for sport. I do the same. With humans."
You were tired. The thought didn't really click in your mind but you absorbed all those words as you fell into a restless sleep.

The next few days consisted of Able getting moving again. Walking, starting to do things himself now. Neither of you spoke during this time. It was clear he could sense the unease, the fear, you held towards him now. Towards this homicidal immortal. You couldn't help but ask yourself the question of why he hadn't killed you yet. You didn't know if you really wanted to know the answer. Afraid you meant nothing to him, just someone he could leech off until he was capable of caring for himself again.
Now he was.
Afraid he'd end you any minute.
Sometimes you'd wake up on the floor with Able not on the bed. Panic would set in. Afraid he would jump out from the shadows. Afraid he had left.
One morning you found him sitting by the window. Staring out silently.
Slowly you approached him, even then it made you flinch when he turned suddenly to face you.
Immediately he stopped and sighed.
"I'm leaving. You don't have to be so afraid," he muttered and stood, walking past your stiff, speechless form and heading towards the door.
Only when you heard the click of the locks being undone did you finally find yourself mobile again.
Your legs started moving of their own accord. You called after him, not even thinking to do so. Your hand reached out, grasping his and pulling him back to face you.
"You don't have to leave."
Your voice was quiet, barely able to get the words out in the first place.
You were more afraid than ever. Afraid he'd pull away. Afraid he'd leave.
Your tight grip on his hand was returned with a slight squeeze as he moved closer to you.
"(Y/N)," his voice was soft and low, directing your gaze upwards to meet his. It was the only time he had used your name.
Your face was so close to his, close enough to feel his hot breath on your lips. His grip on your hand had tightened. Not to the point of being painful, but tight enough to know he wouldn't let you move.
Then he closed the gap between your lips.
His kiss was soft and gentle, holding back as if he were afraid to hurt you.
It didn't last long enough, he pulled away looking down at you with those cold grey eyes before speaking, softly. Your faces still so close together.
"You don't have to stay."