Living With Monsters | Various SCP X Reader

Jack Bright x Reader | Lost and Found

10/10 for shitty chapter naming. God, this was a biiiitch to write. I love Bright so much and I wanted to do him justice... but I didn't. I cri. Maybe this means more is in store for the mad scientist, who knows. His age is not canon, just a guess. But considering his brother is like... a teenager. Oh well Fuk this. Fuk canon.

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Your eyes remained focused on the screen, not blinking nor seeing. Staring blankly and the bluish glow from the computer. As per usual you hadn't slept last night, really you hadn't slept properly in what must've been two weeks. Crying too hard to sleep or afraid of the nightmares that would plague your dreams.
Agatha had suggested sex would help, you knew she meant well, trying to help on her own Rights way. You weren't quite ready for that yet. You had also noticed Crow was being more... cuddly than usual and actually allowing you to pet him. It did somewhat comfort you.
Even Doctor Glass had attempted you to be less compliant in your evaluations, not used to this sudden silence without your snide remarks.
You wished it wasn't like this. But getting over the death of Jack Bright wasn't going to be easy. It certainly wasn't made easy by a class D-Personnel showing up, having transported SCP-963, claiming to be the man you loved.
"If I start getting aggressive, just let me kill this ass hole," you muttered to one of the guards who seemed to actually consider it before another claimed it was against protocol or some other bull shit. You ended up ignoring him as you sifted through the files on D1-113.
A gang leader from the looks of it. Done for first degree murder, rape, theft, felony and multiple other dishonest acts, no wonder he ended up here.
With a sigh you flipped back to the front of the files on your clip board, now biting the bullet and entering the holding cell.
No sooner had you entered did the criminal perk up, a smile forming on his face.
"(Y/N)! I knew you'd come to get me out!" he exclaimed and for a moment you faltered, almost believing this bull shit he was pulling on you. God knows what anomalous properties this guy had gained throughout his month here.
"Shut up," you muttered lowly, knowing if you even looked at this man impersonating Bright you'd end up with a dead body on your hands.
"Who are you?" you questioned quickly after, the unsaid response already angering you.
"Why does no one believe me!? It's me! It's Bright!" he insisted. but it wasn't. It wasn't Jack's voice.
You had to inhale and count to ten to avoid hurting this monster.
"Stop saying his name," you snapped at last, anger still bubbling inside you,"You're D1-113. Tom Higly-"
"Nope," he put his hands over his ears,"I am Jack. I'm me. I am me."
He seemed like he was trying to convince himself of that too. Perhaps, you thought, there was a possibility this man actually did think he was Bright. That didn't excuse his actions.
"I'm Jack Bright. I was born on the eighth of June 1992. I'm twenty five years old. I have a brother 5-90. I've worked at this foundation for four and a half years. You're my girlfriend and the last thing I ate before Able escaped was macaroni cheese, which is also my favourite meal," he rallied off, finally removing his hands from his ears and looking up to meet your gaze.
You remained speechless for a few seconds before composing yourself again. A class D shouldn't know all of that. Hell, you doubted if any researchers aside from you knew that.
He smiled brightly at your stunned silence,"See! It is me. I promised you I'd come back, didn't I?"
You only stared, your eyesight blurring, attempting to blink it clear again. Your face felt hot, but you still could feel warm tears streaming down your face. Try as you might you couldn't stop them.
"(Y/N)?" the voice didn't sound like his, but his tone did. The way he spoke, the words he used. The way he looked at you. It was him. It was all him.
You buried your face in your hands, stifling the quiet sobs escaping your lips. At that moment you heard a chair being dragged across the floor. Moments later you were embraced by a pair of muscular arms, too muscular to really be his. But that didn't seem to matter to you.
"(Y/N), its... it's okay," he hummed softly as you moved to clutch the orange jumpsuit tightly, his face buried in your hair.
"I'm here. It's okay. It's me. It's me," he repeated softly, a hand rubbing your back in a soothing manner, allowing you to sob into his chest.
You could work this out. You didn't care what he was. He was here and that was all that mattered. He was still Jack. He was still the man you loved.