SCP x Reader One shots

SCP-035 x Reader [Part 1, because I don't have a good mental schedule]
[holy shit, i am dead after all-]

[okay, I can probably update more frequently because our classes got cancelled]

An uncomfortable sigh escaped your lips as your fingers comb your messy tresses. Your right hand loosely gripped on the gauze while tears cascade on your cheeks.

When will this misery end?

Your weak figure slumped on your sleeping quarters' metallic interior, the razor you've previously used was carelessly discarded. You unwrap the gauze and hastily applied it on your damaged wrist. Hell, you didn't care if the gauze wasn't sterilized at first, you just found it at your senior's desk and took it without second thought.

Why are you doing this to yourself?

Why are you hurting yourself?

Why does your life suck so much? No one deserves such thing, but you happened to be cursed.

Pressure seemed to be the major problem for you. Your brash senior, Doctor Ivan, sure is fueling the flame. He ridicules your work every single day, it's not even constructive criticism. You follow his vague explanations, yet a middle schooler should be able to get the gist of it, but it's all somehow wrong in his eyes. He threatened to demote and even reprimand you if you happen to make more mistakes.

Your colleagues happen to also catch your senior's syndrome and began telling you to be better than that. Sure, it sounds comforting, but all seemed to be a ruse just so you could feel a false sense of trust in them. Their intentions seemed to be malicious after all.

You furrow your eyebrows and stood up to grab your lab coat. Just a few minutes left until you get back to your shift.

Shaky breaths escaped your lips as you get your empty clipboard from your nightstand. You then hastily left your living quarters to attend to your senior's office.

-

"How many times do I have to repeat myself that you're doing it wrong?" Doctor Ivan scoffs at the assignment you did yesterday.

You wince at his shrill tone, "Well, uh, sir I've done what I'm able to do." You stood tall as if you're menacing, though it looked like a pathetic display.

The older researcher rubbed his temples as his grip on his pen tightened, "So you're telling me you're pathetic just like a crippled individual, correct?"

Your insides churn at the fact he had just compared you to a literal individual who lost the ability to do tasks.

You kept a straight face even though you felt like you just want to strangle the guy in front of your very eyes, "No sir, I am not crippled. You can tell since I have limbs used to do basic necessities, correct? Or is it because your balding self is obtuse, yes?" You bit your tongue after you did that snarky remark which can certainly piss your senior. You did feel kinda smug though.

Doctor Ivan grit his teeth, "I will surely demote you without hesitation if your dirty mouth utters another sentence. Is that what you want, Doctor (Y/n)?"

Your form slumps at his threat, so you just gave in, "No, Doctor Ivan." You're pretty much getting scolded by an elder, except the elder is a dickwad.

"Good. Now talk some sense out of SCP-035, or else…" Doctor Ivan shot you a look which is 'you should know what you're supposed to do' look, also it might be the 'don't fuck up or else I'll ruin your career' look.

Your face scrunched up at the fact Doctor Ivan still assigns you to that Keter SCP. As if you have time doing willy-nilly to that primadonna-sounding mask guy. Actually- you should be more careful around SCP-035. Wait- maybe not… you're willing to end your suffering in any form, getting killed by a Keter class happens to be in your list.