Random One Shots

GraveRobber - Repo! the Genetic Opera

GraveRobber x Reader: Beautiful Stranger

A/N: Anyone a Repo fan? This was a random, unexpected update. Blame my friend for showing me that twisted, glorious movie. Apologies if he is a little OOC. It's hard to get a personality solely from a musical.

(Y/N) = Your Name

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Repo! The Genetic Opera.

The night was chilled and gloomy, much like the cold industrial world we now lived in.

Surgery, you pondered to yourself. Was it worth it, in the end? To heal yourself, only to live in fear of the Repo Man? Fucking surgery...how had humanity even evolved to the point of being so weak, so ill, not one of us can survive even one lifetime with the same parts?

You were currently perched on a tombstone, facing towards the rows and rows of graves that the wealthy could afford, mere feet above piles upon piles of nameless rotting corpses that had idiotically made the decision that you were now faced with. They, however, chose surgery.

A huff of air left your lungs as you turned back to your current project; the thick sketchbook resting on your legs, the current page almost completed, save for a few details. You couldn't remember when you started drawing or painting, or if you were even any good at it or enjoyed it at the start. But people bought your paintings, and money was rare nowadays, so you never once complained.

"And who are you to disturb the dead, angel?" A smooth baritone voice shattered the peace.

Your eyes shot up to examine the intruder; an impossibly tall man with long, multicoloured hair, dressed in a ratty jacket and boots, along with a simply shirt and pants underneath. His eyes were accented by the thin blue scarf around his neck, and his face glowed with what appeared to be white powder and black lipstick.

Interesting.

"(Y/N)," you introduced simply. "And last I checked, you were the one who started talking. The dead should be honoured by my presence."

A deep chuckle left the man as he stepped forward casually, glancing around the area.

"Then what brings your presence to a graveyard, angel?"

You shrugged. "The atmosphere."

"Atmosphere?"

"It helps my art," you shrugged, turning to watch as the man crouched at the casket next to you and—

Opened it?

"Disturbing the dead, my ass, Hypocrite!" you scoffed jokingly, eyeing him as he pulled the slowly rotting corpse from the box.

"It's GraveRobber, actually," he said lightly, turning to shoot you a smirk. "Does seeing a body scare you, angel?"

"It's more so how they died that scares me." You couldn't take your eyes from the man as he worked, drawn in by the aesthetic of his appearance and nature.

"Afraid of a Repo Man coming to get you?" he teasingly asked, pulling out a needle from a small supply bag he had.

"I'm afraid of the surgery," you contradicted.

"That's why Zydrate is a thing," GraveRobber pointed out, sticking the needle through the nose of the corpse and into her head.

"Not the pain," you shook your head slowly, turning back to your work reluctantly. You didn't want to seem too strange, staring for too long at the strange man. "We should die when it is our time. I see no reason to go against fate. Besides, we're so weak as a species now. Constantly having to replace our own parts because we can't adapt to our environment...we should all be dead by now anyway."