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heeikeuu · 26 days ago

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バカ – Riki Nishimura

⤷ pairing – boyfriend!riki x fem!reader drabble

⤷ genre – fluff, crack, suggestive (tensionnn), cursing, established relationship

⤷ synopsis – you decided to play REPO with Jake, Sunghoon, Jay, and Heeseung, while your boyfriend Riki was playing on his phone laying on your bed minding his business until you sparked his attention with some Japanese phrases you learned online.

Jake has been bugging you and the boys to check out this new co-op horror game. It looked funny more than scary if you were being honest but you eventually gave in, mostly because you got tired of his ass going "I loveee I loveeee I lovvvee" all week (Heeseung had to tape his mouth shut to spare us all).

Riki had built your PC for you, according to him " you always game on my PC and you never let me touch it!" but you know that was just an excuse for you two to start playing together.

You weren't exactly a pro gamer and you had a worse temper than Jake himself because of how competitive and stubborn you get. You were 100% a sore loser but at least you beat your man in most games and that helped you sleep better at night.

"y/n and Jake, I am begging you both to NOT burn the house down," Jay said in almost defeated voice, tired of the two already.

Heeseung followed, " I would also like to still have my eardrums intact"

"You both know damn well," Sunghoon said while laughing.

"It's not my fault y/n cheats!" Jake reasoned while pouting.

Petending to be upset, you dramatically put your hand on your heart, "as your best friend, I feel it is only appropriate that I let you know that you are only pissy because you suck at cheating AND winning."

Giggles break out from your headset but your attention is briefly set on your boyfriend who was laying on your bed with a white tank top that cIung to his muscles and gray sweats that hung a little too low, your own eyes betrayed you when you catch yourself staring too hard at his arms.

"Need something, baby?" he teases. Clearing your throat, "Oh, I just wanted some water, I'm thirsty." Cursing yourself for the lame ass excuse, you avoided direct eye contact.

"I'm sure you are," he laughed and got up to bring you water. Your hands brush against each other lightly, making you tense up a bit.

After playing for about 40 minutes, you got the hang of the game. Heeseung was pushing the cart while jayhoon were carrying a big item. You went out on your own to explore when you spotted a cute duck that was following you around.

"GUYS, I FOUND A DUCKIE!"

"DO NOT TOUCH IT," Jake stressed.

"Fine, but I'm naming it Nishi now, and it is my child," you replied while cooing at the duck.

Riki chuckled softly hearing you talk to the duck in game so cutely.

"OH MY GOD RUN IT'S THE SHOTGUN MAN" you suddenly heard Jake yell while running towards you and Sunghoon who whisper yelled in urgency "stop yelling bitch you will get us all killed!"

You immediately hid under something, but the little duckie was still following you, making noise, "shhh Nishi, you will get my ass flattened like a pancake!" Just as you said that, the shotgun man ran towards you while shooting like crazy.

"Atama okashi n janai no!" (are you crazy)

"Nishi, ippen shinde miru?" (do you want to see what death is like)

You comically turned to the duck while sweetly threatening the little yellow creature, urging it to shut up, making the killer face you directly.

"NOOO WAI-" you yelped as your character died with one shot to the head. You heard your friends trying to hold in their laughter to not die, too, as you spectate them with your mic off.

"KUTABARE x3" (fuck you)

Your poor boyfriend, on the other hand, was coughing in disbelief at what he heard you say (more like yell) to the poor duck. "Eh?" he makes a cute sound in utter confusion where you learned these from.

Turning to face him, you realized what you just said. After a few seconds of silent eye contact, you both burst out laughing.

"Baby, where the hell did you learn to swear like that?"

Shrugging, "secret" you sheepishly answered while smiling at him.

"Oh really?" he challenged.

"Mhm," turning your face back to the game as your team was struggling to find the 2nd extraction point to win.

Riki got up from the bed and slowly made his way to you. Completely disregarding whatever he was doing on his phone. "Angel," he called out to you, still not facing him, "look at me," his soft, deep voice sending chills down your spine. Still deciding to be stubborn, you hummed dismissively.

His hand lazily made its way to your jaw, placing a firm yet gentle grip to make you finally face him. He stood tall as you looked at him like a deer caught in headlights. Bending down nonchalantly, "much better," he whispered gently as he gave your puckered lips a sweet kiss.

Your face and ears instantly grew red making Riki let out a giggle before letting you go and straightening his back, smiling at you normally like he didn't just make your organs collaspe.

"I'm craving some strawberries, you want some babe?"

"Y-Yeah, sure," mentally cursing yourself for stuttering.

"kyuto" (cute) ruffling your hair, he made his way to the kitchen smiling ear to ear as you were still short-circuiting.

Safe to say that your team ended up losing, but you couldn't find it in you to care anymore as your mind kept drifting somewhere else while chewing on your freshly washed strawberries.

A/N: If you liked this and wish to support me further pls click here

#heeikeuu's library #enha #nishimura riki #enha imagines #enhypen writers #enhypen fluff #riki soft hours #enha x reader #ni ki x reader #enhypen niki #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen

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cat-dragron · 1 month ago

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REPO is a great game because one round you can have the most clutch moves known to man and the next you die instantly to the ducks.

#cat rambles #this game is very fun

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fantasygalaxycrystal · 1 month ago

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almost 30 sec of spinning X'D !!! FLASH WARNING 12 sec in !!!

this is the last brain rot one! got some other r.e.p.o animation sketched out for the future :D

i don't see it as brain rot i just see it as a meme video.

robot to (c) R.E.P.O Game

OIIA OIIA (Spinning Cat) song version (c) W&W on tiktok

art/animation(c) Hardsara

#repo game #r.e.p.o. game #r.e.p.o.#horror game #duck #cute #don't touch the duck #art #drawing #cartoon #my fanart #game fanart #colorful #brainrot #spinning cat #animation #meme animation

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keys-hellscape-1020 · 2 years ago

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You’re a healer, not a fighter. And yet…

Enjoy more stitch y’all sorry it took me so long. Also the title for this is SO bad I’m so sorry.

Platonic!141 x Medic!reader

Tw: Canon typical violence, cursing, gore, blood, Background character death, explosions, grenades, heavy smoke, reader is dissociating, implied that reader is having a panic attack, military inaccuracies, light angst, hurt/comfort.

You hate, nay despise, when you get separated during missions. If history holds true, and it always does, it won’t end well.

You are currently stuck in a small room, well stuck is a strong word as you do have 2 possible exits, it’s just that neither is very promising.

The slightly more promising of the two is a small rectangular window on the other side of the room, about 6 feet away. You’re not sure if you could get your torso through, and even if you did, if the 5 story drop didn’t kill you the enemy that was swarming the building certainly would.

The other exit was a hallway, leading back the way you fled from. You were crouched in a corner that bordered the door, gripping your gun tightly. There was no cover in the room, simply beige walls and that dammed window.

Suddenly a loud noise crackled from your comms, causing you to fumble to quickly turn it down a few notches. “Stitch! Stitch are you there? We almost have the case!”

You shuddered in a breath, carefully watching the door as you lifted one hand up to your radio to respond. “Sounds good Soap. I’m currently pinned on the 5th story, no visual on the enemy.”

“Stitch do you have any way to get out of there? We are pushing on 7th story.” That was Price, you could hear the sounds of a firefight in the background.

“I’ll find a way around.”

“Copy that, repo quickly.”

You carefully came out of your corner, crouching near the door you grabbed the doorknob, quickly flinging the door open.

The moment the door opened it was filled with bullets. You ducked behind the wall, grabbed a grenade from your gear pulled the pin and hoped.

When you heard a loud explosion paired with a choir of screams you leapt into the doorway, your gun posed in front of you.

You quickly took care of the few enemies you could see between the smoke and rubble. After a moment of no movement you moved forward to the rubble.

Crouching down you looked at the one solider who was still alive from your assault, half buried under rubble. He was a big fucker.

“Fuck off.” He growled at you as blood ran down his face.

You assessed him with a critical eye. His injuries would prevent him from moving very far. If you moved all weapons away from his reach he wouldn’t be a threat. That is assuming he lives.

You leaned over him to grab his sidearm from its holster on his side. As you leaned over he grabbed your arm with one hand and your shoulder with the other.

In any other circumstances he would’ve been able to break your arm, but he was injured and you were on high alert. You quickly tore his side arm from its holster and drove it into the side of his head, knocking his grip off of you.

Pointing his gun at his forehead you growled, “I am showing you mercy. Do not make me regret it.”

Breaking you out of your focused state was your radio, crackling to life loudly on your chest.

“STITCH! DON’T- THE EMEMY- TRAP”

The enemy used your shock to his advantage, grabbing your elbow and attempting to pry the gun from your grasp. You however were still faster despite your shock. You ram you head into his, causing him to let go of your elbow. You then pull your knife from its sheath and drive it home in the side of his neck.

With his blood staining your hands you turned to respond to your radio, ignoring the enemy’s gurgling in the background.

“What about the enemy? Do you have the case?” You asked, concern growing in your chest.

“STITCH” That at least you could tell was Price.

“Captain? Captain what’s going on?” You asked frantically, you had to fight the urge to run to them. If things were going wrong getting yourself hurt would not help anyone.

Suddenly your radio was full of very loud static. You fiddled with the channel, hoping it was just a technical error, but the longer you tried to get a connection the more you lost hope that it was simply a technical error.

You feel the blood drain from your face as the reality of the situation hit you. Your boys were captured. You quickly switch your mic off. Damnit.

Alright think. Your boys still have to be in the building, there’s no way they got them out already. You know they were heading to the 7th floor. The enemy will most likely be taking them up to the roof to lift them out. You just had to intercept them in time.

That is assuming they’re not dead.

But there is no time to think like that. They can’t be dead. If they’re dead you’re going to drag their sorry asses back to the living world and kill them again.

You quickly look around in the rubble, there has to be something here you can use. The corpse of an enemy solider catches your eye. They’re about the same build as you and while their uniform is splattered in blood it would do the job well enough.

You quickly pull on their jacket and vest along with their helmet. You could only hope that would be enough, you had to move.

————

You found the stairwell on the 5th floor, once you executed your plan you would have to move quickly or face loosing your boys forever.

You quickly started climbing the stories, you keep marching forward undisturbed until you got to the 8th story, when you were met with two guards.

“Who the fuck are you?” One of the guards shouted at you, pointing his gun at your head.

You quickly raised you hands in the air, it was vital they thought you one of them. “We- were attacked. 5th floor. Everyone is dead.” You croaked, forcing tears into your eyes and tightening your throat.

The two guards looked at each other, back at you, then lowered their guns a few inches.

“Where on the 5th floor was this and when?” One guard questioned, narrowing their eyes at you.

Fuck. You thought it was on the western side but you couldn’t be sure. No more that 10 minutes could’ve passed since it happened, but how could you be certain?

You couldn’t be, you just had to take a guess and hope you were right. “Western side.” You shuddered, hoping you weren’t overdoing your acting. “It- it just happened. No more then 10 minutes ago.”

“We just lost contact with a group on the eastern side. You know anything about that?” The guard shot you a suspicious glance. The other one fiddled with their trigger, glaring at you.

Fuck it.

You grabbed the one who was fiddling with their trigger and pulled them in front of you, using them as a human shield against their friend who sprayed a wave of bullets at you on instinct.

You pushed one guard into the other, and while they were reeling from the shock of having their friends mutilated corpse pushed into them you grabbed your knife and rammed it into the side of their head, aiming at the lisp of their helmet and angling upwards. So much for the plan.

There were footsteps coming down the stairwell, you had to act fast. Quickly you stash your knife in its sheath before pulling out your gun and firing it at the entry to the 8th floor, shouting expletives.

A team of 6 rounds the corner on high alert, they’re looking where you’re shooting and not at you, good.

“They went that way!” You shout, gesturing towards the door with a nod of your head.

“Move!” The leader barked, rushing towards the door. You pressed yourself to the wall, watching as they filed into the empty floor.

Once the coast is clear and the last of the enemies are through the door you turn around to creep carefully yet quickly up the rest of the stairs.

You manage to move up the next two flights of stairs without difficulty. You make your way to the floor right below the roof and listen carefully, your ear perched right up against the door.

You are met with the sounds of very angry, very Scottish yelling. You let out a shallow sigh of relief. Just as you suspected your boys are still in the building, now the hard part. Getting them out of it in one piece.

You wait at the door a moment longer listening for any clues, you fail to hear any coming from beyond the door, but you do hear one from above.

Carefully, and ever so slowly, cracking the door to the roof open, you are met with exactly what you expected. A helicopter is slowly descending to the platform on the roof, surrounding said platform is at least 5-8 enemy soldiers.

While not great you can work with these conditions, and that’s what you plan to do.

Not that you have much of a choice.

————

You quickly run to the floor they’re holding your boys and in a moment of fuck-it-I-have-nothing-to-loose (you’re lying to yourself you have everything to loose), you charge in, slamming the door to the wall.

You immediately stand at attention, and direct your eyesight to the man you hope you are correctly assuming is in charge.

When no bullets start firing at you you realize they are waiting for you to speak.

“Sir!” You bark out. “The heli is waiting on the roof sir!”

An old, short man turns to focus his eyes on you. You feel the cold sweat gathering on your neck as he fails to say anything, you swear that in the moment you could feel him cracking open your chest and feasting inside. Discovering all your secrets, uncovering all your sins.

Then he speaks, “bout damn time! Have the rest of your team come down. Escort these damn prisoners the fuck out of here!”

You turn to report to the rest of your fake team when a sense of dread hits you like a cold water ballon.

The messenger they would be sending. To alert the old fucker about the heli landing. That you already told him about.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!!” You hiss out quietly to yourself, two seconds away from stomping your foot and pouting like a child.

Your panic is cut short however when the door to the roof opens. You quickly snap to attention as the solider heads towards you, fixing you with a scalding glare.

“What are you doing?” They question. You feel like they are a priest, pulling all your sins out of you one by one.

“I’ve been assigned to guard here, on account of the enemy solider running amok.” You say stoically, puffing out your chest in a crude imitation of a loyal solider, proud to be guarding their commander.

The other solider briefly stares at you, before gesturing for you to get out of the way. Fuck there’s nothing you can do. Any attempt at taking them out would surly be heard. Fuck it- there’s nothing you can do.

You step aside.

————

It feels like a lifetime as you wait for a sound, a whimper, a pen dropping, an indication of what your next move should be. It feels like a lifetime as suddenly the door you’re standing next to bursts open.

You are guided by instinct as you fire a bullet into the head of the solider who had opened the door. You duck low, pull the pin on a grenade, and throw it into the room.

You are shaken by the proximity of the explosion, and your ears are ringing fiercely. You push forwards anyway, and once you are well hidden by the smoke in the room you duck behind the remains of a pillar. You hear movement and you quickly peek out form behind it, firing wildly. It is only another moment before the smoke begins to clear enough that you can see.

You glance around cautiously, and see that every solider in this room is dead, remarkably there are fewer corpses then you expected. The only option for where your boys could be is behind a door on the other end of the room.

You can hear yelling coming from it.

You can hear footsteps from behind you.

You slam the door behind you shut, amazed it’s still on it’s hinges. You grab a chair and shove it beneath the handle. You hope that buys you enough time to get your boys out because otherwise you’re doomed.

You approach the door, your gun posed in front of you, and kick.

The door holds.

You kick again.

The doorframe splinters under the force with a shrieking groan and the door swings open.

You are met with the man who you had addressed before, holding a pistol to Price’s head. All of your boys are in the room, looking like they had been thrown in haphazardly, their arms tied behind their back and their legs held together by zip-ties.

You creep one foot into the room before the old fucker shouts out, “Stop! One more step and I blow his brains out!” As he speaks he kicks Price, not hard enough to send him to the ground, but he still lets out a small grunt of pain.

“Hands off him ye’ wanker!!” Soap shouts out from one side of the small room. He pulls against his bonds with a groan, but does not accomplish anything.

Suddenly a loud shout and a bang is heard from the farthest door. You are forced to turn around, your gun held high, as you hear the enemy continue to struggle to get in.

“You’ll be dead soon. Surrender and maybe I’ll go easy on-” suddenly his speech dissolves into a blubbering mess of groans and hiccups, all began by the distinct sound of metal sinking into flesh.

You whirl around, panicked, only to see your Captain standing over the fluttering body of the enemy commander, holding a small pocket knife.

He glances at you over his shoulder before speaking, “Hold the door, I’ll get them out.”

You do as he says, moving to crouch behind a pillar, gaze trained on the door.

“Sir,” you call out over your shoulder, “enemy heli on the roof.”

Price makes a noise of acknowledgment and quickly crouches down next to you behind the pillar, an enemy gun in his hands. You barely notice Ghost, Soap, and Gaz moving to shelter on the other side of the room before the door bursts open with a sense of finality.

————

It’s nothing short a blood bath, a mess of bullets and gunpowder framing the centerpiece of organs and body parts. Bone fragments, and limbs, and cries of pain and pleas to merciless gods. It feels like both a century and a moment before soldiers stop flooding into the room.

Price motions for you to move forward, and gestures towards your belt silently. A smoke grenade. You nod in understanding and pose right behind a door, a smoke grenade in your hand. You glance over your shoulder briefly, checking that all your boys are in place.

With a confirmation that they’re ready you pull the pin on the grenade, shut your eyes tightly, and throw it. Once you hear the smoke dispense you desperately push forward.

It feels like a fever dream, moving through smoke and cries of pain. You feel like you’re watching a movie, a compilation of photos as you feel yourself pull the trigger again and again and again. Body responding before you can even think to. You feel every movement so intensely, and yet not at all. Like a puppet you react to your instincts, watching your boy’s backs. Making sure they stay safe. By the time the smoke clears and you’re ready to move to the roof you swear you can feel yourself swimming in blood. You can feel it creeping up your shoes, your shins and your knees, you hips, up and up until it’s entering your throat and your nose- suffocating you- you can’t breathe-

“Stitch?” You’re forced back into your body by a firm hand on your shoulder. Turning your head you see Gaz standing next to you, somehow managing to pull a small, kind smile onto his face. “We’re almost out.” He soothes kindly.

You swallow the blood in your throat before nodding firmly. “Right. We’re almost out.”

————

It was surprisingly easy to take control of the helicopter, but you suppose you should have expected that. Once they’d heard the shooting and explosions beneath their feet they would have almost certainly abandoned their post in favor of helping their allies. It doesn’t truly matter to you though, their lives ended all the same.

After busting through the door, that they hadn’t even bothered to lock in their rush, it was simply a matter of taking out 3 soldiers and the pilot. A laughably easy task considering what you had just accomplished.

You leaned back in your seat on the helicopter heavily, resting your head back against the side of the beast. You feel your weariness in every bone in your body. You don’t think you’ve ever dealt so much death in such a short period of time. While you were no stranger to the feeling of taking a life, you took less than the average solider. You focused on mending, not breaking, whenever possible.

You supposed that today mending life was not in cards as much as tearing it apart. You wonder if you have what it takes to be a solider, if you break at the first sign of difficulty.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by a firm hand on your knee. You open your eyes and sit up to be met with the sight of Soap’s big blue eyes staring at you in concern.

It’s takes you a moment before you notice that he’s handing you something, his field journal. You take it with a confused glance, but he mearly gestures for you to look inside.

You look at the page he was holding open, it contains many small doodles, that despite their small size are still remarkably well done. You see doodles of Ghost and Gaz, who are sitting across from you. He’s sketched how they currently look, Gaz with his head resting on his fist as he stares at the clouds racing by. Ghost as he leans back, his arms and legs crossed.

What really draws your attention though is a question, messily scrawled beneath the doodles. Next to it is a stylized, cartoonish drawing of you, surrounded by several hearts.

The question reads, “You alright hun?”

You look up at Johnny and he blinks at you a few times before suddenly startling, like he had forgotten something, and sheepishly handing you a pencil.

You scrawl down right below Johnny’s handwriting, “I’ll live. You?” You hand his journal back to him, and watch as he scrawls down his response.

“Bit shaken, thought I was done in for a second there. At least until you stepped in <3” Next to the heart he’s drawn a goofy kissy face, equipped with his signature Mohawk and all.

Johnny and your’s silent conversation is cut short by Price shouting over the sound of the heli from up by the cockpit, “We’re landing in 2 minutes!”

“Roger that Cap!” You yell back, handing Johnny his journal back with a ruffle of his Mohawk. He gawks at you in playful insult while you go about making sure you (and your boys) are prepped for landing.

————

Once you’ve got both your feet back inside base exhaustion hits you like a tsunami wave. Now that you’re certain you’re safe the adrenaline is fading like water out of a balloon. Despite the fatigue festering in every part of your person, you’re not in bed. Instead you’re in the armory, cleaning your gear.

You want nothing more than to sleep, but it’s routine for you to make sure all of your duties are accomplished first so you can sleep well. You’re silently taking apart a pistol when you hear footsteps approaching the armory, knocking you out of your thoughts.

It’s only a moment before Price walks through the doors, surprisingly enough he’s not carrying any of his own weapons.

As soon as he sees where you’re sat on one of the benches he B-Lines to you, approaching with a speed and purpose that you’ve only seen him use on missions. The adrenaline from the mission must still be in his system, you muse. He’s been in this industry long enough for it to make sense.

“Go the fuck to sleep sergeant. The actual hell are you still doing awake?” He barks as he approaches you.

“Will soon sir.” You respond nonchalantly. “Just cleaning my gear first.”

He guffaws like it’s the most foolish thing he’s heard all day, (which says a lot considering he has gotten captured today) and gestures for you to scoot over.

You do so, slightly confused by what he intends to do. Once you’ve made room on the bench he sits down next to you and grabs your vest. As he lays it on his lap he goes through the pockets systematically, making sure the vest is perfectly up to code.

As you observe him you’re slightly surprised by his actions, you imagine he must be wanting to go to sleep after the day he’s had.

“You don’t have to help me sir.” You say carefully, tip-toeing around his grumpy outward appearance.

“A good leader always makes sure his soldiers are taken care of before himself. Now finish cleaning that pistol so we can get the fuck to bed.”

————

With Price helping you it didn’t take long for you to finish and finally head to bed. You could feel your feet sticking to the ground with every step, and it took you twice as long as it normally did to walk to your barracks from the armory.

As you approach your door you notice a slumped figure next to it, causing adrenaline from the day to start kicking back up inside you. Feeling your heart start to hammer, yet not having the energy to do anything about it, you continue to approach leisurely.

As you get closer you recognize the balaclava and all black clothing that clings to a large frame. Ghost. When you finally stand next to him you nudge his hip with your foot.

“Come on big guy.”

He blinks up at you wearily, but starts to stand all the same as you unlock your door. You walk in and throw your boots and jacket off as you approach your bed, little care for where they end up.

You flop down on your bed, the scratchy blankets and thin military mattress feeling like paradise after all you’d been through. When you see ghost’s shadow approaching out of the corner of your eye you roll over, facing the wall.

You feel Ghost lie down on your mattress and sling a heavy arm over your waist as you both settle down into a deep sleep.

It had been a hard day, but you would do it all over again for your boys.

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carismahere · 1 month ago

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REPO duck

#art #REPO #r.e.p.o.

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supremeuppityone · 13 days ago

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This was written for Klaroline Fanfic Week @klarolinefanficweek; Week 4 [April 20-April 26, 2025] – Science fiction. This is inspired by the movie, Repo! The Genetic Opera.

Bodily (Harm)ony

She’d never had surgery. An Unmarked One. And Caroline made sure no one knew. After all, not having surgery was a sign that you’d given up; you didn’t care about becoming the best possible version of yourself. She should’ve never gotten into bodywork. But she needed the money — her mom’s Zydrate addiction would’ve put them out on the streets had Caroline not become a Salvatore Stripper Girl.

At first, bodywork was glamorous and made her feel sexy and important. Her face (and many other parts) were projected on every Salvatore holoscreen board in Mystic Falls and she gained a huge following. She’d moved both her and her mom out of their one-bedroom pod. At least now her mom can go through those endless cycles of Zydrate overdoses and withdrawals on a genuine marble-simulator bathroom floor.

She’d been so careful applying elaborate scars and wounds with virtual makeup, but one tiny power surge and the circuits flickered just enough to showcase unblemished skin and her boss realized she was an Unmarked One. Cackling gleefully, Damon had her bound and transported to GeneCo, the conglomerate biotech company specializing in plastic surgery and organ transplants.

Caroline blinked up at the imposing portrait of the Mikaelson family that adorned the small, blindingly white GeneCo room they’d shoved her in. Mikael was the patriarch who’d built the corporation into a multi-billion-dollar behemoth. Rumor had it the ruthless businessman was planning to leave the company to only one of his seven children and the infighting had spilled out onto the streets as warring factions vied to secure power for whichever sibling they supported. The Mikaelsons were ruthless and terrifying — and absurdly attractive. Not that she’d noticed. And she certainly didn’t look for a specific pair of dimples whenever their GeneCo “family” ads appeared on the neuro-social feeds.

The digital wall chimed with a deceptively pleasant note, flashing a welcome message to her that extolled the virtues of the “extraordinary surgical journal” she was about to embark upon to “bring her body in harmony with her true self.” And then it listed all of her surgeries in a cheerful pink. So many goddamn surgeries.

Fuck that. Caroline grimly flexed her hands, carefully testing the joints for any residual shakes. Damon and his crew of muscle-heads had shot her up with a light dose of Zydrate, just enough to keep her compliant. The hardcore Zydrate doses would happen once they started cutting her up. She let out a pleased huff as her muscles all seemed to be responding. Time to go.

It was the first time she’d ever been grateful that Damon was so fanatical about the Salvatore Stripper Girl “look”. In addition to outfits that were little more than strings squeezing and molding their shapes, Damon also insisted on long hair tied up in silver and gold spikes. With a pleased hum, she pulled apart her tightly-bound hairdo, gripping a spike in each hand. The lockdown barrier could be disrupted on a subatomic level; it was a theory her friend Bonnie had worked on for years before inventing a successful Q-fracture particle. And then she was forcibly dragged out of her balcony pod.

The Q-fracture particle that Bonnie had given her was embedded in the gold spike for better conduction; but Caroline hadn’t used it until now. Bonnie’s sentencing had left its mark. Holding her breath, she carefully breached the particle field, a muffled hiss and pop signaling her success. Carefully sliding through the temporarily frozen barrier, she quickly darted down the empty hallway, ignoring the neuro-sensory ads that appeared every few steps.

Ducking into a supply pod, she frantically pulled on a GeneCo bio-suit, the slick fabric smoothly sliding into place.

“Well, aren’t you an unexpected surprise. Tell me, love, are you hiding from unbearable relatives too?”

She’d somehow managed to take a terrible situation and make it far, far worse. Klaus Mikaelson, one of the potential heirs to GeneCo, was staring at her from across the shelves. Of all the supply pods…

Say nothing. Klaus is part of the system. His family invented the system. The silence stretched between them until she shuffled uncomfortably, slippered feet hiding underneath the stack of synthetic skin robes. She cried out when he unexpectedly grabbed her arm, running his neuro-ring with the austere Mikaelson crest along her wrist.

At the damning hologram that revealed itself above her unmarred skin, Klaus’ startled gaze found hers. “You’re an Unmarked One.” He released her wrist with surprisingly gentle care, an edge to his tone as he asked, “Who brought you here?”

“I’m a Salvatore Stripper Girl — who do you think,” Caroline asked mockingly.

The answering growl was filled with more venom than even she possessed. “Damon Salvatore.”

Crossing her arms defiantly, she scoffed, “Of course it was Damon. He’s ordered all my surgeries to be rushed through so I can get back on stage faster. I bet your company already has shown him the menu of post-op injectables to infect my surgical wounds so they’ll turn into vibrant colors.”

“It’s not my company,” he hotly protested. “I would never...” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely in her direction with a seductive smirk. “I like imperfections in my women.”

Caroline looked down at her GeneCo bio-suit. “Wait. What?” Blue eyes narrowed dangerously as she demanded, “What imperfections?”

Backing up slightly with his hands raised in surrender, Klaus hurriedly replied, “No, not you. You look amazing. I mean, it’s not like you have powdered milk-fat curds for thighs or enormous ears or something.”

This self-entitled asshat. He was known for being the most bloodthirsty of the Mikaelsons — rumor had it that he often negotiated favorable business terms by ripping out people’s organs. She absolutely should not provoke him.

“Seriously?! Were you born this big of a dumbass or did you have to work at it?”

The awkward pause stretched on for ages. Klaus’ dumbfounded expression eventually smoothed out, morphing into a silly grin as he guffawed. “According to my family, it’s a bit of both.” Fiddling with the settings on his neuro-ring, a panel materialized in the wall. Pressing it until a hidden door slid open, he held out his hand to Caroline, telling her, “Are you coming?”

She chewed on her bottom lip, glancing back at the door to the supply pod. She knew what would happen if she went back out there. Surgery after surgery to carve away everything that made her her.

Going through a hidden door with one of the heirs to the ruthless corporation that controlled the world was a terrible idea. But it was worth the risk if she got to keep being her. Caroline took Klaus’ hand and for the first time, allowed herself to hope for a better future.

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